Book Review: “Ashoka” by Charles Allen

Of course I knew who Ashoka was even before I started reading Charles Allen’s most recent offering on one of the greatest kings India has ever known. I am sure that almost all Indians do. What I expected to get from Ashoka was a detailed description of Emperor Ashoka, how he came to power and a list of all the good things he did after that famous change of heart and conversion to Buddhism subsequent to the conquest of Kalinga. What I ended up was something else. No, I wasn’t disappointed. Far from it, rather. Allen’s 400-page tome on Ashoka (that’s not including appendices, annexures or the elaborate index at the end) is not just a compilation of all that’s known about Ashoka. If that were to be the case, the book wouldn’t have run to more than 75 pages. Rather, it is a detailed exposition of how archaeologists, many of them employees of the East India Company and British Indian bureaucrats, motivated mainly by curiosity and a love for India’s history, dug around, came up with theories, some of them silly, and ultimately shed light on a man every Indian ought to be proud of: Emperor Ashok. Ideally, the book ought to have been titled "The Search For Ashoka The Great" or something on those lines.

As amateur British archaeologists started to unearth Ashoka’s rock edicts, they put forth various theories about him. Some of the early theories about Ashoka and the Mauriyan dynasty were downright ridiculous. For example, William Jones, a linguist fluent in 13 languages including Persian and Sanskrit, an Oxford graduate, a barrister enrolled at the Middle Temple Inn, a judge on the bench of the Supreme Court at Kolkata, took the view, after reading the Puranas in the original and examining rubbings of Brahmi inscriptions on various pillars erected by Ashoka, such as one found in Sultan Firoz Shah Tughlaq’s palace, that a conqueror or law giver from Ethiopia had lived in India around a thousand years before Christ. That was around 1789 and at that time, the world knew very little about Buddhism or of Emperor Ashoka. Later, more and more information flowed in, especially from Sri Lanka where Buddhism flourished and from China from where travellers such as Faxian (Fahien) and Xuangzang (Huen Tsang) had visited India in 399 CE and 629 CE respectively.

Until I read Ashoka, I wasn’t aware of the extent of Greek influence on the Mauryan Empire and its culture. Allen tells us that Chandragupta or Sashigupta, known to the Greeks as Androkottos or Sandrokoptos or Sisikottos, was a Vaisya horseman who served Alexander the Great as a mercenary, in which role he actually helped Alexander defeat horse people such as the Aspasioi and Assakenoi in what’s now Afghanistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. After Alexander captured Mount Aornos (modern day Swat), Sisikottos was appointed as governor of that area as a reward for various services rendered. However, as soon as Alexander turned around and started the long journey back to Greece via Persia and Babylon, Chandragupta united the local tribes and asserted himself. We are told that Chandragupta was probably involved in the murder of Philippos, the governor of Gandhara and within a few years of Alexander’s exit from India and his death in Babylon, Chandragupta started to capture territory held by Alexander’s satraps and also defeated the much despised Nandas. Allen tells us that Chandragupta’s minister and chief advisor Chanakya played a vital role in Chandragupta’s success, but Allen’s description of Chandragupta and Chanakya is a far cry from that given in Ashwin Sanghi’s Chanakya’s Chant. Chandragupta is his own man and Allen tells us that Chanakya stuck to him like a leech and played a moderating role.

Before the arrival of Alexander, the people living Northern India did not have an indigenous written script, though the famous grammarian Panini lived around that time. Allen suggests that Prakrit, the main spoken language of those days, was written in Aramaic until the Brahmi script was developed. Did Chanakya play a role in the development of Brahmi? Most probably he did, according to Allen. Art and sculpture is another area where the Greek influence is highly visible. All of a sudden, artefacts from that era show a great deal of Greek influence. Also, Greek mercenaries were employed by Ashoka and other Kings of that era.

