‘I thought I would come and see how our future commanders and strategists are doing.’ I was not being entirely truthful. The Rawat’s approach to military tactics was far too conservative for my liking. Besides, I was keen to enlarge the scope of the Institute to encompass the latest technologies. I had heard vague rumours of advances made by the Arabs, Turks and Portuguese in war materials and I wished to enlist the Rawat’s support in the matter before broaching the subject with Father.
We watched the field exercises first and then sat in on a class by. Shafi Khan on classic attack formations. It was a lucid talk with ample diagrams and case-studies. When we were about to leave, I asked Shafi Khan if he conducted any courses on the techniques and mechanics of retreat. The class thought my query uproariously funny and guffawed while the teacher, I could see, had taken umbrage, thinking that my remark was a reflection on his teaching.
‘I did not pose that question as comic relief. In the business of war, you may be surprised to learn, one party wins and the other loses. If the art of retreat is studied scientifically, you’ll not only reduce loss of life dramatically, you may also live to fight another war.’
The teacher was mollified and the students were subdued. They may not have been enamoured by the prospect but a discussion on orderly and tactical retreat was a new idea as much to the instructor as to his pupils.
I could not fathom the cause of Jai Simha’s stubborn uncommunicativeness. Everything in the Institute was in order. I thought it wise to ignore his taciturnity and broach the issues which were on my mind as we went back to his office. But the dam cracked before that. It was a trickle, the man’s voice a mere whisper, but I knew that something was terribly wrong.
‘Your Highness, I was coming to see you later this morning.’
‘I trust you haven’t changed your mind and will allow me to reciprocate your hospitality. Will you join me for lunch?’
‘That is kind, very kind of you, but I cannot.’
His body trembled and when I put my hand on his back, he shook his head from side to side. I could feel the intensity of his distress but in Father’s absence, I am the court of final appeal. And I will not make a move, lend a solicitous ear or give a helping hand till the aggrieved party sees fit to ask me to intercede.
‘I will leave instructions in my office to let you in even if I am busy.’
* * *
It was Thursday again. Pyarelal, the dhobi, was first in line today. There were bags under his eyes but there was also triumph in them. His wife, Sunheria, was standing a little behind him. She would not look at me. Did she hate me? Would she find it in her heart to forgive me? And yet it was to this white-haired, toothless and turbaned ruin of a husband that my heart responded. He had had six wives and five had borne him sons and daughters who had innumerable grandchildren. Some of the wives had died, others had left him. He had taken on a seventh and was now eaten through with suspicion and the fear of defeat. Who should know a faithless wife better than I?
‘Master, Your Highness, I am a man.’ His voice was high-pitched and accompanied by a thin wheeze. It was obvious his bronchitis was never going to leave him. ‘I have done as you had bidden me and proved my manhood.’
‘Yes, it is true that you are a man, Pyarelal. Rasikabai vouches for that. What do you wish to do now?’
‘That proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that my wife is guilty, doesn’t it?’
‘Guilty of what?’
‘Of cheating on me, what else?’
‘Who is the co-respondent?’
‘How would I know? