Use of no sooner, it literally means "shortly afterwards", As soon as i got into the bath,someone knocked on the door above

sentence can be para phrased as >no sooner had i got into the bath than someone knocked on the door grhpoeirhg9tj9itjierjgiow46jhyoitwitie0-ryhe5 webhgieurghtioghptjhoityjhnriotjrithetyio iorhgerutiohnrtiohryiponroiptbnhioe erkngiuetnhrtiortiohnyiohnoirtgmnsoeitnhroyijrptihmrte fnasdjfngjkfhgasdklfjlksdfhgse[oij[klfg dfjghdfkjghlaksdgnjldksg'nmd'fkgsdlkfghsfd fnsjdghsdfk;jgn;dflkbdnfgk;lhtdnhkf Prologue: Empathising with Emperor Ashoka after the historical battle of Kalinga which had a substantial impact on Ashoka s personal mores and conventions, which meant that the Maurayan empire began to change drastically from an empire of the sword, as most of the historical empires were, to an empire of the spirit . A title very few empires deserve to be remembered by throughout the annals of hi story. This account is of the thoughts of a man who was the initiator of such a diametr ic change. Who am I? Am I the glorious king who achieves victory in every battle; the fearless soul w ho has the audacity to wander in death s crooked mazes and yet, has the boldness t o come out jubilant, bathed in the glorious sunlight of yet another triumph? Am I solely the mighty Ashoka, who cornered the far-flung reaches of India, surp assed even the infallible Chandragupta in his achievements, whose name instils f ear in every soul around the meanderings of the Ganges and its wide embankments, who is invincible in battle and astute in military strategy, under the blithe o f gods whereby even the gods envy him and yet, who still feels not perennial but flimsy? Who am I? Am I chand Ashoka (evil Ashoka) as my restive and conquered subjects call me? Are my victories as sturdy as those mountains in Hindu Kush, of whom even time is fe arful; or are they transient, fleeting moments in time on a constantly revolving wheel where they shall lie forgotten in the coming generations? Ah! The misery of human existence! Not even sure of his origins and he sets out to conquer the world; where lies th e grief of a thousand made destitute and countless brought under the brunt of sl avery. Also, how tragic is the human fate; my progeny shall rule upon the riches of India and they shall forget that Ashoka built this empire with his blood. Where is the mystery if all is settled and decided upon? Who are those who lie t rampled at my feet without the fire of life in the centre of their pupils? Where is the vanquished stand that resisted me for these eight long years? Where is t hat peace, of soul and the morsel within, which was bound to come by after the v ictory of Kalinga? Who am I? Yet, who am I? I am the victorious, indefatigable and the mighty Ashoka of average looks and su per-human strength? Or a murderer, looter and ruthless commander of men; who is too engrossed in the admiration of his horses, his military might and his valian t soldiers to take a look at the green grass beneath, the star-studded heavens i n the night, the glorious sun-rise or the song of the forlorn dove? Who am I? Some time ago, before the beginning of mighty Chandragupta s reign, another conque ror crossed India. He came sweeping away the lands of Parthia, Egypt and Mesopot amia on a wave of conquest and he defeated Porus at Panipat, thus including Indi a in his vanquished domains. Nothing remains of him now. He died at a young age later on in Babylon and no on e remembers him as a man of peace. He is dead and so are his war machines and hi s trail of conquests all fleeting, all transitory and superficial.

What is constant? I used to think it was land, power, a powerful army and a sple ndid court which were a constant. Introspection or reflection did not appeal to me unless there was an urgent military strategy to be thought of or a new weapon to be tested and put in battle. I am Ashoka, grandson of Chandragupta, murderer of his own step-brothers, comman der of a valiant band of soldiers who are famed for their ruthlessness, conquero r of Kalinga after years of terrific warfare. And yet, I still think I do not ho ld the answer to the question that has become a constant in my own conscience who am I? Am I different from the raring and domineering beast who dominates the weaklings in the animal kingdom through his panache for killing; the looter who loots the unsuspecting wayfarers on the Great Pilgrimage of Upanishads, the pirate who st eals away the merchandise of traders or the devious fox who caught the innocent dove through pure strategy and trickery ? In the life that I have lived up till now, I can sadly assert that I have been a ll of the above in various capacities. However, I shall change. I think about the great soul more often now. I feel a new sensation a new freedom and a new life. I am a human and I still have my soul intact, and although it ha s become obscure and injured with the passage of so many years under the cruel s un of self-obscurity, I will re-invigorate it. I will light the spark that illum inates my person and my soul. I will mend it with my own labours.