by Binodini
Today is Bor. The princess daughters of the kings go in a procession on the road to Hiyangthang—on elephants, in palanquins.
Earrings swayed on the ears of Princess Amusana.
‘Her gold earrings are not even that dangly—she is making them sway on purpose,’ says an onlooker at the spectacle.
‘Be quiet—they might hear you.’
‘Princess Maipakpi is the most beautiful of all to me—how simple she is! She does not even let her ponytail down from her chignon.’
‘Oh please. She is not being simple; she is being stylish. … … … Oh my, do you think she heard me; she is looking our way!’
‘Auntie, is that the one called Princess Thabalsana? She is fair for sure but she is without an ounce of charm, I tell you.’
‘Be quiet; you talk too much. There will be trouble if someone overhears you.’
‘Oh my, aren’t we allowed to say that?’
They talk among themselves, one to another.
Today is also Bor.
Sanatombi will not see Little Majesty today.
‘Did you see the car with the flag back then? Upon the gods, how undignified.’
‘Ride a brace of elephants, I say. How times have changed, my dear. How dignified is it for the king to come to Bor in a car?’
‘My dear woman, it hurts his tailbone to ride an elephant, they say.’
Yes, Little Majesty will not come today to inquire about his older cousin. He is busy. Word had come that he will visit tomorrow. But Sanatombi believes—He is still a child, so who knows, he might just drop in.
‘Mainu, lay out the royal seat in its proper place. Who knows, his Little Majesty may drop by.’ She closes her eyes.
‘Your royal cousin is not coming today. But I have made Matum the bearer wait for him outside.’
Boom boom boom. … … … The sound of cannons. It is the sound of cannons being fired at the new palace in Khurai Khundon.
Sanatombi is startled. ‘What was that?’
‘It is nothing, just the sound of cannons from the royal palace.’
‘Kangla … Sovereign Father! Go call the royal son-in-law, Mainu! Run, tell Uncle Pakasana … … … Go run. … … …’ raves the delirious woman, agitated.
It seems she thought the foreigners were firing cannons at them.
Sanatombi saw Manipur’s last war first-hand. She witnessed as a young child the bitter rivalries of the princes, their quarrels, the entanglements of politics. She had seen it all: the fears, the sorrows, the consultations, the talks.
And there were many internal matters of the palace. She saw the splendid throne her grandfather his lordship Chandrakirti sat on for thirty-six years. But she did not get to live in the palace for very long. She was given in marriage at a young age to a man called Manikchand from the Nongmaithem family. There was a reason for this.
One day the Grand Queen Mother summoned Jasumati, consort of her royal grandson Crown Prince Surchandra and said, ‘My dear, keep a close eye on your daughter. She is wilful and is going to be a handful. It is not enough to be kind-hearted. It will not do to be an accommodating and accepting worm of a person. You do not have any male offspring. The astrologers also say your daughter is of strong birth. I want to find a good match for her and get her married. What do you think?’
‘The Grand Queen Mother needs only to instruct us. What can your humble servant say? After you inform your royal grandson, I defer to whatever the Divine Majesty and the Grand Queen Mother decide,’ replied the meek Lady of Satpam.
Jasumati was a gentle woman. No one in the palace talked about her much. She may have had her disappointments and sorrows but she expressed them to no one. Most people in the palace did not even know of her existence. Her senior sister-wife Premamayi, Lady of Ngangbam, dominated all. Even though Premamayi was not the first wife of Surchandra, she overshadowed all—and so it must be. It was only to be expected that the clever rises above the many. It might be said that Jasumati merely gave birth to her daughter, for Sanatombi spent most of her time with her co-mother the Lady of Ngangbam, and the Grand Queen Mother. She only came home to sleep and her mother barely got to see her at all. She spent her days going from one household in the palace to another. Jasumati worried about her too. She knew her daughter was unruly, strong-willed and driven to win. It would have been better if she had been a boy, she thought to herself. Time and again Sanatombi would cause an uproar and stir up trouble. Even when as a mother she could not bear it any longer she could not beat Sanatombi or discipline her, for the Grand Queen Mother stood as her bulwark. The Grand Queen Mother, Lady of Meisnam, doted excessively on her great-grandchild. And then she says—Watch your daughter closely, when it is she who allows her to run wild . . . —but who could she have said this to? There was no one who could dare to talk back to the Grand Queen Mother, the Lady of Meisnam. So, even though she followed all palace protocol with great care, she suffered defeat at the hands of Sanatombi; she weakened when it came to her. Her great-grandmother favoured the unruly Sanatombi.
One day when Sanatombi had grown up a bit, she said, ‘I will play kang, Grand Queen Mother.’ ‘Of course, my grandchild shall play. And who will be the kang teams?’ The Grand Queen Mother arranged it all. The court shuffleboard teams were Hijam Leikai and the palace. They gathered only the prettiest girls among them, both the palace and Hijam Leikai. They established many rules—no borrowing of pucks, no throwing of pucks in the air, and suchlike. The shuffleboard court was polished with fresh milk. There was a lot of noisy activity. Sanatombi was going to play her first game of court shuffleboard at the palace. But as the sorry tale unspooled, Sanatombi came to her royal great-grandmother, her face red with fury, and demanded, ‘Grand Queen Mother, beat Lukhoi. He has stopped us from playing kang, he says we cannot play.’
A little while later, there was a great hue and cry. ‘Sanatombi has bitten Prince Lukhoi! Oh no, what is to be done!’
The matter was this. Prince Lukhoi had barred Sanatombi when she arrived to play at the shuffleboard court. Lukhoi was born to the Lady of Ngangbam, wife of Surchandra. The Lady of Ngangbam was not only clever but she had even produced a male offspring, and one day, sooner or later, Lukhoi could ascend the throne at Kangla. Even though he was a child, Lukhoi was well aware of this. His unthinking caregivers and attendants never failed to remind the child of it, and so he was very headstrong. He and Sanatombi were not that far apart in age.
He had come in while Sanatombi and her friends were noisily busy in the shuffleboard court and said, ‘Is it true you all are going to play kang, Royal Elder Sister? You may not play.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I am telling you. You cannot.’
‘And who are you? Should I stop just because you do not allow it? It is none of your business. I am doing it. What are you going to do about it?’
‘You cannot do as you like.’
‘And why not?’
‘I am Prince Lukhoi.’
‘And I am Sanatombi.’
‘I am the male offspring—you are female.’
‘What attitude, Mr Male Offspring!’
Sanatombi flared up in anger. It was true she was a daughter. A daughter had no claim upon the throne at Kangla. But she did not accept this; she did not accept being told she could not do as she wanted. She did not know that her mother who only had daughters was not considered a blessed woman. It was especially true in the palace. How was she any different from a barren woman? Her birth mother lived choked in secret, her throat constricted, dry. It was not as if Sanatombi had not sometimes heard her mother heave a deep sigh. But she never found out why. The Grand Queen Mother had never once said to her face, ‘You are a female; you are of inferior destiny.’ She had said, ‘Now, there’s my great-granddaughter, now that’s my great-granddaughter.’ But sometimes late at night, her mother Jasumati said to her quietly, ‘Sanatombi, you are a daughter, so conduct yourself with that knowledge … … … .’ What was it she said? Sanatombi, her th
oughts wandering somewhere else, paid her scant heed. Lukhoi not allowing her to play court shuffleboard enraged Sanatombi no end.
Sanatombi said, ‘So what if you are a male?’
‘I am stopping you from playing kang, that’s what,’ Lukhoi answered with attitude. He was also just a boy at the time. It was around that age just before youth when boys are at their most obnoxious.
Sanatombi said, ‘What is it that you want?’
‘Let Hijam Ibemhal play on the palace team.’
‘Oh really? The one from Hijam Leikai?’
‘Even so.’
‘Oh, is that why you are coming and sticking your nose in?’
‘Why did you go to Grand Queen Mother without telling me first you were playing kang?’
‘Meaning?’
‘You have to inform me first—I was going to rehearse my dance here. If you want to play kang here, you have to inform me first.’
‘Your dancing goes on in the women dancers’ court. Has this male offspring no shame, being in the women dancers’ court?’