Ashoka came to power after murdering his elder half-brother Sushima. Once he was in power, he killed off his remaining half-brothers, all ninety nine of them. Only one brother, Tissa, was allowed to live. Ashoka was a short, corpulent man with rough skin who was susceptible to fainting spells. He once burned alive all his concubines when he found out that they did not like to caress his rough skin. Most probably, he was already a novice or lay Buddhist when he launched his attack on Kalinga, but after the Kalinga war, he stopped all further violence and became very kind and gentle, though towards the end of his life. Ashoka had many wives. His first wife Devi was the daughter of a merchant and Ashoka’s children through Devi, namely Mahinda and Sanghamitra became Buddhist monks and missionaries. Ashoka’s chief queen was Asandhimitra and she bore his heir apparent Kunala. Unfortunately Asandhimitra died when Ashoka was in his mid-sixties. The replacement queen Tishyarakshita turned out to be clever and evil. Clever because she found a cure for Ashoka’s stomach ailment by finding a man with similar symptoms, killed him and invented a way of killing the worm found in the dead man’s tummy (with the despised onion). Evil, because she had Kunala blinded. Towards the end of his life, Ashoka went into a frenzy of donating every last bit he owned in the world to his favourite Buddhist monasteries and died an unhappy man.

Ever since Buddhism came into prominence, it had been at loggerheads with Brahminism. Brahmins opposed Buddhism because the two faiths competed for patronage. Brahmins also sought to co-opt Buddhism within the folds of Hindusim. Arab historian Abu-al-Fazl had written in his Ain-i-Akbari that ‘the Brahmans called Boodh the ninth avatar, but assert that the religion that is ascribed to him is false.’ In the 8th and 9th centuries, the Hindu resurgence led by Adi Shankara had decimated Buddhism. Allen takes the view that ‘some of the most famous Hindu temples in India almost certainly began as Buddhist structures, often incorporating Buddhist icons, either in the form of images of deities or as lingams. For likely examples – selected simply because they come from the four corners of the subcontinent – are the Badrinath shrine in the far north Garwal Himal, the Jagannath temple at Puri on the east coast, the Ayappa temple at Sabarimala in Kerala and the Vithalla shrine at Pandharour in Western Maharashtra.’ Islamic invaders dealt the final blow, putting many Buddhist shrines and universities, such as the university at Nalanda, to the sword and torch.

Allen goes a bit overboard is detailing how Ashoka is unsurpassed in the sub-continent’s history and how India hasn’t done right by him. True, Ashoka was the first person to propound the theory of ahimsa and his messages on the rock edicts carry a secular message and not a Buddhist one. Allen is angry that Ashoka is not celebrated as a great hero across the length and breadth of India and cites two important reasons for this state of affairs. According to Allen, many Indian historians did not like the fact that the Mauryan empire and various Mauryan kings, especially Chandragupta Maurya, were influenced by Greek culture and had benefitted from their interactions with Alexander the Great and his Greek/Macedonian army. Therefore, they did not glorify Ashoka as much as they ought to have. No, Allen does not say that Ashoka had any Greek blood - even though Chandragupta did marry Ambassador Megesthanes’s daughter, his heir and successor Bindusara was born of his first wife. The second reason for the non-glorification of Ashoka is, according to Allen, the rise of Hindutva, which doesn’t like the way Ashoka propped up Buddhism and downgraded Brahminism. Around the time of India’s independence, when a secular Nehru was in charge, Ashoka was good news. Ashoka’s chakra found a place on the Indian flag and Delhi’s best hotel was called Ashoka. However, after Nehru’s death, Indians stopped giving Ashoka much importance. Allen is certain that this is because Hindutva ideology which has been gaining ground in India, doesn’t wish to glorify a man who was very much influenced by Greek culture. Allen may be right to some extent, though I suspect bureaucratic sloth may have played as great as role as Hindutva ideology in the lack of attention towards Ashoka.

Book Review: ‘Confession of a Buddhist Atheist’ by Stephen Batchelor

Stephen Batchelor is a Scottish born writer and lecturer who calls himself an ‘atheist Buddhist’. According to Batchelor, what Buddhists practice in various parts of the world is a mix of what the Buddha taught and beliefs held by the local culture before Buddhism arrived. Thus he feels that belief in karma and rebirth, which are considered by many Buddhists to be intrinsic to Buddhist faith, is not something Siddhattha Gotama (sic) taught, but are features of Indian culture which predate Buddhism.

