Shreyas Bhave's Blog, page 2
January 21, 2016
The Scourge of Taxila: Coming Soon
Prologue
270 BC
The man’s whole body was covered with a black cloak, which shone eerily due to the light from the torch he held high in his right hand. The cloth went all over his head and went down to his feet exposing nothing but his old frail arms that held the wooden stick with the fire burning.
Maharaja Sushem instinctively clutched his own torch harder as he observed the cloaked old man lead the way through the narrow tunnel slowly. He glanced behind to see his soldiers, holding their swords in their hands who followed him. “How much further?” He asked the cloaked man.
“You must have patience, Maharaja.” The cloaked man laughed, “It is said that an ambush should never be rushed.”
Sushem felt a chill go down his spine as the deep nasal voice of the cloaked man hit his ears. I am miles below Patliputra, in a large tunnel, following an old man I just met! The truth registered itself in his memory. How? How did I end up here? “This is not exactly an ambush.” He said loudly to the cloaked man.
“Is it not?” The laugh that followed made Sushem’s heart miss a beat, “It’s clearly an ambush, Maharaja!” The old man said.
Sushem glanced back once again and saw the narrow Corridor lined up with his soldiers, who slowly followed him. Their number and the naked weapons in their hands gave him strength. “You better be quick.” He raised his voice at the cloaked man.
“A hundred feet more.” The cloaked man said, and Sushem began to count his footsteps.
One….Two…Three
It had not even been an year since he had left Taxila. He remembered the mountain passes, He remembered the river crossings, and he remembered the small skirmishes. The march had been without much opposition. He remembered setting up the siege to the city. He remembered the negotiations. He remembered the massive betrayal!
Seventy nine…Eighty…Eighty One..
He really had no other choice. He had been backstabbed. He couldn’t have lifted the siege and retreated. There just wasn’t enough time. Nor could he have fought, because fighting would have meant facing enemies on both sides.
Ninety…Ninety one…Ninety two…
He had to walk these tunnels. This was destiny. This was what his grandfather Chandragupta had done and emerged out victorious. Now, He, Sushem too would do the same. He would pay back his enemies in their same coin of deceit and treachery.
Hundred and one…Hundred and two..
He had more than a hundred soldiers behind him in the tunnels. Soon, the walk through the darkness would end and they would be inside Patliputra. They would take the defenders of the city completely by surprise and open the gates. His remaining soldiers would then storm the city. If all went according to the plan, He , Sushem would be able to pull this off, just like Chandragupta had been able to, years ago.
Hundred and twenty one,…Hundred and twenty two.
The cloaked man stopped. They had reached a dead end. A dark stone wall blocked their path. Sushem felt his heart beat rise as the cloaked man moved his hands over the wall looking for some sort of a switch.
“For the Ancient Bramhinical Order, Maharaja!” The cloaked man said as he found the switch.
“For the Order!” Sushem imitated him.
The flicking of the switch caused the wall in front of them to abruptly move. Sushem’s other hand moved to the hilt of his sword instinctively.
“And beyond this lies what you seek.” The cloaked man blessed as he laughed. The laugh was still chilly.
“May the Strong prey upon the Weak!”
50 years earlier
Men armed with swords and spears walked through a similar passageway, following a similar cloaked man. They stood at the same dead end as the cloaked man searched for a switch in the rock of the wall.
“For the Ancient Bramhinical Order!” The cloaked man swore as he found the switch and flicked it.
“For the Order!” The man behind him said. In the light of the Torches, the ring on the Man’s finger shone- A red curled shape in a sparkling black stone. The wall started moving with a rumbling noise.
“Beyond lies what you seek.” The cloaked man said.
“And may the strong prey upon the Weak.” The man with the mystical ring smiled and said.
RADHAGUPTA
270 BC Patliputra
There was darkness all around and not even a single sound loomed in the air of the vast emptiness in which he stood, his each footstep echoing in his own ears like metal ramming against stone. The stillness and the quiet of his surroundings, unnerved him, as he walked through the blackness, his arm folded in front of his head, to avoid colliding into something. The air around him was strangely moist and still, he felt the weight of each and everything above him as each of his gasp for air reminded him that he was almost a hundred feet below the ground.
Radhagupta would always know when to stop and when to go on. He was the follower of a very good habit in which, whenever he felt that he was lost, he would stop and ask for directions. That way, he would save much of precious time that would otherwise be wasted in finding the way on his own. He never had felt that a man must know the way to everywhere. It’s okay to be lost once and sometime he had told himself when he was little. But it was not okay to be lost today. Finding the way was all that mattered to him, and stopping was of no use either because he was in there all alone!
Strange place! Radhagupta thought as he walked slowly through the underground passageway, careful not to stumble upon the conical rock formations of the ground.
The truth, however, was stranger still.
I am just a few meters away from the Samrat’s palace!
This vast tunnel, in which he now walked, had one of its ends not more than hundred meters away from the South passageway of the Patliputra palace. Still, that thought did not comfort him because he couldn’t find his way back to the palace either.
Radhagupta was lost. Hours ago, he had entered these tunnels, confident and proud that he would find the way to his destination unflinchingly. Now, he didn’t feel so sure. The passageway kept going on and on. It would fork into two, sometimes three directions and now at this stage; he couldn’t remember which of the turns he had taken.
Radhagupta stopped when his feet touched something familiar. In the darkness, he bent down and examined the object near his feet with both of his hands and sighed.