‘Men should be part of the women dancers’ court. You cannot play kang, and that is that.’ Saying this, he plunked himself down cross-legged in the middle of the shuffleboard court. Smoothened and polished for many days beforehand, the shuffleboard court shone like a mirror. It was not to be stepped upon. Sanatombi could not bear it any longer. She leapt at him and grabbed his hair. The two fought, they could not be pulled apart.
Suddenly Lukhoi yelled, ‘She bit me! The witch, the witch!’
Sanatombi went off to tell the Grand Queen Mother. Lukhoi was left crying, yelling ‘She-Demon, She-Demon’ at her. ‘She-Demon’ was Sanatombi’s hated nickname.
All hurried towards the quarters of the Grand Queen Mother. Sanatombi’s mother, the Lady of Satpam, heard and came running. She lashed out at her child and hit her. She struck out at her wildly. Sanatombi did not cry. She stood rock-still. The others separated them. Hearing of this, Sanatombi’s nurse came running and put her arms around her child.
Sanatombi said, ‘Of course, I beat him up. Can he do as he pleases just because he’s a male offspring? I will beat him, I will keep on beating him.’
‘Look at the mouth on her.’ Her mother tried to hit her again. The Grand Queen Mother tried to separate them. Then Sanatombi went and stood by the Grand Queen Mother, watching. She was very pleased with herself.
Lukhoi’s mother, the Lady of Ngangbam, arrived.
Laughing, she said, ‘Do not beat her, sister-wife. Why make a big thing of a matter between children?’ Saying this, she examined her child’s wounds. She did not mean what she said, for she was upset.
‘Please do as you see fit, elder sister-wife. I am not going to be able to handle this girl. Look how she has bitten the child on his arm … Here, let Mother take a look.’
The Lady of Ngangbam laughed and said, ‘Of course you should beat him, my child. How can he be disrespectful to his older royal sister? Lukhoi, say you are sorry to your older sister. Why did you try to destroy my daughter’s kang court? What right does a boy have to do that.’ She pretended to blame her son.
‘Why should I kowtow when I did no wrong?’
‘How he lies and says he did no wrong!’
They went at each other again. The Lady of Ngangbam stopped them, laughing. They made light of the matter but both the Lady of Ngangbam and the Lady of Satpam each knew what the other was thinking.
There were countless incidents and uproars like this because of Sanatombi. The girl-bearing Jasumati conducted herself with great discretion. But male offspring or female did not matter to Sanatombi. She did as she pleased. Controlling her was a major headache for Jasumati.
She lived with palpitations on her daughter’s account.
It was a time when the princes of Kangleipak, the sovereign kingdom of Manipur, held complete sway. But there were also restraints that bound them. They could not do completely as they pleased because they were royalty—What will people say? In addition to that, the daughters had to be even more careful. And the all-powerful Lady of Meisnam still lived. But it was not as if at times some did not breach these walls and broke free.
Many princesses grew up under Chandrakirti. They were not all alike, one to another, but they all were always made to remember that they were not like the common people. Sanatombi had grown up among these royal aunts of hers. She was also adored by her aunts who let her do whatever she liked. How was Jasumati to discipline her under these circumstances?
One day a man offered a tribute to the Divine Majesty Chandrakirti of a type of fruit called a Java plum. A seedling he had brought with great difficulty from Nabadwip and planted in his yard had borne fruit this year and he had come running to the king to offer it at his feet. The king sent a few of the fruits to the homes of each of the married princesses. The rest, he called his daughters who were still in the palace and handed it out among them.
‘What kind of fruit is it, Sovereign Father?’ They looked at it in wonder, but were afraid to eat it. ‘Just try it, it won’t hurt you,’ he said with a laugh. While they hesitated, Sanatombi grabbed one and stuffed it into her mouth. ‘Mm nice.’ ‘Only my granddaughter has guts. Your aunts will amount to nothing.’ The princesses laughed together loudly in the royal presence over this incident of eating the Java plum. Her aunt Princess Amusana laughed the most, more than the rest. How pretty she was and what a handful she was. Keeping Amusana in check was indeed a problem.
