Devdutt Pattnaik’s most recent drivel in The New Indian Express, titled A Fantasy Called Chanakya, is less an engagement with any serious historical scholarship and more a provocative, biased polemic against Brahmins and a petty tirade against India’s civilisational pride. From its cavalier dismissal of multi-tradition attestations to its selective reading of source material, the article abandons the standards of rigorous historiography in favor of ideological posturing. Rather than wrestling with the complexities of ancient Indian polity and textual transmission, it indulges in sweeping generalizations and reductionist claims that serve contemporary political agendas. Such an approach does a disservice to readers and undermines serious debate on figures as consequential as Cāṇakya. The following article revisits the traditional sources that preserve the memory of Cāṇakya and subjects to scrutiny the claims advanced by Indologists who dispute his historicity, demonstrating that many of these objections rest on weak evidence.
Kauṭilya—also known as Viṣṇugupta and traditionally identified with Cāṇakya—is remembered as the Brahmin statesman who served as chief adviser to Candragupta I of the Gupta dynasty [1] (r. c. 321–296 BCE). Candragupta first consolidated power by defeating the Macedonian satraps west of the Indus before turning against the formidable Nanda dynasty, which he ultimately overthrew. These victories laid the foundations of an empire that stretched across much of the Indian subcontinent, encompassing the Gaṅgā and Indus valleys and extending into the Deccan. Early literary sources consistently credit Cāṇakya with Candragupta’s education, strategic direction, and accession to the throne, thereby establishing a dynasty whose most renowned ruler would be Aśoka, Candragupta’s grandson. Cāṇakya authored the Arthaśāstra, one of the most sophisticated treatises on governance and foreign policy to survive from the ancient world. He is famed for his authorship of commanding texts on the four puruṣārtha: Nyāyabhaṣya (on logic/nyāya, whose objective is ultimately mokṣa), Kauṭilyabhāṣya or Arthaśāstra (on artha or statecraft), Kāmasūtrabhāṣya (on kāma), and Gautamasmṛti bhāṣya (on dharma/law). Though our knowledge of Cāṇakya as an individual remains limited, a substantial amount may be gleaned from purāṇic and śāstric sources, which will be elucidated in this piece.
According to the traditional view, the purāṇas themselves are historical sources, a pramāṇa of history that does not need additional independent verification, and certainly not from newfangled “mythologists”. By definition, the nature of a purāṇa and its main objective is to state what is going to happen, name the kings who will come to rule the planet (vamśānucaritam). The contents of a purāṇa are noted in the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa (4.133.6) to be:
सर्गश्च प्रतिसर्गश्च वंशो मन्वन्तराणि च ।
वंशानुचरितं विप्र पुराणं पञ्चलक्षणम् ।।O Brāhmaṇa, a Purāṇa is characterized by five distinct attributes (topics): sarga (which contains the primary creation of the universe), pratisarga (containing the dissolution and subsequent re-creation of the universe), vamśa (the genealogies of the Gods and sages), manvantara (the cycles of cosmic time or the epochs of the Manus), and the vamśānucaritam (the history of the royal dynasties on earth).
The purāṇas convey history before it happens, as time in the Hindu tradition is cyclical and history always repeats itself. Non-purāṇic sources (such as kāvya works like Rājataraṅgini, Maduravijayam, etc.) do not have this mandate and therefore are not considered to be history the way purāṇas are.
Thus, the Bhāgavata purāṇa (12-1-7 to 14) foretells the arrival of Cāṇakya:
नव नन्दान्द्विजः कश्चित्प्रपन्नानुद्धरिष्यति ।
तेषां अभावे जगतीं मौर्या भोक्ष्यन्ति वै कलौ ॥A certain Brāhmaṇa (Kauṭilya, or Cāṇakya) will uproot these nine Nandas when they become arrogant. In their absence, the Mauryas will rule the earth in the Kali age.
In the commentary to this verse by Sridhara Swami (from his text the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā), he writes: नव नन्दान् नन्दं तत्पुत्रांश्चाष्टौ इत्येवं नव, प्रपन्नान् विश्वस्तान् विख्यातान् वा द्विजः कौटिल्यवात्स्यायनादिपर्य्यायः चाणक्य उद्धरिष्यति उन्मूलयिष्यति ।
This translates to: "The 'Nine Nandas' refers to the (original) Nanda king and his eight sons, making nine in total. The word 'prapannān' in the verse refers to those who were trusting (feeling secure) or those who were famous. The 'Brāhmaṇa' mentioned is Cāṇakya, who is also known by other names like Kauṭilya and Vātsyāyana. He is prophesized to uproot (destroy) them completely (uddhariṣyati)."
The next verses from the Bhāgavata purāṇa predict Cāṇakya’s indispensable part in setting up a long and illustrious Mauryan rule. The verses translate to “That very Brāhmaṇa will consecrate Candragupta as the King. His son will be Vārisāra (Bindusāra), and after him will come Aśokavardhana. His successor will be Suyaṣa. Suyaṣa’s son will be Saṅgata. After him will come Śaliṣuka, followed by Somaśarma. Then will come Śatadhanva, and finally Bṛhadratha. O scion of the Kuru clan, these ten Mauryan kings will rule the earth for one hundred and thirty-seven years in the Kali age.
The Viṣṇupurāṇa (4-24) also similarly prophesizes how the Brāhmaṇa, Kauṭilya, shall destroy the Nandas and coronate Candragupta Maurya, as follows:
ततश्च नव चैतान्नन्दान् कौटिल्यो ब्राह्मणस्समुद्धरिष्यति ॥ २६ ॥
Then, a Brāhmaṇa named Kauṭilya will uproot (destroy) these nine Nandas.तेषामभावे मौर्याः पृथिवीं भोक्ष्यन्ति ॥ २७ ॥
In their absence, the Mauryas will rule the earth.
कौटिल्य एव चन्द्रगुप्तमुत्पन्नं राज्येऽभिषेक्ष्यति ॥ २८ ॥
Kauṭilya himself will consecrate Candragupta as the King.
In addition to the purāṇas, Jain literature presents a detailed and respectful portrayal of Cāṇakya, addressing gaps in Brahmanical accounts and offering a distinct perspective on his character, intellect, administrative role, and even his death (it is alleged that Brāhmaṇa sources on Cāṇakya offer little by way of personal details and focus on his shrewdness and crookedness, often having negative connotations). Scholars argue that Kauṭilyan studies are incomplete without due attention to the significant literary contributions of the Jain tradition. This fact is acknowledged by Devdutt himself in his 2023 piece titled How Jains Described Chanakya and Chandra Gupta Maurya, in which he does not mention anything about Cāṇakya being a fictional character.
Contrary to what Devdutt claims, the absence of contemporary inscriptions naming Cāṇakya cannot be taken as grounds for dismissing his existence as a historical figure, as then, the same standard would invalidate so many historical figures from global ancient history. We need not rely on the Saṃskṛta play by Viśākhadatta, Mudrārākṣasa (telling the story of the ascent of the Emperor Candragupta Maurya to power, guided by Cāṇakya), which is dated to about the 5th century CE, to establish his existence. The absence of strictly contemporaneous inscriptions naming Cāṇakya does not signal a rupture in historical memory but reflects the character of Indian archival practice, grounded in oral transmission and later textual codification through the guru-ṣiṣya parampara. Yet, Cāṇakya does not exist in complete historical obscurity. The closest possible near-contemporary testimony to his intellectual legacy and historical memory is preserved through the Kāmaṇḍakīya Nītisāra, authored by Kāmaṇḍaka, who is traditionally identified as a direct disciple of Viṣṇugupta (Kauṭilya). The text is traditionally dated to the 4th to 3rd century BCE, and, unlike the purāṇas, which portend Cāṇakya’s rule — though authoritative — the text serves as a direct reference to Viṣṇugupta.
In the Kāmaṇḍakīya Nītisāra (1-2 to 6), it is stated:
Salutations unto the highly intelligent Viṣṇugupta, who sprang from an extensive and illustrious lineage, whose descendants lived like Ṛṣis, accepting alms from none. Salutations unto him whose renown became world-wide, whose effulgence was like that of a blazing fire; unto that most artful and astute master, foremost among those versed in paramārtha (vedavidam), who had mastered the four Vedas as though they were one. Salutations unto him whose energy flashed like lightning, and through whose powers of ritual and strategy—terrible and potent as a thunderbolt — the vast, renowned, powerful, mountain-like dynasty of the Nandas was utterly eradicated. Salutations unto him who rivalled the god Śaktidhara (Subrahmaṇya or Skanda) in prowess, and who, single-handedly, through the force of his Mantraśakti and Utsāhaśakti, brought the entire earth under the firm control of Candragupta, the moon among men (the foremost among sovereigns). Salutations unto that wisest of counsellors, Viṣṇugupta, who, just as nectar was churned from the ocean, distilled the nectar of Nītiśāsāra from the vast and mighty ocean of the Arthaśāstra.
The next verse states: “He possessed clear vision and had mastered the furthest limits of all knowledge. Based on his philosophy, and out of love for the science of statecraft (rājavidya), I have composed this book to be brief (Kāmaṇḍaka’s Nītisāra is said to be an abridged version of Arthaśāstra) yet full of meaning.” In the commentary to this verse, the Upādhyāya-nirapekṣa states: तस्य परमगुरोः विष्णुगुप्तस्य दर्शनात् — that the author, Kāmaṇḍaka, is teaching what was seen by the "divine eye of knowledge" of his great guru, Viṣṇugupta. In Saṃskṛta literature and bhāṣya traditions, it is not customary to refer to eminent figures of a school generically as “gurus.” When a text explicitly names a guru, it signals a personal pedagogical relationship rather than a vague honorific. Moreover, the terms ātmaguru and paramaguru clearly point to the lineage of the study of the Arthaśāstra after Kauṭilya’s time, rather than being a retrospective or symbolic attribution.
Devdutt also claims that “the Arthashastra refers to Chinese silk and Roman gold coins, both of which came to India around 200 AD, almost 400 years after Mauryan rule”, which is patently false, as even a simple Google search will confirm. With the opening and consolidation of trans-Eurasian trade networks (the Silk Road) during and after the Han dynasty, from the late 2nd to the 1st century BCE onward, Chinese silk was already moving westward across Central Asia and into India through established overland and maritime routes. Indian familiarity with Chinese silk, therefore, predates 200 AD by several centuries, and its mention in the Arthaśāstra cannot be dismissed as an anachronism. Also, Numismatic evidence shows large quantities of Roman aurei and denarii entering India from the late 1st century BCE onwards, especially during the Augustan period. Classical sources and archaeological finds across western and southern India confirm that Roman bullion was circulating centuries earlier than the date claimed.
P. V. Kane, one of the most distinguished Saṃskṛta scholars and legal historians of modern India, and author of the multi-volume History of Dharmaśāstra, in his work, systematically evaluates and refutes the arguments advanced by Western Indologists — such as Jolly, Keith, Winternitz, Stein, and Jacobi — who question either the historicity of Kauṭilya or his authorship of the Arthaśāstra. Kane concludes that objections to Kauṭilya’s existence or authorship rest largely on conjecture or unreliable external accounts, and, when these claims are assessed against the conventions of ancient Indian literary practice, manuscript evidence, and comparative historical reasoning, these objections fail to undermine either the historicity of Kauṭilya or his central association with the Arthaśāstra. Kane puts forth his arguments in detail in History of Dharmaśāstra. First, he dismisses the claim that a statesman actively engaged in founding and administering a vast empire could not have authored a complex treatise like the Arthaśāstra. He notes that this argument is purely subjective and unsupported, pointing out that historical precedent exists for scholars such as Sāyaṇa and Mādhava producing major intellectual works while holding demanding public or administrative roles. Kane also asserts that the absence of explicit references to Pāṭaliputra or Candragupta’s empire within the Arthaśāstra is of negligible evidentiary value. Arguments from silence, he maintains, cannot yield firm or universally acceptable conclusions regarding authorship or date. Kane also challenges the reliance on Megasthenes’ Indica as a benchmark for the historical verification of Cāṇakya’s historicity. He emphasizes that Megasthenes’ writings survive only in fragments, that the extent of his fluency in certain Indian languages is unknown, and that his accounts frequently display idealizations and inaccuracies— such as, most notably, his assertion that Indians were unfamiliar with writing, a claim no serious scholar accepts. Kauṭilya being cited by name within the Arthaśāstra is interpreted by some scholars as evidence that Kauṭilya was not the author. P. V. Kane explains that ancient Indian authors commonly referred to their own writings in the third person to avoid charges of egotism, a convention that is fairly common in Saṃskṛta literature. Devdutt, therefore, amplifies the doubts of a small subset of Indologists — long contested within the field — by presenting their skepticism as settled fact and perpetuating a new myth under the guise of debunking an old one.
Devdutt also makes the claim: “The Chandragupta-Chanakya relationship is a common narrative trope found in legends around the world. The talented youth and his shrewd mentor, much like the British myth of King Arthur and the sorcerer Merlin… The legend of Chanakya is simply this trans-civilisational script recast as Indian patriotism, with a dash of casteism—a Brahmin scholar manipulating politics to restore righteous order, overthrow corruption, and enthrone a “just” empire so that Brahmin wisdom may eternally guide royal might.” It is an unhinged argument to invalidate the historicity of a specific historical relationship (that of Cāṇakya-Candragupta) by merely identifying a recurring mentor–ruler motif across cultures and history. It is an extremely basic logical fallacy: the presence of a pattern does not imply fabrication, and certainly does not negate the historicity of a specific historical relationship. The fact that different societies independently record rulers advised by intellectuals, priests, monks, or administrators is not evidence of narrative invention; it is evidence of a structural feature of pre-modern governance, where power and expertise were two distinct institutions, yet interdependent, based on mutual respect. Devdutt, by framing any acknowledgment of a Brahmin intellectual simply as caste vanity, replaces historical inquiry with ideologically rooted suspicion. It is, in no way, social justice, but a mangled reductionism, which folds entire texts and institutions into caste identity alone.
