Folks,
I must confess straightaway that I am, after more than 14 hours, still in a bad mood. This is because I was forced by the CVs to fall back on my far inferior Option B (see my last thread) - of Chandragupta being arrested and meeting his mother in jail, and then escaping from the prison - instead of the far more impressive one of his outwitting both Padmanand and his darling daughter thru some Chanakyan stratagem that I had hoped that he would have up his sleeve (or on his choga, seeing that he has no sleeves!😉).
Well, he had nothing up his choga, as we all saw, and he was not even able to guess that the daasi who could fight so well might, just might not be what she said she was.
Irresponsible folly: This irritation is not just because the second option is melodramatic and hardly cerebral. It was, and is also because it showed the apple of Chanakya's eye in a distinctly poor light.
Here is a young man sent by his mentor with a vital mandate: to absorb as much of the security and other secrets of the Magadha regime and of their capital as he possibly could. Besides, this young man is generally as tightlipped as could be; he hardly speaks unless absolutely necessary. But what does he do once he gets to Pataliputra?
He does stick to his task in the beginning, but at a crucial moment, he stumbles badly. Like an irresponsible and foolish novice at the spy trade, he reveals his core objective to some random daasi in Maha Padmanand's palace. And for what? No reason of any kind that one can make out. It is not that he has been smitten by her looks and is boasting to impress her. It is plain and simple folly of the kind that one does not expect from him. How does he assume that the daasi will not at once report what he says about his wanting to seize Magadha to her mistress?
What kind of spy is this? Le Carre would have disowned him in an instant. It is, to put it bluntly, unbelievable that Chanakya's prize pupil would commit such a monumental blunder. 😲
Magnificent redemption: However, I must also concede that very soon thereafter, our boy wonder redeemed himself magnificently. Given that I already love him dearly, this was a major relief!
He was, in the whole of that heart-stopping sequence in the throne room for the swayamwar, splendid beyond the power of any words that I could summon up to describe him. But let me try, and do bear with me if I fall short of your expectations!
As he watches Padmanand stride into the room, Chandragupta's gaze is fixed on him, and it is level, cold, and unforgiving. Apart from his own ugly early memories of Padmanand, his Acharya's words echo through his mind, and they are unequivocal.
Tum manushya nahin, yantra ho, Chandra, jiska niyantran mere haath mein hai. Tumhare jeene ka ekmatra uddeshya hai Magadh ke raja Nand ka vinash. Nand hi tumhare jeevan ka ekmatra lakshya hai..
When he sees Nandini and realises the trick that has been played on him - and she is staring at him in patent triumph - he must have felt an inner shock, but there is not even a flicker of any emotion in his face and his eyes. Such is his self control. He looks across at her, his face still and his eyes narrowed, but no more than usual.
When Padmanand invites him to be the first in the competition, Chandragupta smiles slowly, very slightly, like a polite guest looking forward to a feast, but taking care not to look too greedy. 😉
A warrior sans pareil: That is to say, without an equal.
When Padmanand mentions his taking his father's blessings, what must have been crushing blow falls on Chandragupta. Does he show the kind of reaction 999 out of a 1000 would have showed? No. His chin comes up, and his gaze is even more level than usual. There is no other reaction. No shock, no alarm, nothing. He is able to absorb this development, which pulls the rug out from under his feet, demolishing his whole plan of action and exposing him to immediate and deadly danger, as if nothing had happened.
This is the ultimate in detachment, of the kind of nirmohi yogi of a warrior that Lord Krishna speaks of in the Gita, one who knows neither fear nor joy, neither pleasure nor pain, but only his lakshya.
Chandragupta is like lambent fire sheathed in ice. His inner core is always still, and underneath this stillness - which shields his intellect from paralyzing panic - his mind is ceaselessly assessing the situation, testing possible openings, weighing their possibilities.
When Parvatak asserts that this is not his son, there is a very faint smile on Chandragupta's face. When Padmanand baits him about this, this broadens into a wide smile of pure amusement, as he exclaims: Nissandeh!
Thus would Abhimanyu, even when encircled by his Kaurava enemies, have looked: unafraid, unfazed, and almost casual in the face of death.
Liquid lightning: The sword fight between Chandragupta and Dhananand that follows is all swift cut and thrust and parry, and for an aficionada of the noble art, it is over all too soon. Chandragupta fights like liquid lightning, now here, now there, whirling and bending and kneeling and rising faster than the human eye can follow.
