by Binodini
One day, a prince approached the Grand Queen Mother. ‘Sovereign Father favours our uncle the chieftain of Yaiskul a little excessively. He should not be trusted too much. Would the Grand Queen Mother please bring the matter up? It is not our place to say so.’
The Lady of Meisnam thought.
‘My Chandrakirti is not that shallow a person. There must be something he must be thinking. Fine, I will talk to him one of these days.’
‘But even we have come to disapprove of what is going on. He was walking with our Sovereign Father with his arms around his shoulders the other day. This is a breach of decorum, and it is not a good thing to see. He will surely one day climb all over him … … … .’
‘Hm, it does look like he is crossing some boundaries to me too. All right, I will think about it.’
It was not that his lordship the chieftain of Yaiskul was not aware that people disapproved of him. He knew that. And so, he stayed away as much as possible but the Divine Majesty always summoned him.
One day he said, ‘Your Majesty, please permit your servant to take leave from your royal service for some time.’
‘Has anybody been saying anything to my younger cousin?’
‘No one has said anything but it seems it is not right to come too frequently to be at your royal service.’
‘Tell me, what is the matter.’
‘I realize that the royal princes do not trust me,’ said the chieftain of Yaiskul emotionally.
‘They are all very young and must be being possessive of me. There is no need to take the words of the young to heart,’ appeased the king.
The envy and enmity escalated. The princes gathered information on the quiet—Are people meeting at the chieftain of Yaiskul’s? Is he hosting them? How many guns do they have? Are they training for battle?
Borachaoba, the chieftain of Yaiskul, knew very well that spies were being kept to monitor him closely. He was furious and he swore he would not set foot in the palace after informing the king. Bowing, he said, ‘I swear at your royal feet, I have not done anything against Your Royal Majesty, and I never will. I shall not be coming to the palace from this day on.’
‘Has someone said something to you again?’
‘There are people who suspect that I am plotting for the throne. I swear upon Lord Govinda, I do not harbour thoughts of harming a single hair on your body. Until Your Majesty dies … … …’ He stopped suddenly.
The king pretended not to notice. Laughing, he made light of it. He instructed one of his junior staff, ‘My younger brother here and I will lunch together today.’
But the seeds of discord had been sown and could not be undone. Chandrakirti also did not forget the incident when a man called Nobin had attacked his uncle Narasingh and the father of Borachaoba the chieftain of Yaiskul, in front of Lord Brinamchandra. It seems just like yesterday. Whose plot had that been way back? The beloved, the esteemed Lady of Meisnam, mother of Chandrakirti, was the suspect at the time.
The word spread—‘The chieftain of Yaiskul wept in the front of His Majesty, and vowed he would never do anything to harm the king.’
But the Grand Queen Mother, Lady of Meisnam, shook her head. She was thinking something.
The chieftain of Yaiskul also shook his head, thinking, ‘It is not going to be as simple as before.’
Sanatombi grew up in this vast, splendid, cultivated prison. She was fortunate to have had such a powerful great-grandmother. There was no other grandchild who could climb up and lie on her grandmother’s bed but Sanatombi. Sanatombi forced her to tell her stories. So many stories. The Seven Years Devastation, the Burmese War, stories of Cachar … … … . Many were the afternoons when she would fall asleep holding her great-grandmother while listening to these stories. After she had fallen asleep, her royal nurse would carry her on her back to the residence of her father Crown Prince Surchandra.
CHAPTER 2
The reign of Sovereign Chandrakirti, Little Protector of the Hills and Skies, was stable and Manipur scaled new peaks of accomplishment. Standing by the king were his royal father-in-law the Major of Meisnam, Thanggal, Sougaijamba, and other wise and strong noblemen. And towering above them all, the Grand Queen Mother, Lady of Meisnam. But there was no peace within the household. The resentments among brothers born of different mothers, and the many indiscretions and scandals of wayward daughters, though not known to the outside world, festered on many an occasion. Though born in such a milieu, none of this had any effect on Sanatombi. Like a fawn in the morning, she ran around, playing. She wandered into the rooms of her royal aunts. She was everybody’s tasty little titbit.
