by Binodini
CHAPTER 22
But it seemed that a cord had bound Maxwell to Manipur, a knot that could not be undone. He kept going away, and he kept coming back—to this land, to the joys and sorrows of this land. Maxwell had come back once more. He was as happy as if he were coming back home.
This time Maxwell firmly believed he might get to live properly in Manipur for good. It would not be long before Little Majesty came of age and held the reins of the government. Maxwell thought to himself that Manipur would be his last post even if he had to retire. Little Majesty’s schooling was coming to an end. He wrote up reports on the progress of the child regularly. He was pleased.
From the very first time he arrived in Manipur, he had loved the river Thongjaorok at Lamangdong. From the moment he set eyes on it, he had loved this river, sometimes unruly, sometimes calm, with boulders lying in great piles along its riverbed. He had often walked great distances along the riverbed when the water was low. Naked children piled up stones and played, they caught river crabs and played. He thought—I will build a small house only from these river stones, and if he had to live here he would live in this quiet house. And so, he began looking for a suitable site along the banks of the Thongjaorok. He would get permission from Little Majesty as soon as he had handed over the sceptre of the land; he would surely listen to him with favour. He had faced many a hardship and endured many inconveniences on behalf of Little Majesty. One time there had been a suspicion that they would kill the child Churachand and instal another child in his place, and that was why he had been taken to Ajmer on the pretext that he would be put in school there. He fended that off, and wrote to his superiors, ‘In a gossipy place like Manipur rumours were abundant. …’ He went to Maharani Premamayi: ‘Please bless Little Majesty in public when he comes home.’ She demonstrated thus to the people that he was really Churachand, the king of Manipur, and none other. And so, Maxwell believed that he would surely be favoured, and that his request would be considered.
Maxwell resumed his work with even more vigour. He tried to take up what he had left unfinished in his restless, unsettled life. First, he took up his unfinished work and then he attempted various new projects. He tried to finish the more complex tasks first or Little Majesty would find it hard; for if he finished them during his term, Little Majesty would be able to properly execute his own undertakings after he had assumed his responsibilities. So thought Maxwell. He was very interested in starting tea plantations in Manipur but he failed repeatedly. He thought of sending tea grown in Manipur abroad but he was extremely disappointed when he saw his efforts had come to naught. He said to Bamacharan, ‘I wonder why for several years in succession the tea plants failed to produce fruit … … … . We must get our tea gardens carefully protected to see to what cause this failure can be attributed.’
He had wanted to write two books about Manipur from the moment he arrived here. He had begun to gather material. They would not be like the scholarly books that his predecessor Political Agent McCulloch had written. He only wanted to write on two subjects: on Manipur’s religion and rituals, its ancestral worship and beliefs; and the other on the orchids that were found in Manipur. He read many books on orchidology. Starting in the sixteenth century, people in the West had begun to be enamoured with the wonderful flower called the orchid. They had begun to traverse the hills and forests, and descended into gorges to look for this wondrous creation, and to discover new varieties. Maxwell, too, loved this remarkable flower. He went absolutely crazy when he saw them flowering beyond number in the forests in the interior. He brought them back whenever he went on his trips. He gave instructions for any new varieties encountered to be brought to him. But he had to be careful. He kept a close watch in case people from other lands who already knew about this came and plundered the orchids to the point of their extinction. Manipur’s orchids and flowers must not disappear, they must not be lost. And so, he gave strict orders: ‘Orchids must not be gathered from the forests of Manipur without the permission of the government.’ For his book on religion and ritual, he consulted male and female scholars, he consulted with the royal grandfather the king of Moirang.
There were many other things that Maxwell liked as well; he was not a man to stay quiet. One thing that he liked among all the remarkable things in this remarkable land was arambai. The Meiteis had a mode of warfare called arambai. The cavalrymen who engaged in this warfare were called arambai tendongyan. This warfare might have been amusing when pitted against cannons and guns, but its highly developed art could not be dismissed. It was an astonishing art of war. Bundles of darts with plumes of peacock feathers were carried in quivers. When the enemy drew near, the tendongyan cavalry would shower darts upon them. From under their horses, to the left and to the right, clinging tightly to the sides of their mounts.
