A Tryst with Destiny

History is the most difficult thing to study because history is the most politicized of all social studies I think. Everyone's trying to write 'their own history' *( quite ironically RT's America game was 'write your own history' ) .

On an off-topic note, I recently found out that Asoka's name is not, in fact, pronounced uh-sock-uh, but uh-shock. I was talking about the game to my friend Swasti, and she asked about India, so I told her the civs and leaders and she got mad at me for saying it wrong.

I still don't know how to pronounce maharajah correctly.

má-há-rá-já is how you pronounce it .

baseballpie said:

Here in America, we have sort of the same problem, but it's different. Here, we're so Anglocentric that we ignore pretty much everything that isn't about America. It's really sad that we learn more about the role of women in the colonial Backcountry economy than the Napoleonic Wars and Ancient Persia COMBINED.

Click to expand...

I have to very strongly disagree with that. In all of my history classes while America has obviously been large part, it wasn't that bad. In 7th grade the whole class was about the Eastern hemisphere. Also, in APWHY and other history classes (not counting APUSH) America is actually given a very short time in the spotlight.

Here in Brazil we actually learn a lot more about foreign history then our own. Our history is small, and there is no interest in take a good analysis on it. The system prefers that we know little of our own history, and much more of the "important places".

Classical history interesting facts and procedures with a focus on the great empires (Sumeria, Egypt, Persia, Greece and Rome) is the first thing we learn in history. That's when folks are normally 11 y.o, so nothing serious is really taught. Medieval history, for 12 y.o people, it's as bad as classical age, until it comes to the formation of modern states and the great navigations, which is the pre-Brazil era in our history. From here, we learn everything of history twice, once in the remaining years of the Fundamental period (1st-9th grades) and again in the 3 years of Medium period (10th-12th grades). That's just in my state, on other states people have to learn about the classical and medieval period again in the Medium period, but I'm unsure what exactly.

From here we learn the following subjects:

International History:

Formation of the first state: Portugal, and brief comments on the Spanish reconquista;
Great Navigations:
English Revolution and the Protectorate of Cromwell;
Decolonization of America:
French Revolution and Napoleonic Era;
XIXth century, the age of Imperialism:
American Civil War;
Paraguayan War (or War of the Triple Alliance, although it's considered a domestic history subject);
The Great War;
Rise of the USSR;
The between wars, reconstruction of Europe and creation of the League of Nations;
Rise of Fascism and Nazism;
Development of the USSR with Lenin and Stalin;
1929 World Economic Crisis;
Spanish civil war;
World War II;
Partition of Germany and the beginning of the Cold War;
Chinese Communist Revolution;
American plans for the reconstruction of Capitalist Europe;
Korean War;
Che Guevara and the Cuban Revolution;
Rise of Latin American dictatorships;
Vietnam War;
Cuban Missile Crisis;
Decolonization of Africa and Asia;
Maoist China;
Japanese and other american protectorates development;
Formation and consolidation of Communist Yugoslavia;
African Cold War conflicts (mostly in portuguese colonies like Angola and Mozambique);
Brief commentary on Afghan war;
End of the Cold War, destruction of Berlim's Wall and dissolution of the USSR;
Dissolution of Yugoslavia, and Serbian crisis of the XXth century;
Creation of the CIS and other economical blocks;
Brief comment on Iran-Iraq war;
Iraq War (the last subject when I ended the 9th grade, which was in 2004);
More Serbian crisis (kosovo being the last when I was graduating from High School);

Not sure what more they have added after.

Now here is what we learn about our own history:

Domestic History:

- Discovery of the Brazilian coast by Pedro Álvares Cabral;
- The Pau-Brasil cycle (a type of dye that was sent to europe);
- The first colonizations, circa 1530;
- French disputes in late XVIth century;
- Sugar cycle, sugar plantations all across Northeastern Brazilian coast;
- Unification of Iberia and the Dutch invasions of Northeastern Brazil in XVIIth century;
- XVIIIth century, end of the sugar cycle and the discovery of Gold on Southeastern Brazil;
- Conflicts between fugitive slaves and authorities across the eras;
- Gold Cycle and the urbanization of Minas Geraes, with the capital being transfered from Salvador to Rio de Janeiro;
- Conflicts with the spanish colony of the Silver Plate River (Argentina);
- Marquis of Pombal's administration changes on the colony of Brazil;
- Napoleonic Wars force the Regent Prince, D. João to flee with his family to Brazil in the beginning of the XIXth century;
- D. João VI era, reformations on the colony and the inverse relation of colony and metropolis;
- End of Napoleonic Wars, D. João VI refuses to go back;
- Constitutionalist Revolution of Portugal (1820) and regress of D. João VI. Prince D. Pedro remains in Brazil;
- Brazilian Independence of 1822;
- First Reign, Dom Pedro I's era;
- Uruguay War and the independence of Cisplatina province;
- Abdication of Dom Pedro I in 1831 and the time of the Regents;
- Regency and Provincial rebellions;
- Start of the 2nd Reign in 1840, coronation of Dom Pedro II;
- End of provincial rebellions and the Coffee cycle boost;
- Abolition of Slave Traffic and economical reformations;
- First Industrial Revolution of Brazil 1850-1870;
- Diplomatic Conflict between Brazil and England in 1862;
- War of Paraguay in 1864;
- Late Imperial years and prosperity;
- Republican movement;
- Abolitionist Era on Brazil;
- Abolition of Slavery and Republican Coup d'Etat;
- 1st Republic: Military Dictatorship;
- The invention of the Aircraft by Santos Dumont (yeah, in Brazil and France, he is the one who created the flying machine, instead of your Wright Brothers);
- Brief comment on Brazilian's participation on the Great War;
- Republican intensification of political and economical control and the rise of the Second Republic, the Oligarchich Republic;
- Brazil and the World Crisis of 1929;
- Revolution of 1930 and the Vargas Era;
- Vargas and the World War II;
- Brazil's Second Industrial Revolution;
- Re-Democratization and the end of Vargas's dictatorship;
- 4th Republic, the Brief Republic (1950-1964);
- Economical plans and the creation of Brasília, with the transfer of capital from Rio de Janeiro to Brasília;
- Military coup d'Etat and Military Dictatorship (1964-1985);
- Brazil in the Oil crisis of the 70s;
- Re-democratization again, and 6th Republic, the Corrupt Republic (and here is where the history ended for me);

I think they must be teaching the Worker's Party Era already, because they are already governing for 12 years and have just got 4 more years in this year's election.

Although we have several topics on our own history (covering everything from 1500 onwards, the year of the discovery of Brazil), they are not as detailed as those on international history, and also you can see clearly that the foreign history topics outnumber the domestic ones.

So here is the first exception to your list DKVM. We lack domestic history detail, while in Foreign history we lose much more time learning a lot about the world (but mostly Europe and the US)

WHERE IS THE SOCCER???

CaterpillarKing said:

WHERE IS THE SOCCER???

Click to expand...

Do you think they bother to talk about one of the 2 most important things that keep brazil from going on an all out strike and desintegration? Soccer is the most important weapon for the integration of Brazil, Soap Opera's being the second. That isn't mentioned in history, because it doesn't interest the political elite. That's their most prized treasure to control Brazil.

They prefer to put several lies on our history and turn it boring on most parts. Soccer is already present in more then 50% of your surrounding, be it in talkings, posters, televisions, shirts, stickers, soccer fields and more. It's not supposed to be boring as a topic in history classes. It's supposed to be the relief to your stress, the thing that makes you mostly emotionally devoted. It can't be a boring history subject you see

Because learning is boring, that's the common idea here

1 - We should probably move this discussion to the off-topic forum

2 - LUCKY! By the time my classmates and I were 11, we were still learning the same facts over and over again with no new details. We haven't learned any new history since the 2nd grade. All of what we're taught is American History and Republic of Texas history. Over 90% of what I know in history is self-learned.

I've had to learn US history ONLY for about 2 years now. The last time I had world history was in 7th grade, and even then that was mostly about ancient kingdoms such as Babylon and Assyria, but it was few and far between the American history.

You people are oh so lucky!

Man US history sucks for three years in a row

You should discuss this stuff in "Madhushala" which I made as an offtopic group.

And @Spirictum - You should really really make a Brazil story . You play the game and I'll write the story with your pointers .

The plains of the Hydaspes are among the most fertile in the world. Legends of Indica speak of a lost river that lay to the East of this mighty river over lands which are now desert. That river and the Hydaspes are described in the books of the ancients as a group of rivers.

Over time, the fertility of the Hydaspes has altered. The flow of the river has changed over a millennia to make the plains near Taxiles among the most fertile in the whole realm. We visited to the village of Haria on the wheat farming lands to the East of the city of Taxiles, we went there with the monks of the Ashram where they would beg for alms and preach the word of the Buddha.

The village had prospered on the bounty of the Hydaspes, but as numerous and wealthy the upper caste of the village were, there were as many who were from among the wretched castes. They were the most eager to listen to the word of the Buddha. In their eyes I saw hope, a hope for justice when they saw us. It was as if they sat in wait for a day when they would overcome their misery, either in this world or the next.

