by Binodini
Manikchand listened to her and said, ‘All right, I will talk to Haodeijam Cheiteino. If necessary, we will send a separate letter to the Viceroy on behalf of you three daughters of the sovereign monarch. They should really be thinking about you even more.’
Sanatombi did not answer. She did not pay attention to what Manikchand said. Their meeting with the Saheb today made no sense to her. She felt a great shame—I wish we had never gone, she thought over and over again. Her former cook had been waiting for her on this day. She went in to make lunch for Sanatombi. Manikchand changed his clothes and went out; it looked like he was going to meet Cheiteino.
Sanatombi crawled into bed at this untimely hour, waiting for her lunch. Her servant Tembi was folding her clothes that she had worn earlier. Sanatombi watched Tembi as she worked. Her long-serving Tembi. She was much older than Sanatombi but no one called the simple Tembi older sister or aunt. Everyone’s servant, Tembi. Sanatombi watched her and smiled a little. She looked at her fondly.
This Tembi was the child of a slave at the time of Surchandra when he was the crown prince. When the queen, the Lady of Ngangbam, was still the crown princess she had married off Tembi with a proper trousseau into a well-to-do household in a village. But Tembi came back before long, saying she would not stay there any longer. One asked her, but all she did was cry and there was no understanding her. They called the husband’s family and asked them, and they too said, ‘We have no idea, she just cries and cries.’ Saying, ‘All right, since she does not agree, let her stay here,’ the Lady of Ngangbam talked nicely to the husband’s family and sent them away. A year after that, when the Lady of Ngangbam released her slaves, Tembi refused to go with her father and mother. She remained in the residence of the crown prince.
One day, a few years later. On a morning dark with a winter fog, some men from the armoury brought into the crown prince’s residence a young boy found wandering carrying a bundle. He was brought in because when asked, he had replied, ‘My sister lives in the residence of the crown prince.’ He turned out to be correct: the young boy was discovered to be Tembi’s younger brother who had been taken away by his father and mother when he was little. When they opened the bundle, they found about ten measures of assorted rice, two serving dishes that had been missing for a long time, and a coconut that had been brought as an offering to the crown prince. Upon inquiry, it turned out that Tembi had set aside some of the rice that was cleaned for the meals of the crown prince and had smuggled them out to her younger brother along with the rest of the items. When people tried to beat and scold him the Lady of Ngangbam gave him back his things and let him go. But what of Tembi? She was beside herself.
Sanatombi was a young maiden at the time. She called Tembi to her and said, ‘Tembi, prepare my herbal wash … Tembi, go wash my clothes. … … …’ Using her in this way, Sanatombi shielded Tembi. She had worshipped Sanatombi from that day on. She came with Sanatombi to the Nongmaithem household on the day of her wedding and she had stayed on. The well-to-do Nongmaithem family had several slaves, but when the Saheb put an end to slavery after the British had taken over Manipur, the household set them all free. How the slaves who had lived as part of the family wept when they left. They all parted with love in their hearts, but they all left as free beings. Tembi was not a servant even though she was the child of a slave. She had given herself over to Sanatombi of her own free will. She did not know how to take back her heart that she had given away. All she knew was Sanatombi; for her there was no room to think of anyone else. Tembi lived happily, she lived with Sanatombi.
After the cook had finished preparing lunch, she came to tell Sanatombi that her meal was ready. But at that late hour, it was just a matter of sitting in front of her plate for Sanatombi could hardly swallow a thing. She would have gone entirely without eating if the cook had not especially cooked for her. Though the cook did not work for the Nongmaithem family, she never stopped coming now and then. She cooked for them not because she had nothing to eat at home, but because she loved Sanatombi. And on top of that, her daughter Mainu and Sanatombi were very close friends. As Mainu’s father the Brahmin was a chef in the royal household, the cook’s family had long been connected with the palace. Her daughter was a little older than Sanatombi so Mainu would come to spend time with her, and her mother was in the service of the Lady of Ngangbam as a favoured lady-in-waiting. There were times when mother and daughter would eat and stay overnight. Even after Mainu’s father left his service as the palace chef on account of his having taken a divorcee as his mistress, Mainu and her mother did not sever their ties with the palace.
