Maharaja Krishna Chandra was an influential king in Nadia, Bengal, who formed his capital at Krishnanagar. During the preparation of the Battle of Plassey that sealed the deal for British Colonisation in Bengal in 1757, Krishna Chandra was under the Mughals of Delhi, who did not support Bengal Subah Nawab Siraj Ud Daulah in his attack against the British in Calcutta. As a result, he too was vocal against Siraj and supported the British. Siraj ordered for him to be imprisoned for not paying his due taxes to the Nawab, and he found freedom only after Robert Clive and Mir Jafar ousted Siraj by betraying him. Once Krishna Chandra was back in his state, the Mughal emperor, who was now reduced to a puppet of the British, by suggestion of Robert Clive, gifted the king a token of appreciation for his support, a cannon, which the Raja named the Garuda Cannon. What was so special about the cannon? This is the only cannon found in any museum with an inscription in Bengali scripture. Most cannons were inscribed with who gifted the Cannon to whom, on what occasion, written either in Persian, which was the official language or in Sanskrit. The Bengali scripture found on this canon is far from what we know of the language today, yet an example of how far the language and scriptures have travelled. Spot the cannon at the Victoria Memorial Museum in Kolkata.
This historical short story is a fictitious account of Ashoka, the Mauryan Emperor and his first wife Devi, who finds no place in Magadhan History. There is another fiction about her in the blog as well. This story stemmed from a merge of two ideas, one was to mention the cave inscription found in Saru Maru that mentions Asoka spending some days there with his lover (presumed to be Devi), the other idea of how if words did not immortalise a lot of battles and achievements, the names of many great men would be lost in time. The prince stood on the edge of the cliff, looking at the horizon. Dawn arrived as the birds started leaving their nests, wings fluttering, eager to discover the world. He looked up at them, the thought of once again going back to exploring the length and breadth of his state making him feel a little restless as he eyed his healing wounds. He was left to die; his enemies wished so. Yet by some miracle of fate, as if his purposes were yet to be fulfilled, here he was ...
