Bharat Read online

  DR VINEET AGGARWAL

  BHARAT

  The Man Who Built a Nation

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Contents

  Prologue

  Shakuntala

  Dushyant

  Sarvadaman

  Bharat

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  BHARAT

  Dr Vineet Aggarwal is a doctor by qualification, manager by profession and artist by temperament. Born in a family of doctors, he successfully completed an initial stint with the family occupation before deciding to venture into pharmaceutical management. He pursues writing as a passion and is an avid travel photographer as well.

  His literary repertoire extends from politics and poetry to travel and terrorism but his favourite genre remains the amalgamation of science and mythology. He is the author of the popular online blogs Decode Hindu Mythology and Fraternity against Terrorism and Extremism. This is his third book.

  By the Same Author

  Vishwamitra

  The Legend of Parshu-Raam

  To all those who have fought for

  the unity of our nation

  Jai Hind

  Vande Mataram

  Prologue

  He lay on the gargantuan coiled body of Shesha, the serpent of time. A golden dhoti draped his powerful legs while his muscular body, the colour of monsoon clouds, glowed with the effulgence of Brahma-jyoti. He wore no ornaments, save the Kaustubh gem that was obtained from the churning of the Ocean of Milk and now adorned his shapely neck. Ringlets of dark, curly hair spilled over a broad forehead, framing high cheekbones and lotus-bud eyes. Eyes that were even now dreaming the world into existence, spinning the web of life with his Yogmaya.

  Shri Hari Vishnu, the Lord of All Creation, rested his handsome head on his right forearm, his other arms extended in various relaxed postures. His consort, Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, leisurely wove a garland of vaijanti flowers. The Milky Way swirled languidly around their abode in Dhruv Loka, at the centre of the galaxy. Vaikunth was an oasis of peace in the misery of material existence, but its harmony was intermittently disturbed by the council of thirty-three Devas when things became too difficult for them to handle.

  He was an integral part of the Holy Trinity of Creator, Preserver and Destroyer. Brahma fashioned things in the form of Srishti, and Shiva was responsible for Samhar or annihilation of all that had been created. And while the Creation existed, it was Vishnu’s responsibility to maintain its Sthiti or equilibrium. But, things always had a way of unravelling themselves, a phenomenon known by the scientists of Swarg as ‘Entropy’. This necessitated his intervention, an external balancing force.

  Brahma’s boons of conditional immortality were quite notorious, for they almost always led to a disturbance in the equilibrium between Good and Evil. In the very first hour of his present day, the Creator god had granted benedictions to Hiranyaksh and Hiranyakashyapu, the twin Daityas. These boons had resulted in widespread massacre of inhabitants of Swarg as well as Prithvi and Shri Hari Vishnu had been compelled to appear first as Varah and then as Narasimha to restore balance in the Three Worlds.

  Shiva was not as indiscriminate as Brahma in granting boons. But he was also fair to a fault, and if suitably impressed, wouldn’t think twice before showering even demons with immense powers. The Bhole-nath had once blessed Daitya-guru Shukracharya with the knowledge of reviving the dead, and again, it was Vishnu who had to help the Devas nullify the unfair advantage their opponents had. He suggested they churn the Cosmic Ocean to obtain Amrit, the elixir of immortality.

  It had been an enormous task to convince the proud Indra to approach his arch-enemy Bali, the leader of the Asurs, and persuade him to help the Devas in the task. It had to be done in a way that the suspicion of the demons would not be roused. To everyone’s relief Shakra, the current Indra, had managed to do so with aplomb. The two clans of divine beings had gathered to whip the Ocean of Milk using Mount Mandar as a churning rod but even that had been possible only after Vishnu balanced the mountain on his back in his Kurma, or turtle, incarnation.

  The churning had provided them with unbelievable riches—Apsaras, the Kaustubh gem, the celestial cow Kamdhenu, the wish-fulfilling Parijat tree, the flying unicorn Ucchaishrava, the six-tusked elephant Airavat, and finally, Amrit. Again Vishnu intervened in the form of Mohini to make sure the Asurs did not get a single drop of the elixir, and distributed it amongst the Devas, thus restoring balance to the equation between the demigods and demons.

