‘They were useless,’ said Vishwamitra, completing Sita’s thought. ‘And, why were they useless? They had no shortage of money, of training, of equipment, or of war weapons.’
Sita repeated something she had heard Samichi say. ‘What matters is not the weapon, but the woman who wields that weapon.’
Vishwamitra smiled in approval. ‘And why were their warriors incapable of wielding weapons? Do not forget, these were weapons of far superior technology than those of their enemies.’
Sita had not thought about this. She remained silent.
‘Describe the Bhaarat society at the time of their downfall,’ Vishwamitra demanded.
Sita knew this answer. ‘It was peaceful. A liberal and polite society. It was a haven for arts, culture, music, conversations, debates … They not only practised but proudly celebrated nonviolence. Both verbal and physical. It was a perfect society. Like heaven.’
‘True. But there were some for whom it was hell.’
Sita did not say anything. But her mind wondered: For whom?
Vishwamitra read her mind as if she had spoken aloud. He answered, ‘The warriors.’
‘The warriors?’
‘What are the chief qualities of warriors? What drives them? What motivates them? Yes, there are many who fight for honour, for the country, for a code. But equally, there are those who simply want a socially sanctioned way to kill. If not given an outlet, such people can easily turn to crime. Many great warriors, celebrated by humanity, narrowly escaped being remembered as social degenerates. What saved them from becoming criminals and instead, turned them into soldiers? The answer is the warrior code: The right reason to kill.’
It’s difficult for a child to surrender certainties and understand nuances. Sita, after all just a thirteen-year-old, stiffened.
‘Warriors thrive on admiration and hero worship. Without these, the warrior spirit, and with it, the warrior code, dies. Sadly, many in the latter-day Bhaarat society despised their soldiers and preferred to condemn them. Every action of the army was vehemently criticised. Any form of violence, even dharmic violence, was opposed. The warrior spirit itself was berated as a demonic impulse that had to be controlled. It didn’t stop there. Freedom of speech was curtailed so that verbal violence could also be controlled. Disagreement was discouraged. This is how the Bhaaratas felt that heaven could be created on earth; by making strength powerless, and weakness powerful.’
Vishwamitra’s voice became softer, almost as if he was speaking only to Sita. The assembly listened in rapt attention.
‘Essentially, the Bhaaratas curbed their Kshatriya class drastically. Masculinity was emasculated. Great sages of yore who preached absolute nonviolence and love were glorified and their messages amplified. But then, when barbaric invaders attacked from foreign lands, these pacifist, nonviolent Bhaarat men and women were incapable of fighting back. These civilised people appeared like weak wimps to the brutal warriors from abroad.’ With an ironic laugh, Vishwamitra continued, ‘Unexpectedly, for the people of Bhaarat society, the Hiranyaloman Mlechcha warriors did not care for their message of love. Their answer to love was mass murder. They were barbarians, incapable of building their own empire. But they destroyed Bhaarat power and prestige. Internal rebels finished the job of destruction.’
‘Guruji, are you saying that to fight foreign monsters, you need your own monsters?’
‘No. All I’m saying is that society must be wary of extremes. It must constantly strive towards attaining a balance among competing ideologies. Criminals must be removed from society, and meaningless violence must be stopped. But the warrior spirit must not be demonised. Do not create a society that demeans masculinity. Too much of anything creates an imbalance in life. This is true even of virtues such as nonviolence. You never know when the winds of change strike; when violence may be required to protect your society, or to even survive.’
There was pin-drop silence.
It was time.
Vishwamitra asked the question he had steered the conversation towards. ‘Is there an extremism that the Sapt Sindhu surrendered to which allowed Raavan to defeat them?’
Sita considered the question carefully. ‘Yes, resentment and hatred towards the trading class.’
‘Correct. In the past, because of a few monsters among their warriors, the Bhaaratas attacked the entire Kshatriya way of life. They became pathologically nonviolent. There have been societies that have attacked the Brahmin way of life, becoming proudly anti-intellectual, because a few of their Brahmins became closed-minded, elitist and exclusivist. And the Sapt Sindhu in our age began to demean trading itself when a few of their Vaishyas became selfish, ostentatious, and money-grubbing. We gradually pushed trade out of the hands of the ‘evil-moneyed capitalists’ of our own society, and into the hands of others. Kubaer, and later Raavan, just gathered the money slowly, and economic power flowed naturally to them. The Battle of Karachapa was only a formality that sealed long historical trends. A society must always aim for balance. It needs intellectuals, it needs warriors, it needs traders, it needs artists, and it needs skilled workers. If it empowers one group too much or another too little, it is headed for chaos.’
Sita recalled something she had heard in one of the dharma sabhas of her father. ‘The only “ism” I believe in, is pragmatism.’
It was said by a Charvak philosopher.
‘Are you committed to Charvak philosophy?’ asked Vishwamitra.
The Charvak School of philosophy was named after their ancient founder, an atheist who believed in materialism. He had lived near Gangotri, the source of the holy Ganga. The Charvaks only believed in what could be sensed by the physical senses. According to them, there was neither a soul, nor any Gods. The only reality was this body, a mix of the elements, which would return to the elements once it died. They lived for the day and enjoyed life. Their admirers saw them as liberal, individualistic and non-judgemental. On the other hand, their critics saw them as immoral, selfish and irresponsible.
‘No, I am not committed to the Charvaks, Guruji. If I am pragmatic, then I should be open to every school of philosophy. And accept only those parts that make sense to me, while rejecting other bits that don’t. I should learn from any philosophy that can help me fulfil my karma.’
Vishwamitra smiled. Smart, very smart for a thirteen-year-old.
Chapter 7
Sita sat by the pond, reading Nyayasutra, the classic text which introduced a key school of Indian philosophy, Nyaya Darshan. A few months had passed since Vishwamitra had visited Rishi Shvetaketu’s gurukul.
‘Bhoomi,’ said Radhika, using the gurukul name of Sita, ‘someone from your home has come to meet you.’
Sita sighed with irritation. ‘Can’t they wait?’
She was compiling a list of questions she wanted to ask Rishi Shvetaketu. Now the exercise would be delayed.
Samichi stood patiently, close to the jetty. Waiting for Sita.