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Meet Misrakesi, A Spy In The Court Of Chandragupta Maurya

Misrakesi would go to the ante room behind the Sabha Griha where Acharya Chanakya had his headquarters. Misrakesi suddenly felt bereft and pulled herself up sharply.

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Sumedha V Ojha
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Urnabhih
The  historical fiction Urnabhih: Chanakya's Scribe by Sumedha V Ojha is a thrilling story, set during Chandragupta Maurya's times. An excerpt:
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Sugaang Prasaad was the same. It was she who had changed. Misrakesi was no stranger to the palace – not only had she been a frequent visitor in past years, she had also spent a few weeks living in the complex itself, as a newly minted spy, on her arrival from Ujjain.

The series of wooden structures glinted in the sun, the columns and facades covered with thin layers of gold, decorated with silver vine tendrils and tiny golden birds. Misrakesi looked at them, familiar, yet strange. The palace decorations were now almost complete; its glory bursting forth.


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They were on foot, she and Pushyamitra. She had absolutely refused to be carried to the palace in a palki, and Vaidya Ashwin had refused to sanction a horse ride even for the short distance to the palace. They had compromised on walking, despite the heat and the hot ‘loo’ wind, which would soon start blowing across the plains of the Ganga. Of course, they had made their way to the palace early in the morning to escape the heat. Urmil was holding an umbrella over Misrakesi, who was secretly glad, although she would never have admit it! The guards at the entrance to the administrative block came to attention when they saw the two of them. The chief stepped up with a respectful pranaam.

‘Welcome, Devi Misrakesi. The Acharya had sent a message that you would come today. Arya Indusarman is waiting to take you to his karyalaya.’ Arya Indusarman was an old-time palace official. Like the Sunga brothers, he had survived the Nanda administration as his father, a minister of the Nanda King, had secretly defected to the side of Acharya Chanakya before the coup that replaced the Nandas with the Mauryas had been carried out. That he was also the husband of Amatya Katyayana’s niece, no doubt, helped. He was a quiet, self-contained man with a receding hairline and an almost apologetic demeanour. Misrakesi would have categorized him more as a sheep than a lion if she had not taken a look at those blazing eyes, which could barely contain their intensity.

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Pushyamitra and he knew each other very well and exchanged greetings, after which Pushyamitra nodded to Misrakesi and walked off to his own office. Misrakesi would go to the ante room behind the Sabha Griha where Acharya Chanakya had his headquarters. Misrakesi suddenly felt bereft and pulled herself up sharply. What could possibly be wrong with her? She was not a new royal Mauryan employee. She had been working for the Samrat and the administration for many samvatsaras now. From whence came this lack of confidence? She was here to work as a scribe, assisting the Acharya and his right hand man, Sharangrava. She was an expert in the art of writing. What was she afraid of? Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled at Indusarman and said, ‘Pranaam, Arya!’ His thin lips cracked just a trifle as he returned her pranaam and turned around to lead the way to the Sabha Griha. There was nobody in the ante chamber, which surprised Indusarman. ‘The Acharya must have been delayed in a meeting. He had wanted to meet us together for a common briefing. It will have to happen later, for I cannot wait any longer,’ he said. He left, saying that he would be back.

Misrakesi did not know whether to sit or stand, or approach one of the asanas with low tables in front of them. Suppose she sat down in Acharya Chanakya’s place? A smiling Sharangrava came hurrying, his dukula flapping behind him, and rescued her from her dilemma. ‘Ah, Devi Misrakesi! You are here. I am glad to see you. Today is, indeed, a busy day and I will be most happy to have your assistance. Come, come.’

He had a bundle of blank bhojpatras in one hand and what looked like an administrative order or a shaasan in the other. Sharangrava gestured vaguely to her to sit and she sat down on one of the asanas near the window.

‘Here, take these blank bhojpatras and this shaasan, and copy it out four times for the four viceroys, you know them! One copy in Magadhi, too, please?’

She knew two of them very well, indeed. Akshay at Takshashila and Pushyagupta at Ujjain. But who were the other two? ‘You can use the writing implements on the desk now, as quick as you can. I know you write beautifully but how fast can you be? This matter has been pending for a long while because I had no time. And there are so many other shaasans to compose.’

It seemed that she would have to dive into the river of work at the deep end; no preliminaries. ‘The Acharya will not be able to meet you today, but he has asked me to introduce you to your work. He had planned a briefing with you and Arya Indusarman for the new Shaasan Department, but for now it seems that things will have to go on as they are. I will just have to do my best, with your help, of course.’

Excerpted with permission from chapter 2 of Urnabhih: Chanakya's Scribe written by Sumedha V Ojha, and published by Roli Books.

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