When fact meets fiction regarding a person, or place, or event in one story, the line between the two usually gets blurred, and, __more often than not, it becomes difficult to ascertain when and where fact segues into fiction, and vice versa. Waqar A Khan, an avid history and heritage buff, and founder of Bangladesh Forum for Heritage Studies, presented just such a book to me, after having initiated its publication. Samudragupta: The Making of an Emperor is a historical novel written by Bappaditya Chakravarty. More to the point, it is a thriller that mixes real life events with a deft touch of imagination to detail the rise of Prince Samudragupta to become the Emperor of India, or, at least, the territory of the Indian empire as it was then configured. Samudragupta was a larger-than-life figure whom the great British historian Vincent Smith had named “Napoleon of India” in his book The Early History of India. He was the son of Chandragupta I and his Mahadevi (preeminent wife), Queen Kumaradevi, once a Licchavi princess. Chandragupta I had other wives, including the mother of Prince Kacha, the eldest son, and the story revolves around the struggle and multi-layered intrigues that eventually led to the ascension of Samudragupta to the throne of India. And it was a long and distinguished reign lasting from 335 to 380CE. These are also historical facts that are faithfully recounted in the story. He was a fearless warrior, a sagacious general, and, seemingly in contradiction to these characteristics, an accomplished poet, musician, philanthropist, and patron of the arts and literature. These wide-ranging qualities might cause some people to raise their skeptical eyebrows, but these are the facts as documented in the well-known inscription on a pillar in Allahabad as well as the Eran inscriptions.
At its height, with conquests and expansion mostly by Samudragupta, the maximum extent of the Gupta Empire was reached in and around 400CE, embracing an estimated 3,500,000 kilometers. It is the third largest in terms of size in the pre-British Raj Indian history. Magnificent architecture, painting, and sculpture were prominent features of the Gupta Empire. Above it, at number 2 was the Mughal Empire, which reached its zenith around 1690 CE, during Emperor Aurangzeb's reign, with a territory of approximately 4,000,000 kilometers, and, at number 1, the pre-Christian Era Maurya Empire, which reached its apex point under Emperor Asoka, and reached its maximum extent in 250 BC with a total territory comprising 5,000,000 kilometers (all figures given thus far are estimates reached by a scholar). Compare the three with the modern Republic of India with a territory of 3,287,263 kilometers (of course, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Nepal are independent countries). The British Raj, of course, was bigger, including Myanmar as part of South Asia, and, except for some tiny enclaves under other European countries' control, brought the entire India under unified control for the first time in the sub-continent's history.
Those are facts. Bappaditya Chakravarty, with some dexterity, weaves them into a thriller that mixes up fiction with fact. History is replete with royal family members, in order to make their way up to the throne, doing away with potential, and real, rivals, whether that results in regicide, fratricide, or any other elimination of other relatives. While the monarchy has largely become constitutional in almost all countries that have them, political assassinations to pave the way to power (and, inevitably, riches) continue to this day. Power, or the trappings of power, is heady stuff. Chakravarty has presented just such a scenario, in the process, drawing attention to all of Samudragupta's multiple character attributes. They portray a truly great monarch, equally adept at war and peace, although, and this should come as no surprise to those familiar with historical fiction, the author admits to having taken “certain liberties with Samudragupta's expeditions.” Sometimes, while bringing together various attributes and events, the author is a bit glib, neatly trying to fit one to the other in a seamless web, but, generally, he manages to compartmentalize events and people in a logical manner.
While the plots and intrigues are natural ploys to ascend the throne by Prince Kacha, the first-born son, his father's considered choice as heir apparent was his half-brother Samudragupta. There was also a serious sub-plot whereby the pretender wanted to establish puritanical Hinduism in the realm, especially at the expense of Buddhism, by using draconian measures like forcible conversion, imposing heavy taxes on non-Hindus, and force of arms. In fact, he “has issued a number of diktats making Hinduism the official religion of his domain.” Actually, the novel begins with the author describing a mysterious plot. While the sagacious Chandragupta I, father of Kacha and Samudragupta, was formally addressed as Maharajadhiraja (King of Kings), he lived an unostentatious life, who was utterly devoted to his beautiful chief wife (Mahadevi), whose Lichhavi dynasty had generally converted to Buddhism.