I loved watching the changing expressions on the faces of the Nand parivaar, especially Dhananand's almost vocal cheerleader Nandini. She looks more like a member of the crowds at a Roman gladiatorial contest than a princess born, who would have maintained a dignified stillness. Only Avantika is queenly, unmoving and remote, while, in a very odd aside, one of the Nand brothers is actually chortling😉 when Dhananand is slashed again and then again by Chandragupta. Nandini's giggles have by then given place to frozen shock.
The end comes suddenly, with a backwards kick that sends Dhananand reeling. I wish it could have been a fencing trick instead: a feint, then a gliding thrust that gets under the opponent's defence and goes straight for his heart. The coup de mort , the thrust of death.
But the CVs like VFX jumps, so Chandragupta, both swords in his grasp, jumps high into the air and almost spears Dhananand with them. Almost, not quite. How I wish he had killed him then, as he is going to do later in any case!
Ultimate insult: Then, even before the assemblage has recovered from the shock, comes the coup de grace, the master stroke, from the winner. He declares, looking across at Padmanand with a smile that is part amused, part anticipatory, that according to the rules of the swayamvar, the winner in this duel had the right to marry the princess.
But, and here his eyes shift and he looks at Nandini with barely veiled contempt, he adds Main yahan vivaah ke uddeshya se nahin aaya hoon. And then, as Padmanand's fist curls in involuntary fury, comes the ultimate insult: Mujhe yeh sambandh sweekar nahin hai!
Nandini's mouth twists in anger as she is led off by her mother, and no wonder. She has not only seen her supposedly invincible brother defeated roundly in fair combat by an impostor, but her hand has been unceremoniously rejected by the same bahuroopiya. It is not to be borne!😉
Indomitable resilience: What follows is more mundane and entirely predictable: Chandragupta being thrashed with a whip by Padmanand, (who presumably carries a whip around his waist all the time for any eventuality!). What elevates this scene above the pedestrian is the indomitable resilience and raw courage shown by Chandragupta as he takes the blows without once crying out in pain.
The flashbacks to the young Chandragupta counting the slaps inflicted on him by his foster father highlight a point that I have not written about so far. This is rarely the case when child artists are cast for a role, but the young Chandragupta has the kind of face that could easily have grown into the older one. The resemblance is striking, undoubtedly more a piece of serendipity than of informed choice!😉
The more Padmanand whips him, desperately seeking a reaction, the greater is his frustrated rage at his unmoved victim.
Aapne kisi ko itni peedha nahin di hogi jitni maine sahi hai.. Peedha se bahut purana sambandh hai mera!..
As Padmanand thrashes about in impotent fury, Chandragupta, physically on his knees, nonetheless towers over him in the spirit. In a sudden switch to the demeaning tu form of address, he threatens him: Maine kabhi kisi ka rin apne sar nahin liya..tera bhi chukaoonga.. Tu bas ginti smaran rakhna..
He is smiling slightly even as he is being dragged away by the soldiers. What I could not understand was this: why does Chandragupta not retain, if not both, at least one of the two swords he had in his grasp as the end of the duel? Then he would have has some minimal means of self defence.
The Houdini act: OK, you folks who have been wondering about the title, here we are! Harry Houdini was one of the greatest magicians of all time, and his favourite trick was getting out of a locked box into which he had been dumped, arms and legs tied. Our hero is not stuffed into a locked box, but he is dumped in the open prison, his hands firmly tied behind him. So the parallel is close enough to justify the title.
This was the part in the episode that pleased me the most, for it showed how Chandragupta has become an extension of the mind of his mentor, adding to that his own acute intelligence, his unquenchable courage and his never say die spirit.
The manner in which he not only gets his hands free, thanks to his incredible resourcefulness in pinching that soldier's kataar even while being dragged off in such a battered state, using a sudden fake stumble against the man, shows how, no matter how dire the circumstances, his mind is always at the top of the game.
Then comes the Kautilyan deviousness that he has imbibed from his guru: the samadhi vidya that can help him hold his breath deergha samay tak, and then the other maxim, to adopt the look of the enemy in order to escape from the enemy.