The Angom clan came to pay their respects to the Grand Queen Mother one day. They entreated the Grand Queen Mother to grant them the hand of Princess Phandengsana, daughter of the Lady of Chingsubam, to be their daughter-in-law, for their son. The Grand Queen Mother said she would relay their request to the king and let them know of his royal wishes. But everybody knew that if the Grand Queen Mother acquiesced, it was as good as the king’s word; that it was just a matter of her staying one step below in protocol. Sanatombi saw the Angom clan arrive. She was there standing, holding her nurse’s hand. She ran immediately to her royal aunt Princess Phandengsana.
Panting, she told her aunt, ‘Royal Aunt, the Angom were here. They brought so many, many, many gifts. Grand Queen Mother has given you to the Angom. Wow! They brought so much stuff … … … .’
Princess Phandengsana did not answer. Her face clouded over.
Sanatombi went up to her. ‘What’s the matter, Royal Aunt? What is it?’
Her aunt held her and said, ‘Sanatombi.’
‘What is it, Royal Aunt?’
‘I am going to ask you to do something. Can you do it?’
‘Yes, I can,’ declared Sanatombi without even knowing what it was.
‘Can you go to Lord Govindaji for the evening prayers with Sovereign Father later today?’
‘Yes, of course. I go with him all the time. Sovereign Grandfather never even scolds me.’
‘Tell Grandpapa Khetri, the temple water bearer, then that I want to see him. Ask him to bring a banana leaf offering from Lord Govindaji.’
‘Sure, I’ll tell him.’ She scampered off.
On another day, Princess Phandengsana was found in her room crying.
Sanatombi asked, ‘Why are you crying, Royal Aunt?’
Upon hearing the child’s words, her aunt broke out in sobs.
Sanatombi, too, began to cry loudly without understanding why. She lifted her aunt’s wet bangs and wiped away her tears with her little hand.
Phandengsana said, ‘See, I am not crying any more. Here, lift up your face. Sanatombi, can you do one more thing for your aunt?’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘Do you know who Chancellor Meri is?’
‘Yes, the one who is in the dhop choir. Of course, I know him really, really well. He said he would teach me to sing, he said he would teach me how to play the esraj, he is so handsome, isn’t he? Who is more handsome, Chancellor Lamphel or Chancellor Meri?’
‘For your middle aunt, it is Chancellor Lamphel, for me, Chancellor Meri,’ answered the maiden, laughing.
As Kondumba was among the elephants, so was Chancellor Lamphel among men—so it was said among the royal ladies. Sanatombi heard them say so. She had remembered that and that was why she had asked.
She said, ‘I don’t like either of them.’
‘I will find the handsomest, the most dignified man for you to marry,’ her aunt joked.
‘Shut up. How dirty. Why are you saying bad things?’
‘I am only saying it because you brought it up. Look here, Sanatombi, what did I tell you before?’
‘What?’
‘Have you forgotten that I asked you to do something for me?’
‘No, I did not forget. So, what is it?’
‘You must not let anyone hear anything about it. If Grand Queen Mother hears of it, you and I both are dead.’
‘If Grand Queen Mother asks I will not be able to not tell her. I am scared of hiding anything if Grand Queen Mother asks me.’
‘She won’t know anything, you little fool. Just you don’t tell anyone.’
‘So, say it then.’
‘Go with Sovereign Father to Lord Govindaji like the other day and tell Ta’Meri, no, tell Grandpapa the temple water bearer something.’
‘I can’t do that. That hunchbacked temple water bearer makes fun of me.’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘He called me Princess Bride of God.’
‘You should be happy, silly girl … … … . Bring temple offerings for mother Lady Thokchom—what’s wrong with saying just that?’
‘If you want, I will bring it for you. No problem.’
‘No, children must not touch it. What if it touches your hands or feet? Just do as you are told. I will make you a doll.’
Sanatombi ran off happily.
