Veer ~ Rise Of The Sisodia's [#YourStoryIndia]

Chapter 9

Peshawar

Buddhamitra rushedly ushered a semi-conscious Kanishka into the sacred hall of prayers. "Bar the entrances," he commanded. A group of monks, who had already assembled there, hurried to comply.

Kanishka sat hunched on the ground, blood streaming from a gash above his right eye.

"Kanishka," Buddhamitra called.

The young boy looked up.

"How many fingers?" inquired Buddhamitra, raising one.

Kanishka wiped away the blood clouding his vision. "One," he responded.

The abbot moved his finger to the right, then the center, and finally to the left. Kanishka's gaze followed the motion.

"Good," said Buddhamitra. "Your thick skull seems intact."

He surveyed the gathered monks, counting quickly—ten of them, aside from himself and Kanishka.

"The others?" Buddhamitra inquired.

"They didn't make it, Acharya," Siddhartha replied, the sole person in the room privy to the truth about Kanishka's parents.

A wave of grief washed over Buddhamitra, who closed his eyes. The sounds of battle drew nearer each second as a handful of monks, armed only with wooden staffs, made a desperate last stand against the elite soldiers of Ghur outside.

The local rulers, Raja Parvateshwar of Mesank and Raja Devadatta of Pushkalavati, had surrendered and converted to Islam, along with many of their subjects. But the Turks sought more. The monasteries were the next target. The Turks were particularly ruthless toward Buddhists, the religion they had recently abandoned for Islam. The version of Buddhism they practiced before converting to Islam involved idol worship, and the Turkic word for an idol, 'but,' derived from 'Buddha.'

Now, according to the Turks, idol worship is a grave sin, a shirk punishable by death. Many idol worshippers, who had never attacked those rejecting idol worship, struggled to comprehend the Turks' frenzy.

Smoke billowed as the monastery's buildings were set ablaze. Monks hiding inside stumbled out, blinded and coughing, only to be mercilessly cut down.

In the main square, the Turks created a massive bonfire. Painstakingly written and preserved over millennia, ancient sacred texts were thrown into the flames to burn, Knowledge forever lost in time.

The invaders had yet to reach the prayer hall.

"They'll be here soon," a monk whispered fearfully. "May the Buddha show mercy."

"The Buddha will save us, my child," Buddhamitra assured. He approached the towering Buddha statue and prostrated himself at its feet in reverence. As the monks watched, he pressed down on the statue's right toe.

Gasps filled the hall as the statue's back swivelled open, revealing a hollow space large enough for two men. A trapdoor led to steps below. Buddhamitra opened it, gesturing to the monks. "The builders were careful planners. This tunnel will take you far from here. Siddhartha, you lead. Get them to safety. There's no time to lose."

The monks hurried down the steps, leaving only Kanishka, his friend Sanghamani, and the abbot.

"Hurry," Buddhamitra urged, his voice steady despite the devastation.

"You first, Master," Kanishka insisted.

"Someone must stay to close the secret door," the abbot explained. "I'll try to buy time. Go now."

Kanishka shook his head stubbornly. "Not without you."

With a soft groan, Buddhamitra shrugged in acceptance. "Fine." Then his eyes widened. "Oh no!"

"What?" Kanishka began to turn.

The abbot's fist struck his jaw, rendering him unconscious. Buddhamitra caught him. "Take him," he said, passing Kanishka to Sanghamani. "Ask Siddhartha to explain how he arrived here in the monastery. Go now, my children. May the Buddha bless you."

"Goodbye, Master," Sanghamani uttered, his voice faltering with his shattered heart. With Kanishka slung over his shoulder, he descended the steps.

The abbot retraced his steps, restoring the statue's toe to its original position, concealing the passage once again.

Seated before the Buddha's statue, Buddhamitra pondered, "I have devoted my life to peace, yet I am destined to die violently. What karma from my past life has led to this, Great Lord?" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Grant me the courage to face death nobly, Great Buddha, devoid of hatred and anger."

A resounding bang echoed as the Turks pounded against the massive doors, desperately seeking entry. A loud Turkic voice penetrated Buddhamitra's ears, commanding, "Burn the place down! Smoke out the infidels remaining inside!"

Bowing to the statue, Buddhamitra rose calmly. Flames hungered for the building, and he walked serenely toward the entrance, swinging the doors open. Stepping outside, his angvastram caught fire.

Moving further, he sat in a lotus position, chanting the sacred verses of Buddha, "Buddham Sharanam Gachchami."

I surrender to the great Buddha.

The wind fanned the flames, consuming the monk's saffron angvastram until it caught his dhoti. The fire engulfed him, searing his legs, yet he remained unmoved, tranquil.

"Dhammam Sharanam ... Gachchami."

I take refuge in the Dharma.

The relentless wind fueled the flames, intensifying the blaze. The sickening scent of burning flesh permeated the air.

Buddhamitra's chants grew louder, his face calm, eyes shut, detached from the pain. His soul focused on Lord Gautam Buddha, an advocate of non-violence, peace, and compassion.

"Buddham ... Sharanam ... Gachchami."

His skin began to fry and peel away. The blaze heightened, but the abbot's face stayed serene.

'Dhammam ... Sharanam ...'

His voice trembled, reflecting the body's struggle, yet his face exuded profound serenity.

' ... Gachchami ...'

Soldiers of Ghur stared, initially horrified, then fascinated. Some knelt, tears streaming down their face, witnessing Buddhamitra's courage and spiritual power in the face of a gruesome death. Memories of the sacred religion they once followed resurfaced. They recognized the chants, for they were once uttered from their mouths not too long ago, the words of devotion and peace. Words that were now forbidden to utter. Words branded as those of 'evil idol-worshippers.'

The spell broke with a resounding command, "Archers, cut him down."

'Buddham ...'

Arrows pierced the abbot's body mercilessly, toppling him backwards.

... Sharanam ... Gachchami ...

The monk's body succumbed to death, but his immortal soul bore none of the body's pain. It departed in peace, with compassion and love.

It ascended to the lotus feet of Lord Buddha.

***

That's it for now. I promised a more extensive update this time, but I didn't get time this week to write much. I will take my time writing the next update so it's long and to the standards it should be; I ask for your support and time. Please do not forget to vote and share your thoughts on this update, and I would also appreciate new follows; your votes and comments make this story more visible to other readers of historical fiction out there.