BOR N TO BE

K INg T H E E PI C O F K AU T I LYA

Deepa k T hom a s

First print edition: 2019 Copyright © Deepak Thomas 2019 All rights reserved Deepak Thomas asserts the moral right to be

dents are either the product of the author’s imagination or living or dead, events and locales is entirely coincidental. Edited by Anna Bowles Cover Design by Ivan Cakic Book Interior Design by Rochelle Mensidor Map by Allyn Bowker This book is sold or gifted subject to the condition that it shall not, by any way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior written consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser and without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews with appropriate citations. www.deepakthomaswriter.com ISBN: 978-93-88459-85-3

To my mother, my father and my motherland.

“Fear not the consequences of performing your duty.” -The Song Celestial-

C H A P T E R

1

T he li t t le Pa r rot The Great Celestial War was waged many moons ago. Blood rained on the three worlds of Triloka. The asura, demonic inhabitants of the underwater realm of Patala, threatened the cosmic order by elevating their golden capital to the heavens. Their terrestrial cousins, the danavas, allied with them. But the rulers of the celestial city of Devaloka, the demigods, would not let chaos triumph. With the humans of Bharat by their side, they met the forces of darkness in battle. Corpses littered the three worlds. The God of Death had been well pleased those days as the number of his subjects swelled.

K

autilya took her eyes off the palm-leaf text. The eightyear-old princess of Bharat loved to read. Her favourite pastime was to bring a text to the meadows behind the Royal Palace, lie on the grass and immerse herself in it. She particularly loved reading about the Great War. After all, her father, King Chandra, was the hero who had brought 1

D e e p a k

T h o m a s

it to an end. The demigods who fought by her father’s side were fascinating too. She turned to lie on her back. In the distance she could see Devaloka, floating in the sky among the clouds, and imagined what its denizens would be like. They lived in a beautiful city, where the sun never set. They never aged or died. The Wind God had bestowed on them the ability to fly. If only she could be a demigod! She picked up the texts again. The humans beat the danavas. However, the asura would not yield. So the King of Bharat unleashed on them the most powerful weapon in Triloka, the Brahmastra. Once their great capital crumbled into the sea, the asura surrendered and the whole world bowed down to the might of the demigods.

Kautilya winced when she imagined the number of casualties there must have been. A whole city crumbling into the sea. But then again, asura could breathe underwater. How did one get a weapon like the Brahmastra? Her father never talked about it. Maybe the text had some answers. She flipped through it to see. To obtain the Brahmastra severe penance has to be done in the name of the Creator God. Once the Creator God is pleased he reveals to you the incantation to invoke it. However, one may use this mighty weapon only once in a lifetime. Several great warriors across Triloka are engaged in penance to obtain this great astra. On the other hand, there are rumours that Lord Vajra has tasked his best warriors to obtain the Brahmashirshastra, a weapon said to be four times more powerful.

2

B O R N

T O

B E

K I N G

Considering the antagonism between the demigods and the asura, this wanton quest for power may lead to the ultimate destruction of Triloka.

Kautilya shuddered. What a pessimistic author! “Kautilya!” She heard a boy call for her. The boy ran up the hill towards her. “Kautilya,” he panted, “why don’t you answer back when I call you?” Kautilya scratched the back of her head guiltily. “Sorry, Jay. I was just reading.” She held her arms out for a hug. Jay sighed and met the embrace. In the same embrace, he lifted her up. Jay was the general’s son. He was two years older than Kautilya and her brothers but he spent most of his time with them. Everyone thought it was because he wanted to be with her brothers. But Kautilya knew that he wanted to be with her. “You’d better not let any of your nannies see you reading those books,” Jay said. “They want you to learn how to be a good wife, not a philosopher.” “But I like reading,” Kautilya said. “My brothers hate studying but they’re forced to do it. I love it but they don’t let me.” “Adults are strange,” Jay said. He scanned the hills around them. “Where are your brothers?” “They’ve gone hunting rabbits I think,” Kautilya said. “Why did you not go with them?” Kautilya imagined scared little animals scampering away from deadly arrow shots. “I don’t like hunting.” Jay smiled. “It’s all right. In any case, your father has summoned all of you.” Hand in hand, they set out to look for her brothers.

3

D e e p a k

T h o m a s

Kautilya had five brothers of her same age, the heirs to Bharat. Stories of their miraculous birth and wondrous abilities were retold across the empire. Kautilya, though born with her brothers, did not have any wondrous abilities. She could memorise long passages after one scan but that was it. “What’s that between the texts?” Jay asked. He leaned over and looked at Kautilya’s other hand. Kautilya let go of his hand, pulled out a scroll and showed it to Jay. She had painted a horse. When she wasn’t reading, she was usually painting. “Wow, it’s beautiful.” Jay reached out. Kautilya handed the scroll over. “I made it for you.” Jay scanned it with genuine admiration. “You’re so nice, Kautilya,” he said. “Thank you.” Kautilya smiled. She loved it when Jay praised her work. She loved everything about him: his beautiful smile, his soft embrace, his soothing voice. Jay was her best friend. “I love you, Jay,” Kautilya said. Jay was flustered. “I ... uh ... you shouldn’t say that to strange men, you know.” “Are you a man?” Kautilya asked. “Of course,” Jay said. “Why would you doubt it?” “You’re only ten years old,” Kautilya said. Jay puffed out his chest. “It is not one’s age but one’s actions that make one a man.” “Your mother said you still wet yourself while sleeping,” Kautilya said. Jay fumed. “When did she tell you that?” he said. “I will not talk to her today. She has to be considerate about my honour.” “Actually, she didn’t tell me,” Kautilya said. “But now that you confirmed it...” She laughed.