His feet had touched a silk scarf, which now lay riddled with the dust and particles of the place. It was the same scarf which he remembered dropping some time earlier to mark a certain passageway. Radhagupta did not get up and folded the scarf around his hands.
He was going round in circles. There was no point in going on. Should he ask for help?
“Anyone there?” He asked loudly. The same question repeated itself as an echo and Radhagupta felt as if the whole place was asking him the same.
“Hello?” Radhagupta shouted again, feeling foolish. Hello The echo repeated for him as he got to his feet, picking up the scarf.
‘No one’s going to answer ‘He told himself there’s no one in here except me. But then, there was sound to be heard. Were the tunnels echoing his thoughts too?
Radhagupta stood still and heard. First, they were small noises like a pigeon’s call and they began to grow louder each passing moment. When they were loud enough, He realized that they were footsteps. Someone was coming towards him! Then almost as abruptly as they had begun, the footsteps stopped.
“Who’s there?” A frail voice asked, somewhere from the darkness in front of him. The echo repeated and added to the mystique of the question. The weakness of the voice comforted him. The words were almost definitely spoken by an old man. Radhagupta did not feel afraid.
“It’s me.” He said at the darkness. There was a pause and then the old man spoke again.
“Me, who?” He asked.
Radhagupta frowned. Who was this old man? Only Radhagupta was supposed to walk these tunnels tonight. And all the others were supposed to know this.
“Tell me who you are first.” He shouted back at the old man’s voice. Now that he had heard a human voice again, his sense of fear and despair were lost and replaced by suspicion.
“I am Dasharath.” The old man said.
“I am Radhagupta.”
The old man broke into a fit of coughing. Each of his cough felt like the roar of a lion in that closed rocky space. Then, he stopped. “You’re early, Radhagupta.” He said.
“Am I?” Radhagupta wondered. It felt like ages ago that he had stepped foot inside this maze.
“Indeed.” The old man said, “Either that, or I’m late.”
“What?” Radhagupta did not understand, “Are you a brother of the Ancient Brahminical Order?” He asked.
“I am.” The old man called Dasharath spoke back.
“Then our destination is the same!” Radhagupta said with joy. He had finally discovered the key out of this maze, “I’m to be initiated in the Order today. I have been tasked to finding the way to the ceremonial chamber for that purpose. And you must know the way to it!”
There was silence for a moment. “It would be highly unconventional.” The old man said thoughtfully. “No initiate of the Order has ever been shown the way to the chamber by a Brother. The Initiate must find his own way. That is the challenge.”
Radhagupta kept mum. If the old man would forsake him and walk away, it was much too easy to just follow him so it didn’t really matter what the old man did.
“But now that you’ve found me,” Dasharath said, “You could just follow me to our destination. So I guess I could as well tell you the secret to beat this maze.”
“You can.” Radhagupta said, taking a few steps forward. The old man was just a little ahead of him now.
“Listen closely.’ The old man called Dasharath said, “Touch the rocky wall with your finger.”
“Which wall?” Radhagupta asked, looking on either side of his.
“Any wall.”
Radhagupta turned towards the wall the old man’s voice was coming near from. He touched it with his finger.
“Now.” Walk.” The old man ordered, “Without dethatching your finger from the wall.”
“That’s all?” Radhagupta wondered. He could feel the old man began to walk slowly. He followed him, letting his finger slide along the rocky wall.
“How come you were still in the tunnels?” Radhagupta asked as they walked.
“I was young once, but I am old now.” Dasharath said, “I was late, and it takes me a while to walk now. And it appears that you walk quite fast” Then, he sighed, “I should have reached the ceremonial chamber hours before you. All the others must already be waiting there. But sadly, I overslept!”
“It’s my fortunate luck that it is so.” Radhagupta said.
“It is most unconventional, what we are doing.” Dasharath said, “A Brother showing the way to an initiate. I hope you shall keep this quiet, once you reach the ceremonial chamber.”
‘I will.” Radhagupta said.
They spoke no more and walked on in silence. Whenever the walls of the tunnel turned, Dasharath turned with the chosen wall, and Radhagupta followed him, not detaching his finger
“Listen.” Dasharath said after some time as they turned at a turning. “We are close.”
Radhagupta closed his eyes and listened. The quiet of the place had changed. He could hear faint noises like the buzzing of a distant bee. As they walked further, he realized that they were murmurs coming from the other side of the wall they were walking along.
“The entrance to the ceremonial chamber is at the next turning.” Dasharath whispered back to him, “We should not go in together. You go on In first.”
Radhagupta nodded and walked. He left his finger from the wall as he passed Dasharath and then touched the wall again after he had crossed. As he passed him, Radhagupta noticed the long black cloak and the tall stature of Dasharath. He did not get a glimpse of his face. As he walked forward, the sounds of voices from the other side increased. He counted almost a dozen voices as he walked.
The turning came soon enough. He turned as the wall turned and his head and body bumped into something solid. “Ouch.” He said, rubbing his forehead which had taken brunt of the collision. Suddenly, he felt the voices stop, and an eerie silence followed.
Radhagupta stopped rubbing his head and groped the surface into which he had collided. He smiled as he felt the vertical wooden texture of it. In front of him was a door. He searched for an opening to open the door but there was none. Then, he realized that he should knock.
Two taps did it. The next room which had gone silent now woke up with the sound of firm footsteps towards the door. “Who’s it?” A voice asked.
