by Binodini
Balasingh had already started to prepare a meal for the crown prince and his guests. But no one was really able to eat properly as they worried about what the next day would bring.
Preparations were made for the prince’s immediate departure. Sanatombi kowtowed to her uncle and touched his feet.
‘Never forget Lord Govinda, Sanatombi. Your uncle will be back.’
Prince Koireng leaped up on his horse. He galloped away with his three servants. Sanatombi was left standing, listening to the sound of hooves fairly into the distance.
Their enemy now was the British government. It was not Koireng, it was not Kulachandra, it was nobody else.
It was after Manipur had come under foreign rule. The day her uncle Crown Prince Koireng Tikendra Bir Singh was executed on the Mound of the Eunuchs by the royal market. Sanatombi saw this vividly before her eyes. It was the last time she saw her uncle. She leaned on a post and stood stock-still. She thought, ‘My uncle, hanged! Was the Indian who was also hanged for siding with the crown prince the Indian my uncle talked about? No, that was Niranjan the subedar. Then who was it? … … … Uncle, so was this what you meant when you said you would be back?’
CHAPTER 5
Of all her uncles, Prince Koireng was most similar to Sanatombi. Koireng emerged as an exceptional person from among the ranks of the nine princes born to Chandrakirti. Sanatombi had also felt that there was something about him. She liked everything that her uncle did. Koireng too believed in Sanatombi, and adored her. Even though there were many years between them, the dandyish Koireng always discussed matters with Sanatombi. How a bond of friendship had somehow sprung up between them was hard to say. It was also Koireng who overthrew her Sovereign Father and installed her middle uncle Kulachandra on the throne, and this Sanatombi knew. And this was why she had been hurt by Koireng. She thought—If you had any grievances you should have at least told me. Why did you keep such an important matter hidden!
It seemed like just yesterday. It was during the spring festival. All her uncles were going to be in the palace choir of Lord Govinda. Prince Koireng too. It was morning. Sanatombi went to his residence. Koireng had started to don his clothes, shirt, dhoti and turban of turmeric yellow. How handsome he looked. He saw Sanatombi coming and said, ‘Ah, my niece has come. I was also thinking of sending for you. I don’t know, I am never satisfied until you have given your approval. Take a look. Your uncle is not that bad looking, is he now?’ he joked.
As she looked out she saw a flame-of-the-forest tree in full scarlet flower. She went out and had a junior servant pick a beautiful bunch of its blossoms and bring it in. She said, ‘Shall we put this little bunch of flowers on top? It is all so yellow, I think a touch of red will look nice.’
‘Fine, put it on.’
Koireng looked at himself in the mirror. The scarlet of the flame-of-the-forest flower made a striking highlight amidst the yellow.
Towards the end of the royal choir the Divine Majesty called Koireng over and said, ‘How beautiful your flame-of-the-forest flower is today, my son.’
‘It is Sanatombi’s doing, Your Highness.’
‘My granddaughter? Let the royal choir all wear a dash of red on their turbans from now on. One may not always get a flame-of-the-forest flower.’
One day as he toured his land, the king saw a young flame-of-the-forest tree flowering scarlet in a field of yellow mustard flowers. He saw it vividly. And he remembered this incident.
Prince Koireng had a secret sorrow deep inside him, a sadness that he did not reveal but yet was glimpsed now and then. Even though she did not know exactly what it was, Sanatombi felt her uncle was hiding something, that he had a pain buried in him. What was it, a sickness? It was a sickness—the sickness of being all alone. He was alone in the midst of so many—he had no one. Most did not know of this sickness in the man who was excessively given to forced laughter and carousing, and they thought of Koireng as a man simply given to bursts of temper. But Sanatombi, for one, suspected—there was something, some other thing she could not put her finger on. Sometimes when he was overcome by his temper, he would pull a horse out from the stables and ride off without any direction. He would whip the horse mercilessly. They would be drenched in sweat, Koireng and the horse, both.
One time he said to Sanatombi, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know what it is. I do not know what comes over me when I am riding—I think, let it die, let me die too.’