An Indian village system is quite unique. Here was a world unto itself, where the chief ruled almost as a king in his own kingdom. The land is held in common but apportioned and administered by the ruling caste from among whom the governing bureaucracy was chosen. The village headman was tasked with collection of taxes on behalf of the emperor. He is also the leader of the village and administers justice over the village. The governing body over a village is known as the panchayat, where every man in the village participates in the administration of the village. It is the closest thing I have witnessed to democracy outside of Greece.

The village provided all that which was needed for its own survival, giving only tribute to the emperor. Perhaps the story of Haria is only an exception, we have heard of villages where the populace have been so utterly beggared that they had to chose between a painful migration to other lands or face starvation. Seeing this village, it was easy to feel confused that they are detached from any central administration. The emperor after all lived only in coinage and flags, but from time to time, a harsh taxation or a bloody reprisal for a rebellious village reminds the countryside the truth of where the true power rested.

The great fertility of this river left us stunned. There were no rivers in Greece for that matter in the whole of Europa which could compare with this, and we hear that the river of Gangaridae is even greater ! The Hydaspes floods its banks from time to time bringing devastation to the communities that dwell dangerously on her banks, yet it is this destruction that also brings the bounty of the Hydaspes upon its banks bestowing upon it the great fertility we saw before us.

We assisted the monks in their work of spreading the word of the Buddha for two days before returning to Taxiles. The next day we would move East to the province of Kuru and the famed city of Indicaporus.

-----------------------

On the sixth day we departed from Taxiles to Indaparosth . The journey would take us over a hundred leagues, and a little over a week through caravan. The monks at the Ashram of taxiles were kind enough to assist us with finding the caravan which would take us east.

Our brothers are more eager than ever to finally set their sights on Palibothra. The experience we had with the brothers of different Ashrams has inspired us and enriched us. Reverend Kalonus from Taxiles applauded the effort we had made and appreciated our remarkable resolve in having made this journey over a thousand leagues, he wished us well and gave us his blessings.

The caravan moved slower than we had expected, so when we had reached the borders of the province of Kuru nearly ten days had passed. Regardless, we had arrived where we had wanted to. The river that ran through Kuru joined with Gangaridae farther South, but deposited its rich bounty upon the plains of Kuru. As we walked closer and closer to the city of Indicaporus, we could see emerging from the horizon, the great sight that would greet us.

Here before us, stood one of the greatest cities the world had seen. Famed for its learning and its beauty, Indicaporus stood large and awe inspiring in all her grandeur. No sight was quite as inspiring or intimidating as the Grand temple of the Holy triumvirate. Here the creator, the preserver and the destroyer grace the gilded marble halls of this grand altar.



From a distance, one can see the temple hall with its marble pillars, the domed sanctum and the gurukul that was built nearby the temple. At the gurukul, students of brahmins learn the ways of rituals and philosophy of the Indics. This gurukul has been famed for nurturing the best minds of Indica, and among the best in the world. This has also been the center of revolutions in Indica.

We had but only a glimpse of the grandeur of this city and yet we are told that even this was only a faint glimmer before the glory of Palibothra.

I can only remember this as perhaps the most comfortable of all our journeys. The enlightened emperor Ashoka Diodotus had built rest houses all across the roadways connecting the provinces of Indica where weary travelers could rest after a hard days' journey. Though he died two centuries ago, his legacy lives on in the empire of Gangaridae today. Throughout our time in Indica, we heard near nothing of vagrants and robbers anywhere in the provinces of this great land. Law and order, enforced through a large standing army and an intricate system of spies and enforcers throughout the long trade roads ensured the emperor's peace. Yet another legacy that begins from Diodotus.

We would stay on for only a day's duration, before venturing through the great Ganges river to our sacred destination.

We would stay in Indicaporus for only a days, but in that one day we would learn much of the faith of the Indics. The temple of the Holy Triumvirate is the greatest of temples in Indica, or for that matter the world. Nothing I know in the entire Hellenic world could compare to its beauty and grandeur.

Though the temple seemed grand from afar, it was only when one ventured near it was its true beauty revealed. Two hundred pillars of polished marble with intricately carved sculptures, its ceiling covered in the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen, such that would make the best craftsmen of Athens weep in shame. The entire structure is no less than three plethron long from the gate to the sanctum and one hamma wide at its widest point. A behemoth covered in the beauties of Indian painting and sculptures.

We walked towards the great temple as though we were entranced by the shine of the marble. The morning sun shone off the polished pillars and glazed tiles on the curved roof. It was said, that artisans from Greece and Persia were brought to construct the temple. These artisans left their mark in the design f the pillars and the sculptures of this temple. The gilded statuette of Greek gods resting atop the roof of the temple stands as testament to the contribution of Greek artisans.

Just as we came to the arched gates of the temple, we were turned away. It was made known to us then that only the pure vedic indics can enter this temple. Sudras, Greeks and Buddhists were forbidden from entering. We felt insulted and chose not to dwell here much longer. While the doors of the temple were closed to us, those of the gurukul were still open.