He implements both very successfully, but what one cannot understand is this: where did the beard and sideburns come from? Unless he carried a set of facial hard inside his choga for all eventualities, like Padmanand with that whip!😆
The seeds of hatred: Anyhow, let us pass over this blooper, for our boy is free at last. And ready to take his benefactress with him to freedom. If she had agreed, they would have both sneaked out quietly, the soldiers on the outer perimeter would, in the time honoured manner of all night watchmen, been fast asleep at that hour of the night.
But she does not, and I would not blame her for that. She has been so ill-treated and abused for so long, that the only belief that keeps her sane is that her son will come one day to rescue her, and take her away with honour. From this it follows that she has to be there when he arrives, so it stands to reason that she cannot run away before that happens. It is now a monomania, and there is no arguing with that.
Nor did I expect Mura to recognize Chandragupta as her son at this stage. It is far too soon; that will probably happen only around Episode 100!😉
So Chandragupta he changes tack, and decides to do something far more daring, and arrogant in its sheer unexpectedness. He doubles back into the palace, and ends up in the anthahpuram, the quarters of the royal ladies.
Now, as he stares across the room at Nandini, there is a cold anger in his eyes that was not there before. The seeds of the hatred he will come to feel for her in the years ahead, as he learns about his parentage and all that goes with it, have been well and truly sown.
By the precap, he has taken her hostage, and is threatening the apoplectic Padmanand with seeing her arthi if he did not step back. Get set for a Three Musketeers style escape tonight , folks!
Nandini: Ankita has been gently reprimanding me, on my last thread, for being too harsh on Nandini. This was because I had expressed the fond hope that Chandragupta takes her along a hostage part of the way, slung across his saddle like a sack of potatoes, and once he is far enough away to feel safe, dumps her unceremoniously by the roadside, preferably in a nice puddle of mud. A free mudpack, in fact!😆
She had then proceeded to mount an eloquent defence of the bachchi, saying Bachchi hai to bachpna to rahega na!
Now I am not fixated on any hostility per se to this Nandini, nor do I lose sight of the fact that she is daddy's girl, and so oblivious to all his faults (though I really do not see how she has heard nothing about his cruelties towards his subjects in all these years. She must be like Gandhiji's Three Monkeys all rolled into one!😉😉) . But I feel what I feel on perfectly valid grounds, which are independent of the kind of deliberate blindness that produces Nandini's resistance to what her mother wants to tell her.
I have so little patience with her because she is a silly girl, like one of the inane heroines of the old Hindi films who used to behave exactly as she does now. She is not childlike; she is childish, and the two are quite different.
This Nandini has nothing remotely princess like about her. Look at her giggling when the other princes voice their dismay at what they see as an unfair and impossible condition for the swayamwar. There is no dignified reserve about her. Princesses do not laugh at their invited guests. That is it.
Nor does a princess behave like a cheerleader in public, in the presence of so many high ranking guests. She does not bob her head up and down and smirk openly as she waits to see a man slaughtered in front of her eyes. A princess does not behave like a member of the crowd at a Roman gladiatorial contest, which would be most unseemly in someone of her rank and upbringing. Look at her mother, for a contrast. She betrays no emotion almost till the end.
One more point. Chandragupta is not caught because of Nandini's cleverness, and I hope she is not, like her father, patting herself on the back for that. He is caught because that Raja Parvatak turns up at precisely the wrong moment. If this had not happened, Chandragupta would have brazened his way thru the interrogation by Padmanand, and won the competition without being exposed, and then refused the sambandh.
Nor is there any wonderful about Nandini not running away when the escaped bahuroopiya suddenly appears before her. A princess is expected have the pride of her birth, if nothing else (for all that she is only a murderous barber's daughter. Wonder if she knows that. I expect not!). She is not a daasi to run away in fright at the sight of a strange man. This said, Nandini does not look coolly defiant. She looks terrified.
All this is not to say that this Nandini cannot improve, and let Shweta live up to her reputation as an actress of note. But for that to happen, she will first have to get out of this dream world in which she has cocooned herself, not just ignorant about the real world outside but, it would seem, deliberately shutting her eyes to it.
OK, folks, this is it for now. I am sorry to be so late with this, but I was not free at all today till 1 pm. Unfortunately, the real world does not let me forget it!
See you again soon. For now, please do not forget to hit the Like button if you think that is warranted.
Shyamala/Aunty/Akka/Di
PS: All the photos have been kindly shared by Manasi (cute.manasi)
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