And so, he thought he would teach this art of warfare to the soldiers of Manipur: let it be an entertainment for the eyes, but it would not be right to allow it to disappear. He called the accomplished Chancellor Namra Thambou and had him show it to the land. Flags ringed the inner polo ground. Many white men and important personages watched without blinking an eye. Maxwell thought he would also show this abroad when he had the opportunity so that people would know about Manipur. After he had become the Political Agent a Russian prince arrived in Manipur from Burma after having travelled through Siberia, Yunnan and Siam. He stayed with Maxwell for a few days. He regretted and thought about how nice it would have been if he had been able to show this to Vyazemsky, the prince from Russia. In this manner, he took time off from his duties of governance and took up many challenges such as this. His greatest support from among the Meiteis came from Tonjao and Meino. Tonjao and Meino the son of Arambam had now taken his sisters-in-law Princess Ombisana and Princess Khomdonsana as their wives. Today, Maxwell, Tonjao and Meino were the sons-in-law of Manipur’s beloved king called Surchandra, Ruler and Victor of the Hills. These three men became well known as the strong men of Manipur. Thinking about this was a source of some satisfaction to the ill-starred Lady of Ngangbam, the Dowager Queen of Surchandra. At these times, it was forgotten that Maxwell was a foreigner.
Droves of Meiteis started coming to the residency now. They were able to air many grievances and make requests without misgiving. Even though the arrogant British did not like the Meiteis treating the residency so casually, no one could say it openly. The reason was that the person at the top approved it. Other sahebs in Manipur nursed their resentment secretly.
Princess Khomdonsana and Princess Ombisana came regularly to their older sister’s home. Princess Khomdonsana went everywhere in the residency compound, and it was only its kitchen that she did not enter. Maxwell knew that Khomdon was disgusted by his kitchen and she could not bear its smell.
‘Do you want to taste this dish, Princess?’ teased Maxwell.
‘Oh my, no no, I won’t eat it. No, thank you.’
‘Is it unclean?’
‘I don’t want to eat it.’
‘You ate the chocolate I gave you.’
‘That was when I was little.’
‘Then you are unclean. Meino eats with me secretly.’
‘I am telling you, my dear sir, I do not want any, you husband and wife can eat it,’ replied the sharp-tongued Princess Khomdonsana.
But Jasumati never visited. She never came to say she needed something. She could never forget the sobriquet Sanatombi the Defiled, Native Wife of the Big Saheb. The affliction Sanatombi had caused in her Jasumati nursed to the day she died.
One day Sanatombi said, ‘I was thinking … … …’
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Maxwell.
‘I am getting old. I want to lead the dance just one time.’
‘You are not old. Go ahead, lead it,’ said Maxwell.
But it could not be done just like that. It needed to be discussed. She was an excommunicated woman. Would she be permitted to produce a dance, would the gods accept the ras she offered? What would the land say if the performa
nce was in her courtyard? The Dowager Queen was consulted first. The Lady of Ngangbam in turn called wise men and experts of the land, including the royal grandfather the king of Moirang and the like, and conferred with them. They wrote a letter to Little Majesty who was away in school in Ajmer.
Little Majesty telegraphed back: ‘I will come back in time for my royal cousin’s dance.’ So Sanatombi would produce a dance. The dance would be the nitya ras, and the place would be the courtyard of the residency. Rehearsals began. Many celebrated singers of Manipur, many ladies of nobility, the beautiful and the fine figured, were selected to take part. The second dancer would be Princess Thambalsana, daughter of Prince Pheijao. The dancer that Sanatombi really wanted to have as the second lead was Ibemhal, daughter of her royal aunt Princess Maipakpi. Although she was older than Sanatombi in age, ever since she was little, Sanatombi had been very envious of Ibemhal. These princesses of Chandrakirti had been always around the palace since they were small. They were loved by their uncles, in particular by Koireng. Sanatombi could not bear this. On top of that, at the time, Ibemhal, the daughter of Princess Maipakpi, was a beauty beyond compare. Sanatombi also knew Ibemhal was much more beautiful than she was. She bewitched the eye. Sanatombi wanted to stand next to her in a dance just one time, but it was not to be. Sanatombi could not insist as the dance teachers said that, taking into consideration their height and build, the daughter of Prince Pheijao would be more suitable. Ibemhal did take part in the dance but as the next dancer in line. With a few more years on her, Ibemhal was now more mature and was even more beautiful. One could not take one’s eyes off her. She had been a little slight before this.
