NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: Seeds of Leadership
710 A.D., Mandore Palace
The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Mandore's royal palace buzzed with life. The laughter of courtiers mingled with the cries of peacocks that roamed the gardens. The anticipation was palpable, for in a few days, the second queen was expected to give birth to second prince or princess.
One evening, five-year-old Harsha sat flipping through pages made of tree bark, leaves, and cloth, containing ancient scriptures and treatises on warfare. He muttered to himself, "In my last life, around 730 to 1100 A.D., the Gurjara-Pratihara Empire began expanding its boundaries. The Gurjara-Pratihara Dynasty eventually covered almost all of North India between 1070 and 1100. It encompassed present-day Rajasthan, Gujarat, Delhi, Punjab, Bihar, Jharkhand, West Bengal, Uttar Pradesh, parts of Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, and Odisha."
Harsha's expression darkened as he continued reading. "The Gurjara-Pratihara Empire constantly clashed with the Rashtrakuta and Pala dynasties over territories and faced relentless attacks from Arab invaders to the west. In the end, despite its vast territories, internal discord and disloyal nobles weakened it. The empire ceased to exist. Rajasthan's lands were divided into small Rajputana kingdoms, which fought bravely but individually against invaders for centuries."
He clenched his fists. "After the fall of the Gupta Dynasty, the entire north faced invasions for 500 to 600 years. Eventually, the Rajputana kings lost to the Mughals, and slowly, India fell under Mughal rule. No! I will create a great empire that can withstand any challenge."
Harsha's eyes burned with determination. "But to do that, I need strong subordinates. I will train them myself."
A Meeting with Guru Vatsal
Suddenly, Guru Vatsal approached. He was a tall man with a long beard that swayed like grass in the wind. His eyes sparkled with wisdom and a hint of mischief. As the chief Acharya, he had studied at Nalanda University, the world's first residential university and a center of Buddhist learning and scholarship.
"Princely Harsha," Guru Vatsal began with a knowing smile, "what intrigues you the most? The art of battle, or the science of governance?"
Harsha looked up from his book, his heart racing with excitement. "Both, Guru. But I believe understanding the mind of a ruler is just as important as knowing how to wield a sword. You taught me that the greatest victories come not from mere strength but from strategy and wisdom."
Guru Vatsal nodded approvingly. "A wise thought for such a young mind. And a rare one. Many rulers forget that true power lies in the hearts of their subjects, not just in the strength of their armies."
Harsha smiled, emboldened by his teacher's affirmation. Guru Vatsal posed another question: "What must we do to ensure that our subjects love their king?"
Harsha met his gaze. "To be a beloved ruler, you must serve your people. Listen to their needs, understand their joys and sorrows. A king who rules through fear rules alone. But a king who governs with compassion creates a legacy that endures."
The guru's face lit up with pride. "Very well said, my prince. You are destined for greatness."
In the following months, Harsha's lessons grew more intense. He studied not only military tactics and statecraft but also philosophy, ethics, and the rich histories of other civilizations. Each day, his thirst for knowledge grew, and his mind became sharper.
The Royal Council
One afternoon, Harsha sat beside his father, King Harishchandra, during a council meeting. The great hall was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of valor, but the mood that day was somber. Noblemen and military commanders filled the room, their faces etched with worry.
"My lords," King Harishchandra began, his voice strong yet tinged with unease, "the western territories report increased attacks from Arab invaders. Their strength grows daily, and they are no longer content with mere raids. There are whispers of an invasion."
The council erupted into chaos, voices overlapping in a cacophony of fear and impatience. Some demanded immediate action, while others called for diplomacy.
King Harishchandra raised his hand, commanding silence. "Senapati Mahadev," he addressed the army's general, "prepare our soldiers and commence their training immediately. General Sitaram, ensure our elephants and horses are battle-ready."
The king turned to the nobles. "Nobles of Mathura, Gwalior, Kannauj, Mandsaur, and Maitraka, ready your armies. Always be vigilant for attacks from the Rashtrakuta and Pala dynasties. And nobles of Valabhi, prepare your forces. When the time comes, we will face the Arab invaders together with the royal army and your support."
Finally, he looked to the treasury minister. "Implement war taxes across our territories to bolster our defenses."
The room fell into a grim silence, the weight of impending war pressing heavily on everyone's shoulders.
Father and Son
Later that night, as King Harishchandra played Chausar (an ancient Indian board game) with his son, Harsha spoke up. "Father, if I win, will you grant me a boon?"
The king chuckled. "You must first win, my son. But tell me, what boon would you ask for?"
Harsha's eyes gleamed with resolve. "I want young children to study and train with me. I want to train them myself. I will create my own loyal subordinates."
Harishchandra raised an eyebrow, amused yet intrigued. "And how many do you need? Where will you train them?"
Harsha replied confidently, "A hundred to start, Father. Each year, their numbers can grow. I will train them in a nearby village where they can live. When I am given responsibilities, I will build a new fort to serve as my base of operations."
The king shook his head with a chuckle. "You little spendthrift. Do you have any idea how much it costs to build a fort, especially when we are constantly under threat of war? Very well. I will allow it, but I will personally oversee your progress."
Harsha's face lit up. "Thank you, Father. I will not disappoint you."
Dreams of the Future
Every day, Harsha honed his skills, joining the warriors in their training. He became adept at swordplay, archery, and strategy. The children recruited by the royal family were entrusted to him. Harsha trained them rigorously, teaching them how to read and write in three languages, and instilling in them the arts of martial combat and weapon mastery. His mysterious boon from another life aided him in guiding his students to excellence.
Many nights, he stood on his balcony, gazing at the stars. The vastness of the universe reminded him of his past life, his great deeds, and the legacy that still burned within him—driving him toward greater aspirations.
In the stillness of the night, with stars as witnesses, he made a silent vow: one day, he would build a future worthy of the knowledge he carried. He would guide his people to a brighter destiny, free from fear and oppression. He had been reborn with a purpose, and with each passing day, he nurtured that seed of ambition, ready for the trials ahead.
Thus began the journey of young Harsha Sooryavanshi—a tale woven with bravery, wisdom, and an unbreakable spirit destined to rise.
End of chapter
to be continued....