  And such drastic interventions were required not only in the higher lokas but in the middle world as well. Vishnu had saved life on earth from extinction by taking the form of Matsya at the time of the Great Deluge. Ever since, he had been guiding humans in the forms of Nar-Narayan, Narad, Kapil and Dattatreya. He had appeared as Rishabhdev to teach the principles of civilization to humanity, and as Prithu to show mankind how to harness earth’s resources, thus giving the planet its name: Prithvi.

  More recently, he had blessed the young Brahmin son of Yamdagni with superhuman powers in order to neutralize the Asurik infestation that had spread over the world like a miasma. That boy, Parshu-Raam, had accomplished the task of eliminating the evil and corrupt kings from Nabhi-varsh and would soon head to other countries to fulfil his destiny. The Lord’s vision filled with images of the young Brahmin boy utilizing his own divine bow and Shiva’s axe to bring the evil plans of the Asur king Ravan to nought. He could see the young man blazing through the military hordes of nations like an inferno, bringing relief to the general populace, even as Ravan, the Asur who had begun the plague of darkness on earth, hid in the Himalayas trying to attain another boon from Shiva. Well, there was still some time before the prayers of that Brahmarakshas came to fruition.

  As peace returned to Nabhi-varsh, the fates were conspiring to change the destiny of that land through another member of Parshu-Raam’s family. Shakuntala, the daughter of Brahmarishi Vishwamitra and the Apsara Menaka, was going to be instrumental in reshaping her country’s future. Vishwamitra had amazed the Trinity with his achievements before and there was no doubt that his offspring would do something momentous as well. The winds of change brewing on earth were going to transform things for all time to come.

  The future was just beginning and Shri Hari Vishnu, the Preserver of Life, liked the direction it was taking.

  Shakuntala

  Adhyaye 1

  Voices filled the royal hall of Hastinapur, bouncing off the two dozen marble pillars that supported the high vaulted ceiling. Wide latticed windows provided illumination as well as ventilation to the cavernous hall that was full of people watching the royal debate.

  Aileen, ruler of the Puru kingdom, sat on a beautifully carved sandalwood throne that had been fashioned to resemble the vehicle of the moon god, the founding father of the Chandravansh. It was shaped like a chariot drawn by eight antelopes, and the king occupied the central seat, sheltered by a silver umbrella. The elderly king was presiding over a debate between his eldest son and the royal council. Of his five sons, Dushyant, the eldest, was quite simply the best.

  Since the day he had first stepped into the court, the crown prince had shown a flair for solving the tricky situations that arose in the running of a kingdom. Dushyant was almost twenty-five now, and towered over his sire. Aileen saw a glimpse of his own younger self in him; they had the same tan complexion, sharp nose and dark eyes but the king had a greying beard and his face had assimilated fine lines from years of looking after the kingdom, while his son’s visage had the freshness of youth. Rigorous training had made Dushyant’s body lithe like that of a cheetah and his mind as sharp as a needle. He was practical and perceptive, and even
now seemed to be winning the debate that had almost reached its conclusion.

  For more than a prehar now, the councillors and the prince had been debating the need to change old policies followed by the kingdom—three hours and counting. Aileen had been trying to get his council to formulate new guidelines for more inclusive development, but to no avail. Change was not easy for anyone, let alone senior members of the court who were set in their ways and accustomed to their lavish lifestyles, but the king hoped that his son would be able to convince them.

  Rising to his full six feet, Dushyant addressed the assembly emphatically, ‘The time has come for Hastinapur to introspect. We must decide which of our traditions are redundant and which can be retained. As the wielder of Shiva’s axe, Parshu-Raam showed us, there is no place for practices that encourage corruption in this new world order.’

  Aileen watched the seasoned councillors wince, a tiny smile playing on his lips. The use of Parshu-Raam’s name was a clever touch. Over the past year, the son of Rishi Yamdagni had gone on a rampage, annihilating autocratic rulers from the Himalayas to the southern ocean, paving the way for a new and just class of kings. Brahmins, Vaishyas and Shudras were the new Kshatriyas of Nabhi-varsh and what remained of the old guard was still haunted by the prospect of Parshu-Raam’s return. Aileen himself had been lucky to escape with his life. His superior, Kartavirya Arjun, the emperor of the world, had not been so fortunate.

