‘Devi,’ Indradeep said, turning to Mallika, ‘I swear by the beauty of your art, I swear by Goddess Saraswati when I say that the Republic of Madra has been eaten to the core by the Buddhists as a wooden column is eaten up by white ants—it is all hollow inside. One-third of the state revenue is spent on the Buddhist parasites. What is then left behind? Is it not armed soldiers that will face Kendras? Will these young fawns of the Buddha, the yellow-robed bhikshus with begging bowls in their hands protect Madra? This is what comes of denying food to the hound and feeding the fawn instead. Send Cheebuk, the Buddhist monk to face Kendras; send the head of the monastery to face the sword of Kendras,’ he said, roaring with laughter.

Mallika could not join in. ‘Arya,’ she said to Indradeep, ‘will these mutual rivalries not lead to our surrender to the enemy? … When Madra and Sagal are reduced to rubble, who then will be left to listen to the others’ accusations?’

Such boasting by the sons of the nobility was too much for Prithusen to bear. Making a sign to Divya he left the hall and headed towards the pond, which was situated in the midst of a grove of trees. Divya followed him soon after.

Taking Divya’s hand into his, Prithusen said in a depressed voice, ‘Did you see that, my love? Such are our war preparations! The mighty Kendras has his heels on the throat of Madra, and here are its leaders scheming against one another.’

Confused, Divya covered her eyes with her stole.

Putting his arm around her, Prithusen said, ‘In the eyes of these people, this invasion is a kind of punishment for the sins of Buddhism. Under the cover of war, Acharya Pravardhan is conspiring to re-establish the caste system. It doesn’t occur to anyone that neither Pushya Mitra nor Kendras will come here to shed his blood for the sake of establishing the caste system in Madra. They are interested in the expansion of their empire, in the wealth and resources of Madra. These people think that Kendras, after conquering them, will begin to venerate them, and recognizing their birthright of Brahminism, will set to worshipping them.

‘The vanquished are never worthy of respect. Kendras considers himself a god. This “holy sacrifice of war” is for his own satisfaction; it will turn the whole of Sagal into a sacrificial pyre. And in that fire, the bodies of these Brahmins, these nobles and their possessions will serve as oblations. Only those people will survive who, bereft of self-respect, will kiss the foot that kicks them. Do you call that survival? Their high-born ladies, whose feet had never so much as touched the ground, will become a reward for the hungry, lecherous soldiers of Kendras. People proud of their aristocratic ways and noble birth will go about with fetters on their feet, like slaves. Ladies of the nobility and Brahmin virgins, shrieking with terror, will be gathered up in the spoils of victory. In that fire of utter ruin all our hopes will be consumed.’