Ashoka Becomes a Nationalist

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I was in the Virtual Reality Museum when a commotion broke out. Something went wrong somewhere in the museum. When the lights came back on, Ashoka stepped out of the digital screen and greeted me in the most amiable way. I pinched myself to make sure whether I was dreaming. When the power went off, I was speaking with Ashoka – Emperor of Kalinga, 3^rd century BCE – in a VR interaction. Now this is real, Ashoka stood in flesh and blood right before me.

 The last question I had asked him in our VR encounter was about his conquest of Kalinga. Didn’t he know that the war would be disastrous even before he began it? That was my question.

“The war was necessary,” Ashoka said as he stood in front of me. “Necessary for my spiritual transformation.”

He was tired of all the luxury in the palace. There was abundance of everything from food to sex to comforts. “What I lacked was meaning,” he said. So he went and killed those Kalingans who were rebels anyway and had to be dealt with some time or another. “And all those corpses that lay scattered on the battlefield gave me what I was searching for: meaning. Death is the ultimate meaning of life.”

“We find meaning now in WhatsApp forwards,” I said.

“I know,” Ashoka’s response was prompt. “There’s so much hate and falsity in them.”

“We call it nationalism,” I clarified.

“Back in those days we were concerned about morality, compassion, welfare…” He stopped as if I wouldn’t understand the meanings of those words. They are still there in our dictionaries, I wanted to say.

“We are concerned about GDP, defence budget, and TRPs,” I said. “They create our meanings.”

“I know,” Ashoka nodded. “I was once offered a Padma Award. On a condition. That I have to endorse the government’s stand on everything. I have to praise the government on camera. I refused, of course. Dhamma wouldn’t let me do that.”

“Did it end there?” I wondered. Those who resist the government’s wishes don’t escape official wrath. CBI, ED, Income Tax… any office can come and raid your home, office…

“It didn’t,” Ashoka said. “They decided to rewrite my history. They made me a nationalist.”

“Rewriting history is one of our favourite national pursuits now,” I said. “We call it decolonising of history.”

“You can never decolonise public life,” Ashoka sighed. “You replace one type of colonialism with another. The Mughals go, then the British go, and then the colonialism of Hindutva arrives.”

We became conscious of being watched by someone. “Pegasus,” muttered Ashoka. “There’s espionage everywhere. I’d better return.” The lights flickered again. When they came back, Ashoka had dissolved back into the screen.

My phone buzzed. It was a WhatsApp message from a friend. “Did you know Ashoka fought the first nationalist war in Indian history? Share before it’s deleted.”

PS. This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025

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