Koireng’s mother Kouseswari, the Elder Lady of Chongtham, was the fourth wife of Chandrakirti. Her younger sister was also a consort of the king—Lukeswari, the Younger Lady of Chongtham. She was the mother of Kulachandra. The Elder Lady of Chongtham, whom the king had first wanted to bring to the palace, the first one he had loved, never got to be the queen. The queen was the Lady of Angom. She bore him Surchandra, Thambousana, Pakasana and Gopalsana.
The Grand Queen Mother, the Lady of Meisnam, had said, ‘A maid from the house of Angom must be the first to be brought to the royal residence.’ This was because the Grand Queen Mother owed the Angom clan an enormous debt. She let Chandrakirti know of this in strict confidence. Chandrakirti could not shrug off the orders of his queen mother. Long ago, the father of the Lady of Angom had been of great help to the Grand Queen Mother when she fled to Cachar with her young son, the child-king. He had stood by her in times of danger. The Lady of Meisnam never forgot this. To be in-laws with the Angom was also called for according to tradition. Moreover, she did not want the Lady of Chongtham whom Chandrakirti was in love with as her daughter-in-law. But he ended up marrying both the sisters of Chongtham. The Lady of Meisnam never took to the proud and high-handed sisters of Chongtham, but she never voiced it. The Elder Lady of Chongtham knew this and kept her distance from the Lady of Meisnam. That annoyed the Lady of Meisnam even more. She thought—The insolence!
The Lady of Chongtham, too, had her grievances. She knew very well who it was who had prevented her from being brought to the palace first. She took it as an enormous personal defeat that she was not able to share the throne with the man she loved so much, Chandrakirti. She felt deeply hurt by the king. She bore no anger towards anybody else, it was only the king that she blamed. She seemed to say—You have no spine, you did not elevate me first. ... … … Did I not love you first? In this way, there were times when to all appearances, his intense wife seemed to challenge the Grand Queen Mother. This alarmed the king greatly, and he chided the Lady of Chongtham discreetly. But she replied, ‘Your servant lives very meekly in the palace. Who could I challenge?’ She let him know obliquely—I have no child. And who would recognize a barren woman in the palace?
Except for the queen, it was customary for the king to call for whichever of his consorts struck his fancy to serve him in the royal residence. None of his consorts lived with him in the royal residence. It was forbidden for the king to live as man and wife in the manner of commoners. They all lived in separate houses built for them. Except for at the queen’s residence, the royal bed could not be made in the residences of the consorts. It was therefore customary for the king to call for a consort who came to mind. The only consort who refused to come to the king when summoned in this manner was the difficult Elder Lady of Chongtham. She would avoid it by saying she was not feeling well and so on. Even when she came, it was always only after the king went over and requested her himself. The king knew she was being difficult and petulant, but he never got angry with her. The Elder Lady of Chongtham seemed to say—You have to come, even if you are the king. It made Chandrakirti love her all the more, this woman who loved him and who threw tantrums at him.
This did not sit well with other people. ‘The Lady of Chongtham is a bit excessive,’ so said the king’s closest attendants.
The Grand Queen Mother thought—It is just that it cannot be done but she really ought to be thrown out by the scruff of her neck.
But none spoke out loud, for all knew that the Lady of Chongtham was Chandrakirti’s first love, and that he loved her still.<
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One time, a little late in the day, Chandrakirti came to the residence of the Elder Lady of Chongtham. It had been four or five days since she and the king had been angry with each other. The more intimate attendants knew that the Lady of Chongtham always came out on top whenever they fought like this.
The king walked in and said, laughing, ‘So what is it you are saying?’
‘What, I am not saying anything.’
‘Why didn’t you come when I asked you to?’
‘Am I the only consort of Your Highness?’
‘The one whom I asked for was you. You are the worst of the lot. What you are saying seems to be that I should stop governing the land and stay here pampering you. Why do you give me grief like this time and time again?’
‘As if I can. What am I?’
The king laughed out loud, and said, ‘You? My wife. You are the one I am most afraid of. I would rather climb Mount Koubru and capture ten elephants than confront you.’