Indicaporus did not have any Buddhist ashrams, there were no institutions and there were no temples or mounds. We imagined that the oppression of the lower castes would be harshest here, where there was no relief to be found. Our own denial to enter the Great Temple of the Holy Triumvirate, furthered this belief. We were to be proven wrong. Unlike Taxiles, the lower castes could walk with respect, while the emperor's laws continued to enforce the laws of Manu, we could sense a mutual respect between men.

Of the religion of the Indics, which they call as the 'vedanta' there are three different streams, two of which dominate the lives of most Indics. The faith of Vishnu the preserver and the faith of Shiva the destroyer. The brahmans of these two faiths compete for royal patronage and for increasing their followers. Aside from these, a third stream thrives in the province of Kuru, that of the faith of the Jaina who preach non-violence and abstinence.

In the gurukul of Indicaporus , were wise men from every stream of knowledge from every corner of the empire. Here they explored the secrets of economy, politics and social sciences. There were also those who taught medicine and architecture. The gurukul of Indicaporus was a great place of learning, perhaps among the greatest in the world. Here the students lived with their tutors and learnt with their tutors. A great hall was made for debates conducted here once in seven days. There wise men speak before other wise men, they question and debate vigorously. We were fortunate to witness such a debate, where the idea of castes were debated vigorously. We too were allowed to participate, I had but only one humble question, "Why would we and our kin be disallowed from worshipping the gods that created, preserves and will destroy us?" three brahmans screamed "heresy!" but four times as many scholars defended us.

The memory of this brief stay would remain with us, as well as the wondrous sight of the temple of the Holy Triumvirate. We joined a caravan which would take us straight to the Ganges river at the city of Benares. From there we would travel by boat, the fastest transportation of Gangaridae, to the river front of Palibothra.

Now that's a great idea Adhiraj, but I would need to have time for that. Let's see if in some days I can finally manage to get some more free time and we should talk about it.

I have plans for a brazilian story from long ago, but are just some stubs and stuff. We should talk about it. And I believe I can do your map later today. I'm going to work now and I'll come back late at night here, but today is friday so I can really late at night on the computer.

We ventured forth into the lands of Gangaridae. Here lay the most prosperous of towns of Indica and the greatest city of its empire, Palibothra. The journey downriver by boat would take us to Palibothra quicker than if we had travelled on foot. A hundred and fifty leagues stood between the point of departure on the banks of the Lomanes(Jamuna) river and our destination at Palibothra. Between these two points stood the city of Benaros.

We had sailed by prosperous towns and villages, each brimming with wealth and fertility, but equally weighed down by the crushing injustice of inequality. The province of Kashi was the most productive of the provinces of Gangaridae and Benaros its crowning jewel. Before our arrival there, we had heard much of the iron mines in the South of Kashi and the hill of jewels there. Mining these hills were the source of great wealth and power for this province, the great temple complex of Benaros stands as proof for the power and glory of Benaros.

We sailed for three days from the banks of the Lomanes till we reached Benaros, here we would change boats before we continued sailing farther downstream to Palibothra. There comes a point where the river Lomanes and the river Ganga meet, here is a most sacred place where pilgrims come to bathe in the sacred waters of this river. I had witnessed hundreds of pilgrims bathing in the sacred waters hoping to cleanse themselves of sins, so they may achieve noble birth in the next life. If only sins were so easy to wash away.

When we finally arrived at Benaros, we arrived at night to be greeted by a truly majestic sight. On the dock of Benaros, fifty brahmin priests stood with prayer lamps and chanted sweet hymns. Their lights lit up the river and the night with its golden glow, the dancing flames danced on the waters of the Ganges just as they danced on the fingers of the lamps. Our boatmen told us, that this was the evening prayer that is performed by every pious brahmin, but only in Benaros would we witness the evening prayer on the banks of the river. They swayed their lamps left and right up and down, and as the flames danced on the lamps, so did they dance on the waters of the Ganga.



It was a special sight unique to the city and its people. Behind the bright golden glow of the evening prayers, stood the grandest of the temples of Benaros, the Vishnu temple in the grand temple complex. We only had but a glimpse of this majestic structure as most of it was shrouded in the darkness of night, but even that glimpse was enough to leave us enthralled.

The city of Benaros had a twin upon the North bank of the Ganges. We were told that we were forbidden from entering the city of Benaros and would have to rest in the town of Kashi on the North bank. Here, we learnt of the dark secret of the province of Kashi.