But an important matter came up. The dance teachers, in particular Jhulonsana and company, approached the Dowager Queen and said, ‘Your Highness, the princess is offering the dance with a pure heart, but perhaps the ras costumes that the Divine Majesty Bhagyachandra instituted … … … might at least be spared in a ras performed in the courtyard of a foreigner.’
Then what was to be done! There was a lot of discussion. It was decided after much deliberation that they would wear the dance skirt but the head decoration would be taken from the manner of North India that the dancers’ council was currently using, including their forehead amulets and hairstyles. Sanatombi agreed happily when they told her. She did not know of the private discussions. The costumiers were called again and told to make even more beautiful head decorations. Two butterflies were made to flutter on either side of the forehead amulet. They put great effort into the making of the new costume—perhaps the new might turn out to be quite attractive. It was decided that a large pavilion would be erected in Maxwell’s spacious courtyard and Sanatombi’s nitya ras would be offered on the Wednesday of the month of Ingen. The preparations were extraordinary. The large performance hall was completely covered. A new style for the ras performance area was designed. Bhadrasingh worked tirelessly to make the performance mandala in various styles. Maxwell came out regularly to look and gave instructions to Bhadrasingh, ‘Bhadra, do not use a lot of colours, your ras costumes have a lot of colours. Too bright.’
How Not Guilty the peon ran around noisily at this time. He forgot his duties and got lost in the ras. Actually, he wanted to dance as one of the cowherdesses but didn’t dare say it as he was afraid of Sanatombi.
He said, ‘There seems to be a certain matter, Your Highness.’
‘What matter?’
‘This ras is going to be the talk of the land. What I am saying is that it is going to go down in the chronicles. If the son-in-law who is offering the ras does not wear a dhoti on this day people will laugh at him. As far as the Saheb is concerned he has agreed to what I am saying. When I brought this matter up he said, “I will do whatever you think is right, Not Guilty” and all. And the Saheb is a big man, so a dhoti for him is going to be a complicated proposition. So while there is still yet time would Your Highness arrange for one?’
‘What nonsense. You are making a fool of the man. People will only laugh loudly at him; forget about the dance, he will become a joke. He does not even know how to wear a dhoti.’
‘As for that, I can try it on him first.’
Not Guilty was using the word ‘try’ in English a lot these days. It was a new word he had learnt. Not Guilty the peon, always given to excess, had one day put shiny clay marks on his forehead and wearing a short dhoti of raw silk had brought a packet of fermented soybeans for the Saheb to eat. He did not bring it to Sanatombi but brought it straight to the Saheb.
Maxwell had looked at it and said, ‘Yes. I’ll try it.’
Another time, he brought some mustard sauce and Maxwell said then too, ‘I’ll try since you’ve threatened me.’
Not Guilty adored the Saheb. Hot green salad, fritters, aroids with fermented fish, fermented bamboo shoots, prickly lily pods—he wanted to feed them all to him. But Sanatombi always struck him down.
Not Guilty said, ‘My lady Mainu, their food only looks good, it does not really have any flavour. If we could just make him taste our sautéed fermented river shrimp or fermented soybeans just one time, he would know. They would even send for the soybeans from England … … … .’
Even though Maxwell went along with all these absurd things that Not Guilty came up with now and then, Sanatombi never agreed and so Not Guilty harboured great resentment towards Sanatombi. And it was the Saheb that he loved the more.
Knowing this, Mainu teased him one day, ‘Oh my dear man, you are in the side pocket of the Saheb.’
‘Am I?’ Not Guilty was pleased.