“Radhagupta.” He said.
“Beyond lies what you seek..” The voice on the other side said. Radhagupta knew this line. The man was asking him for a password. A password that would open the door. Radhagupta knew that password. He had been specifically told the words of the password hours before he had stepped foot inside these tunnels.
“May the strong prey upon the weak.” He said, taking care that his voice was unwavering. He had heard strange things about these men of the Ancient Brahminical Order, but had always trashed the rumors saying to himself that they were just men, just like himself. Now, as the door slowly creaked and opened from the other side, he did not feel so sure. He felt his legs shake and his throat turn dry as the door finally opened and faint orange light filled his face, hurting his eyes which were accustomed to the darkness by then. Everything appeared bright to him, the whole room seemed brighter as if he was looking at the sun itself. His eyes hurt and the strange shapes slowly swirled into forms he could understand after a few moments.
Exactly opposite to the opened door was a fireplace and the light from it had fallen directly upon his face, causing the momentary blinding. He rubbed his eyes before entering the chamber. Another cloaked man stood there to welcome him. A hood covered his head and the black cloak went to his very feet. His hands were not visible and folded with the long sleeves of the cloak disappearing into each other.
“Good.” The cloaked man said, exposing one of his hands. He was holding a sand clock, with almost three quarters of the sand remaining in the upper half. “You found us too fast, Initiate.”
“I’m lucky, I guess.” Radhagupta forced a smile.
‘Come.” The cloaked man said, “The others await you.”
The man led and Radhagupta followed. They walked along the side of the fireplace, into a vast chamber, double in height than the previous one. Fires burnt at all walls in short fireplaces and a vast rectangular table stood in the center with numerous empty chairs around it. As he walked closer, Radhagupta realized that the chairs weren’t empty but were occupied by numerous men, covered from head to toe in black cloaks.
“He has arrived, brothers.” The man who had led him to the room said, walking to the table and taking his place on a chair by it. In one moment, all of the men around the table removed their hoods, revealing their human heads in the flash of an eyelid. Radhagupta counted almost two dozen of men. Then, his eyes lingered to the familiar face at the head of the table.
Arya Chanakya was smiling at him, his toothless mouth shaped into an open semicircle if only for a moment and then his old face had gone expressionless again. That much was enough for Radhagupta. He smiled back at him. It was that old man who had led him here and it was him who had made him want to be here in the first place. All of the other men were all staring at him intently, studying him. It unnerved him a bit, and Radhagupta surveyed the whole room. He realized that among all the men, two empty chairs were left along the entire rectangle of the table. The ones around Chanakya’s
Arya Chanakya cleared his throat, and all the men turned to him, leaving Radhagupta feel relaxed as the forty eight eyes left him to look at their leader.
“Brothers.” Arya Chanakya said. His raspy voice felt like a child learning pronunciations due to his toothless jaw. “Brothers!” He repeated, “Almost five decades ago, I brought a man, right here to this council on a day just like this.” He said, “Some of you were present that day and may remember, though most of you were not.”
“Aye.” All of the men said in unison. Their voices echoed due to the hemispherical roof of the chamber.
“That day, was a holy day.” Chanakya said, “The name of the man was Chandragupta Maurya. He was the one who had freed your city and the whole of Bharathvarsha from the tyranny of the Nanda rulers.”
The men nodded, all agreeing.
“That day, when Chandragupta walked into this chamber,” Chanakya continued, “He was merely a Raja of Taxila, the Raja of a small, distant city in the Northwest who had managed to invade and defeat the evil and tyrannical rulers of Patliputra-the largest city in the known World.”
The men knocked their fists two times on the table, agreeing.
“But when Chandragupta walked out of this room that day,” Chankya said, “He was no longer merely a Raja of Taxila. When he walked out of this chamber, he was accepted and hailed by all as…”
“The Samrat of Bharathvarsha.” All of the twenty four voices spoke together, “The leader of all the Aryas. Master of all lands between the Jhelum and the Ganga.”
“Exactly.” Chanakya said, “This is the power that this chamber possesses. This is the power that this council wields. And I wish that our young initiate should understand that before he steps into our ranks for life.”
All eyes turned to him again, and Radhagupta looked down, at the floor unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Or just stand there?
“Let me introduce Radhagupta to you, Bothers of the Order.” Chanakya said, ‘Until now, you have known him as the Samrat’s Master of coin, who was recently made Prime Minister.”
All the men nodded silently.
“From tomorrow,’ Chanakya said, “You’re going to know him as a brother of the Ancient Brahminical Order.”
The men by the table all bowed to him one by one, bringing their head down to their chest and lifting it back again. Radhagupta returned the gesture by bowing back to them.
“All of you are aware of the tumultuous times that are upon us.” Chanakya spoke, “Chandragupta is gone. His son Bindusar turned out to be a womanizer and produced one hundred sons from almost double the women.”
Spit! All of them spit to the ground at the mention of the Samrat’s name. Radhagupta watched Chanakya speak.
“Now Bindusar too is dying , riddled by ghastly diseases that unholy union with women inflicts upon a man.” Chanakya said, “The Great land of us Aryas stands to be divided almost into a hundred parts, or rather I should say stood.” He pointed at Radhagupta.
Radhagupta looked up to face all of them.
“This man.” Chankya said, “Prime Minister Radhagupta has prevented all that from happening. He has single handedly managed to save our great country from division.”