The Lady of Meisnam said, ‘Who are these women laughing in the residence of the king?’
Word came back promptly. ‘Your royal granddaughters.’
‘Go call them.’
They shuffled in.
No one looked forward to a summons from the Grand Queen Mother. She was no ordinary queen mother, she was the formidable Lady of Meisnam, Queen of Gambhirsingh. She had been his mainstay. Since the Seven Years Devastation, she had seen a great many wars in Manipur. She had been part of disentangling many a knotty political problem. Consolidating the throne of her husband, securing the position of her small child Chandrakirti, and on top of all that, never shying from many a fearsome incident, the Lady of Meisnam had always jumped into the fray. Such was the Lady of Meisnam. Even now, when the reign of her son was firm, she occupied an important place in Kangleipak, the kingdom of Manipur. The Lady of Meisnam held that the palace must maintain a distinctive and different image. It would not do to hold the reins too tight, nor let them too loose. We must be loved, and we must be feared. She reminded her son the king of this constantly.
… … … The princesses were in the flower hall of Lord Govindaji threading garlands with the Grand Queen Mother. Their hair was tied down tightly, chinstraps worn, there was no talking. As they were threading garlands in this manner, the Grand Queen Mother came upon a leech among the white blossomed kuthap leaves.
She asked, ‘Who gathered these flowers?’
The flower gatherers shook with fear.
‘Head Priest, put this leech in iron chains immediately and exile it to Sugnu.’
This absurd command was not aimed at the temple priest, the punishment was not for the leech—it was aimed at the attendants who picked the flowers carelessly. This, then, was the Lady of Meisnam.
… … … Once a poster was put up in the Sana Keithel, the royal market. Women must not wear their clothes loosely; There will be no entering the quarters of the Indian monks to seek their good offices: This is a royal decree of the Divine Majesty. ... Who was behind this decree and ordered it? The Lady of Meisnam.
Therefore, when a person such as the Lady of Meisnam summoned, it was never cause for cheer.
Little Sanatombi marched in at the head of the group of cowed princesses. She did not care a whit.
The Grand Queen Mother asked, ‘Who was it who screeched and laughed in front of the king?’
There was no answer.
‘Who were those who laughed in his royal presence?’
Sanatombi said, ‘Aunt
Amusana.’
Princess Amusana glared at Sanatombi. If the Lady of Meisnam had not been there, Sanatombi would surely have gotten a hiding.
‘Shameless one. Is it proper for a grown maiden to laugh and screech like that, even if he is your father? What would people there have said? Shall I rip the bangs off your forehead by their roots? Never do that again. He may be your father, but he is the king.’
Chandrakirti had several wives—the Queen, the Elder Apambi, the Younger Apambi, the Elder Leimakhubi, the Younger Leimakhubi, and so on … but they were mere shadows under the bright intensity of Queen Mother Kumudini, Lady of Meisnam. The Queen Mother was his pillar of support, and though he was the king of the land and blazed upon the throne, none of his wives had the power to raise their head.
It was not an easy task to navigate among the rivalrous lineage of kings, amidst the frequent wars among the princes. The Lady of Meisnam was a woman who had faced battles, their heat and their flames. It was not that she had not witnessed generosity and decorum among the princes even at the bleakest of times in Manipur, but Manipur was a land that was never completely out of danger. One could never sit back and slacken, thinking that the throne of the land of the Meiteis was free of the barbs of enemies. The Lady of Meisnam regularly reminded her royal son of this.
The lord chieftain of Yaiskul was held in great favour by Chandrakirti. If he did not see him for a bit, he would ask, ‘Has not my younger brother been coming?’ If he did not attend the royal court for a while, he would dispatch emissaries to his royal homestead and send for him. Those who were close to Chandrakirti began to resent the close friendship between the two men. But they could not say it out loud, it was the favour of the king.
Quietly, they whispered among themselves: ‘It is not right for the Divine Majesty to do this. Perhaps he has forgotten who the lord chieftain of Yaiskul is; it is not wise to trust him too much … … … .’
The princes in particular could not bear to see this. Obliquely they hinted and let it be known to the chieftain of Yaiskul—We do not approve of you.