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A section from the journey

The Shungas

The man who killed the last Mauryan king became the next ruler. His name was Pushyamitra Shunga, and his family held the heart of the north for about a hundred years. Their age saw a fresh flowering of Vedic rite and of beautiful art, above all the carved gateways of the great stupa at Sanchi.

When a great house falls, someone is always standing close enough to take its place. The man who took the place of the Mauryas was the very one who had ended them: the commander who struck down the last Mauryan king on the parade ground.

His name was . Around 185 BCE he founded a new line, the Shunga dynasty. It would hold the heart of the north — the old land of Magadha and the realms around it — for about a hundred years.

The Shungas are remembered for two gifts above all. The first was a fresh turn back toward the old Vedic ways. The Mauryan kings, especially Ashoka, had leaned warmly toward the Buddhist path. Now the new king honored the ancient rite.

Tradition holds that Pushyamitra performed the great horse-sacrifice, the — the grandest of the old royal rites, by which a strong king announced his power to all. After an age of new paths, the oldest path was honored again in the open.

The second gift was beauty. In the Shunga age, and around it, the art of carving stone reached a high point. The greatest sign of it still stands today: the great at , a vast dome holding sacred relics, ringed by a stone railing and four tall gateways.

Those gateways are covered, every inch, with carved life: elephants and lotuses, kings and dancers, scenes from the Buddha's many lives. They are among the loveliest stone-carving the ancient world has left us. And note this well: a king who honored the Vedic rite still let the Buddhist shrines grow rich and beautiful. The land held many paths at once.

We should add one honest word. Some later Buddhist writings paint Pushyamitra as a fierce enemy of their faith, one who turned against their worship. Careful historians treat these harsh tales with doubt, for the stone of Sanchi tells a gentler story. We note the claim, and we do not lean our whole weight on it.

A new ruler often wishes to undo what came before and to bring back something older. Yet the truest builders keep the good of every age. Where have you seen a turn to the old that still made room for the new?

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