The Dancer and the Raja

by Javier Moro

  Inside, six hundred workmen have taken nine years to get everything ready. The walls of the Durbar Hall (audience chamber) are decorated in the purest Indian style, with reliefs of wood that combine French and Oriental motifs. The finely sculpted ceiling, with a stained-glass window in the dome, is illuminated by little lights in the form of stars. At midheight, with balusters at regular intervals, there is a gallery reserved for the ladies of the court for when official ceremonies are celebrated. The coat of arms of Kapurthala—an elephant on the left and a horse on the right of a shield, holding a breastplate with a cannon engraved on it and an inscription that reads Pro Rege et Patria—is set into the parquet floor in woods of different colors to make it stand out. It has been polished so much that it shines and the servants look at themselves in it to adjust their turbans. Enormous Sèvres porcelains, copies of Gobelin tapestries, antique furniture, and Aubusson15 carpets, ordered the same size as the rooms, show the raja’s uncontrollable admiration for the French style of the XVIIIth century. Except for two rooms inspired on other countries—the Japanese room and the Turkish-style smoking room—each one of the one hundred and eight suites reserved for guests bears the name of a French town or a French celebrity. The table in the main dining hall can seat eighty guests. A coal boiler provides hot water twenty-four hours a day for the greater comfort of the residents, guests, servants, and other employees. Because the palace has also become the seat of government. The offices of the various administrations occupy the basements. The office and rooms of His Highness are on the first floor, which has a beautiful view of the park and, in the background, the city. His bedroom is separated from Anita’s by a more than ample dressing room. Anita’s rooms, which include the baby’s room and her maids’ rooms, give onto a wide terrace. The place lacks the intimacy and bucolic charm of the Villa Buona Vista, but it is roomy, comfortable, and grandiose. In the early days, Anita feels a little lost, because, in addition she has been left without the last links she had with the past, Mme Dijon and Lola. It is not that she misses her maid, quite the opposite, but she does miss the contact with her own kind. On another trip, she will bring another maid back, from the south of Spain if possible, even if only to remind her where she comes from. She needs a point of reference in this make-believe world.

  The raja’s women have decided to oppose their husband’s wish to move the zenana to a wing of L’Élysée.

  “We will stay in the old palace, Your Highness,” Harbans Kaur, his first wife, has told him, in the decisive tone of someone who has thought about her words.

  “And may I know the reason for your persistent refusal? I’m offering you the most modern and luxurious palace in India, and you turn it down.”

  “You know our reason only too well. We would willingly move to the new palace if that Spanish woman would agree to become part of the zenana.”

  “That’s impossible and you know it. She is not accustomed to living like that. She will live in her own rooms.”

  “Your Highness, we do not think it is right for us to live in purdah in the new palace while you share your life with a foreign woman whose behavior is insulting to tradition precisely because she derides the rules of purdah … I beg you to understand our position.”

  Given the firmness of the opposition, the raja has not wished to prolong the discussion. His wife has come to remind him of the principle that has always ruled over Indian society: each in his place.

  “Our world would collapse if the traditions were not kept up,” Harbans Kaur ended gravely.

  In other words: it is all of them or none of them. Perhaps they thought they might get what they wanted by putting pressure on him, and that the raja would end up putting Anita in her place. They are naive, he thinks. No one can put pressure on the raja. Or perhaps he is the naive one? In this peculiar war of nerves, his wives have time on their side. Meanwhile, they oppose everything they can, subtly sabotaging the raja’s projects and boycotting his attempts to get Anita accepted one day.

  He chooses not to tell his wife about this conversation. It has not even crossed his mind to ask her to become part of the zenana. He knows it would do no good, and besides, he would not like that either. It would mean that Anita “has gone native” and precisely what attracts him is that she is not like the rest of them, that she has her own personality, her own beliefs, and her own voice, as long as it does not cause too many upsets in his life.

  The raja reacts as he usually does: using his power to respond with an even greater affront than the rebuff he has suffered at the hands of his wives. You don’t want to live under the same roof as the Spanish girl? You won’t accept her? Well, then, she will be the one in charge of organizing the wedding of the heir to the house of Kapurthala. They’ll get more than they bargained for, thinks Anita, seriously worried at the direction things are taking.

  “They’ll hate me more and more, mon chéri. Isn’t it more logical for Harbans Kaur to deal with the wedding? When all’s said and done, it’s her son who’s getting married.”

  “I want you to organize everything. My wives will deal with the wives of our Indian guests and nothing more. That’s all they’re good for.”

  “I wish your sons were here,” she adds with a sigh.