-----------------------

We spent the night in an uncomfortable dank shelter among miners and peasants who came from across the Southern hills of Kashi to work on the mines and rice fields of the province. These were lower caste men and women who were cursed to live a life worse than animals. Whatever we had seen in Indicaporus and Arachosia, could not have prepared us for this.

Benaros was home to only six thousand, of whom five thousand were brahman priests. Benaros, it seemed was a city of high learning for the priestly caste and a center of the Vedic faith. The laws of Manu were more sternly imposed here than anywhere else. For every brahman there exists no less than five sudras. War lords dwelled to the South of the city in the hills of Kashi, they would venture out into the jungles with their band of raiders enslaving the tribals who dwell in the jungles to the South, recruiting more and more sudras from among them to mine to gems and iron. This was the source of all metal in the lands of Indica. The gem mines of Kashi were richer than those of Arachosia, producing seven mounds of precious stones every week.

While the wealthy of Kashi have grown fat with wealth on the back of this enormous wealth and prosperity, those who toil to produce it live in such misery that would make the slaves of Rome feel grateful for their servitude. A queue of slaves ventured passed us with their heads and shoulders drooping down, there were a myriad scars upon their skin and a hideous scar around their neck where an iron collar would be fastened. There were not two or three, but forty who stood in that queue to the hells that awaited them in the mines of Kashi.

They boarded the ferry that would take them across the Ganges to the South side of the river where they would toil to death to mine the wealth of Gangaridae. We too would board a ship, but one that would take us downstream to Palibothra, and away from this perfidious place. While we boarded, we glimpsed our last and most enduring sight of Benaros.



--------------------

At last, at long last ! After nearly a thousand leagues of journey, through deserts and plains, enduring treachery and tragedy, we have at last arrived. Palibothra stood before us, from a distance we could see the golden spire of the Mahabodhi shrine and beside it, the gilded pillars of the palace of the emperor.

Through this journey, that began on the modest harbor of Sparte, we have seen places both grand and humble. There were lands both plentiful and impoverished. War torn and peaceful. Through it all, we endured and we learnt. Some of our brothers departed us in this quest, but for those among us who have lived to see this day, will live to tell of the most majestic place in the world.

The Mahabodhi itself is an awe inspiring sight to behold, a beautiful structure built by the enlightened emperor Ashoka, at the very spot that Gautama Buddha had attained enlightenment.

Palibothra straddles the North bank of the Ganges, the city is defended by thick mud brick walls that is built around a moat carved deep from the river that surrounds this city on three sides. The river Ganga and a tributary from the North provide a natural barrier against attackers from the East and North. Whoever had founded Palibothra, must have been a keen strategist to foresee such advantages.

The fortifications of Palibothra though strong seem weak in comparison to those in Arachosia and Taxiles. While the walls of Taxiles and Herat were built of stone, the walls of Palibothra was built of mud bricks. Sixty four towers guard the four walls of the city with eight of the largest towers defending each of the four gateways leading to and from the city. At Palibothra the ganga was wider than at Benaros, but at both cities do ships that sail from the seas dock at its harbors. Our own humble transport docked at Palibothra's great harbor where we saw ships from the fabled eastern empire of Chin. The port was brimming with life, fishermen sold their catch, sailors and traders from all the Eastern world came for trade. We could see Indic noblemen from other provinces with decorative umbrellas, riding on elephants.

We made our way to the Mahabodhi shrine, along the way we were greeted by a monk of Sampratim monastery, built by Emperor Sampratim. He told us, that pilgrims are always welcome to Palibothra, and his monastery would gladly shelter us just as they had sheltered pilgrims before. Through him, we came to know that there were many resting places and many Buddhist ashrams in Palibothra both small and large. The sangh at Mahabodhi was the grandest of all in the whole realm of indica. From Arachosia to Benaros, we had seen nothing but sad disappointments on what had become of the land of Buddha, but in Palibothra we felt reassured that the sons of Buddha had not entirely forsaken his teachings.

We stayed for the night at the Jain ashram where we met with other travelers including some Kushan brothers who came from beyond the Oxus. They came here to renounce their warlike ways once and for all, they rode on their sturdy steeds from beyond the hills to the plains of Gangaridae. We heard their tale, these were fierce mercenaries who had killed for a living who fought in the numerous wars in the near east and sold their skills as protectors of wealthy merchants. One day in the course of their cruel trade, one of them had to shed their last ounce of humanity to assassinate an infant. When the one's hand trembled the other drew his knife and stabbed the sleeping baby. Her cries deprived the mercenaries of sleep and haunted their dreams. Tormented, they decided that they would seek their freedom in the search for peace and enlightenment in the path of the Buddha, so it was that fate brought them to Palibothra.

