✦𑁍 Chronicle Note: 1842–1843 CE 𑁍
The Mandalic Dharmic Federation has been proclaimed.
The Constitution has been sworn upon by Emperor, nobles, and people.
In Kesarinagara, it was a day of oaths and tears.
Beyond its borders, that day became something else:
A signal — that one Eastern king had willingly tied his own hands with law.
Some laughed it off.
Some trembled.
Some took notes, quietly, for the storms they felt approaching in their own lands.
I. London – A Constitution in the Colonies?
In London, the rain came as usual.
Inside the Foreign Office, it was paper, not water, that made people uncomfortable.
Ellington stood at a long table with several memoranda laid out: reports from Calcutta, Madras, Goa, and covert agents in Kesarinagara.
"I want it from the top," he said.
A clerk cleared his throat, reading from a translated summary.
"Your Excellency," he began, "the southern monarch, Narasimha Reddy, has convened what he calls a Great Dharma Sabha.
He has:
announced a written Constitution,
declared the state a Mandalic Dharmic Federation,
bound his own powers and those of his nobles to a codified law."
He looked up nervously.
"Sir… he has gone so far as to say that sovereignty rests with the people of the Federation, and that even the Emperor is bound by this new dharmic charter."
There was a long silence.
One director of the East India Company spluttered.
"Constitution? In India?" he said. "What next? A Parliament in Kurnool?"
The younger undersecretary replied dryly,
"They already have councils, sir. Commons, Nobles, Realms.
It is… very nearly that."
A senior official rubbed his temples.
"So," he said slowly, "let us understand:
We fought a series of vicious wars, lost Madras, lost Goa, lost half of central India to this man.
We were forced into a treaty recognising his power.
And now, instead of becoming a typical oriental despot…"
He tapped the paper.
"…he has:
established basic rights,
officially outlawed untouchability in public life,
proclaimed religious freedom with court oversight,
created merit-based nobles,
instituted elections—even for his own throne."
Another official, more conservative, looked disturbed.
"This is dangerous," he muttered.
"If this spreads, our Indian subjects might begin to ask:
'Why is their brown king more generous with rights than our white one?'
Already we've had mutterings among sepoys impressed by his reforms."
Ellington nodded grimly.
"Our greatest asset in India," he said, "has never been just rifles.
It has been the myth that we are:
more orderly,
more modern,
bringers of law and progress."
He pointed to the report.
"If Narasimha's system:
runs schools,
holds courts,
gives peasants petitions,
restrains nobles,
then what happens to that myth?"
A Company man tried to wave it off.
"He is just one king," he said. "India is full of princes.
We can dismiss this as spiritual theatrics."
"Can we?" Ellington asked softly.
"Or do we face the possibility that:
within a generation, his educated classes will start writing pamphlets,
his north-bound merchants will whisper,
and men in our own territories will say:
'We, too, wish for such a Mandalic law.'"
There was no easy answer.
Finally, one of the more cynical directors spoke.
"Then we have two tasks," he said.
"First: trade. His Constitution doesn't shut us out.
We can still do business.
Second: containment. Quietly.
We ensure:
his ideas spread slowly,
our own officials do not speak of his system with admiration,
missionaries and friendly scholars paint it as mystical mumbo-jumbo ill-suited for the 'real world'."
The men in the room nodded at tactics they understood.
But a seed of unease remained:
Somewhere in India, an Eastern king had turned himself into something like a constitutional monarch before Europe imposed it upon him.
And that was not a story they wanted sung in Calcutta's bazaars.
II. Paris, Vienna, and Others – Curiosity and Calculation
In Paris, the foreign minister read the translations with genuine interest.
"So," he mused, "this Narasimha has:
a written charter,
elected councils,
a merit bureaucracy…
He sounds, in some ways, more like a constitutional monarch than half the crowned heads in Europe."
An aide chuckled.
"He guarantees religious freedom, too, Minister," he said. "Perhaps we should send some of our own priests to study tolerance there."
The minister smiled.
"Mock less, observe more," he said.
"There is something intriguing here:
Hindu dharma,
ancient mandalas,
but joined with:
elections,
merit exams,
codified rights.
If he succeeds, we may have to re-draw our mental map of 'East vs West'."
In Vienna, the Austrian chancellery saw another angle.
"Internal stability," one advisor said.
"Before, we expected his realm to eventually fracture:
nobles angry at lost privilege,
local chiefs clinging to old practices.
Now he has:
neutralised noble arrogance with this Nobility Commission,
bought peasant loyalty with rights,
built a structure that can endure beyond his lifetime.
He may be more permanent than we thought."
In Berlin, Prussian officers studied the command structure in the scanned excerpts.
"Interesting," one commented.
"He binds military to civilian control.
He keeps Emperor as Supreme Commander, but:
operational decisions run through councils.
