Scion of Ikshvaku Read Free

not the only village that has been laid to waste. The enemy has destroyed all the villages in a fifty-kilometre radius from where we stand. The wells have been poisoned with the carcasses of dead animals. Crops have been burned down ruthlessly. The entire countryside has been ravaged.’
    ‘Scorched earth policy…’ said Ashwapati, the king of Kekaya, a loyal ally of Dashrath, and the father of the emperor’s second and favourite wife, Kaikeyi.
    ‘Yes,’ said another king. ‘We cannot feed our army of five hundred thousand soldiers here. Our supply lines are already stretched.’
    ‘How the hell did that barbarian trader Kubaer acquire the intellect for military strategy?’ asked Dashrath.
    Dashrath could scarcely conceal his Kshatriyan disdain for the trading class, the Vaishyas. For the Sapt Sindhu royalty, wealth was the conqueror’s right when acquired as the spoils of war, but inappropriate when earned through mere profiteering. The Vaishyas’ ‘lack of class’ invited scorn. They were subjected to heavy regulation and a draconian system of licences and controls. The children of the Sapt Sindhu aristocracy were encouraged to become warriors or intellectuals, not traders. Resultantly, the trading class in these kingdoms was depleted over the years. With not enough money pouring in from wars, the royal coffers quickly emptied.
    Ever sensing an opportunity to profit, Kubaer, the trader king of the island of Lanka, offered his services and expertise to carry out trading activities for all the Sapt Sindhu kingdoms. The then king of Ayodhya, Aja, granted the monopoly to Kubaer in return for a huge annual compensation, which was then distributed to each subordinate kingdom within the Sapt Sindhu Empire. Ayodhya’s power soared for it became the source of funds for other kingdoms within the empire. And yet, they could continue to hold on to their old contempt towards trade. Recently, however, Kubaer had unilaterally reduced the commissions that Dashrath rightfully believed were Ayodhya’s due. This impertinence of a mere trader certainly deserved punishment. Dashrath directed his vassal kings to merge their troops with his own, and led them to Karachapa to remind Kubaer of his place in the power hierarchy.
    ‘Apparently, My Lord,’ said Mrigasya, ‘it is not Kubaer who is calling the shots.’
    ‘Then who is?’ asked Dashrath.
    ‘We do not know much about him. I have heard that he is no more than thirty years of age. He joined Kubaer some years ago as the head of his trading security force. Over time, he recruited more people and transformed the unit into a proper army. I believe he is the one who convinced Kubaer to rebel against us.’
    ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Ashwapati. ‘I can’t imagine that obese and indolent Kubaer having the nerve to challenge the power of the Sapt Sindhu!’
    ‘Who is this man?’ asked Dashrath. ‘Where is he from?’
    ‘We really don’t know much about him, My Lord,’ said Mrigasya.
    ‘Do you at least know his name?’
    ‘Yes, we do. His name is Raavan.’

    Nilanjana, the royal physician, rushed down the hallway of the palace of Ayodhya. She had received an urgent summons late in the evening from the personal staff of Queen Kaushalya, the first wife of King Dashrath.
    The gentle and restrained Kaushalya, the daughter of the king of South Kosala, had been married to Dashrath for more than fifteen years now. Her inability to provide the emperor with an heir had been a source of constant dismay to her. Frustrated by the absence of a successor, Dashrath had finally married Kaikeyi, the tall, fair and statuesque princess of the powerful western Indian kingdom of Kekaya, which was ruled by his close ally Ashwapati. That too was of no avail. He finally married Sumitra, the steely but unobtrusive princess of the holy city of Kashi, the city that housed the spirit of Lord Rudra and was famous for non-violence. Even so, the great Emperor Dashrath remained without an