--------------------------------



"This holy life … does not have gain, honor, and renown for its benefit, or the attainment of virtue for its benefit, or the attainment of concentration for its benefit, or knowledge and vision for its benefit. But it is this unshakable deliverance of mind that is the goal of this holy life, its heartwood and its end." These were the words of the Buddha, this was the basis of our being and the ultimate goal every Buddhist must follow.

Once upon a time, a prince of the Northern mountain kingdom had meditated under the Bodhi tree. He was born unto prestige and luxury, but everywhere he looked he saw poverty and suffering. Under the Bodhi tree, he discovered the secrets of suffering and the path of liberation from this worldly suffering.

We walked towards that ancient tree where the Buddha had attained this enlightenment and Prince Siddhartha had become the Buddha. We and thousands of others like us, travelled over long leagues to this very site both for tribute to the wise one who has shown us the path of enlightenment, and for our own selves to come closer to that elusive enlightenment.

A large and beautifully crafted meditation hall existed by the main shrine of the Mahabodhi, here pilgrims sat and meditated on questions of the world and the spirit. We too sat with them in meditation. Under the shade of the chaitya hall, and among the brothers of the faith we felt free. A sense of fulfillment came to us along with a sense of questioning and reflection. Questioning purpose, of suffering and life and reflecting over our own trials and tribulations.

Before I ventured from Sparte, the Buddha had come in my dream and told me that I would find an answer for the questions that were for long in my mind. I had always thought that the choices in my life were driven by injustice and compulsion by forces which thought of themselves equal to the gods. Here in Indica, I had seen injustices whose burden make my own failings seem pale by comparison. At the end, it was not justice that I sought, but peace.

As I meditated with my brethren under the shade of the Bodhi tree, I found the answer that I had searched for.

baseballpie and DKVM won't be happy about maploco I guess. It's a shame though, I loved this tool.

The Parasika screamed and screamed, a scream filled with pain and anguish as his head was being crushed under the foot of an armored elephant. Then it burst and blood splattered in all directions and Amatya Aditya saw himself drenched in blood. It was a dream that recurred every night, but it never ended with the death of Parasika, he saw the headless man rise up with a horrible mangled body walking to him. At that moment, Aditya froze, he felt his body go numb and unable to move, then his hands would rise to choke him, at that moment he awoke with a scream, "Yaaaaaaa!".

His wife, Supriya was startled by his scream and spoke in a frightened tone, "What happened Aditya? Was it the dream again?"
"huh…huh… yes, it happened again."
Supriya comforted her husband, she put her hand on his shoulder, "I will bring some water for you. Tell the dream facing the water, it will comfort you."
Aditya kept panting, "No Supriya. It won't help." he walked out of his bed "I will go for a walk. I will return in an hour."
"Be careful."

Amatya Aditya had been given a stately quarter within the palace grounds at Pataliputra, it was bigger than most minister's quarters, but Aditya was more treasured than most ministers. However, the palace grounds and its gardens did not please Aditya tonight. He ventured to the gates, and called upon the palace guards,
"Guards! Open the gates. It is I Amatya Aditya, I wish to go out."
"At once Amatya."

Near the palace grounds, there was a stately wooden mansion, long since abandoned. No one knew of why the family that lived there had left it, neither did anyone know why the emperor continued to spend for its maintenance, but this is where Aditya wanted to go tonight. Whenever he would walk to this place, memories would come back to him, memories that he would rather forget. A secret key lay concealed in a pillar of the gates of the mansion that only Amatya Aditya knew of. This key would open hidden chambers in this mansion, which only Aditya knew of. His memories, took him back to when he was a child.

Aditya came from a noble family of Pataliputra which had given the realm two ministers with the only exception being his father. As a child he was close to his grandfather, known to the realm as Amatya Buddhaputra, but to Aditya he was only "daddy"(grandfather). The images seem to come back to him, of that day when the grandfather would show Aditya an important family heirloom. He was ten, and his grandfather was seventy.

"Come here little Aditya. Today I will show you something very important that has been part of this family since the time of my father, your great grandfather. But I will show them only if you swear to me that you will forever hold these heirlooms secret."
"I will daddu, but where is this place ?"
Buddhaputra pointed to the mansion, then in a near dilapidated state, "This used to be our home. Four generations of our family have sheltered under its roof."
"Then why did we leave ?"
the grandfather smiled, "That is what we are here to find out."
Aditya remembered his curiosity rise at that smile.

The gates were half broken and could only be moved with some difficulty, but the grandfather wasn't so frail that he would let to creaking gates come in his way. Dust had covered the wooden floors of this mansion, the wooden beams supporting the roof had started to wear out, the beautifully carved wooden pillars had been damaged by thieves breaking pieces off it. Inside the mansion was dark save for a large gaping hole in the ceiling through which sunlight streamed down. That day, it was the sun that shone through the hole, but tonight it was the moon which brought light. It was unusually bright that night, so he had no trouble making his way to the room of his choice.