A hybrid form.
We should watch this."
In Lisbon, Portugal grit its teeth at any mention of Goa, but could not ignore:
their former colony's shipyards now working under Dakshina law,
priests and merchants reporting surprisingly orderly governance.
In St. Petersburg, Russian strategists saw opportunity.
"Each time England is forced to share dignity with others," one general remarked, "the world becomes less centred on London.
Let this Indian experiment thrive.
Anything that humbles British pride is… useful."
III. Lahore – A Lion Sees a Dharma-Net
Far away, in Lahore, Maharaja Ranjit Singh sat in his garden, listening as his vakil finished reading the summary of the Mandalic Constitution.
The later evening sun cast long shadows.
"So," Ranjit Singh said, voice thoughtful, "the southern lion has:
beaten the English,
signed a treaty in their faces,
and now cut his own power with a blade called law."
His advisor asked gently,
"Is that wisdom, Maharaj, or folly?"
Ranjit chuckled.
"That depends on what grows from it," he said.
"When a ruler is strong and just, no one misses a constitution.
But power is like wine—intoxicating.
I have seen many kings in Hindustan who were lions in youth, jackals in old age."
He gestured at the scroll.
"If this law is strong," he said, "then when his spirit grows tired, the structure stands.
That is no small thing."
Another sardar, more cynical, said,
"But will not binding his own hands invite opportunists?
His enemies might say:
'Look, he has put chains on himself. Now we may move.'
And what if his successors are too weak for this complex system?"
The Maharaja's single good eye hardened.
"Better a net of dharma than a throne of unchecked whim," he said.
"He has:
empowered his people,
given nobles structure,
created a framework for kings to answer not just to gods, but to law."
He leaned back.
"In our Punjab, we have:
Granth Sahib as spiritual anchor,
our own codes of conduct.
He has written something similar for rule itself."
He smiled faintly.
"Send him a letter," he told the vakil.
"Say:
'In an age where many kings fear losing power, you have dared to place dharma above yourself.
May your law protect your people even when your body grows weary.
Here in the north, we watch with interest.
A lion who chains himself to righteousness is rarer than gold.'"
IV. Rajputana – Pride Meets a New Framework
In Rajputana, desert winds carried news along caravan routes.
In Udaipur, a Rajput ruler sat with his council, the parchment of the Constitution's translated highlights spread before them.
"So," he said, tapping the lines on noble ranks, "this Mandalic Federation:
keeps kings and nobles,
but forces them to answer to a higher law.
Merit nobles… hereditary nobles… titles stripped if adharmic."
A younger noble scoffed.
"Will our ancient houses accept being reviewed by some 'Commission'?" he asked.
"Our honour is measured in blood and battle, not by scribes."
An older Thakur replied calmly,
"And what of those among us who:
withhold grain in famine,
harass villagers,
treat lower castes like dirt?
Will you pledge your sword to protect them as 'honour'?"
The young man fell silent, staring at the floor.
Another courtier said,
"The Emperor there:
still commands armies,
still appoints generals,
yet now his subjects can:
petition,
appeal to courts that stand on written dharma.
If such a model spreads, our people may one day ask:
'Why must justice here depend solely on our Maharaja's mood?'"
The Rajput ruler watched the interplay, then spoke.
"Pride is our strength," he said. "But blind pride is a chain.
We have our own traditions.
We need not copy his system.
But we cannot ignore it either."
He gazed toward the south.
"We will:
study this Mandalic Federation,
send some learned men to observe,
and perhaps adopt some parts in our own way."
Then he added quietly,
"And if one day, British power in the north cracks and new orders rise, it may be useful to have a Bharatiya model of governance ready—not one dictated by London or Paris."
V. Awadh, Delhi & Other North Indian Powers – Seeds of Thought
In Awadh, the Nawab's court was a swirl of music and anxiety.
They listened to rumours of the Constitution with mixed feelings.
"So the southern king grows more sophisticated by the year," one minister said.
"He has:
guns,
ships,
now councils and law.
While we…"
He left the rest unsaid.
"We still bargain with Company Residents for the right to breathe," another added bitterly.
A young poet murmured,
"Maybe we were wrong to think:
'Only the Firangi can bring modern law.'
This Narasimha shows that we can reform ourselves, on our own terms."
In Delhi, the increasingly irrelevant imperial court heard the news like people in a fading dream.
The old Emperor, frail and hemmed in by Company officers, listened to verses recited in the Diwan-e-Khas:
"In the south, they write their own fate on palm and paper.
In the north, we sign away lands in treaties we barely understand.
Perhaps it is not Fate that binds us…
but the courage we lack to bind ourselves to better law."
Such words could not be spoken loudly.
But they lingered in the air.
In small courts, hill states, and surviving smaller sultanates, similar thoughts took root:
"If one Indian realm can be both traditional and law-bound,
perhaps 'modernisation' need not mean surrendering entirely to Europe."