“Aye.” All of the men said.
“Radhagupta has managed to lure almost all of the Samrat’s one hundred sons to the city under fake pretenses.” Chankya continued. “He has brought ninety seven of the princes to us and we hold them in our captivity, thereby preventing chaos and disaster.”
Radhagupta bowed to Chanakya. Chankya raised his hand to bless him. “As of now,” He said, “We hold ninety seven of the Maurya princes in our captivity, excluding only two.” He looked up at the ceiling. “The eldest prince Sushem still remains in Taxila.” He said, “He is arrogant and proud and also half-Greek. Almost a foreigner!”
“Shame.” All of the men said.
‘While the other prince, Asoka is in Vidishanagri.” Chanakya continued, “The men of the army respect him. He is a warrior, a veteran of the Southern Wars, and is a true lion of the Mauryas.”
“Hear hear.” All the men nodded, agreeing.
“It is the duty of this Council to make sure that Asoka succeeds his father.” Chanakya said, “And that Sushem no longer lives free and poses a threat to Asoka.”
“Aye.” All of the men said.
“But that is a thing of the future.” Chanakya said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “As of now, Radhagupta is to be rewarded for his service to the realm.” Chanakya raised both of his hands up in the air, “And to reward him, I , Arya Chanakya as the leader of the Ancient Brahminical Order, has decided to induct him as our Brother, for life.”
“Yes.” All of them said unanimously.
“You shall all be aware that our holy council can consist of only twenty four men, no more no less.” Chanakya said, “So when a new Brother comes, an old brother must go! So, to make place for Radhagupta, one of our old Brother has gracefully decided to retire.” Chankya pointed at one of the empty chairs to his left. “We must wait for brother Dasharath.” He said, “For only he can perform the ceremony to induct his successor.”
“Then you won’t have to wait much longer.” A voice spoke from behind him. Radhagupta turned at the recently familiar voice. Dasharath had reached the chamber and stood at the entrance.
“Shall I begin at once?” He asked.
“Immediately.” Chanakya said.
Dasharath walked up to the table and one of the Brothers handed over a cauldron to him. Dasharath walked back as all the men around the table started chanting a deep nasal chant. Dasharath handed the cauldron over to Radhagupta.
Radhagupta stared at his faint reflection in the glistening red liquid in the cauldron. “Drink it up.” Dasharath whispered to him, “Its only wine.”
Radhagupta raised the cauldron upto his lips and drank the sour liquid in one go. It warmed up his throat and all the space up to his stomach.
The men continue their chanting now with increased pace. Dasharath went to one of the fireplaces and picked up an iron poker from the fire. He returned to Radhagupta with the poker’s end glistening red hot.
“Say the words.” He said.
Radhagupta knew the words by heart. He opened his mouth.
“I, Radhagupta, vow to abide by these words which I am about to speak. That I shall take upon myself the prime responsibilities for the conservation of our Arya race, and its age-old religion. I shall strive to maintain the caste system of us Aryas. Those who strive to disrupt these age-old principles shall be my sworn enemies. I shall fight against them with all my strength and that will be the only aim of my life. And if I were to turn against these principles, let my blood turn into flames and consume me from within. I vow to stand again heretics of all kind and use whichever force necessary to destroy them. Whenever the established order of society is disturbed, I vow to rise to make things right again. Chaos is my enemy. The trinities of Brahma Vishnu Mahesh are my Gods. I vow to fight for what is correct and hereby I am inducted into this Order for life.”
The pace of the chanting had increased to a maximum as Dasharath raised the poker and placed it on Radhagupta’s right arm. He clenched his teeth as his flesh burnt to form a symbol of a swastika.
“It’s done.” Dasharath whispered to him.
“Welcome Brother.” Chanakya said, “Sit with us.” He pointed to the chair by his side. Radhagupta took small steps ahead and sat down on the chair. His flesh was still burning and it was painful.
“Now, to the order of business.” Chanakya said immediately, “As all of you can see,” he said pointing to his other side, “Another chair remains empty. A brother of our Council still remains absent.”
Radhagupta leaned back to gaze at the empty chair. It was indeed empty. He knew what was to come.
“Our Longtime Brother, Hariharan sat on it.” Chanakya said, “As all of you will know, Most unfortunately, Hariharan is in the captivity of our enemies.”
“Yes.” All of the men sighed.
“He had gone to Vidishanagri to destroy our enemies.” Chankya said, “But instead, they captured him.” Chankya’s voice tuned horrid with anger, “He is being held prisoner by the Merchant’s Guild of Vidishanagri who are Buddhist scum and our sworn enemies.”
“Damn them.” All the men said.
“As is the custom,” Chanakya said, turning to him, “The New Brother must complete his first task before he is truly worthy of the Order.”
Radhagupta felt all eyes upon him once again.
“In presence of all of you,’ Chankya said, “I hereby task our new Brother Radhagupta to rescue Hariharan from Vidishanagri. Our Order does not let Brothers rot in prisons of our enemies.”
Radhagupta nodded. “I will not fail.” He said.
“Excellent.” Chanakya said, “This meeting may now be adjourned.”
The silent room turned noisy as all the men talking amongst themselves. Radhagupta felt Chanakya lean and whisper to him, “You did good,.” He said.
“I am Thankful.” Radhagupta said to him.
The noise stopped as Chanakya slammed his fists on the table and pointed at the door.
