shut.
‘ Adi Shakti, Namo Namah; Sarab Shakti, Namo Namah; Prithum Bhagvati, Namo Namah; Kundalini Mata Shakti; Mata Shakti, Namo Namah ,’ he muttered softly to himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
About 2300 years ago
T he smell of human excrement was overpowering. The harsh stone floor was slick with a thick slime of blood, sweat, urine and faecal matter. The fetid bowels of Dhanananda’s prison complex heralded the arrival of the new visitor with the bloodcurdling screams of tortured inmates. The dim light provided by a few flaming torches revealed little of the roughly-hewn rock walls with an assortment of chains and restraints bolted to them.
As the gate to the filthy cell slammed shut, Chanakya felt something slither over his foot, probably a snake. He instinctively slammed down his other foot on the slippery creature and held his foot down until he felt the reptile lying motionless. He stood glued to the spot for quite some time, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. As his pupils dilated, he was able to discern a couple of rats fighting over a piece of flesh, quite possibly human.
‘One may wash one’s anus a hundred times and it will still be vile,’ thought Chanakya, ‘and Dhanananda may hand out a thousand endowments to Brahmins but he will still remain corrupt!’ Chanakya set about finding himself a corner that was least polluted and eventually sat himself down with his back against a damp wall. The cell did not have any windows. There was a complete absence of ventilation. He closed his eyes and began his pranayama —the yogic breathing exercises taught by the venerable sage Dandayan—to help him cope with the unhealthy conditions.
Unexpectedly he heard a click and saw a thin dancing sliver of light emerge through the gate. It was a dwarf holding an oil lamp in his hand. He quietly raised his finger to his lips, signalling to Chanakya for complete silence. With a quick jerk of his head he motioned Chanakya to get up and follow him.
The little man led him to an extremely constricted cavity along one of the walls. The midget did not seem to mind the narrow space as he efficiently tied a rope firmly around Chanakya’s waist. Chanakya did not know where the other end of the rope was located. Suddenly he felt a tug and found himself being lifted off his feet. He was in some sort of chute that was extremely tight and claustrophobic. During the upward ascent, Chanakya’s face, thighs and hands grazed the duct surfaces and either burned from friction or bled from gashes. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt cool air and heard the sound of running water. He was back along the banks of the Ganges.
He was startled to see an entire band of dwarves pulling the rope that held him. Their leader stepped forward and explained. ‘Do not be alarmed, acharya. Katyayanji asked us to help. He needed us gnomes to access the ancient escape duct leading from the prison. As you’ve observed, the passage is very narrow—and that’s after we’ve widened it for you.’
‘I am grateful to you and to Katyayanji, but who are you? What is it that you do for a living?’ asked Chanakya, intuitively inquisitive even in distress.
‘Dwarves have always had a very important function in Magadha, acharya. We’ve usually been guarders of the royal kosh —the treasury. As you know, most royal treasuries are established in concealed spots and have secret corridors not accessible to thieves and bandits. We small people are ideal guards.’
‘But you’re servants of the king. Why would you help me?’
‘Our greater wish was to help our beloved former prime minister, Shaktarji, who created the royal kosh in the first place, and the system of dwarves guarding it. He has remained a prisoner here for many years. We have quietly and determinedly been working on extending this passage for several months now and were able to get him out just moments before you. Getting you out was our next move. Katyayanji and Senapati Maurya
‘ Adi Shakti, Namo Namah; Sarab Shakti, Namo Namah; Prithum Bhagvati, Namo Namah; Kundalini Mata Shakti; Mata Shakti, Namo Namah ,’ he muttered softly to himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
About 2300 years ago
T he smell of human excrement was overpowering. The harsh stone floor was slick with a thick slime of blood, sweat, urine and faecal matter. The fetid bowels of Dhanananda’s prison complex heralded the arrival of the new visitor with the bloodcurdling screams of tortured inmates. The dim light provided by a few flaming torches revealed little of the roughly-hewn rock walls with an assortment of chains and restraints bolted to them.
As the gate to the filthy cell slammed shut, Chanakya felt something slither over his foot, probably a snake. He instinctively slammed down his other foot on the slippery creature and held his foot down until he felt the reptile lying motionless. He stood glued to the spot for quite some time, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. As his pupils dilated, he was able to discern a couple of rats fighting over a piece of flesh, quite possibly human.
‘One may wash one’s anus a hundred times and it will still be vile,’ thought Chanakya, ‘and Dhanananda may hand out a thousand endowments to Brahmins but he will still remain corrupt!’ Chanakya set about finding himself a corner that was least polluted and eventually sat himself down with his back against a damp wall. The cell did not have any windows. There was a complete absence of ventilation. He closed his eyes and began his pranayama —the yogic breathing exercises taught by the venerable sage Dandayan—to help him cope with the unhealthy conditions.
Unexpectedly he heard a click and saw a thin dancing sliver of light emerge through the gate. It was a dwarf holding an oil lamp in his hand. He quietly raised his finger to his lips, signalling to Chanakya for complete silence. With a quick jerk of his head he motioned Chanakya to get up and follow him.
The little man led him to an extremely constricted cavity along one of the walls. The midget did not seem to mind the narrow space as he efficiently tied a rope firmly around Chanakya’s waist. Chanakya did not know where the other end of the rope was located. Suddenly he felt a tug and found himself being lifted off his feet. He was in some sort of chute that was extremely tight and claustrophobic. During the upward ascent, Chanakya’s face, thighs and hands grazed the duct surfaces and either burned from friction or bled from gashes. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt cool air and heard the sound of running water. He was back along the banks of the Ganges.
He was startled to see an entire band of dwarves pulling the rope that held him. Their leader stepped forward and explained. ‘Do not be alarmed, acharya. Katyayanji asked us to help. He needed us gnomes to access the ancient escape duct leading from the prison. As you’ve observed, the passage is very narrow—and that’s after we’ve widened it for you.’
‘I am grateful to you and to Katyayanji, but who are you? What is it that you do for a living?’ asked Chanakya, intuitively inquisitive even in distress.
‘Dwarves have always had a very important function in Magadha, acharya. We’ve usually been guarders of the royal kosh —the treasury. As you know, most royal treasuries are established in concealed spots and have secret corridors not accessible to thieves and bandits. We small people are ideal guards.’
‘But you’re servants of the king. Why would you help me?’
‘Our greater wish was to help our beloved former prime minister, Shaktarji, who created the royal kosh in the first place, and the system of dwarves guarding it. He has remained a prisoner here for many years. We have quietly and determinedly been working on extending this passage for several months now and were able to get him out just moments before you. Getting you out was our next move. Katyayanji and Senapati Maurya
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