In Confession of a Buddhist Atheist, Batchelor attempts to do various things. He tells us how while on the hippie (and pot) trail to India, he ‘discovered’ Buddhism while trying to find ‘answers’ to his questions, his experiences in learning Buddhism in Dharmasala (India) and later in a Korean monastery, his relationships with Lamas of various schools of Buddhism and with the Dalai Lama. Batchelor also tries to tell us of his efforts to strip Buddha’s teaching of local cultural distortions in his effort to find out what exactly Siddhattha Gotama (sic) preached. While doing all this, Batchelor creates an extraordinary piece of writing which tells the readers as much about Batchelor as its does about Siddhattha Gotama (sic) and his teachings. For someone not much familiar with Buddhism, as I was when I started reading this book, Confession of a Buddhist Atheist also serves as an excellent basic primer on Buddhism, as it is practised in various parts of the world and the various schools of Buddhism.

‘Just as a goldsmith assays gold, by rubbing, cutting and burning, so should you examine my words. Do not accept them just out of faith in me,’ Batchelor quotes a saying attributed to the Buddha. This principle forms the backbone of Batchelor’s research into what the Buddha actually taught. Batchelor questions everything that he is taught and when he does not find answers, moves on to find them. Batchelor is unhappy that though Buddhist philosophy encourages questions, in practice the Lamas are unwilling to question deeply held beliefs of their respective schools.

Questioning is encouraged, provided the student ultimately arrives at the pre-fixed destination. Thus there is consternation when Batchelor tells his teacher that he is unable to believe in rebirth. In one of the best scenes in this book, at a meeting held in Dharmasala to commemorate the fourteenth anniversary of the Tibetan uprising in Lhasa in 1959, the Dalai Lama addresses a group of monks and lay persons under a canvas awning. It starts raining. A Lama perches on a ledge on a far away hillside and with the help of a thighbone, bell and mustard seeds, he chants mantras and chases away the rain from the venue, though it rains elsewhere. After the meeting, a small group of European (i.e. White) Buddhists reverentially discuss how the lone Lama chased away the rain. Batchelor knows that they are not speaking the truth. It is not uncommon for rain to fall a short distance from dry ground. Though Batchelor does not believe in the Lama’s spells, he too joins in the general appreciation of that Lama’s work.

Unlike Christians, Buddhists do not seem to be particularly interested in Buddha’s life and the culture in which he grew up. For example, nothing is known of Buddha’s life between his adolescence till he was in his late twenties. Batchelor speculates that being a nobleman, Gotama might have gone to Takkasila (Taxila in modern day Pakistan) then capital of Gandhara and a centre of learning. Or Gotama might have served the King in an administrative capacity. Batchelor feels that not knowing more about Buddha’s life is a mistake and prevents one from understanding his teachings, though he also concedes that his own approach to Buddhism is very much influenced by his European/Christian background.

Buddha was a nobleman from Sakiya who owed allegiance to Pasenadi, the King of Kosala. Pasenadi was not a nice human being. He was, as were most kings of that age, ruthless and cruel as he suppressed his enemies to retain his hold on power. Buddha managed to win his patronage and get perks from him, which allowed him to spread his ‘message’ of dharma. When Pasendi had his own army chief Bandula killed (on the basis of falsehoods spread by Bandula’s enemies), Gotama does not rebuke Pasenadi, because he can't afford to anger his King and patron. Gotama is no saint and has several blemishes. When Pasenadi is desperately trying to have a male heir (and bedding a few women in the process), one of Gotama’s cousins gets his daughter (born to him of a slave) married to Pasenadi without disclosing the girl’s lineage. Gotama knows of this deceit, but he keeps quiet. A male heir is born to Pasenadi out of this marriage. Much later, the truth comes out and there is carnage as a result. Gotama feels guilty as hell, according to Batchelor who is very keen to show Siddhattha Gotama (sic) as a human being with a few frailties rather than as the perfect Sakyamuni. Gotama has his share of enemies, especially because he preaches contrary to various fondly held beliefs of that day and age. Towards the end, Gotama is denounced by one of his own disciples and dies after a meal of tenderised pork, which was most probably poisoned.