“Someone comes.” He said.
In the silence, they could hear footsteps approaching. A sentry entered the room running and panting. He handed over a piece of parchment to Dasharath. Dasharath read it as he brought the piece to Chankya. Chanakya held it in his hands and read it. The words were not to far for Radhagupta to turn and read too.
All the other men gazed at them in silence to know what news the sentry had brought.
Finally, Chankya looked up and faced them. “It begins!” He said, “News from above.”
Then he coughed to clear his throat.
“The Samrat is dead!”
TO BE CONTINUED
November 16, 2015
Journey of a Book cover: From idea to print….
They say, “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.”
Why do they say that?
Definitely because a majority of people do tend to judge a book by its cover. If this was not the case, there was no need for the above proverb to have existed at all :)
Well, that is how important book covers are!
Especially for my genre : Fiction!
Fiction is read to escape into an alternate world created by the author. Fiction is read to have an intense emotional experience,. And a good book cover contributes to that immensely….
So obviously, I was very worried and confused when I was thinking about the cover for my first book, ‘The prince of Patliputra‘ which will be launched in December 2015. You can find it on Facebook at and on Instagram at
It all begins with an idea….
I wanted to do something different and intense with my book cover….
Something that had never been done…
After days of head scratching and biting nails…..i finally found out what i wanted to be on the book cover.
My story is a Historical fantasy set in ancient India. It is a story of multiple characters and events with focus on one protogandist —Asoka Maurya…who went on the become Samrat Asoka whose symbol now flies proudly on our National flag…
But the story is not just about him, but of his empire as a whole..
So i decided to put the map of Bharath ( INDIA) on the cover designed in a style of two point perspective look…
This was my first sketch to put my idea in front of my designers eyes….
Put it digitally in GIMP2.0, it looked like this…
Quite messy, being done by my amateur’s hand….But it was enough to convey my emotions to the designer…
My designer took my idea to the heart and used their awesome skills to create a professional look for the idea….which looked like this…
So how does it look…..???
Do you like it?????
Well…………I didn’t..!
It looked more like a cover of a travel magazine than that of a historical thriller….
Suddenly, my idea of putting the story world on the cover didn’t seem so cool at all!!
Suddenly, i felt lost….So lost that i didn’t even know what to put on my cover any more…
That’s when my designer came to my rescue. This, guys is the difference between an amateur and professional…..Seeing my fist idea turn out so bad made me feel nervous…..while it inspired my designer to try something different..
This is what she made while i was worrying that my book was going to have no cover at all…
And suddenly, my faith in my basic cover idea was rejuvenated.
I realized that the idea could still work…all i had to do was to change the way it looked. Change the perspective of the story world.
So, what I did was flip the new cover and go back to the same idea as before— ‘ Putting the story world on the cover..’
This is what i returned to my designer. We had a few discussions that the brown palace on the now back cover wasn’t contributing anything to the cover and seemed out of place…
After doing what designers do and waving a magic wand over the cover, She returned me this.. And trust me, it looks awesome..
So this is the New cover of my book :)
And this is how it went from idea to completion…
If you like it, do like it HERE…..
NOTE: All images are property of Leadstart Publishing private ltd
Have a good day y’all..
July 29, 2015
Ilaa of Paithan
Hii Everyone!
This is my post for the Write India 2015 July month Contest.
Here’s the link to their fabulous page. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/li...
Their Author of the month was Amish Tripathi, and he provided us with the first paragraph of the story that we had to complete.
Here’s my post!
ILAA OF PAITHAN
Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season, and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks, carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak!
But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn’t working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari.
‘I am sick of this!’ she grunted loudly to herself as she threw small stones into the flowing water of the river.
“Sick of what, child?” The soft voice from her side startled her and her arm which she had raised to throw a stone into the river froze midair. She dropped the stone and looked to her side.
The speaker was an old man with a long white beard and a wooden stick in his hands. He had an air of a rishi about him. Ilaa wondered if she should ignore him, but he had a friendly, calming face.
“I am sick of all this discrimination!” She said. The old man walked up and sat a few paces away from her. “What kind of discrimination!” He asked.
“Oh, come on!” She said, sarcastically, “Can’t you see it all around you! Oh wait! How would you? You are a man!”
The old man laughed. “So are you sick of the way the men of your house treat you?” He asked.
“Not just me!” She said angrily, “Everyone. All of the women here in the village are mistreated!” Then, she threw one more stone into the river angrily, “That too when it is us who do most of the farm work.”
“Well, the men do plough!” The old man offered, but she glared at him.
“Oh, no no no!” She said, “It is the oxen who plough. The men just walk by!”
The old man laughed heartily. “You have a fire within you, girl.” He said, “But what can you do? This has always been so!”
“No! It hasn’t always been so.” Ilaa closed her eyes reflexively. Her mind has wandered to the stories her old grandmother would tell her about the good olden days. “Earlier, women used to be respected.”
“Oh really?” The old man asked, “When?”
“Haven’t you heard the old epics, uncle?” She asked tersely, “Ramayana? In it, even the demon king Raavana speaks to his wife, the fair Mandodari with respect.”
“But Raavana did kidnap Sita!” The old man said.
“But he did not touch her without her permission.” Ilaa pointed out, “That too, is respect, uncle.”
“You do have a point.” The old man said, smiling.