Now Mainu was also a married woman at a distant place. In Thoubal, where her father lived with his second wife. The two stopped seeing each other often after she got married. It was just the occasional ‘How is Mainu?’ to get news of her. Sanatombi knew Mainu did not live happily in her husband’s family. The reason why Mainu did not visit her family home in Imphal was not because she was so happy that she forgot to. It was because she harboured a bitterness at her family. She harboured a bitterness against all; she was bitter at life itself. But for hearing news of her now and then, Sanatombi did not see Mainu frequently. Sanatombi had thought she would visit her in Thoubal one of these days even if Mainu did not come to visit, but she only just thought about doing so and never got around to it.
She talked with the cook after lunch. She asked, ‘And how is Mainu, Mother Cook? Is she expecting any children?’
‘No, Your Highness. The reason I came today was also to talk about something but they said you had gone to meet the Saheb. If I had gone back you would have gone without eating at all.’
‘So, what brings you here, Mother Cook? What is the matter?’
‘Your Highness, your servant Mainu has come back home saying she will not live with her husband any more. This has been going on for a while. You know all about it, but this time she has refused, she says she will not go back. What shall I do, Princess, I am having a terrible time. What with her being a Brahmin woman, what decent man will marry a divorcee? Can you please talk to her? What has happened has happened. How can it look good if a woman has funerals in two homes?’
‘Is she still unable to forget Ta’Khema?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know anything. I don’t know what to say about her. I asked her before I gave her away in marriage; I got her consent before I had married her off. Now she says, “I won’t stay there, if you ask me to go back I will kill myself.” I don’t know, I am totally at a loss,’ so related Mainu’s mother the Brahmin.
Sanatombi knew Mainu and Khema were deeply in love. But they never got married. For Khema was a Meitei. So that could never be—but then how can love be stopped either?
Khema was a son of the Sanasam family in the neighbourhood. An only child, he was very spoiled. The neatly groomed and pampered Khema wandered around with a flute tucked into his waistband. Wearing a sarong of mustard yellow and flashing his white teeth in a smile, Khema came by when Mainu was working on a sarong and sat by her embroidery stool. He came and stood by the paddy pounder in the moonlight. He came and played his flute, he chatted with her. Sometimes he clumsily joined in pounding the paddy. They could never go without seeing each other, but it never went beyond that; they only loved each other madly. Mainu’s father and mother were still together then. No one saw much wrong in Khema coming to their house as he was a boy from the neighbourhood. Who would stop him from coming and going as he pleased?
Ever since Mainu had her hair groomed as a maiden, there had been an astonishing stream of marriage proposals. What with her father being a chef in the palace, and her beauty and industriousness, they ran out of seats to put out for people who came seeking her hand in marriage, nor could they eat all the food that was brought for her as gifts. But Mainu refused them all. Many young swains came to court her, but seeing her lack of interest they all slowly retreated. As she said no to one and all, her parents thought that she might as well live at home a little lon
ger. But an unfortunate incident happened around this time. Her father could not go to the palace any more after he took a divorcee as a wife, and he himself left to go live with this second wife.
Mainu’s mother said, ‘Even if Your Holiness has taken a divorcee as a wife, please look out for your children. It is not right to besmirch the children as well. Please go and live there, and we will keep our distance here.’
But it was only a matter of time before the household was turned upside down. It was at this time that her mother failed to realize that Mainu and Khema had fallen in love. During her pain when her husband took another wife, Mainu’s mother forgot that she should look after her daughter. Meanwhile, Khema and Mainu wandered together plucking flowers in the month of Mera, they went pranking together during the spring festival, they climbed Baruni Hill together—and they loved each other.
Khema said, ‘Mainu, I am a Meitei. Will it end with us not belonging together?’
Mainu said, ‘I cannot think of anybody else. I will never get married.’