  Dushyant’s closing argument had made even the most reluctant of councillors agree to the demand for modernization and as they passed a unanimous motion in favour of the idea, Aileen dismissed the court for the day and called his son to the throne.

  ‘My son,’ he said in a tone that betrayed his satisfaction, ‘seeing the way you have convinced the senior councillors to change their stance for the benefit of the people, I am confident that you are quite ready to look after the affairs of this kingdom. Acharya Dirghatamas, other senior members of the family and I concur that the time has come to pass on the crown of Puruvansh.’

  Kulguru Dirghatamas, a middle-aged rishi who stood behind the king, smiled in agreement.

  Dushyant bowed to both the elders in gratitude and said, ‘Father, it is only because of your blessings and the teachings of Gurudev that I stand where I am today.’ Aileen had raised Dushyant and his brothers by himself in the absence of their mother who had died during childbirth. While the crown prince was glad he had been able to live up to his father’s expectations, he was also concerned for his younger siblings and asked, ‘What about my brothers, Father? May I be bold enough to suggest their induction into the royal council?’

  The kulguru interrupted the conversation and said, ‘Well, we can all agree that some of the councillors are living behind the times and need to be replaced with young blood. Dushyant’s brothers are wise, well-versed in the principles of Dharma, and also love him deeply. They shall make capable and loyal ministers for our kingdom.’

  Aileen was pleased with his son’s generosity of spirit and the kulguru’s sound advice; he gave a nod to the suggestion. Taking an impromptu decision, he said to Dushyant, ‘Why don’t you and your brothers take a short retreat while the acharya checks for an auspicious muhurat to conduct the coronation ceremony? This may be the last time for all of you to relax before joining the court.’

  The crown prince replied, ‘Instead of spending this precious time on a holiday, I would like to utilize it in preparing for the responsibility that lies ahead. May I organize a hunting expedition instead?’

  Aileen smiled again at the thoughtfulness of his son and gave his permission. Dushyant could have easily escaped to some exotic location in the Himalayas or taken a leisurely cruise on the Ganga with his brothers. Instead, he wanted to spend time in dense forests facing dangerous animals and chasing elusive prey. As he watched the retreating form of Dushyant with a satisfied look, the kulguru said, ‘Rajan, I look forward to the future of our kingdom with immense hope.’

  Aileen looked at him and asked, ‘Gurudev, do you remember the time Parshu-Raam came to Hastinapur?’

  Dirghatamas nodded, for that fateful day was indelibly etched in the memory of each citizen of Hastinapur. Even he, son of Devguru Brihaspati, had feared for his sovereign’s life that day. The Brahmakshatriya had looked deep into Aileen’s eyes, and after what had seemed like an interminably long moment, had blessed him with long life and prosperity. The entire council had breathed a sigh of relief. But then the Avatar had turned his gaze on the army generals and, in the blink of an eye, sliced through half of their ranks. Parshu-Raam had picked his way through the men with such speed and precision that by the time they could think of running to safety, he had already wiped out those harbouring Asurik tendencies.

  Shaking his head as if to clear it of the gruesome memories of that day, the king continued, ‘I appreciate what the Avatar is doing and completely support his mission. But he filled my heart with serious doubts about the survival and future of our kingdom. Months after the onslaught, Hastinapur is still trying to get back on its feet. There are gaping holes in our ranks, and even those who have the capability to bear the responsibility are scared to step into the shoes of their predecessors.’

  The acharya sympathized with the king. Refurbishing the depleted ranks of Hastinapur hadn’t been easy. That is why it was important to change the rules and make more people eligible to participate in the running of the kingdom. The discussion that Dushyant had won today was a step in that direction.

  ‘Don’t worry, my king’ he said, ‘Dushyant, with his head full of fresh ideas, is perfectly capable of reviving Hastinapur’s lost glory. His coronation shall bring forth a new wave of optimism and help the kingdom become greater than it ever has been before.’