“Not only this!” Ilaa shrugged, “There were great female Rishis too, in the olden days.” She said, “Have you heard of the sage Gargi, who defeated the famed male sage Yajnavalkya in open debate.” Then she sighed, “Now in our times,” She said, “I can’t even talk against a man, let alone do a debate.”
“You are a well-read woman.” The old man smiled. “Why don’t you do something to change this discrimination of which you are so sick!” He said.
Ilaa looked at him with disbelief. “What can I do!” She said.
“Nothing!” The old man offered.
“But I must do something!” She said.
“Well, you seem to have a sharp mind.” The old man said, “You can analyze why this discrimination exists, and then find a way to eradicate it.”
“Why does it exist?” She said to herself and then closed her eyes. Her mind had wandered to the stories of the old gain. “Earlier, women were intelligent.” She said.
“Women still are intelligent.” The old man said, “I mean, look at you!”
Ilaa blushed a little at the compliment and then opened her eyes. “No.” She said, “What I mean is that in the olden days, women could do things equally well that men could do. Women were seers. Women were sages. They could fight with weapons. They could trade. Now, women are reduced to doing only those things that men ask them too. That is why, we have lost respect.”
“I have a little difference of opinion about this.” The old man said, “I think that women are still equally as capable as men. In fact, I think that there are many things which a woman can do, that a man cannot. All that has happened is that all the men have forgotten this fact.”
A smile crept upon Ilaa’s face. “So that’s all that must be done then.” She said, “We must remind the men of our importance. We should show them that we are equal to them.”
“Better than them!” The old man whispered and Ilaa laughed. Then, her face became serious again. “But how will I?” She asked.
The old man smiled as he got up to his feet. “That, you must figure out yourself.” He said, “This is the battle of women. I can’t help.”
“But uncle, surely you can…..” Ilaa said, getting up too, but the old man had already taken his stick and started walking off in the opposite direction.
“Huh!” She said angrily as she sat back down. ‘All men are alike.’ Then as she sat looking at the free flowing Godavari River, the clockworks in her head started moving fast. The Uncle had a point! A smile crept to her face as she leaped up with joy.
She knew what to do.
*
“Why have you called us here, Ilaa?” The women complained as they sat under the banyan tree at the side of the village huts to eat their meals. It was almost midday and all the women working in the fields were there.
“I’ve called you all here because I want to talk.” Ilaa said. In her hand, she was holding a big vessel of chutni which she had prepared that day. She took a spoon and offered it to all of the women who were eating their bhakris.
“What do you want to talk about, Ilaa?” One of the women asked.
“About the way our men treat us.” Ilaa said angrily, “They disrespect us. They mistreat us and what not!”
“Ilaa!” One of the women said with fear, “It is not our place to question our husbands. If the elders come to know about this…..”
“Boo to the elders!” Ilaa stood up with her hand upon her hips, “Tell me sisters!” She said, “What makes money for our households?”
“The cotton!” One of the women meekly offered.
“Exactly!” Ilaa said, “And who picks off and packs all the cotton from the fields?”
“We do.” One of the women said.
“And do the men help?”
“No they can’t.” One of the older woman said, “Their palms are too big. The cotton bud must be pulled out gently. It is a woman’s work.”
“Exactly!” Ilaa smiled, “If a man does that, the cotton buds will all get useless.”
“What are you getting at?” One of the women asked.
Ilaa smiled. “If we don’t pluck out and pack the buds,” She said, “Our men do not make money. Their livelihoods depend upon us, and yet look at the way they treat us!”
“What are we to do, Ilaa?” One of the younger girls asked.
Ilaa smiled. “Nothing.” She said.
“Nothing?”
“Yes.” Ilaa said, “We do nothing at all.”
‘What do you mean, Ilaa?”
“I mean,” Ilaa’s eyes were bright as marbles as she stood up straight and spoke, “We are going on a strike!” She said.
*
“What did you say?” Ramukaka, the village headman asked with disbelief, as he slowly rubbed some ghutka in his palms.
“The women aren’t working, Kaka!” The young man in front of him said, “They say they want respect.”
Ramukaka laughed, as he placed the ghutka in his mouth. “Must be some whim.” He said, “Let them be! Let’s see how long they do this!”
“As you say, Kaka.”
*
“This is pure madness, Ilaa.” Her father in law said angrily as he stamped his food thali onto the ground with a bang.
“This is necessary, father!” Ilaa said strongly, looking him in the eyes.
“Look down when the elders are angry with you.” He got to his feet angrily.
“All the women listen to her, father.” This was her husband, “If she tells them to, they will work again.” He said.
“Look here,” Her father in law raised his finger angrily, “Tomorrow morning, you tell them to work.”
“No, I won’t.” she said defiantly. Slap! Her husband had slapped her hard, on the cheek. She rubbed the place with her palm where red marks of fingers had appeared, “This is exactly what I am trying to change.” She said.
“You tell them tomorrow.”
“No, I tell you now!” She shouted, “Until you men learn to treat us with respect,” She said, “We aren’t working!”
Then, she ran out of the house as tears flowed down her cheeks. They won’t see my tears She thought as she ran to the river Godavari. The river will give me strength!
*
“Ramukaka, the traders and the wholesalers of Paithan arrive tomorrow!”
“Hmm.” Ramukaka grunted as he paced from one corner to the other of his courtyard. His mouth was still full with all the ghutka that he was chewing.