Chancellor Meri was a son of the Chingakham clan. His real name was Tonjao, and his home, Yaiskul. The king favoured him greatly and called him ‘Meri jan’, my heart, and so he came to be known as Meri. He was handsome, well groomed and a man extremely gifted in music. He was one of the many artists that Chandrakirti, well versed in music himself, had sent abroad to study drumming, singing and musical instruments.
Meri became famous as soon as he returned. People envied him. Those favoured by the king were not liked by their peers. But who could touch him—he was the king’s own Meri. People were resentful that after being a courtier for not very long he was appointed a chancellor when the king sent him to the head the dancers’ council. The teacher who had had this position was dismayed. Actually, Meri was sent there to take charge of only the music. But as he was so right for the job no one could oppose it openly. But Meri was not aware of all this. He hailed from Yaiskul so he should have been alert about the goings-on, but he failed to do so. He was engrossed in the world of music in the new temple that he had just joined. And there was one even bigger failing that he could not overcome. And this was his sin—he had fallen in love with Princess Phandengsana, and Princess Phandengsana loved him back. He had leaped over a divide and crossed a great threshold.
It became the talk of the land. The people who disliked him increased in number. True, they knew he was of the Chingakham clan, but knowing fully well that she was betrothed to the Angom, to knowingly. … This was insolence, it was the conduct of one who was not brought up in the ways of the court. Just because he was good-looking and favoured by the king, should he be treading on the hem of the king’s garment?
Unaware of all this, Sanatombi took messages back and forth from her aunt. One day, she was sitting in Meri’s lap and watched the ras dance rehearsal. The spring ras dance. Her aunt Princess Phandengsana was the lead dancer. Meri sat behind the singers and played the esraj. Meri said many things to Sanatombi, things that she could not understand.
‘Your royal aunt’s rhythm is not very good, is it? She would improve if I could coach her just one time … … … .’
One day Sanatombi was stopped when she tried to enter her aunt’s room. They told her she was very ill, that Sanatombi could not go in. Sanatombi was angry, she was close to tears—she knew her royal aunt was inside the room. She went angrily to the Grand Queen Mother’s residence and lay face down on a small rug. She was waiting for her great- grandmother. After a little while, her great-grandmother arrived. She knew Sanatombi was angry. Something had to be the matter.
She stroked her great-granddaughter gently and said, ‘Oh no, it seems the child has fallen asleep. She must not have heard me coming. Is anybody there? Call the royal nurse and have her carried back to her mother.’
‘Who’s asking you to have them take me back?’ Sanatombi was near tears.
‘So, tell me who did it?’ Her great grand-mother drew the child to her.
‘Don’t touch me.’ She burst into tears.
In this way, the great-grandmother and her great- granddaughter always coddled each other tenderly. People enjoyed watching this little show. After she had stopped crying, Sanatombi said, ‘What is the matter with Royal Aunt Phandeng?’
‘She is sick.’
‘Why?’
‘Just an ordinary sickness.’
‘If it is an ordinary sickness why didn’t they let me go in?’
‘Oh, is that why my granddaughter is angry? Which uncouth peasant did not allow my granddaughter in? Why, she was only coming to inquire after her aunt’s illness.’
‘I did not come to visit my aunt. I was looking for you.’
‘Then why didn’t you just walk in? Who is going to stop a granddaughter from coming to her great-grandmother? What insolence. Tell me who it was.’
‘Grandpapa Lusei.’
‘Fine. I will deal with him. I will put lime and turmeric on his head and send him into exile, just watch.’ The Grand Queen Mother soothed her great-granddaughter.
She called out, ‘Tondonbi.’
‘My lady.’
‘Listen, you must not accept flowers given by other people, do you hear?’
‘Why not, Grand Queen Mother?’
‘Her aunt is ill because she accepted flowers given to her by somebody. The healer says an image of her heart has been captured and put on five leihao flowers.’
Sanatombi panicked. She was terrified.
