Emperor’s Dreams

Once upon a time, there was an emperor who ruled over a great empire. A Rajarshi, he abjured royal privileges and luxuries, and worked tirelessly, eighteen hours a day or more, to make his empire the most prosperous one in the whole world. Owing to the many schemes he had launched for the welfare of his subjects, no one was poor in his kingdom. Rivers of milk and honey flowed in so many parts of his kingdom that visitors from other kingdoms came in to marvel at the miracle, and sing paeans to the yashasvi emperor.

A small clarification: rivers of milk and honey flowed in those areas of the kingdom where his subjects were completely loyal and periodically demonstrated their loyalty and gratitude; in other areas, no one starved, everyone had the basic necessities of life, but the ‘rivers’ did not run through those areas as the loyalty of the subjects was not proven beyond doubt.

The emperor loved his subjects and the subjects loved him back, though it was sometimes maliciously rumoured by disgruntled persons and rebellious trouble-makers that he loved some of his subjects more than others.

It was the Golden Age for the empire. Strangely, though, the emperor was troubled, and could not sleep well. He saw ominous dreams whenever he tried to sleep or rest. Sometimes, these dreadful visions flashed across his mind even during the day when he was at his Durbar or conducting other affairs of the kingdom.

Once he saw himself walking reverentially with the puja thali in his hands to offer prayers to the Deity of the Kingdom, but before he could reach the sanctum sanctorum, the sparkling white marble floor transformed to quicksand, his feet began sinking, and he woke up in panic.

Another time, he saw himself as a majestic Royal Bengal tiger, the King of a vast jungle. His rule was just and proper, and his authority unchallenged. But now that he was no longer in the prime of his youth, younger tigers from the fringes of the forest had begun snarling from a safe distance. He knew they were gathering strength and courage to fight him someday, but that day was far in the future since no one could defeat him in a duel.

One day, he was on a leisurely, solitary walk when he noticed a little movement in the dense bushes to his left. Is that the ambitious young upstart tiger planning a guerilla attack, he wondered? After a while, he heard a big animal moving ever so cautiously behind the thick tree cover on the right. Is that another young tiger? That’s most unusual, tigers don’t attack in a pack. Too proud to seek help from anyone else. Single combat was their valour code. Yet, he knew times had changed, and moral codes no longer prevailed. Soon, there will be anarchy, he muttered under his breath.

Nothing happened. Neither one nor more tigers ambushed him. He was still the unrivalled king, but the possibility of a stealth attack by one or many made him anxious and his BP soared giving him a dizzy headache.

He could not consult the royal astrologers or the Kaviraj for remedy. The word would spread, his enemies would interpret it as his diminished self-confidence, and plot for a coup or engineer an attack by a rival kingdom. So, he kept his troubles to himself.

He took to pranayama, meditation, and drank warm milk before going to bed, but sleep still eluded him. Exasperated, he visited a holy shrine and sat down for a long meditation, closing his eyes, chanting AUM, and invoking the kingdom’s revered deity to appear in his mind’s eye. When all his efforts to visualise the image of the deity failed, he made a fervent appeal, ‘O God, why do you not hear the prayer of your faithful devotee? Are you angry with me for some reason? Why can’t I see your blissful, radiant image?’

After repeating this prayer for long, he at last heard a voice, the unmistakable voice of God, who said, ‘Why are you praying for so long? Don’t you have a kingdom to run, meet your petitioners and resolve their problems?’

‘You know, Dear God, why I am here. Why do you ask? Don’t you know of my troubles? When my empire is prosperous, and rivers of milk and honey flow here, why am I persecuted by those pernicious visions? Please grant me, your steadfast devotee, peace of mind.’

‘Why are you troubled?’

‘No idea, God, maybe due to some bad karma in a previous birth.’

‘How about your karma in this birth? Have you done anything irreligious, committed any paap?’

‘None, my Lord, except performing Raj Dharma which requires eliminating enemies of the kingdom, and inflicting fit punishment on criminals, mischief-makers, dissenters and other dangerous persons.’

‘But, is your heart pure? Do you harbour hate for any citizen of your kingdom?’

‘No, God. I love everyone, and everyone loves me back. They even chant my name - Chakravarty Maharaj- whenever I appear in public. No, I don’t hate anyone.’

‘Why don’t you find for yourself? Open your eyes, you’d find a pair of golden scales in front of you. Take out your heart, and weigh it on the scale.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘Didn’t Hanuman open his chest to reveal Shri Ram and Janaki installed in his heart? Just make a sincere wish, and your heart would be on the weighing scale. Not a drop of blood would be spilled, and you’d be unhurt. That is My Guarantee!’

(Image Credit: Bing AI Image Creator)

‘But what is the counter-weight? I see nothing on the other pan of the scale.’

‘Look again. There is a little white feather in the other pan. If your heart is lighter than the feather, know that there is no hatred in you, and you will be forever freed from your anxieties and dreadful visions.’

The dream ended here and the emperor woke up to face another day.

***

Disclaimer

Is this piece a political satire, a few readers have queried? 

No. It is an imaginary story, a work of fiction. Resemblance, if any, to an Emperor living or dead is purely coincidental. Esteemed readers are advised not to read it as a political or personal satire.

Acknowledgement

1.   In his book ‘Why We Die: The New Science of Aging and the Quest for Immortality’ Venki Ramakrishnan, Nobel Laureate refers to the Egyptian belief that Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the underworld weighs the heart of the deceased against a feather. To quote from ‘Why We Die’: In one of the final tests, Anubis weighs the heart of the deceased against a feather. If the heart is found to be heavier, it is impure, and the person is condemned to a horrible fate. But if the examinee is pure, he would enter a beautiful land filled with eating, drinking, sex, and all the other pleasures of life.

2.   Subhash Khuntia, a dear friend and a thoughtful reader, read the first draft of this story and offered some valuable suggestions which helped me to significantly improve it.