Originally of the warrior caste, Kshatriyas, they were now derided by the hardline Hindus (especially by the Brahmins) as 'fallen' Kshatriyas. And one of them was married to the Maharajdhiraj of India! Chandragupta, both out of devotion to his wife and his own liberal bent, did not pay much attention to this, and allowed followers of Hinduism and Buddhism to coexist in his kingdom. But his enemies were powerful and crafty. “There were camps in the court, however --- one led by…Kacha --- that advocated a revival of the Brahmannical tradition and rued that the caste system had lost its stranglehold on society, others advocated amity between the religions. Fortunately for the King, the latter were larger in numbers, although internally divided along sectarian lines. And then there were the opportunists, favoring one faction or the other, seeking always to make a gain in one way or other.” Fanaticism is a hydra-headed monster, imposing severe privations on humanity, and, so often making them pay a price that they do not deserve for any fault of their own.
In the event, following wise counsel from seasoned advisors, his own long-drawn-out assessment of the two oldest princes, suggestive goading by Queen Kumaradevi, and his own considered predilection, he appointed Samudragupta to be his heir apparent, much to the disgust and annoyance of Kacha, who had already planned a heinous elaborate plot to immediately kill his younger brother, and, eventually, usurp the throne for himself and establish Brahminism throughout the land. In the manner of portraying villains, the author also portrays Kacha as lascivious; drug user, and inveterate drunkard, while Samudragupta had high morals, including his intent to marry a banished princess from a faraway land (note the fairytale overtones!). The morality play, a staple in Indian movies, and other art forms, and so special to this part of the world!
Keeping with tradition, Samudragupta was well-versed in the writings of legendary economist (and purveyor of diplomacy), Kautilya, who had anticipated Niccolo Machiavelli by many centuries, and who lived during the Mauryan era, and continues to be followed in India. As was, not surprisingly, Kacha. Chakravarty draws a comprehensive pen portrait of the heir apparent: “Samudragupta was a young man of some twenty-three years, very tall, fair and built like a bull…. When bare-bodied, his torso seemed to have the imprint of every kind of weapon known, from sword scars to arrow punctures, javelin cuts to deep mace wounds. For additional adornment…he bore claw marks of bears and tigers that he had subdued with short swords and knives. His face was however gentle…the face of a musician--- which he was, and of a poet ---which he was too.
Samudragupta continued with the tradition of his father of surrounding himself with sagacious courtiers. Great generals, spymasters, advisors, loyal to him to a fault, made his person, and his kingdom, safe. While the exigencies of the battlefield could force him to take very harsh decisions, he could also be chivalrous, and embraced defeated, but gallant, foes into his fold. His love for Datta, the exiled princess, whose throne he restored to her after annihilating a fiendish usurper (the pat contrasts familiar to Hindi films easily discernible), was reciprocated and they were married in front of his father and mother. Eventually, Kacha is defeated, and Samudragupta becomes crown prince on the way to becoming an Emperor. Obviously, much of the story is conjecture mixed in with facts, but the author has never claimed to have written a historical work of pure scholarship. This is not a bad ploy at all! A historical novel of what is what and what could have been is a refreshing read after going through large tomes replete with high scholarship.
Samudragupta's real (or imagined) tolerance and humanism is clearly articulated here, part of the reason why he is considered one of the great rulers in Indian history: “I am in favor of Hinduism, if not the fanatical Brahminism that Kacha espouses. Simultaneously, I will encourage the Buddhist idea of dharma, and promote Buddhist scholarship.” There are other such portrayals of Samudragupta in the book of over 500 pages that could be finished much __more quickly than one could comprehend.
The reviewer is an Actor, and Professor and Head, Media and Communication department, IUB.