  Anita met them at a dinner while passing through London. Ratanjit, the eldest, seemed an introverted boy to her, very serious and intimidated by the figure of his father. He was the opposite of his fiancée, Gita, sparkling and full of life. Baljit seemed more amusing, although rather distant and very frivolous. Premjit, the soldier, the youngest, appeared to be a real gentleman, a man who seems worthy of trust. And she has not been able to meet Kamal, who everyone says is the nicest and most open of them, because he was away on a trip to Switzerland. If they were living in Kapurthala, she thinks, I would have some friends, there would be more of an atmosphere and life would be more normal and less lonely. Curiously, she trusts in her stepsons to dissipate the rather hostile atmosphere that has been created toward her. They are more or less the same age as she and they have lived in Europe for a long time and only they can exert an influence on their mothers and, at the same time, break her feeling of isolation. Ratanjit’s wedding could mean the beginning of a change. She would no longer be the outsider and the “hated one.”

  The raja has decided to spend half the annual income of his state on the celebrations for his son’s wedding, a colossal sum to organize the transport, maintenance, and entertainment of the guests. Like medieval monarchs, he invites everyone. And, like them too, he wants his people to join in the festivities. He said, “To emphasize this momentous and happy event, I have the honor of announcing to all my subjects that from now on primary education will be free within the frontiers of our state.” But the last phrase of his speech is going to give rise to a flood of comments: “Free for boys and also for girls.” In 1911, the mere idea that girls should study is revolutionary, and the representatives of the Moslem community make that known to the highest civil servants of the state, asking for the decision to be reversed. But the raja maintains his stance and does not give way.

  Jagatjit has decided to make his state into a shining example of civilization and progress, and he wants to pass into history as an enlightened monarch. In spite of being known for their eccentricities, many princes have improved the living conditions and gained social advantages for their subjects that are unknown in the India administered directly by the English. Like the maharaja of Baroda, famous not only for his troop of trained parrots that could walk across a wire or ride miniature silver bicycles, but also because in 1900 he introduced education that was both free and compulsory. Or Ganga Singh, the maharaja of Bikaner, who has turned certain areas of the desert in Rajasthan into oases of crops, artificial lakes, and prosperous cities. Or the maharaja of Mysore, who has financed a science university that is becoming famous all over Asia. Or the raja of the tiny state of Gondal, a simple man if ever there was one, who abolished taxes on the
peasants and increased customs tariffs to compensate the losses in state income. The raja dreams of going further and wants to directly rival the Western nations. Suddenly the Crown Prince’s wedding is a perfect opportunity to tell the whole world about progress in Kapurthala. “The Rajah had great interest in favourably impressing his European guests. He wanted them to take home the memory that his state was an exotic and yet modern place at the same time,” Anita would write in her diary.

  There followed months of feverish activity. Everything must be perfectly planned, studied, and even timed to the second. On one of her visits to Patiala, Anita requests the expert advice of Frankie Campos, Paco, chief of the kitchens, who helps her to work out the menus, order the foodstuffs, hire cooks, and plan everything. A special train ordered by the raja, full of bottles of Évian water, whiskey, port wine, sherry, and champagne, will arrive from Bombay, so the drinks area is guaranteed.

  The thornier decisions are those relating to protocol. With so many rajas, nawabs, aristocrats, and civil servants, it is a nightmare to plan where they will sleep, what they will eat, what program of activities will be suggested for them, and who will sit next to whom. What has to be borne in mind is their rank, religion, age, title, and tastes.

  “The women, especially the Englishwomen, are very particular about protocol,” Paco tells her. “If there is a mistake, the husband may accept that he has not been placed in the right position, but I can assure you that his wife will react with great indignation. They care a lot about these things, my dear …, it must be because they don’t have anything else to think about.”

  Paco knows what he is talking about. He has brought her a little book of about ten pages—known as the Red Book—which indicates the order of precedence of all the civil and military posts.

  “If you need to know if a pollution inspector is a little lower down the scale than a property registrar, you only have to look it up in the book.”

  Paco is a great help to Anita, who puts all her efforts into the work of organizing the preparations. Her reputation is at stake, even more knowing that she is under the eagle eye of the raja’s women. She cannot fail.

  Paco has advised her to go to Calcutta to stock up. Only there can she obtain the meters of material she needs to make the hundreds of tablecloths, serviettes, sets of sheets, and towels that will have to be made up, as well as the fifty marquees that will be erected in the palace park to accommodate all the guests. It is necessary to buy more cutlery and glassware and to deal with endless details that go from salt cellars and insecticide down to toilet paper, of which, just in case, Anita decides to order a whole carriage full.

  The raja decides to take advantage of the period before Christmas to go to Calcutta with her. It is polo and racing season, and the elite of the whole of Asia will be there without fail. Calcutta, which in 1911 is about to stop being the capital of the British Empire in India in favor of Delhi, is still the most important city in the subcontinent, its commercial, artistic, and intellectual capital. In spite of being rather run-down after so many decades of monsoons, the public buildings, the business center, the monuments, and the residences with balustrades and columns still maintain their former splendor.