He traced his memories to the hidden chamber of the mansion. His memory took him back to that day, grandfather walked into what used to be his father's study. Twenty steps ahead then turn right, past the main bedroom and beside the flight of stairs. When he had first seen the room, nothing was left of it which could indicate it had been a study, there was only an oddly shaped door which seemed out of place in the emptiness. It was sealed with a wooden lock.

"What's behind that door grandfather?" the curious young Aditya asked,
Buddhaputra said nothing, he simply took out a large iron key, "We will soon find out. Step aside."

He twisted the key once to the left and twice to the right, the sounds of large wooden blocks clicking accompanied the twists of the lock. Then the lock fell down with a large thud. "Remember every detail of what you will see. This lock was commissioned by me and was made by a masterful lock maker. This key was not made by him, it was made in secret by a weapon smith. Neither the lock maker nor the weapon smith knew the true purpose for which they made their implements.

The large strange door opened slowly, he still remembered the first time when he faced this door, that boy of ten shook in fear when a gush of wind howled out. In the night, under the dim moonlight he remembered the feeling of vulnerability and fear when the wooden door creaked open. The door opened to a long dark tunnel, that tunnel led to a store room, it was shown to Aditya that day when his grandfather had shown the family heirloom. "Its so dark…" Aditya said to himself, he knew that the dim moonlight could only lead him so far, but he knew that there were torches at the tunnel. That child of ten saw it too.

Buddhaputra lit a torch and led the way forward. Aditya was nervous but his fears were overwhelmed by sheer curiosity, it helped that his grandfather was with him. The two walked slowly through the tunnel. The tunnel first gently sloped downwards, then became straight and wide. They walked to a point where one tunnel became four, Buddhaputra lifted the torch to show all four tunnels,
"I had built these tunnels myself, there are three tunnels from among here which lead to a trap from where it is impossible to return, and one leads to the store room. Could you tell which one is correct ?" Buddhaputra had a mischievous smile on his face,
Aditya hesitated and shook with fear, "y.yyy..don't .. remember?"
"Of course I remember. But will you remember, one day when you have to come back through this tunnel!"

The words came back to Aditya and hit him like a brick on the head. He held a torch before him, he could see four identical tunnels but he knew that only one was correct. if he chose the wrong one, he would not return out of this place alive. He struggled to remember the words of his grandfather then.
"Remember this Aditya. The one which is right, is second from the left." Buddhaputra said in a deep heavy voice.
'The right path.. is second from left…. first .. second…' he thought for a moment till he decided the right path to take. As he remembered in his childhood, a short flight of steps awaited him at the tunnel's entrance. Seven steps to the store room. At the end of this tunnel was a chamber guarded by an iron gate locked with an iron hook.

Buddhaputra opened the iron door, it made a loud creaking sound. When Aditya opened it, it made the same loud fearful sound made worse by the darkness. There was a large trunk in the store room, with large iron hinges.
"This trunk did not belong to your great grandfather, it belonged to a wise man no longer with us. His name was Yogesh and he was a mahant at the Mahabodhi."
he tried to open the lid of the trunk, but he could not lift its weight. "In an earlier time, I could open this trunk, but not anymore. Help me here my child."
The little Aditya put all his strength into opening the trunk, "ugh.. its heavy."
When it finally opened the contents of the trunk were revealed. A large set of parchments, maps and scrolls, but Buddhaputra wanted to show something else, a book.
"Everything that is in this trunk, had been entrusted to my father by Mahant Yogesh, but there is only one item that was entrusted to me." he revealed a book written in palm leaf, "the authors of this book no longer dwell among the living. Their descendants lie scattered somewhere in the far corners of the world. They are no longer in a position to hold this secret, so it is that the burden of protecting it falls upon us."
"Why us daddu ?"
Buddhaputra looked deep into his grandchild's eyes and said, "Fate."

Buddhaputra took out a book made with dried palm leaves. He handed the book to Aditya and began a lengthy explanation.
"Dark men seek this book Aditya, men who do not believe in life, men who seek only death. They wish to bring an end to the world and destroy humanity. Your great grandfather, my father, fought and died to prevent their nefarious schemes. His burden now passes to us, as guardians of the Nine Unknown."
"The nine unknown? but that was just a tale.. wasn't it."
Buddhaputra caught Aditya by his shoulders, "Listen to me ! There are no tales. All you have heard from me, is true. Now you see the truth of it yourself."
"I have not shown this place to your father, because he will not be in a position to guard this. But I see that future in you. Promise me, that you will protect this book and this place with your life. Promise me!"
"I..I.. promise."
"Good. Then I shall rest easy.." ….'rest easy…' the thought lingered in Aditya's mind as he began opening the trunk.

