II. THE PRISONER’S TALE — PART TWO
Under cover of wind-driven snow and ice to which he was born, the Usurper led his warriors through narrow mountain passes down to the hillsides of Kashgar. Momentum abetting, they overran the local population, capturing Kashgar’s stronghold in mere weeks.
Emboldened by the fall of the stronghold, rebellion erupted against the Shah of Shule in another part of his territory. The Usurper immediately turned this development to his advantage. The Shah’s warriors, forced out by rebels, were forced back into Kashgar where Uncle Zhang and his men ambushed them. The Shah retreated to the hinterlands of his demesne.
With the enemy warriors in hiding, it took time to ferret them out and force them to submit. In the meantime, an adventurous band of warriors, their hunger for conquests to call their own ignited by the Usurper’s progress, suddenly raised a new banner. Having gathered to themselves a motley mix of mercenaries, exiles and other dreamers, they marched away from Kashmir, intent on conquering lands far to the east.
Their departure appeared not to affect the Usurper. After two years of battles and sieges, he captured the Shah’s personal stronghold in Yopurga. A remnant of loyal fighting men appeared out of the plains in an attempt to take back some of their own land, but the Shah pre-empted with a surrender.
As thick clouds over the mountains appeared, heralding the end of another summer, the Usurper solemnly placed around my father’s neck a necklace of silver and bone, declaring him Lord Tohkem, Thakur of Tashkurgan and Aksu.
That victory swelled my father’s head with fantasy. Suddenly he was not only the right-hand man of the Usurper, he was practically a law unto himself. At least in his own eyes. He believed he had achieved the highest station amongst men — to be feared by all. That he was loved by none utterly escaped his notice.
The Usurper’s fighting men returned home. As winter engulfed the realm, Kashmir was allowed days and months of festivity : the Usurper’s woman had given him a daughter. A few days after her arrival, her eldest brother Pheru received the insignia of heir to the realm — not, however, in virtue of his status of first-born.
“The heir to my kingdom must be elected !” declared his cruel father.
“You see ?” I said to the boy, who was stunned at the proclamation. “It is as I told you : your father hates you.”
The festivities redoubled when the pagan inhabitants of Kangra renounced their gods to follow the Buddha. It was also at this time that my father, may his spirit be tormented for eternity, negotiated a bride for me. She was the most beautiful maid I had ever seen. Our own celebrations never ceased, even when the Usurper began to move us near to the land of Kahlon. Nine months after our union, she gave me a son.
When the days had begun to lengthen again, the Usurper used the wealth he had looted from the war against Shule to fortify Gilgit. The walls were made thicker and higher. Guards were given rooms to sleep in in place of their tents.
The reason for the move to Kahlon became clear in the spring. A vassal of the Raja of Katyuri had rebelled against his overlord for the sake of a piece of land. The rebel was stronger than his overlord ; the rebel thus took the land of his one-time master.
The war left both sides weak. Foreseeing this, the Usurper intended to oust the rebel and take his land.
The recollection of that minor incident pierces my heart, though the subsequent events made me stronger and decided my fate. In my lover’s euphoria, I had brought my wife to be with me during the up-coming campaign. One afternoon, coming back from a routine scouting mission, I discovered my father in my tent. Drunk with liquor and lust, he was attempting to force himself on my wife.
I threw myself on the old man. I was in a frenzy of bloodlust. He was strong, but I was stronger. My companions eventually separated us.
“I will kill you !” I shouted as my father, his nose bleeding, his clothes torn, held his head up high even as he retreated. “I will kill you, I swear it !”
Of course, the Usurper was immediately informed of my threats against my father — against his right-hand man. That evening, he stared silently at me from across the campfire. A stare at once proud and aloof. As if daring me to hurt his friend. Daring me to try. Threatening me if I acted.
I stared back at him. Without speaking a word, I let him understand that I despised him.
Three nights later, while the warriors were still celebrating the victory over the Thakur of Kahlon, I cut through the fabric of my father’s tent and awoke my sleeping father before burying my knife in his throat.
The next day, the Usurper declared a month of mourning. Then, without a world, he placed around my neck the necklace of silver and bone previously given to my father. I was now Lord Kalyanamokse, Thakur of Tashkurgan and Aksu. I was twenty-eight years old.
During the following days, many followed the Usurper’s example and pretended that nothing momentous had happened. Men remained reticent in my presence. Pheru sneaked rare glances in my direction. I like to believe he was envious of my deed.
But the moment for war soon sounded. Honouring Kayani custom, the Usurper waited until the time when the nights were longest and the days covered in sunless mist. Only then did he give the order to march on the enemy, to pounce upon them like monsters out of the snow. His ally the raja of Magadha had promised to rendez-vous in time.
The enemy was caught thoroughly by surprise. Instead of hiding in the crags and crevices of home, they foolishly fled to the plains. The Usurper howled with delight. From Gilgit he swooped down upon them. They were completely at his mercy.
But all was not yet won. Enough enemy warriors had had the sense to flee into the mountains. In the summer, they regrouped and slipped between the Usurper’s fingers. While we were busy dismantling their fortress, they set up camp in Kasmira and began to lay siege to Srinagara. They took our fort, but exhausted themselves in the process. The Usurper’s ally, during this time, was laying siege to the enemy’s capital.
As expected, victory was ours in the end. The snow was thick on the ground again when the Usurper announced to the Hindustani population that he was their new overlord.
For us, his Punjabi brothers, he had a different announcement.
With the conquest of new land — the province of Kurmanchal — the Usurper awarded himself even higher honours. It no longer sufficed that he was the Raja of Kashmir. The title Raja of Uttaranchal was appended to his other titles. And to top it all off, he declared himself king : the Maharaja of Kashmir.
His ambition and vainglory knew no bounds. His declarations flew in the face of decency and moderation. The kingdom of Kashmir was a patchwork of different peoples. Not all its subjects revered the Buddha. But men are so easily impressed by names and titles.
The Maharaja of Bengal and Bihar was such a man. He had agreed to give one of his daughters to the Usurper’s second-born son even before the creation of the title Maharaja of Kashmir. And before the nuptials were even celebrated, the foolish Bengali made a vow of alliance with the Usurper.
“It is not right to deprive one’s sons of their rightful inheritance.” Thus spake the elders of Gilgit one day to the face of their Maharaja. “Our people have always followed this custom. From the poorest farmer to the richest cavalier. No son should inherit only thin air.”
And thus, in the blink of an eye, was the law of Elective Succession incontrovertibly abolished.
The Usurper discovered that a Maharaja does not rule in splendid isolation. He required servants, and servants for his servants. His projects became subjects for debate and ponderation. Each servant had his opinion ; each endeavoured to incline the master to his point of view. And he learned the hard way what price he had to pay for having appointed servants wiser and more level-headed than himself.
Praise be to Paradise ! Less than four years after declaring himself Maharaja, the Usurper succumbed to his own voracious greed. May his depraved soul wander forever, lost in insanity and despair !