________________
don't you recollect any kinship between us?" Stressing the word 'kinship’, he looked the tyrant fearlessly in the face.
His grave face, white sweeping beard, his eyes beaming with compassion like a lake brimming with life-giving waters lent an air of reverence and dignity to the old man. His words struck a chord in the tyrant's mind. The present linked itself with the distant past. He was here today to settle old scores. His father, Raja Prasenajit of Shravasti, had once been grossly insulted by the haughty ruler of Kapilvastu, who had scornfully rejected a proposal of marriage between his daughter and Prasenajit. This incident had all but touched off a war, but this venerable old man, this peace-loving Mahanama, had offered him in marriage the daughter of a maid from his own household to pacify the angry Prasenajit, and so had poured oil over troubled waters. So Viddubha was the son of Prasenajit by this maid, and Mahanama was his grandsire. He recollected, too, how as a child he had come to Kapilvastu when this old man had tutored him; so he was his pupil, too. Thus, there was a double kinship between him and Mahanama--he was like a grandsire to him as well as his guru.
The hardened warrior, who had struck terror in the hearts of many a foe, looked abashed and softened for a while and whispered, “Grandsire, Gurudeva!"
“Yes, I was your Guru. Do you not recollect that,
118
