Tormented by a relentless, sleepless anxiety that burned within him like a thorn lodged deep in his heart, King Dhritarashtra longed for relief from this consuming fire—one fanned by his own actions and worries. The tales of the Pandavas—their heroism, boundless strength, and great energy—had reached his ears, and these stories only deepened his unease and troubled thoughts. Seeking guidance, Dhritarashtra summoned Kanika, the foremost among his ministers, a master of counsel and the subtle science of kingship. With a heavy heart, he spoke to Kanika: “The Pandavas are ever ambitious, O best of Brahmins, and I confess my envy of them. Tell me, Kanika, what is the surest path—toward peace or conflict? Advise me, and I will follow your counsel.” At that moment, Duryodhana, Shakuni, Karna, and Duhshasana also gathered around Kanika, eager to hear his wisdom. They questioned him at length about the Pandavas, for they knew the sons of Pandu were ever alert and excelled in the arts of weaponry. “O Kanika,” they pressed, “tell us what would bring welfare to all without deficiency. How should we act?” Kanika, approached thus and pleased by their trust, prepared to answer. With a cheerful mind, he spoke, his words sharp and clear, laying bare the essence of royal science. “Listen, O King,” he began, “to what I am about to say. Do not resent my words, O best of Kurus, but hear them well. “A king must always be ready to mete out punishment and must display his prowess. He should be without flaw himself, yet ever alert to the flaws of others, and quick to follow the weaknesses he discovers. People fear a ruler who is ever ready to punish; therefore, all affairs must be regulated by the principle of punishment. “Let no one see the king’s own weaknesses, nor pursue him through his flaws. Like a tortoise drawing in its limbs, he must conceal his vulnerabilities and guard them well. “A king who seeks benefit should always honor the Brahmins, for the king exists to protect Brahmins and restrain the wicked. Through the king and the Brahmins, righteousness grows; and as righteousness flourishes, both this world and the next are won. Therefore, righteousness must always be practiced. “But if a king, seeing a man guilty of offense, simply forgives him, he invites disrespect and gathers sin in both worlds. Should a wicked man, having gained wealth, act against the king, he must be seized, slain, and his wealth distributed to the needy. “If those appointed to duty do not remain under control, the king should appoint trustworthy men, skilled in righteousness and wealth, to those posts—be it over a kingdom, city, village, or district—so that order is maintained. And to ensure loyalty, the king must send disguised agents to investigate; after examining the wicked, he should dismiss them and seize their wealth. “The king must never act improperly, even at the beginning of a task, for even a small thorn, if badly removed, can cause lasting harm. Only the destruction of enemies who cause harm is praised—when it is well executed, well planned, and thoroughly pursued. “In times of crisis, one must act without hesitation. Never despise an enemy, however weak he may seem, for even a small fire can burn down an entire forest if it finds shelter. In moments of blindness, one can become blind; in moments of deafness, one can become deaf. “Sometimes, one must make a bow out of grass, sleep on a deer’s bed, and, by means such as conciliation, slay an enemy who is within his grasp. Compassion should not be shown to one who has sought refuge, for he becomes fearless, and from the unharmed arises no fear. “Enemies should be destroyed by gifts, and those who have previously caused harm likewise. Three, five, or seven of the opposing side should be destroyed entirely. Always cut off the very root of the opposing side—then, afterwards, all their allies and supporters. For when the root is cut, all who depend upon it perish; just as the branches cannot survive when the root of the tree is severed. “A king must ever be single-minded, discreet, and vigilant for opportunities, always acting with anxious care regarding his rivals. By establishing sacred fires, performing sacrifices, wearing ochre robes, matted hair, and deer skin, one can win the trust of the people—and then strike, plundering like a wolf. “They say that sorrow is the goad in the pursuit of wealth; just as one bends down a fruitful branch to pluck ripe fruit again and again, so must one act. For the wise, all undertakings are for the sake of fruit; one should bear an enemy upon one’s shoulder until the time is ripe. “When that time comes, break him as one would an object upon a stone; never release an enemy, even if he pleads in misery. Show no pity—slay the wrongdoer. Destroy the enemy by conciliation, or again by gifts, or by division and punishment—by all means, subdue him. “An enemy can be slain. Tell me, then, O King, if you wish to know the exact means for this.” Kanika then began a tale: “There was once a jackal, skilled in the science of policy, and a wise fox, clever in his own interests. They lived with their companions—the tiger, the mouse, the wolf, and the bear. One day in the forest, they spied a mighty leader of deer. “O tiger,” said the jackal, “this deer has often escaped your attempts to kill him in the forest. He is young, swift, and intelligent—he cannot be overcome by force. Let the mouse gnaw at his feet while he sleeps…” Thus, Kanika laid out his counsel, weaving together the lessons of policy and the subtle art of overcoming one’s rivals, leaving Dhritarashtra and his company to ponder the path that lay before them.