Ashoka the president

Bob, John and Robert lived in a beautiful valley situated hundreds of miles away from the hustle and bustle of the urban centres in the US. A fascinating meadow in the valley with a forest either side of it was their abode.

Running through the centre of this haven was a dreamy stream and sky-punching mountains soared up in the background. An abundance of wild food grew there as the climate was mild and the grass was lush and springy.

In the morning, they would be greeted by babbling brooks, buzzing midges, chirring grasshoppers, squeaking swallows and whirring dragonflies. Gleaming and glittering stars would be their guides during the night. The sky above the valley was a feast for the eyes. The majestic mountains surrounding the valley had protected it from money-making predators that had poisoned the heart of the beautiful land across the mighty republic.

The inhabitants of the valley would not own any part of it; the entire landscape belonged to everyone. They loved animals and would depend on wild berries and vegetables for their food. No conflict ever broke out in the valley. As a result, the people there had no concept of the police and the army. They believed in collective efforts for the betterment of their small kingdom, which was dearer to them than anything else on earth.

One night, strange weather conditions surrounded the valley. The inhabitants felt as if the ominous shadows of evil had laid a siege on the valley. The shiny stars and the dancing moon did not stare at them any longer. Instead, a dark, gloomy sky engulfed the entire valley. Fearing the worst, they headed towards their little huts to ward off the evil and fell asleep.

The silence of the dark night was broken by cannon fire, strange dynamite blasts and a plume of poisonous smoke that forced the folks to run in different directions inside the valley. The dawn of the morning sun stunned them. The majestic mountains were reduced to ashes, the pristine water of the rivers and stream turned red and the grassy land was littered with the mutilated bodies of animals and birds. Panic swept through the valley and forced people to vacate the devastated place.

Bob, John and Robert ended up in an urban centre of the mighty republic. They were dazzled by the large advertising boards, tall buildings and glittering clubs. However, they could not enter any place without money. In the midst of opulence and luxury, they were distracted by begging souls, homeless creatures and jobless drunkards who were committing petty crimes. From the posh centre of the city, they drifted into small alleys where they spent the night on a small corner of the alley surrounded by filth and dirt.

They were so tired that even the scorching beams of the sun could not awaken them. But ear-piercing slogans triggered a wave of anxiety, prompting them to wake up and look around. They rushed towards the direction of a public gathering where these noisy slogans were being chanted.

As soon as they reached the venue, the organiser started screening an anti-war documentary. The film showed the images of children mowed down in the thick forest of Vietnam, cities destroyed in bombardment and villages wiped out in missile onslaughts. The organisers also showed the images of a valley of a hapless country before and after attack.

The demonstration left an indelible mark on their minds. They instantly joined this anti-war group, touring across the US, urging people to speak out against wars, killings and destruction. They learnt about pacifists – from Lord Buddha to Ashoka the Great, Kabir Das to Guru Nanak, Bertrand Russell to Gandhi and Nelson Mandela to Rachel Corrie. The trio started heaping praises on these pacifists in their public gatherings and told people that they needed peace-loving leaders and not war-mongers.

As the presidential elections neared, they launched a vigorous campaign to vote a pacifist into power. At a mammoth public gathering in an American city, they were urging people to vote in a politician with a pacifist agenda. The crowd shouted: But where can we find such pacifists? Suddenly, a large cloud swirled around the gathering.

From the plumes of the clouds emerged Nelson Mandela, Ashoka the Great, Bertrand Russell and a number of other pacifists, descending onto the stage, making fiery speeches against wars and destruction and urging Americans to vote them into power.

In a stunning development, the Americans voted Ashoka the Great into power; Ashoka promised to end wars forever. Bertrand Russell, Jean Paul Sartre, Einstein, Nelson Mandela and a number of other pacifists were inducted into his cabinet.

Soon after he was sworn-in as the only non-American president of the US, Ashoka declared a cessation of all hostilities immediately, banned all arms, scrapped the national missile defence system, eliminated all nuclear arsenals and ordered the closure of over 800 American bases in more than 150 countries besides, calling back all troops from abroad.

The announcement created a ripple of excitement across the country. People thronged to city centres to celebrate the decision. But this state of ecstasy soon turned into a nightmare. Millions of people lost their jobs. Within no time, oil companies were bereft of their most lucrative contracts and buyers. Stock exchanges came crashing down and hundreds of companies that took on reconstruction projects after a country is invaded went bankrupt. From the food-makers to manufacturers that provided a bulk of supply to American soldiers, all companies were ruined.

Within no time, the angry mobs surrounded the White House and prompted the meditating Ashoka to rush towards the terrace of the Oval House. In the blink of an eye, he summoned his cabinet. After a unanimous decision, the president declared that not one, two or three but 54 evil countries would be invaded simultaneously because they had exploited the pacifist policy of the mighty democracy. The loud noises of B-52s were again heard in the air. But with it also came the gentle voice of my son: Papa, it’s 8 eight o’clock.

The writer is a Karachi-based freelance journalist.

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