It is said that the greatest gift the Gods can give you is to forget about you. And Shishupal wanted nothing more than to spend his life unnoticed by the Gods. A life unnoticed by the Gods is boring and unimaginative, but a happy and long one. And he worked hard to make his life precisely thus. He had toiled in the army of the Empire, dutifully rising to the rank of Claw in the Imperial Forces, then retiring at the ripe age of thirty, on moral grounds, disgusted with reports of the Yaksha’s gruesome acts of war. Now he served as the lazy Commander of the Crimson Cloaks, the City Watch, much to the Emperor’s chagrin. For some unfathomable reason, the Emperor had considered him to be a promising protégé; a case of mistaken identity no doubt.

Had the dice of fate thrown a six instead of a one, Shishupal would have now been a Prince. He was the son of Lord Damogjosha, erstwhile King of Chedi, now Vassal Lord of the Empire. If the Magadhans had not marched into Chedi all those decades ago, Shishupal’s fate would have been to labour on a throne, hold court, decide tariffs, and perform other such hazardous duties. But the good old Empire had marched into Chedi, razed a few kingly buildings, and would no doubt have indulged in more fanfare had Shishupal’s father not bent the knee before Jarasandh.

Shishupal had thus been reared in Magadh to ensure Chedi’s good behaviour. A ‘ward’ they called Shishupal to his face, a ‘hostage’ behind his back. He did not mind the japes. For Rajgrih, capital of the Magadhan Empire, was as good a place as any to grow up in.

Though the Emperor had not paid any attention to Shishupal for the last two summers. Ever since Shishupal had resigned his commission as a Claw, he had moved out of the Emperor’s peripheral vision – a shadowy place Shishupal embraced. But then, the Emperor paid little attention to anything these days; not since his last surviving daughter had impaled herself on the palace gates. He had even imposed an Armistice on the blasted war with Mathura. Not that it made any difference to Shishupal. His evenings were filled with quiet contemplation, and Shishupal lit a candle to the Gods every day, to keep his life just this way.