‘If I am such a nuisance in the palace, I can just leave.’ The Lady of Chongtham got even more angry. The king teased her. He was not angry. The Lady of Chongtham could never treat Chandrakirti like a king when they were alone. She said whatever she liked with no regard for the etiquette of the palace. Her manner was refreshing. To be a commoner for a while amidst his mannered life of strict rules and artifice was a relief for Chandrakirti. The king found it restful to fight with her and forgot the cares of governance for a while. Even though she was simply preposterous, Chandrakirti loved the Elder Lady of Chongtham very much as a woman.
The Divine Majesty settled into the bed and said, ‘Come here.’
She pretended not to hear.
‘I said come here. Don’t be difficult.’
At this time, she had not changed out of her sarong of raw silk after their dinner. Her figure was svelte. She was sharp-eyed, magnetic, refined, and a little different from the others. She was not a beauty beyond compare, but she was bewitching. The raw-silk sarong of maroon was very becoming on her. Her long hair was loose, and she covered her head a little in the king’s presence. She sat angrily at a distance on a reed stool.
Chandrakirti sat on the bed and smiled a little.
He said, ‘You are really very cheeky.’ Saying this, he came over and carried her to the bed. And starting that day, he spent his nights with the Lady of Chongtham for quite a long time. From the next month on, the Lady of Chongtham carried Prince Koireng.
The Grand Queen Mother was not uninformed of this. The Lady of Meisnam was a woman with a thousand eyes and a thousand ears. She stayed silent but she knew that the king was breaking the rules and was secretly sleeping over at the Lady of Chongtham’s. She pretended not to know, but the Lady of Meisnam’s dislike for the Lady of Chongtham grew. The Lady of Meisnam was also disappointed with the king. The king seemed to have forgotten that there was a council of nine women called the pacha to oversee the rules governing multiple wives and to deal with various matters pertaining only to women. It was a council composed of exceptional, distinguished women—and it was mandatory for the mother of the queen to be on it. But on this occasion the Lady of Meisnam pretended not to know this.
When Prince Koireng had grown up to be a little boy, a tragic incident occurred at the royal palace. And that was, someone had made wax figures of the king and the Grand Queen Mother and hexed a spell on them. There had been a plan to kill them. There was a serious investigation into who was involved in this. People suspected, and the Grand Queen Mother suspected, that this had to be the doing of the mother of Koireng, the Lady of Chongtham. The incident blew up. An attempt to kill the king was no small matter. Chandrakirti was very upset. He said to the Lady of Chongtham, ‘Tell me, tell me it wasn’t you. … … …’
‘I will not. I will not say a word. Why did you punish people you suspected of aiding me without asking me first, without first finding out the truth?’
Among those punished there were some who were acquainted with the Lady of Chongtham, and some who were not. But was the actual hexing done by the Lady of Chongtham? She was very hurt that the news was spread all over even before it was determined if it was meant to kill, or if it was a love spell. She was stung to anger. There were thirteen who were rounded up in connection with the wax figures. They were Sorokhaibam Tonu, Paona Uchek, Haobam Papu, Thokchao Thambal, a son of Chongtham, Sanamanik the Brahmin, Sabireima, Leichaobi, a Chongtham daughter-in-law of a royal nobleman, the Lady of Potsangbam, the shaman priestess of Moirang, Mother Sano of Wahengbam and the wife of the subedar of Huidrom. Four of them had even already been ordered into banishment to India. But all of them gave conflicting testimonies. They were all testimonials that made it difficult to find out the truth. It was never really determined what the truth was. The Lady of Chongtham was very wounded by Chandrakirti as he had gone along with the accusation of a woman with whom he had borne a son. And this the king should have realized—such a serious matter, a matter of life and death, could never have been known to so many. The king should have thought through on the situation. The Lady of Chongtham would have been satisfied if he had given some due consideration. What would she have gotten out of killing the man she loved so much? It was impossible that it would have made a king of her Koireng since he had three older brothers before him. She thought—Why should I plead for my life when so many have suffered on my account? Let him find out, let him try to arrive at the truth; he who is able to find out wrongs should also be able to find out the truth.