  The king nodded hopefully. ‘I sincerely hope so, Gurudev. You’ve seen how the rajvaidya keeps hounding me to slow down and rest. Poor man! I know he worries about the state of my health. Even my family doesn’t know about my failing heart. But my first responsibility is towards my kingdom; I won’t be able to find peace until I see Dushyant sitting on the throne with my own eyes.’

  ‘That day shall come soon enough, Rajan,’ Dirghatamas said. ‘We will need at least a fortnight to make all the arrangements, send invitations to the neighbouring kings making sure no one is left out, and prepare for their stay and comfort. Accordingly, I shall look for an auspicious muhurat towards the end of this month.’

  Aileen waved his hand imperiously. ‘Please do whatever needs to be done, Acharya. Just keep in mind I do not have long to live.’

  The kulguru nodded and left the hall, summoning the royal attendants on his way out to take their sovereign to the royal chamber. Aileen was relieved to know he would be able to take the burden of running the kingdom off his shoulders soon. It was time for him to retire and let the next generation take charge.

  Adhyaye 2

  White snowy peaks towered over the lush green valley. A gurgling stream cut through pine and cypress forests, its waters cascading over rocks in waves of shimmering silver. It circled and meandered down the snowy slopes to nurture the wild cherry, apple and fig orchards that had been planted by the hermits living in the foothills of the mountains.

  It was a beautiful morning and as Shakuntala stepped out of her austere hut, she could see the first yagnya fires going up to the heavens. The rising sun streamed through treetops, bathing the ashram in a golden glow. A light breeze carried on it the fragrance of the blue lotuses blooming in the shallow pool near the hermitage. Orange and black orioles flitted about in the foliage, chirping, while golden langurs chattered as they jumped from one branch to another, plucking horse chestnuts and mulberries. As their many sounds filled the ashram, Shakuntala smiled at the thought of their competing with the prayers of the faithful—both were thanking the gods in their own way.

  Young hermits, dressed in coarse homespun jute, walked past her, bowing respectfully. She greeted them appropriately, moving towards the shrines along the perimeter to fulfil her daily
ritual of honouring the gods who protected the hermitage. The first shrine was dedicated to Srishti-Karta Brahma, followed by one to Lord Shiva and then Shri Hari Vishnu. Other sanctums followed the standard template and were devoted to Indra, Surya, Chandra, Bhaag, Kuber, Dhata-Vidhata, Vayu and Varun.

  That brought her to the shrine dedicated to Gayatri, the goddess of knowledge, first perceived by her birth father Brahmarishi Vishwamitra. She paused there for a moment, thinking about the man she had never met, yet knew everything about. He was the renowned Kshatriya king who had discovered the primeval Gayatri Mantra, and harnessed its power to become a Brahmarishi. The first human who had challenged the gods, spurned the affections of no less than an Apsara and forsaken all material attachments, including his own daughter. Last she heard, her birth father had taken up the post of kulguru in Ayodhya; she wondered how he was faring there.

  The shrill call of a peacock pierced her reflections, bringing her back to the present. Banishing thoughts of Vishwamitra from her mind, she turned to look at the head of the ashram, the blessed soul who had more than made up for the absence of her birth parents—Maharishi Kanav.

  The fair-complexioned septuagenarian was of average height and build, with genial features and a flowing beard that reached his midriff. His long grey hair was tied in a knot on top of his head and instead of the usual ochre or saffron robes of an ascetic he was dressed in white, the colour of purity. The Maharishi poured the final oblations in the sacrificial fire and rose to greet his adopted daughter. He was journeying into the hills to procure some herbs today and he wished to spend some time with her before he left.

  As Shakuntala walked towards him, he noticed the heads of many young hermits turn to steal a glance at her. Even in the plain cotton sari she was wearing, her beauty was evident. Long raven hair framed a perfectly oval face and deep blue eyes that sparkled with innocence. Her alabaster complexion was so pure that it seemed even the slightest touch of dust would ruin its perfection, yet she walked through the rough earth and thorny shrubs as if she was born amongst them. He watched her with pride, thanking the gods for giving him such a beautiful and affectionate daughter.