Victory City(63)

“I attacked and defeated them first,” said Krishna Raya, “then I offered them the bribe of survival using the appearance of forgiveness, and acting the part of a reasonable man. We will send spies to Bijapur and Bidar to make trouble for them, so they will be preoccupied with local dissensions and therefore unable to try anything against us again, and we will lie to them if they accuse us of having done so. You can call this a trick if you wish. I prefer to think that I am using all seven techniques at once.”

Timmarasu was impressed. “I see that the student has outstripped the teacher,” he said.

“You saved my life more than once,” Krishna Raya said, “so you will always be at my right hand, and I will go on learning what you have to teach.”

“In that case, welcome home,” Timmarasu said. “And I must immediately inform you about the seven vices of kings.”

Krishna Raya sat back on the Lion Throne. “I can already dismiss two of them,” he said. “I don’t drink, and I don’t gamble, so you don’t need to tell me the Mahabharata story of how Yudhisthira rolled the dice and lost his kingdom and his wife. Everybody knows that story. Spare me, too, the allegory of the god of death and the poisoned waters of the lake.”

“You have also shown that you avoid harshness in war,” Timmarasu said. “But the vice of arrogance is already present in you. That is something we need to work on.”

“Not now,” said the king, with a dismissive gesture. “Three more to go.”

“The hunt,” Timmarasu said.

“I hate the hunt,” Krishna Raya said. “A barbarian practice. I prefer poetry and music.”

“Wasting money,” Timmarasu said.

“Money will be your job,” said the king, laughing, although it was not clear if he was making a joke. “The purse-strings of the treasury are in your hands, and the power of taxation. If you get greedy or waste money, I’ll chop off your head.”

“That’s fair,” said Timmarasu.

“What’s the last vice?” Krishna Raya asked.

“Women,” his minister replied.

“If you’re going to tell me I can only have seven wives,” Krishna Raya replied, “don’t. There are some matters regarding which the number seven is inadequate.”

“Understood,” Timmarasu said. “Though I may have more to say about this at another time. For now, I’ll just offer my congratulations. Five out of seven isn’t bad. You’ll make a fine king.”

Then he came up close to the king and slapped him hard in the face. Before Krishna Raya could begin to express his shock and anger, Timmarasu said, “That is to remind you that the common people suffer pain every day.”

“And that is more than enough education for one day,” said the king, rubbing his face. “It’s lucky for you that I have only just now said that I’m willing to be schooled by you.”





15





Regarding the “vice of women”: soon after the victory at Diwani, Krishna Raya chose to transform the royal zenana, the women’s wing adjacent to his own residence the Lotus Palace, into a glorious simulacrum of the world of his divine namesake, and so he announced to the citizens of Bisnaga that one hundred and eight of their most beautiful daughters would have the honor of being selected as royal gopis. He would spare them the job of milking cows, because, after all, it should be obvious that he was not proposing to turn the royal residence into a cow palace. The Sangamas had been cowherds to begin with, so maybe in the time of Hukka and Bukka their palace had smelled of dung, but that dynasty was long gone, it was ancient history, and therefore there would be no cows. The milkmaids, who would not be required to milk any odorous udders, would be well cared for, living in great ease—one might almost say splendor—and their only duty would be unconditional love. When he chose to play the flute they would dance for him, and the dance would be the Ras Lila, the dance of divine adoration. There would be three ranks of consorts, the lowly messengers, the middling maidservants, and above them all there would be his queen, to whom, once he had chosen her, he would give the name of the eternal Radha; and the eight varisthas, the top gopis, who would be his constant companions, and to whom he would give the names they bore in the ancient tales, Lalita, Visakha, Champaka-Mallika, Chitra, Tungavidya, Indulekha, Ranga, and Sudevi. The role of Radha would require the deepest search, because it would be necessary for her to be the very incarnation of Bliss Potency. “But let the search begin!” he decreed. “When I have them all, I will rename the zenana also, and call it the Holy Basil Forest, after the sacred grove of the god; and the reign of love will be established across the empire.”

This was also the moment when, to use his own words, he “reluctantly, and with all due modesty and a deep sense of being unworthy of the honor, gave in to widespread popular demand,” and allowed his regnal name to be changed. He would be Krishnadevaraya, the God-King, for the rest of his life.

When Saluva Timmarasu heard that the king intended to issue this proclamation he began to worry. “Pride comes before a fall,” he thought, “and to equate oneself with a god risks bringing down upon oneself the wrath of the god himself.” But he saw that the king would not be dissuaded and decided that his own best interests lay in managing the project as efficiently as possible, to avoid falling out of favor. So the parade of young women began, and Timmarasu’s selections were pleasing to the king, until one hundred and five of the positions had been filled by ladies who were eager to please, because for almost all of them the overnight rise in their fortunes utterly transformed the lives of their families, and the horizon of their own limited possibilities seemed to spread until the whole world was within their grasp. If Krishnadevaraya wanted unconditional love as the price of their new lives, they were happy to provide at least the appearance of that love. It was well worth it. Thus they, too, the one hundred and five, were creating a simulacrum, a mimic life, a falsehood. But it looked like the real thing, and so, in a way, it became real, or, at least, everyone treated it as if it was real, which was almost the same thing.