minister reduce the king’s burden in times of crisis or panic?’
‘Why do that? Rulers must be allowed to panic. They need to be kept busy with lots of crises. It’s their measure of achievement!’
‘Acharya, is it the sacred duty of the king to always speak the truth?’
‘Hah! The king doesn’t need the truth. What he most needs is something that he can tell the people, dear lad. After all, a good speech is not one in which you can prove that the king’s telling the truth, it’s one where no one else can prove he’s fibbing.’
‘Acharya, which are the freedoms that should be guaranteed to a citizen by the state?’
‘Hmm… let me see. It’s well known that a hungry man is more interested in four pieces of bread rather than four freedoms.’
‘Acharya, why should Brahmins like you be involved in politics?’
‘Politics is far too serious a matter to be left to politicians, son.’
‘Acharya, is war the only solution to political differences?’
‘Wise pupil, politics is war without bloodshed and war is simply politics with bloodshed.’
‘Acharya, don’t citizens have the right to know how their tax revenues are being used?’
‘Dear me. No, no, no. People don’t want to know how tax revenue has actually been spent. Does any worshipper ever ask the temple Brahmin what happened to the ritual offering made to the gods?’
‘Acharya, isn’t good government about acting on principles?’
‘Absolutely. Government is about principles. And the principle is, never act on principle.’
‘And are principles greater than money?’
‘Remember one central tenet, lad. When anybody says, “It isn’t the money, it’s the principle”, they actually mean that it’s the money.’
‘Acharya, what’s the ideal amount of time that should be spent by the king’s council debating an issue?’
‘Well, if you don’t want the council to spend too long over something, make it the last item on their agenda before refreshments.’
‘Acharya, should a king go to war to uphold law and justice?’
‘The king should always be on the side of law and justice, as long as he doesn’t allow it to come in the way of foreign policy.’
‘Acharya, what should the punishment be for a prime minister who keeps the king ignorant of happenings in the kingdom?’
‘My son, kings are ignorant not because prime ministers do not give them the right answers but because they do not ask their prime ministers the right questions. And here endeth the lesson!’
The witty repartee and humour masked an inner melancholy and sense of desolation. Chanakya had left his mother in Magadha on the mere promise of Katyayan. Was she in good health? Would she be missing her son?
How would she be coping with the loss of both husband and son? Over the years, he had tried to send several messages to her through various merchant caravans and wandering bards. No reply had ever come back. It could mean either that the messengers had been unable to locate her... or worse.
It had been over ten years since that dark amavasya night, under the cover of which he had abandoned Magadha. His mentor, Pundarikaksha, had passed away the previous year. On his deathbed, the compassionate dean had urged Chanakya to return to Magadha and bring back his mother to Takshila, so that she could be better cared for. ‘Your mother as well as your motherland need looking after, Chanakya, but one’s mother comes before one’s motherland.’
Pundarikaksha had died leaving three possessions to his beloved disciple—his house, his manuscripts and his loyal manservant. Chanakya quickly installed three of his favourite students, Sinharan, Mehir and Sharangrao in the house to look after his affairs while he was away. Sinharan was the son of the governor of Mallayrajya, one of the handfuls of republics in the region. He had been cheated out of the throne by his uncle who had usurped the throne of Mallayrajya from Sinharan’s father. Mehir was a Persian
‘Why do that? Rulers must be allowed to panic. They need to be kept busy with lots of crises. It’s their measure of achievement!’
‘Acharya, is it the sacred duty of the king to always speak the truth?’
‘Hah! The king doesn’t need the truth. What he most needs is something that he can tell the people, dear lad. After all, a good speech is not one in which you can prove that the king’s telling the truth, it’s one where no one else can prove he’s fibbing.’
‘Acharya, which are the freedoms that should be guaranteed to a citizen by the state?’
‘Hmm… let me see. It’s well known that a hungry man is more interested in four pieces of bread rather than four freedoms.’
‘Acharya, why should Brahmins like you be involved in politics?’
‘Politics is far too serious a matter to be left to politicians, son.’
‘Acharya, is war the only solution to political differences?’
‘Wise pupil, politics is war without bloodshed and war is simply politics with bloodshed.’
‘Acharya, don’t citizens have the right to know how their tax revenues are being used?’
‘Dear me. No, no, no. People don’t want to know how tax revenue has actually been spent. Does any worshipper ever ask the temple Brahmin what happened to the ritual offering made to the gods?’
‘Acharya, isn’t good government about acting on principles?’
‘Absolutely. Government is about principles. And the principle is, never act on principle.’
‘And are principles greater than money?’
‘Remember one central tenet, lad. When anybody says, “It isn’t the money, it’s the principle”, they actually mean that it’s the money.’
‘Acharya, what’s the ideal amount of time that should be spent by the king’s council debating an issue?’
‘Well, if you don’t want the council to spend too long over something, make it the last item on their agenda before refreshments.’
‘Acharya, should a king go to war to uphold law and justice?’
‘The king should always be on the side of law and justice, as long as he doesn’t allow it to come in the way of foreign policy.’
‘Acharya, what should the punishment be for a prime minister who keeps the king ignorant of happenings in the kingdom?’
‘My son, kings are ignorant not because prime ministers do not give them the right answers but because they do not ask their prime ministers the right questions. And here endeth the lesson!’
The witty repartee and humour masked an inner melancholy and sense of desolation. Chanakya had left his mother in Magadha on the mere promise of Katyayan. Was she in good health? Would she be missing her son?
How would she be coping with the loss of both husband and son? Over the years, he had tried to send several messages to her through various merchant caravans and wandering bards. No reply had ever come back. It could mean either that the messengers had been unable to locate her... or worse.
It had been over ten years since that dark amavasya night, under the cover of which he had abandoned Magadha. His mentor, Pundarikaksha, had passed away the previous year. On his deathbed, the compassionate dean had urged Chanakya to return to Magadha and bring back his mother to Takshila, so that she could be better cared for. ‘Your mother as well as your motherland need looking after, Chanakya, but one’s mother comes before one’s motherland.’
Pundarikaksha had died leaving three possessions to his beloved disciple—his house, his manuscripts and his loyal manservant. Chanakya quickly installed three of his favourite students, Sinharan, Mehir and Sharangrao in the house to look after his affairs while he was away. Sinharan was the son of the governor of Mallayrajya, one of the handfuls of republics in the region. He had been cheated out of the throne by his uncle who had usurped the throne of Mallayrajya from Sinharan’s father. Mehir was a Persian
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