‘Mainu, do you think you can bear being exiled to Haojangban with me?’
A little later, Mainu said to Khema, ‘Ta’Khema, will you be able to disappear into Haojangban in exile together?’
It could not remain hidden any longer. The skies were rent asunder. Mainu’s family as well as Khema’s family were both alarmed. ‘All is lost,’ they said. In those days, those who violated the boundaries of marriage norms received severe punishment. Mainu’s older brothers intimidated Khema, humiliated him, and sought ways to keep them apart. Mainu stopped eating, and took to her bed and remained under the mosquito net. But Khema climbed a nearby tree and played his flute late into the night. How Mainu wept and wept upon hearing him … … … . Meanwhile, Mainu’s sisters-in-law kept her under a close watch.
It was summer. It was towards the end of the month of Kalen, entering the month of Inga. Suddenly a great illness spread through Imphal. People trembled in fear. Many died during the course of a single day; members of a family fell ill one after the other. They waited for the sick to die from this disease that had no cure. Smoke from funeral pyres darkened the skies. There were times when two or three people were cremated together. But the Meiteis did not let a single corpse go without a cremation. People were so terrified of the hairy spirit called de-ul, which stood only a forearm tall, that they shut themselves into their homes before sundown and remained quaking indoors, looking after the ones who were taken sick. No one walked outside and grass grew over the roads. None could inquire after one another, all they could do was hide. Courageous young men from the neighbourhood girded their loins and went from house to house looking for the dead and cremated them. Khema was one of them, and the pampered young man emerged as the bravest of them all at this time. He tirelessly took part in the cremations of many dead people on the riverbank. People looked up at the skies anxiously, waiting for the rains to fall.
The rain clouds gathered, the rains came down. Slowly the scourge lightened up on its own. The ones who survived, survived; the ones who perished, perished.
After things got better people began to ask, people began to think about the others—who had perished and who had survived? By good fortune, there were no casualties in Mainu’s family. Mainu began to wonder how her Ta’Khema was, and what became of his family. She was too embarrassed to ask openly. The two families had very bad relations on account of the two of them. Mainu wondered what to do.
One day, she threw her shyness to the wind and asked her sister-in-law, ‘Sister-in-law, what news have you heard of the Sanasam family? I hope they had no casualties?’ Her sister-in-law did not answer. She pretended not to hear. Embarrassed, Mainu went no further.
A day or two later, she asked again, ‘Sister-in-law, who in our neighbourhood has suffered losses?’
Her sister-in-law did not answer. Mainu looked hard at her. Suddenly she cried out, ‘Mainu, my dearest, your Ta’Khema is no more.’
Mainu did not cry. She stood stock-still— … … … So, all was for this then, so it was for this that I loved you. What am I to do, what am I to do, she lamented inwardly. Mainu could withstand the sickness, bear the pangs of love, but how could she bear the pain of this, how could she go on living? She retreated under her mosquito net. She stopped eating, she stopped drinking. She was so wounded she did not say a word to anyone.
Her sisters-in-law said to one and all, ‘Mainu is not keeping well.’
Hearing of this, Sanatombi came one day from Nongmaithem to ask about Mainu. Sanatombi had gotten married much earlier than Mainu.
‘Mainu, your princess has come. Open your eyes, dear,’ her sister-in-law said, through her breaking tears.
Mainu opened her eyes. She burst out in sobs upon seeing Sanatombi and said, ‘Your Highness, why didn’t I die too? I am lost … … … . Please give me your blessings to die … … … .’
Sanatombi did not know what to say to comfort Mainu. She held Mainu’s hand and sat in silence.
‘Your Highness, you are a princess. You will not have known the face of love. Ta’Khema suffered great humiliation on my account. … … … It is all right if we are not together, but why did he have to die?’
It was true what Mainu said. It was true Sanatombi had never known the face of love. She had not endured the pangs of love, she never had a chance to love. But she had seen how one person loves another—Princess Phandengsana and Meri, Mainu and Khema. Even though she had not felt it herself, she knew of what they called love.
