Truths Untold: Revisiting the Kalinga War

The history of the Kalinga War is largely shaped by Ashoka’s edicts, documents carved in stone by the victor. The popular narrative portrays a remorseful emperor embracing Buddhism after witnessing the bloodshed. Yet, this version overlooks critical gaps: Who ruled Kalinga? Why is their resistance absent from records? The absence of Kalinga’s perspective raises a fundamental question: how much of history is crafted by those who win, and how much is lost in silence?

Historians have long relied on Ashoka’s inscriptions, but recent scholarship challenges this one-sided account. Sanjeev Sanyal, in The Ocean of Churn, disputes the war’s role in Ashoka’s conversion, pointing out that minor rock edicts confirm his Buddhist leanings predated the conflict. If true, Ashoka’s repentance becomes a later embellishment. Moreover, Sanyal suggests Kalinga may not have been an independent kingdom but a rebellious vassal, reframing the war as a suppression rather than a conquest. This shifts the narrative from a righteous emperor’s awakening to a strategic consolidation of power.

Archaeology further complicates the tale. The battle’s primary site may not be Dhauli, as commonly believed, but Yuddha Meruda, with Tosali as the final stand. Radhanagar’s fertile plains, flanked by hills, hint at a protracted struggle, yet Kalinga’s defiance remains nameless. Why? Because history, as the adage goes, is written by the victor. Ashoka’s edicts, while invaluable, are political instruments, designed to legitimise his rule and ideals. The vanquished rarely get to inscribe their version.

The Odisha Sahitya Akademi’s initiative to revisit this history in a workshop on the War is timely. A relook must go beyond the well-known stories and the available edicts and dig deeper into emerging archaeological findings. If Kalinga’s ruler was indeed a formidable adversary, their erasure from history is not just an omission but an injustice. The war’s legacy, whether as a turning point for Ashoka or a suppressed rebellion, demands scrutiny to recover the voices buried beneath his edicts. After all, history is not just the story we inherit; it’s the one we choose to interrogate.

The study of history is a continuous dialogue between evidence and interpretation. Just as the Rosetta Stone deciphered Egypt’s past and Heinrich Schliemann’s excavation of Troy blurred the line between myth and reality, new discoveries can upend long-held beliefs. The Kalinga War’s narrative, frozen in Ashoka’s edicts for centuries, now faces similar scrutiny. Colonial histories were once accepted as gospel until post-independence scholars rewrote them from marginalised perspectives. Even Ashoka’s famed "Dhamma," once celebrated as purely altruistic, is now examined for its strategic role in empire-building. Radhanagar’s excavations may yet reveal Kalinga’s untold defiance. The Akademi’s pursuit mirrors a universal truth: history, when questioned, corrects itself one revelation at a time.