4

B O R N

T O

B E

K I N G

Jay grumbled even more. “It’s because I’m sensitive to the cold.” Suddenly Kautilya heard rustling in the trees of the orchard. “Jay,” she said, “I think I found my brothers.” The mango orchard was a sacred grove dedicated to the God of Love. The mangoes there were set aside for the temple service and were not meant to be eaten by humans. And in Bharat even kings could not break sacred rules. Desecration was punishable by death. However, Kautilya knew her brothers did not care for rules. In fact, the fruit was even more appealing to them because it was forbidden. Kautilya and Jay reached the edge of the orchard. It was ringed by a moat. “Are you sure it’s them?” Jay asked Kautilya. “How did they cross the moat?” Kautilya smiled. “A moat isn’t going to stop my brothers.” She turned towards the orchard and called out. “Hayan, it’s me, Kautilya. I need help crossing.” The golden-eyed, grave-faced Hayan could hear anything and see at any distance. Kautilya knew that he would be the one to call. Soon there were splashing sounds and Kautilya and Jay saw a graceful swimmer speed towards them. The swimmer towed along a small makeshift raft made of lashed-together tree trunks. Very soon the swimmer and the raft were on their side. Kautilya knew which brother would be so comfortable in the water. “Hi, Varun,” she said as her sleek brother burst out of the moat. Varun spat a stream of water at Jay and yelled, “Welcome on board the Mango Orchard ferry, my sister and her consort!” “I am not her consort,” Jay said. “When did you all make this?” Kautilya asked.

5

D e e p a k

T h o m a s

“I don’t know,” Varun said. “Dhanush arranged the raft.” Of course, Kautilya thought. It had to be Dhanush. Kautilya and Jay carefully boarded the ‘ferry’ and the raft sped towards the mango orchard. As soon as they neared the bank Varun leapt out of the water and tied the raft to a mango tree. He helped Kautilya get out as well. Once Kautilya was on the shore she saw Hayan sitting in the shade, brooding. He did not like the sun. “Hey, Hayan,” Kautilya said. “Thanks for sending Varun out.” Hayan nodded. Kautilya sighed. He was the silent type. The trees rustled again. Kautilya followed the noise and sure enough, she found her remaining siblings. A stone flew into the branches of the tree. They rustled and it rained mangoes. The mangoes disappeared in a blur of activity and Kautilya was almost blown off her feet in the windy aftermath. The blur came to a stop in front of Kautilya. It was her fast-as-the-wind brother, Sameer. “Hey, Kautilya,” Sameer said, panting. “How are you?” “I’m well,” Kautilya said. She saw that Sameer’s arms were full of mangoes. “That’s a lot of mangoes.” “Hey, come back, you little thief,” a heavy voice boomed. It was the biggest and strongest of her brothers: Bali. “Finders keepers!” Sameer stuck out his tongue and sped off towards the bank. Bali stomped in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” He studied the trunk of the mango tree. He grabbed it and with a giant scream began to push at it. Kautilya had once seen an elephant knock down a tree. Bali was a tenth of an elephant’s size and she had seen him perform greater feats of strength.

6

B O R N

T O

B E

K I N G

Sure enough, the tree began to tilt and its roots began to rip out of the ground. “Bali, stop,” a commanding voice ripped through the orchard. “If you uproot the tree then we will never get mangoes again.” Kautilya recognised the voice. Only one person could get her brothers to toe the line. Kautilya looked around. She could not work out where the voice was coming from. Bali let go of the tree and hung his head in shame. “Sameer,” the voice called out, “come back with the mangoes. We all helped to get them so we all share them.” Kautilya felt the wind pass her and Sameer placed all the mangoes on the ground in the clearing. “Varun, Hayan,” the voice said, “both of you come here.” An eager Varun and an annoyed Hayan walked out into the clearing. There were some more rustling noises and lo and behold the most handsome of all the brothers leapt out of the trees. His hair was long and dark and his frame that of a diminutive warrior. It was the heir to the Bharat throne, the one who would be king: Dhanush. “Hi, Kautilya,” Dhanush said. “Would you care for some mangoes?” Kautilya nodded. Dhanush picked up one and handed it to Kautilya. Then he turned to the rest of the brothers. “All right, so we have fifteen mangoes and there are seven of us. That’s two for each of us. Varun, help me distribute.” “But you will still have one left over,” Kautilya said. Dhanush winked at her. “Don’t worry.”

7