No serious reading of Cāṇakya or the Arthaśāstra “elevates the priestly strategist over the messy coalition” that builds states, as Devdutt states. On the contrary, the text is obsessed with precisely those coalitions: merchants and revenue flows, soldiers and logistics, frontier tribes, forest peoples, officials, spies, agrarian productivity, mines, ports, and geography. Cāṇakya systematizes the knowledge of governance into aphorisms, and to call this “clerical hagiography” is perverse, because the Arthaśāstra is one of the least sanctified political texts from the ancient world.
Devdutt writes, “In this arrangement, the religious teacher is portrayed as pure and above politics, yet his counsel shapes empires; he claims no interest in land, yet the realms he blesses fatten his monastery. The transaction hides behind spiritual vocabulary.” This statement, which reduces any authority derived from religious or spiritual sanction to transactional self-interest, is offensive, to say the least. The defining feature of a religious or philosophical adviser — whether a ṛṣi or an ācārya—is detachment from the material world. Their authority derives precisely from renunciation, discipline, and intellectual clarity, which is why rulers across cultures sought their counsel. To suggest that such figures are merely laundering greed through sanctity is to misunderstand the very basis on which they were trusted. A person openly motivated by wealth or land would immediately forfeit the moral legitimacy that made their advice valuable in the first place, just as a person openly motivated by hatred alone (Devdutt) immediately forfeits all intellectual legitimacy.
Devdutt’s expectation, from the public to demand contemporaneous evidence of Kauṭilya’s historicity is a standard selectively imposed on Indian history and the populace. If the absence of contemporary, lifetime records is taken as grounds for dismissing Cāṇakya as a historical figure, then the same standard would invalidate large portions of global ancient history. Gautama Buddha is known through inscriptions that appear nearly two centuries after his death; Jesus of Nazareth left no contemporary inscriptions and is attested only in texts written decades later; Pythagoras, Euclid, and Zoroaster are reconstructed entirely from later testimonies, and so on. Yet none of these figures are dismissed as “imaginary” simply because their earliest attestations are retrospective. Devdutt’s suggestion that the “Chanakya myth” is “less about Mauryan history and more about our present hunger for a disinfected past” is not any legitimate critique but a manifestation of his bitterness towards the act of reclaiming India’s ancient intellectual inheritance. At the core lies his discomfort with the confidence and pride with which Cāṇakya, a brahmin minister, no less, is remembered — as a political thinker and strategist who articulated statecraft with a rigor and realism that predates Machiavelli by nearly two millennia. The unease lies with the inversion of hierarchy — in popular discourse today, indigenous thought has come to occupy a position of primacy rather than canonical figures of the Western tradition. All in all, in substituting moral posturing for analysis, conjecture for historical data, and treating pride in intellectual history as a caste crime, Devdutt lays his prejudice bare.
Footnotes:
1. The chronological confusion surrounding Chandragupta largely stems from a long-standing misidentification by Western historians, who identified Alexander’s contemporary as Chandragupta Maurya rather than the Gupta Chandragupta. This has had the effect of displacing Indian chronological traditions and introduced inconsistencies into Purāṇic, Jain, and Buddhist timelines. This conflation has had cascading effects on the interpretation of early Indian history; once the dynastic distinction between the Chandraguptas is restored, many apparent discrepancies in traditional sources diminish significantly. This information is attested to in traditional sources, and outlined in Venkatachalam, Kota. Chronology of Ancient Indian History, Part I, 1952, p. 50, that can be accessed here.
References:
- Modelski, George. “Kautilya: Foreign Policy and International System in the Ancient Hindu World.” The American Political Science Review, vol. 58, no. 3, 1964, pp. 549–60. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/1953131. Accessed 1 Jan. 2026.
- Legacy and Lineage: A Vamśa-Based Perspective on Cultural Transmission, by Srinivas Jammalamadaka https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/legacy-lineage-vam%25C5%259Ba-based-perspective-cultural-srinivas-jammalmadaka-0mwmc/?trackingId=Yjr%2BFTfXSkaQRknZd1F2MA%3D%3D
- Nalini Joshi, Chanakya Explored in Jaina Literature, Firodia Prakashan, University of Pune (Seth H.N. Jain Chair), 2014. https://jainqq.org/explore/007699/1
- P. V. Kane, History of Dharmasastra (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1930- 46), Vol. I, pp. 85-104. Available online at Archive.org: https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.37698/page/n141/mode/2up
- Kamandaka. Kamandakiya Nitisara; or, The Elements of Polity. Translated and edited by Manmatha Nath Dutt, Calcutta: M.N. Dutt, 1896. Available online at Archive.org: https://archive.org/details/kamandakiyanitis00kamarich
- Altekar, Anant Sadashiv. State and Government in Ancient India. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1958.