VI. Across the Ocean – American Eyes on a Dharmic Constitution
In Washington, the State Department's India desk was busier than usual.
A diplomat named Samuel Turner had a thick packet in front of him—translations, maps, trade reports.
He spoke to his superior with an excitement that was hard to hide.
"Sir," he said, "this Dakshina… Mandalic Dharmic Federation… it's fascinating."
The older man raised an eyebrow.
"We already know they're stable and anti-British-expansion," he said. "What's new?"
Turner tapped the document.
"They've created a constitutional framework," he said.
"Listen to this:
sovereignty rests with the people,
Emperor bound by written law,
elected commoners' council,
nobles checked by merit exams and independent commissions,
explicit guarantees of basic rights,
religious freedom with reasonable limits,
and—this is the striking part:
their Emperor chose to limit himself.
No revolution forced it.
No outside power compelled it."
His superior frowned thoughtfully.
"So it's a kind of… dharmic constitutional monarchy," he said.
Turner nodded.
"They've joined:
our ideas of constitutional governance,
with their own dharmic, mandala-based worldview.
If this holds, sir, we may see:
an Eastern power that is:
not a European colony,
not a chaos of princes,
but a unified, rights-based state.
In time, potentially:
a partner,
a rival,
or both."
The older man smiled wryly.
"And the British?" he asked.
"Going pale," Turner answered. "Their entire narrative of 'we bring civilisation and law' rings hollow when an Indian ruler writes his own constitution and treats untouchability as crime, not tradition, at least in public life."
He paused, then added,
"From our perspective, this is… an opportunity.
If we:
establish good trade ties,
avoid trying to meddle in their internal affairs,
present ourselves as the power that respects their sovereignty more than Europe does…
we might find in them, decades from now, a natural counterweight in Asia."
The senior official nodded slowly.
"Draft a longer analysis," he said. "Include:
their views on religion,
their election of Emperor,
their courts and rights.
And a recommendation:
We treat Dakshina Rajya as a sovereign state to watch carefully, but not antagonise unnecessarily."
Turner grinned.
"Yes, sir."
He had a feeling that in future history books, this chapter would be marked not just as Indian history—but as the start of a new pattern in world politics.
VII. Back in Kesarinagara – Whispers from the North and West
In Kesarinagara's intelligence chamber, reports poured in.
Maps were marked not only with troop movements, but with ideas:
sermons in Calcutta mentioning "southern justice",
discreet praise in Lahore,
merchant letters from Paris and Boston mentioning "the law of the Lion King".
Sri stood at the central table, reading one such report.
"It is as we expected," she said.
"Europeans:
fear the precedent,
respect the stability.
Northern rulers:
are wary,
but interested.
Americans:
see a possible ally,
perhaps a mirror."
Narasimha, seated nearby, smirked softly.
"So," he said, "the world is reacting as if I have unleashed a new weapon."
"You have," Venkanna replied.
"But not of steel.
Of structure."
Kaveri added,
"The British fear that your laws will infect their subjects.
The Sikhs respect your dharma-net.
The Rajputs will adapt pieces in their own prideful way.
America sees a fellow lover of paper and principle."
Narasimha exhaled, feeling the strange weight of his choices.
"In the MCU that will one day emerge," he murmured half to himself, "they will speak much of 'super-soldiers' and 'gods in capes'…
But the quiet power of institutions will still be what shapes entire worlds."
His friends gave him puzzled looks at the strange phrase, but they ignored it; they had long learned he sometimes spoke as if he could see farther than others.
Sri closed the last report.
"One thing is clear," she said.
"The battlefield has shifted.
We have:
our armies,
our fleets.
Now, we also have:
a Constitution others may copy,
a story that:
'Bharat can reform herself,
without a white man's pen guiding her hand.'"
Narasimha leaned back.
"Good," he said.
"Let them all:
study us,
praise us,
fear us,
dismiss us.
While they argue, we will:
build more schools,
deepen our courts,
train officers who understand both dharma and law."
He smiled, just a little.
"And when the age comes where:
a man in iron armour falls from the sky,
a star-spangled soldier wakes from ice,
a sorcerer holds a Time Stone…
we will be ready.
Not as a kingdom built on one man's will—
but as a civilisation with a living backbone of dharma and law."
Outside, Kesarinagara pulsed with life:
scribes copying the Constitution for distant realms,
children reciting rights along with Vedic verses,
nobles eyeing DHNC officials with new caution.
Far beyond, in courts and cabinets and caravans, people debated:
"What has this Narasimha done?"
Some called it madness.
Others called it wisdom.
The gods, watching from above, called it:
"One more step toward becoming what he was meant to be."
✦ End of Chapter 51 – "The World Hears of a Lion in Chains" ✦