She said to the king, ‘I will not give any answer, may the king do as he pleases. The king must seek out right from wrong.’
‘But what about Koireng? Will you not think of Koireng?’ Upon mention of Koireng, the Lady of Chongtham choked up.
‘My Koireng! Your Majesty, my Koireng will not go to waste. I am telling you, he may not be king but my Koireng will not come to naught.’ The Lady of Chongtham wept.
There was a lot of discussion for two or three months after this. What should be done with the Elder Lady of Chongtham? The relatives of the thirteen accused asked restively, ‘Your Majesty, what punishment will you give your wife?’ Chandrakirti was at a loss as to what to do. He would have wanted to take the advice of the Grand Queen Mother but when it came to the Lady of Chongtham it was a step he could not take. He had to decide this on his own.
Her distraught younger sister, the Younger Lady of Chongtham, mother of Kulachandra, came running to her older sister and said, ‘My royal sister, why are you taking the blame when you did not even do it? If you do not answer, people will think their suspicions were correct. I will go to the Grand Queen Mother.’
‘What nonsense. And what about the thirteen people who were punished on my account?’
‘If you did not do it, His Majesty will forgive them on his own. Let us appeal to the Divine Majesty.’
‘It is that Divine Majesty of yours that I am angry with.’
‘What use is it if you challenge him for no good reason. Won’t you even think of Koireng? What will he say tomorrow when he grows up? He will have to live with the shame.’
‘When he grows up, he will come to understand on his own what the palace is like. He is my son after all. … … …’
‘I don’t know what to do, my royal sister. What will you get out of challenging the Divine Majesty?’
‘Who says so? I am not challenging the king. I am just saying he is simply not getting it.’ Her younger sister went back, defeated. But she wept all night for Prince Koireng and her obstinate older sister.
The Elder Lady of Chongtham was sent back to her maiden home. She had not believed it would come to this. No one had believed it would come to this. It had not occurred to her that the man she loved was a king and that was just her ill fortune. The king had sought to take this difficult woman as his second consort. She had refused, and hung back in a tantrum. The king in anger took her younger sister to the palace and she was left being the fourth wife. Who knows, if it were not for this, if she had not be
en sent back to her maiden home, if she had told the truth or had asked for forgiveness, she might have sat on the throne beside the man she loved! Who knows, her fortunes might have improved. One day after this, on a tenth day of the lunar months, on a Wednesday, the eldest queen Maharani Manil Loirenkhombi, Lady of Angom, also died.
The name of the Lady of Chongtham was never again mentioned in the palace.
When Jasumati quietly told Sanatombi these stories that had gone from one ear to the next, she said, ‘Sanatombi, the palace is a place where people are destroyed quickly if they do not know to conduct themselves according to its ways. ... … … … I was so curious that one day my younger sister-wife Angangmacha and I secretly went to see your grandmother the Lady of Chongtham.’
‘What did she look like? What did she say?’
‘She had great dignity. She looked a bit like your uncle Koireng. She wept a great deal when she saw us. She entrusted your uncle to me and asked, “And how is the Divine Majesty?”’
Angangmacha, the consort of Koireng, and Jasumati were very close. They shared confidences about many discreet matters.
Sanatombi was on edge at Nongmaithem after Prince Koireng was hanged. She saw before her eyes—Koireng, the lonely, motherless child Koireng, the young man Koireng who laughed a bit too loud, who bore a burn inside him. She thought—What a tragedy. And what becomes of my royal grandmother the Lady of Chongtham?
CHAPTER 6
Mainu finishes cooking and comes in to inform Sanatombi.
She calls to her, ‘Your Highness, lunch is ready. Let’s get ready to eat.’
She opens her eyes. Sanatombi has been crying. Her eyes are still brimming with tears. She looks at Mainu—a distant look, a gaze looking back from a distance.
‘Let us get up.’
‘I don’t have much of an appetite, Mainu.’
‘You cannot not eat, even if it’s just a little. Your servant Leiren will be bringing water to freshen up.’