“Our cotton is not ready, Kaka!” The young man said with fear, “The traders will go away If we do not have bulging cotton bags to give to them. They’ll go to Amravati instead.”
“Hmm.” Ramukaka grunted again as he continued his walking.
“Some of us men tried to do the plucking, Kaka.” The young man said.
“Hmm?” Ramukaka looked at the man with a questioning gaze.
“It did not work.” The man sighed, “Our palms are too big and rough for that work. The buds we plucked were rendered useless.”
“Hmm!” Ramukaka grunted sadly.
“The women will have to go to the fields, Kaka.” The young man said, “It is all that Ilaa’s doing. It is she who convinced all of them not to work.”
Ramukaka walked up at the corner and spit out the contents of his mouth upon the mud wall. The red stains of the tobacco lingered on the wall as Ramukaka turned. “I’m going to go reason with this Ilaa.” He said.
“And what are you going to say to her?” The young man asked.
“I am going to apologize.” Ramukaka said.
*
“Your sorry is of no use, Ramukaka.” Ilaa said. She and all the women of the village were sitting under the big banyan tree in the village, “We want promises that we shall get the respect we deserve.”
“Of course we’ll promise you that.” Ramukaka said, “All the men will promise all of you that. Over all these days, we have realized the importance of you women in our lives. But the way you chose to make us realize all that is disastrous.
“Really! Kaka?” Ilaa asked, hiding away a smile. The moment of reckoning was nigh upon them.
“Indeed!” Ramukaka said, “All of us are going to lose our livelihoods now! The traders from Paithan arrive tomorrow. And they are going to go back empty handed. We are going to get no money and we are going to be left with all this cotton in the field.”
“And you think that’s disastrous, Ramukaka?” Ilaa asked.
“All the men are going to remember this.” Ramukaka said, “The respect you get shall be blackmailed one. Not original.”
“And what if we do this, Ramukaka?” Ilaa turned to the women, smiling now. It had been done! The men had apologized. Now it was time for them to do their job. “Sisters of Sauviragram!” Ilaa said loudly, “Let us show Ramukaka and all our men what Naari Shakti is.”
All the women cheered her and got to their feet. They ran to get their baskets and other materials as Ramukaka watched dumbfounded.
“We shall earn our respect, Ramukaka.” Ilaa smiled, as she turned to go in the direction of the fields, “But it was fun to watch all of you men suffer a little. Well, a little bit of revenge had to be taken, hadn’t it?”
*
The women of Sauviragram worked hard the whole afternoon as Ramukaka and the men watched from the edges of the fields. They looked at their women with admiration.
“Let’s do something.” It was Ilaa’s husband who spoke, “Let’s do what we can. Let’s pick up the bags and help them get new ones.”
“Yes!” Ilaa’s father in law agreed, “Let’s go men. Let’s work for our livelihood.”
The men cheered as they ran for the fields too. They couldn’t pluck the buds, so they helped the women in other small matters. Ramukaka watched them from the village with glee. Then, his eyes caught sight of Ilaa who was watching the spectacle as she plucked some cotton buds and placed it into the sack on her back. She was smiling too.
#
“The whole village worked that evening, and for the whole night..” Ilaa told him, as the old man listened with interest. They were again standing by the edge of the Godavari river. “Not a single soul slept. And when the traders from Paithan came for their goods the next day, we were ready with bags bulging with cotton.”
“Well done.” The old man smiled.
“And my husband apologized to me and told me he would never hit me again.” And then, she blushed a little, “And he told me that he loves me and he is proud of me.”
“You have done a great thing, here, Ilaa.” The old man smiled as he picked up his stick and then blessed her.
“All the women are so happy.” She said, as she bent down to touch the old man’s feet, “All their husbands and fathers are being so nice now from the heart.”
“It’s all because of your Naari Shakti” The old man smiled as he took his leave.
“Thanks, uncle, for inspiring me.” Ilaa said.
“The fire was within you. All I did was, trigger it.” The old man turned to leave.
“At least tell me your name, Uncle, before you go.” Ilaa said, looking at him going.
The old man smiled over his shoulder. “I am called Ramdas.” He said, “Samarth Ramdas!” Then, he turned and walked away into the setting sun along the river of Godavari.
THE END
Have a good day yo’all.
July 27, 2015
A Lesson in divison
Hii Everyone!
I’ve always been a great fan of the ‘kōan‘ the short stories in Zen Buddhism.But a kōan may not be just a story, It can also be just a question or a statement.
Here is my attempt to write one.
A LESSON IN DIVISION
Once when a great king ruled over the region, a famous Zen master came to stay in the land. The king welcomed him grandly, for the master was known to be very wise and enlightened.
the king offered the master many gifts, but the master wanted none and all he asked for was a quiet place to do his penance & so in return, the king asked for counsel to rule his kingdom.
And so, after the mater had settled in a cave in the hills, the king was at his doorstep.
“i have a question to ask of you Good Sir.” the King said. “this question has troubled me since last fewness. i have been thinking about it so much, that i can’t even get any good sleep.”
the Zen master smiled. “Ask away,” he said, ” and i will clear all your doubts.”
“the question goes like this” the king said,” i have three coins. But i have only two sons. how shall i divide three coins into two sons?”
the Zen master smiled. “it is quite a simple matter.” he said. “you shall take one coin & give it to the elder son because he is elder & so must be dealt with first. Then, you shall take one coin & give it to the younger son. each son gets one coin, so everything is fair & no son is angry.”