One day as the evening prayers were coming to a close, Chancellor Meri said to Sanatombi, ‘Your Highness, put out your hand—here, I’ll give you something.’ Sanatombi put out her little hand. Chancellor Meri gave her two bera sweets—bera made by the temple water bearer from Yaiskul. His bera was famous. Then he said, ‘Here, look at this too.’
A posy of ginger lilies lay on three trimmed layers of banana leaf. A posy made with a pair of ginger lily buds that had been forced open a day before their flowering.
Sanatombi did not understand. She stood staring at Meri.
Meri hugged her and said, ‘Look, this one you must not eat. Give it to your royal aunt. I will bring you bera from Yaiskul again tomorrow.’
Sanatombi had many aunts, but she knew the aunt Meri was asking her to give it to was Princess Phandengsana.
Today she was uneasy. Was her aunt sick because of the posy Meri had asked her to give to her aunt? No, that was a posy, not a leihao flower—the little girl thought to herself.
One or two days after this incident, she went to her great- grandmother’s and found that the Grand Queen Mother had summoned all the queens and princesses of the palace and was talking to them.
She told them all to draw closer, and said, ‘My granddaughters, my daughters-in-law, never wear flowers unless you pick them yourself. Not even flowers that bloom in the palace.’
Sanatombi said, ‘Younger Royal Aunt wears a lot of flowers given by other people. She even grabs flowers off other people’s ears and wears them.’
Amusana slapped Sanatombi. ‘What a liar this child is.’
The Grand Queen Mother rebuked her, ‘She only told what you do. Don’t do that to the child.’
She summoned the temple keeper right away and asked, ‘Keeper, who plucks the flowers for Lord Govindaji?’
‘We have three servants, my lady,’ replied the temple keeper, on his knees, his mouth covered. He wondered nervously what she would say next.
‘Tell all the bearers, priests, ministers and followers of Lord Govinda that they are not to offer flowers brought by other people.’
‘We do not do that from before, my lady.’
‘Tell them again. … … … Now, go.’
Word began to spread that Chancellor Meri of the Chingakham clan had cast a spell on Princess Phandengsana the previous Saturday. Severe punishment was meted out. He was made to pray at all the temples. He was taken to the marketplace and paraded around the villages. Then he was tonsured in front of the palace citadel and spreadeagled in the sun upon a wooden frame.
But Princess Phandengsana did not h
ear of any of this. It was kept away from her. Stern orders were given that whosoever breathed a word of this to Princess Phandengsana would receive punishment far harsher than what Meri had received. Trusted royal women of the palace kept a close watch over her. Princess Phandengsana had entered a prison—for it was indeed a prison.
But the Lady of Thokchom wept secretly for her neighbourhood brother Meri.
It was a little excessive what they had done to Meri this time. People said the punishment given to the king’s favoured Meri for falling in love with his daughter was a little too harsh. He could simply have been told to go away, or sent away. Meri himself was surprised—What did I do?
It was his ill fortune that Chandramukhi, daughter of the minister Thokchom, was the youngest wife of the king and was from his neighbourhood. This maid of Yaiskul had called Meri her ‘brother’ when she was still living at home, now elevated to a queen’s birthplace. She was very young, the Lady of Thokchom. Several princesses were even older than her. Even though she was a consort of the king, she could not do as she pleased.
She was the king’s youngest consort, but the Grand Queen Mother was still alive and several other heir-bearing consorts preceded her as well. She used to call Meri over and confide in him her many frustrations. She conferred with him. It was also at the royal residence of the Lady of Thokchom that Meri and Princess Phandengsana got to know each other.
Even though Meri was from her neighbourhood, it was really not proper for him to go to the Lady of Thokchom so frequently. He should have been more careful. Meri, who was talented in music, was foolish when it came to these snares. He did not understand what it meant to conduct oneself with humility at the palace, nor gave it much thought. His frequent visits began to be whispered about: ‘Why is Meri visiting the Lady of Thokchom so often?’
It was a serious matter. It was a fearsome matter. But Meri had failed to realize this. He was besotted with Princess Phandengsana at the time. He was madly in love. He thought—What is wrong with love, who would be against such a thing!