From that day on, Mainu and Sanatombi drew even closer. And Mainu never again left Sanatombi.
Mainu got married within that year. To a very wealthy, somewhat older, childless man in Thoubal. Mainu did not make a fuss. Whether to one man or to another, it was all the same to Mainu. But she said, ‘I just want it to be known that I got married. I will accept any man you give me. But I will not stay with whoever I marry.’
They thought she would come around once the fires for Khema had died down but Sanatombi knew that for Mainu there could be no man she could ever think of but her Ta’Khema. She was not surprised to hear that Mainu had returned, and she did not think of persuading her otherwise, for the love that Mainu had for Khema was a deep love. Who could have known what the future had held for them?
Sanatombi said to her mother the cook, ‘Please do not say anything more to Mainu, Mother Cook. Let her do what she wants. She is yet young, it may be just a matter of her meeting someone she likes and getting married. Please do not say anything to her any more but send her to me now and then instead. I will try to see if I can bring her around slowly.’
After this Mainu came to Sanatombi’s often and ate with her and slept over, and it was all one could say that she did not actually live there. She also found it restful to come to Sanatombi’s. They talked about many things.
One day Sanatombi confided to Mainu about the time the Saheb had taken her on horseback. Mainu asked, ‘What did he look like, Your Highness? Is he handsome?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. He is older for sure.’
‘They say this Saheb beats people a lot, but he seems to have been quite nice to Your Highness.’
‘Oh, those are the white soldiers. He does not beat people.’
‘I am scared of him anyway.’
CHAPTER 11
Little Majesty Churachand took Sanatombi abroad for medical treatment. After leaving Sanatombi in Calcutta he went to Dehra Dun, and in the middle of it he returned to Manipur as well. He also took her to other places like Puri. Maxwell had sent a large cheque for Sanatombi’s treatment. After having travelled around for about three months, Sanatombi came back feeling somewhat better. She could get around the house and get out on the porch as before. She was able to visit the palace sometimes when the king sent a car for her. It had been a very good thing that the king had taken Sanatombi abroad this time. Maxwell had asked the king seriously to take her out now and then.
‘She is headstrong. Please try to convince her,’ h
e wrote in his letter.
That morning, Mainu had washed Sanatombi’s hair with fragrant herbs and seated her in an armchair on the small front porch. She combed out her long hair to dry. Her hair had thinned a bit but it was still springy and good to look at.
Sanatombi was feeling better and was therefore looking good, her original colour had come back. Little Majesty would come to pick her up today. He had come in the evening the day before and had said, ‘Royal Sister, the soldiers of the platoon and my men will be playing polo. There will be a group of sahebs from Shillong who will also come to watch. My royal sister must come. I will send a car tomorrow.’
‘I feel embarrassed, Little Majesty.’
‘Who are you embarrassed in front of?’
‘It is only that I am not at my most presentable. All right, if you say so. I will come.’
‘And you must dress up your servant, your sister the Lady of Ngangbam, a little bit too.’
Sanatombi looked happy that day. She was going to be in society after a long time and on top of that she would be dressing up the queen.
‘Mainu, bring me my jewellery box.’
Mainu brought out a beautiful ivory box that was inlaid with flowers. Sanatombi looked at her jewels one by one. She put away the rest, setting aside a foreign-made necklace studded with precious stones, and a pair of emerald bracelets. Maxwell had brought them back from Burma for Sanatombi.
‘Mainu, I am going to leave these two to my younger sister the Lady of Ngangbam. What will I do with them now,’ said Sanatombi.
‘Oh, Your Highness, Not Guilty is here,’ said Mainu looking towards the gate.
Yes, it was Not Guilty. Not Guilty, the peon from the palace office. Not Guilty kowtowed to Sanatombi and wiped away tears from his eyes.
‘Where are you coming from, Not Guilty?’
‘Your servant was coming here. It has been a long time. Your Royal Highness seems better now. You are looking very good.’