“that is quite alright” the king said, ” But what of the third coin?”
“it is very simple.” the master said with a smile. “the third coin, you shall give to me, because i have helped you to solve this question.”
“you have a great way of explaining things.” the king said, and thanking the master, left.
Days passed & the king was back at the cave looking for the master.
“i have a question to ask you very good master!” the king said, ” one that is again giving me sleepless nights.”
“ask away then.” the master said.
“well it goes like this.” the king said,” i have two coins & three sons. Now how am i to divide two coins in three sons!”
” a trivial task” the master said, ” you shall take one coin & give it to the elder son. Then, you shall take another coin & give it to the middle son.”
“and then?” the king asked eagerly.
” And then,” the master said, ” i will give you the third coin which you gave me earlier and you shall give it to the third son. As all the sons have their coins, everyone is happy.”
the king smiled for his problem was solved and bowed to the master and left. The next day, however, he was at the cave again.
“What’s it now?” The Zen master asked.
“Again a small question, Master!” the King bowed.
“Well, ask away then.”
The King cleared his throat. “Well, it goes like this.” He said, “I have three sons, and I want to distribute two coins amongst them.”
“Whoa, whoa, Stop!” The Master said, “We’eve already been through this one.”
“Of Course.” The King said, “But now there is no One coin with you.” There was a grin on the King’s face.
The Zen Master sighed. “Okay.” He said, “you shall take one coin & give it to the elder son. Then, you shall take another coin & give it to the middle son.”
“And Next?” The King was laughing to himself now.
“And then, you shall take one more coin and give it to the third son.” The Master finished.
“But i don’t have one more coin, Master!” The King exclaimed.
“Oh , you’re a King.” The Master waved, “You have all the coins in the world!”
From that day onwards, the King never disturbed the master for trivial problems.
THE END
Have a good day y’all
–
July 25, 2015
10 Rules for writing Historical fiction
Hi everyone.
I just finished working on the third draft of my first manuscript which is now in the pipeline for publication. And Damn! It was hard work!
As it was a historical fiction, set in India, I learnt quite a lot of things about this genre while writing through the drafts. Correcting my own mistakes as I went along and learning new things from the pros, I used these ten rules to make my work strong.
1] Write about a known character OR Write about a known event: 
Now, there are two ways to go about writing historical fiction. You could either write about a historical figure that the masses already know and let your imagination flow with him. Or, you could create totally new characters, fictional characters, and put them into an event of which people still talk about.
2] create a strong set of supporting characters:
:
In both of the above cases, you shall need strong supporting characters. A story can’t run on one character alone, never! You will need a good Villain [oxymoron unintended], a love interest and a sidekick. That’s the very basic formula though now, the trend is towards creating more grey characters and to avoid clichés such as above.
3] Keep the world stronger than the characters:
The world you create in a historical fiction was already present before your story occurs, and will continue to exist long after your story is over.
4] Be sensitive with sensitive history:
:
Some periods of the past are very sensitive to sensitive people. And yes, there are a lot of sensitive people in this world. So respect their sensitiveness and handle those parts of history, if you must, with sensitivity.
5] The facts must support the fiction:
Whatever history you choose to write about, some parts of it will always be documented by historians of modern periods and writers of those periods. Do read it! What you write must not conflict with what is already known about that time. Like if Henry V won the battle of Agincourt, then he won it! He can’t lose it, No, not even in your book!
6] Don’t make it a history lesson:
:
Most people are bored of history lessons. They don’t want a history lesson from a book. They want to be entertained. So don’t go about explaining history. Let it flow out of conversations and events.
7] Do your research
:
There are many things that we take for granted today that may or MAY NOT have existed in the time period of your story. So do your researches about the time period of your story thoroughly before you begin to write it. Otherwise, your 3rd century BC character might end up wielding a gun powdered rifle to his enemies. And yes, there are not-so-obvious things too. Like if your story is set in 4th century BC India, then your characters can’t write letters on paper because paper didn’t exist in India then.
8] Surprise the reader
Don’t get me wrong, but what is the point of writing Historical fiction! The history has already happened. Everyone knows what is going to happen in the book. Still they read it because good historical fiction will make the reader forget what he already knows about the history and give him a sense of interest.
9] Don’t confuse the dates
:
Dates are confusing, yes! They have been confusing ever since we started learning them in history lessons at school. We have AD’s (Anno Domini’s) for eg. We live in 2015 AD. Two years ago, it was 2013 AD. But when we venture into ancient history before Christ, [B.C.’s] the whole counting changes. Like one year before Christ, it was 1 B.C. and three years before that, it was 4 B.C.! Confusing, isn’t it! So, if there are more than one time periods in your story, then it is better to stick to one time period as the main time period. And then, use it as reference when writing about the other time periods. For example, if some part of your story happens in 1600AD and the other part in 1700AD, then writing about the 1700AD part as ‘100 years later.’ Saves the reader from having to figure out the AD”s and the BC’s and he’ll sure be grateful to you for it.
10] Make it a compelling read: And in the end, this is a general rule for all kinds of fictions.
Here are some links about this topic
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/10082642/Ten-best-historical-novels.html
http://www.giraffedays.com/?page_id=3248
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/729264-all-time-top-10-historical-fiction-books
http://www.abebooks.com/books/features/50-essential-historical-fiction-books.shtml
Have a good day y’all.