  Anita and the raja spend some unforgettable days in Calcutta: morning rides in the carriage through the immense Maidan Park, in the shade of the banyans, magnolias, and palm trees; lunches with important business magnates, like Mr. Mullick, whose palace in the city center delights the raja because it is real museum of European art; evenings of classical theater at the Old Empire Theatre; opera recitals at the mansion of Mrs. Bristow, a grand English lady who manages to get the best divas and tenors of Europe to come and sing in her home; in the afternoons tasting ice cream at Firpo’s Restaurant, “better than in Italy” as their publicity goes; dinners at the Tollygunge Club followed by dances to the music of great orchestras … Life in Calcutta is as close as it can be to life in London without being in England. The ladies are dressed in the latest fashions, using superb brocades and materials from Benares and Madras, and spend most of their time having Indian tailors copy the latest designs from Paris and London. After spending hours “ransacking” the big stores, like the Army and Navy Store, Hall and Andersons, and Newman’s, which sell everything that is produced in Europe and America, Anita ends up in the afternoons at the French hairdresser’s run by Messrs Malvaist and Siret, who stand in ecstasy at the shining hair of notre rani espagnole. The illustrious pair from Kapurthala can hardly keep up with all the dinners, concerts, and receptions to which they are invited. As it is a big city, in Calcutta it seems as though there are fewer restrictions than in the rest of India. One day, while at the races—and to the great satisfaction of Anita and the raja—the governor of Bengal, Lord Carmichael, introduces Anita to his wife and, in passing, invites her to dine at Government House, the seat of government. It is the first time they attend an official reception together. Only in a city as cosmopolitan as Calcutta can characters like this lord be found: modest, with smooth manners, always trying to please, an art lover, a beekeeper in his spare time, and the author of a paper on centipedes. He is not like other Englishmen, thinks Anita. Calcutta is decidedly the paradise of freedom.16

  But some news arrives to break the joyful frenzy of those days of shopping, preparations, and parties. Young Gita, the bride, has not embarked on the ship that is to bring her to India.

  “Will we have to cancel the wedding?” asks Anita in horror.

  “No. Let me find out what’s happened.”

  15 A smooth, velvety carpet, made in the town of Aubusson.

  16 Years later, the raja would find out that Lord Carmichael received a “severe official reprimand” for having disregarded the restrictions imposed on Anita.

  30

  Six thousand kilometers from Calcutta, Princess Gita is lovesick. Torn between her feelings and her sense of duty, she is facing the hardest choice of her life. When she found out that the Catholic family of her suitor, Officer Guy de Pracomtal, is upset at the idea their son may marry a Hindu, Gita wanted to break it off.

  “You forget the differences there are between us,” she told Guy.

  “There are no differences between two people who love each other,” he answered.

  “In your family they are staunch Catholics, and I’m a Hindu. One thing is for them to accept me socially, and quite another for them to allow their son to marry me. I have to go back to India to do my duty there.”

  “I cannot let you go. It’s asking too much of me.”

  Gita wants to extinguish the fire of passion that is consuming her from within and not letting her get on with her life. She wants to recover her spiritual peace and be herself again. But she cannot. How can I leave him when I love him so much? she asks herself again and again. How can I live in a place where I will be more or less watched, physically and emotionally?

  “Come on, let’s go to the registry office and get married. Once it’s done, they’ll have to accept it: my family and yours.”

  In the days following that conversation, Gita would be tortured by doubt. On impulse she has decided to gain time by not boarding the ship when she was supposed to and staying a few weeks longer in France, perhaps to end up staying there for the rest of her life. But the conflict has made her ill. She has not been able to sleep or eat, and every time the doorbell rings she jumps.

  From Calcutta, the raja succeeded in getting in touch with Mlle Meillon, the lady companion he has assigned to his daughter-in-law. This lady, in spite of being aware of the truth, tells him nothing for fear of a scandal, and especially because she fears she may be held responsible for the situation. After all, Gita is only sixteen. Mlle Meillon only tells him the girl’s nerves are “delicate,” that she is going through a time of great anxiety because of her exams and that she was not able to board the ship because she was ill. But she assures him that she will arrive in time for the wedding because she w
ill personally put her on the next ship heading for Bombay.

  “Just to protect you,” Mlle Meillon tells Gita, “I have risked my job and the respect of the prince, but I’m not prepared to carry on with this lie for much longer.”

  Gita confesses she is incapable of making a decision. “I burst into tears,” she would say later, “and poured my heart out. All the emotion I had managed to keep in for so many months came pouring out.”

  “There’s no future for love stories like yours,” Mlle Meillon finally told her honestly but drily. “Leave him and forget him once and for all. You cannot be happy if you cause unhappiness all around you.”