Some of the more interesting aspects of this book (for me) are the conflicts between various schools of Buddhism. It is not just that Mahayana and Hinayana (or Theravada) are so very different. Many important Buddhist writings in Pali (the vernacular form of Sanskrit spoken in Buddha’s time) are not even known to or acknowledged by the Tibetan school of Buddhism. Even within Tibetan Buddhism, there are four major schools and thousands of deities. Batchelor’s initial exposure to Buddhism is from the Geluk School, to which the Dalai Lama himself belongs. Batchelor has a ringside view of the conflicts involving adherents of ‘Dorje Shugden’ and practitioners of ‘Dzogchen’. Dorje Shugden is a deity revered by many in the Geluk and Sakya schools, believed to guard the purity of the teachings of Tsongkhpa, the founder of the Geluk School. ‘Dzogchen’ on the other hand is a contemplative practice found in the Nyingma school of Tibetan Buddhism and is based on acquiring a ‘pristine awareness’ with help from an experienced Lama. The Geluk School doesn’t like ‘Dzogchen’ on the ground that it is a remnant of the Zen doctrine and also that it is possibly a thinly veiled version of the Brahmanic belief in 'Atman'. In order to promote unity among Tibetan Buddhists, the Dalai Lama suppresses public worship of Dorje Shugden. Though a part of the Geluk School, the Dalai Lama also received instruction in ‘Dzogchen’ from an eminent Nyingma Lama.

When Batchelor tells his Geluk Lama tutor that he wants to go to Korea to train in Zen Buddhism (which is also part of the Mahayana branch), he receives a stern response: ‘Dé Hoshang gi tawa, ma réwa?’ – ‘That’s the view of Hoshang isn’t it?’ Hoshang Mahayana was a Chinese Zen teacher who was roundly defeated in debate by Indian Pandit Kamalashila at a Lhasa monastery towards the end of the eight century and ever since then, Zen Buddhism has been banned in Tibet. Why on earth would Batchelor want to learn something that had been proved to be wrong many centuries ago?

In early 1985, Batchelor made a trip to Southern China and Tibet. Batchelor’s vivid description of the great loss suffered by Tibetans as a result of the Dalai Lama’s departure, the destruction of Tibetan Buddhist buildings and culture by the Chinese army and the imprisonment of anyone who dared to resist their freedom from feudal enslavement by the Chinese, is bound to evoke a pang of sorrow in every reader. However, Batchelor is brutally even handed. As he speaks with the Tibetans in Tibetan, a language he learnt in Dharmasala, he quotes a lone dissenter who says ‘it was not only the Chinese who destroyed things, you know. Tibetans did that too.’

Equally interesting is Batchelor’s description of his tour of the northen Gangetic plain in 2003 when he travelled around the towns and villages where the Buddha, lived and preached in order to produce a photographic record of such places for a friend’s book. Thanks to continuous deposits of sediments from the Himalayas, the alluvial Gangetic plain is currently around eight feet higher than it was during Buddha’s time. There are no landmarks such as mountains or hills or valleys in this great plain which would make it possible to identify places. It is while telling his readers of this tour that Batchelor sketches Gotama Buddha’s life, the people he lived with and how he played politics to get his teachings across to the masses.

Batchelor's style of writing is factual and to the point, something I like a lot. Though the book is not very bulky (around 300 pages including notes, glossary and a very useful index) it is crammed with facts and historical titbits. For example, when Batchelor tells us of Takkasila (Taxila in modern day Pakistan) then capital of Gandhara, which was a satrapy of the Achaemenid Empire of Persia, we get to know that at the time of Gotama’s birth, Indian soldiers from Gandhara were fighting for the Persian army against the Greeks at the famous Battle of Thermopylae, a hundred miles north west of Athens.

Like the Catholics, Buddhist monks are expected to be celibate as a way of totally dedicating themselves to realise nirvana. Batchelor does not appear to be very keen on this practice and wonders why a married person can’t live a Buddhist way of life as much as a celibate monk.

Batchelor meets Songil, a French nun while at the Songgwangsa monastery in Korea. Songil’s real name is Martine and soon both of them decide to disrobe and get married. In case you are expecting some ‘exciting’ or ‘steamy’ stuff as two monks turn back from monkhood and get married (in Hong Kong), you will be disappointed (as I was). Despite this minor disappointment, ‘Confession of a Buddhist Atheist’ is a great piece of work. Please do read it.