It was the day of the dance. The cowherdess dancers put on their costumes. Her younger sisters Princess Khomdonsana and Princess Ombisana and all the rest dressed in a room in the residency. Before she put on her own costume Sanatombi went around and asked everyone if they needed anything, chatting with them for a bit. She went in and started putting on her costume a little later. She stood in front of the large looking glass putting her dress on. Maxwell poked in his head every now and then, saying, ‘Sanatombi, people are beginning to arrive.’ ‘Sanatombi, would you like some tea?’
How lovely Ibemhal the daughter of Princess Maipakpi looked that day. She wore a skirt of deep green. Over her shirt of green velvet, a green stole was raised to cover her head. The two butterflies trembled, her many necklaces glittered. How becoming it all was upon her fair face, how it made her glow. Ibemhal remained calm, she merely moved her head a little when she spoke. Her teeth showed but a little. Ibemhal was very composed.
And what of Sanatombi? Hers was a shirt of red velvet with a skirt of red. The skirt was studded with mirrors and sequins of silver. All the cowherdesses wore stoles of the palest rose but Sanatombi wore a sheer stole of golden crêpe. It was embroidered all over in silver. It covered a little part of her breast, a little part of her topknot. The ras was about to begin. All the cowherdesses went on. Sanatombi held Maxwell’s hand and walked down the innumerable steps of the residency. They came down the steps lined with torches. She found it difficult to carry the skirt, and Maxwell led her by the hand.
As they walked down, Maxwell said, ‘This could be a wonderful wedding gown … … … why don’t you introduce it?’
The dance began. The dance offered by Sanatombi, the Native Wife of the Big Saheb. The audience looked on in wonder, the elderly wiped away their tears.
Sanatombi remembered her Grand Queen Mother, she remembered her Sovereign Father. Her Grand Queen Mother had once said to the dance costumier, ‘A light skirt for my great-granddaughter. Do not cinch her waist too tight, it will be hard on her. She has a tiny waist naturally. … … …’
Her father had come by and said, ‘Oh how pretty, my daughter looks like a little goddess.’
Sanatombi’s dance began. As Sanatombi made her entrance someone said, ‘Ibemhal seems to look a little diminished today. How beautiful is this Sanatombi! What presence!’
When Sanatombi began to dance to the drums, the forehead pendant placed at an angle
to the left slipped the thread holding it in place and fell right in the centre of her brow. The young woman costumier who had secured the pendant was panicked beyond words.
She ran up to the head costumier and said, ‘Oh what am I to do, the pendant has slipped on my lady!’
‘Be quiet. What can be done now?’
‘Shall I fasten it when she comes out later?’
‘Don’t refasten it, it looks rather beautiful actually. It looks even better in the centre.’
As the dance offering neared its end, they began to sing the prayer of Surchandra—
Govinda, ruler of my heart,
With his lady Radhika.
… … …
My lord Chandrakirti,
To thee I have nothing to offer,
But this, your Surchandra’s song.
Everyone wept. The dancers, the singers, the cowherdesses, all wept, remembering an age gone by, in the courtyard of the foreigner. Seeing the elders going up to the choir mistress and master of the ras, weeping as they kowtowed, the sahebs watching the performance were alarmed beyond words. They panicked. Some even started to stand up.
They asked Maxwell, ‘What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’
CHAPTER 23
The Junior Sabeb’s house was set on fire yesterday. This was the second time his house had been set on fire. It was suspected that the Meiteis were responsible for the arson because they hated the Junior Saheb. There were some who mocked him and called him the Nose Saheb. And as for him, he had the practice of beating Meiteis on the road—for not saluting him, for not folding their umbrellas when they saw him. There were a great many Meiteis whom he had smacked with his stick across the buttocks. The elders said that he could not have had much breeding. ‘Just because they are sahebs does not mean all of them come from decent families, and that is why he wants to feel important.’ Therefore, because the Meiteis did not like him, it was assumed that it could have been none other who had burnt down his house. But there was one even bigger reason, and that was—the Meiteis were still unable to accept the sahebs as their masters, and there was one incident that made Maxwell think this. The incident was a small one but Maxwell could not take its meaning lightly.