It was as heavy as it had been then, but Aditya's strength had waned with age. Yet, with great effort he succeeded in opening the trunk. He saw before him every item he had once committed to memory. The maps, the source of his inspiration behind becoming a map maker, the scrolls, some written by his father and others collected by Mahant Yogesh and passed down from his time, and the book. The book had always intrigued him, as much as it had frightened him. The name of the book on the covering leaf read "manovigyan yuddhashastra", Psychological warfare, 'What could be the aim behind writing such a book….'

Aditya did not dare read the books, his grandfather had forbidden him. The tale he told of the last of the Yavan kings was enough to let him know of the deathly secrets that a book of the Nine Unknown possessed. He did not come here to read the book of the nine unknown, but only to reminisce on his own actions.

"Supriya thinks that if I speak the truth before water, it will somehow wash away the torment. Perhaps there is some truth to it, at least symbolic, but that is not for me. I chose to speak before this book, about all that which I have done, and of all that which continues to torment me."
"I was such a fool to dream of glories in war. I had never seen death before, nor dealt it to anyone before. But that is what war brings, death and suffering. I had killed that man, his blood is on my hands. I had done that, and I was happy.. By Kali, I felt joy at it, but I am not a killer !"
"Every night, the Parasika comes back to haunt me in my dreams. I see his head crushed by my elephant with his friend watching, a hundred times I crush him yet he comes back. A ghost haunts me. The night before, it was not merely him but a hundred others who joined him. They were the dead peasant folk who died in the rebellion at Pataliputra. They gnawed at me and scratched me and struck me and ate me." Aditya's heart raced, his lips shook as he said those words speaking into the trunk,

"I know of the higher purpose that my family fought for. Samrat Pulovami was growing overfond of that Persian minister. I had known he was no ordinary man the day I had met him. My grandfather had warned me of the Minions of Death, he had warned me they came from the shadows and struck in the most unlikely ways. Hormazd was a minion, I was sure of this. So, I committed myself to befriend the emperor, if only to save him and Bharata from the clutches of minions."
"The war was not of my choosing, it was Hormazd, I am sure of it. He made it so that war became inevitable. I only did what was my duty, as an Amatya and as a guardian of the Knowledge of the Nine Unknown."
Aditya pushed himself up to his feet, "If we had not conducted the war the way we did it, the minions would have won. It would have destroyed Persia entirely and crippled Bharata. Hormazd would have killed both Tiridates and Pulovami, I have no regrets in killing him… no regrets.."

Amatya Aditya sealed the trunk and began walking out of the chamber. Aditya left the chambers being sure to lock it before leaving for his quarters. When he stepped out of the mansion, he heard a strange noise coming from the other side of the street. It mixed eerily with the hooting of the owls and the howling of the dogs.
"Who goes there!" Aditya yelled, but found no answer.
"Who is it ?! Come before me now." none came.
He moved frantically to lock the gates of the mansion, he briskly walked out of the mansion and made his way back to the palace quarters.

As he ran, a soft sound constantly distracted him forcing him to look behind. It was the sound of soft footsteps on the mud of the road. Aditya was now running, he was surely being pursued. He glimpsed back and saw a figure running towards him, a large dark shadow cloaked with a flowing black robe that revealed nothing of his face. Aditya ran, as hard as he could, but the shadow was still pursuing him. Just as he neared the palace, he glanced back to see the shadow had disappeared. Aditya fell down on his feet, feeling a moment's relief at outrunning his pursuers.

Aditya limped back to the Palace gates, "Open the Gates ! It is I Amatya Adity.." he fell to the ground again, now feeling his left leg go numb. He tried to feel his leg but there was no sensation, he noticed then that there was a dart on his ankle. He pulled it out and threw it away. "Open the gaaaates!" he screamed as loud as he could.

The large gates opened to the palace, and three guards came out, "Amatya Aditya is hurt! Take him inside quickly !"
"Call.. my ..son.."

The palace was awakened, vadyas rushed to Aditya's quarters and began treating him, his ankle had been poisoned by a dart which was meant for his neck. It did not spare Aditya's life, but it gave him a few more precious moments. His son rushed into his bedchamber to see his father for what would be the last time. Aditya grasped his son's hand tightly, his last words to him would be, "G.gggget the maap. Up …at bal..bal.. balcon.nny…"

Amatya Aditya died that night, but not before leaving his legacy to his son. In all his years as a cartographer he had stored all knowledge of the Nine Unknown handed down to him from his grandfather in codes within the map. These were codes which only a cartographer could decipher in a special map of the empire that he had hidden inside the ceiling of the balcony of his quarters.

Will be edited tomorrow.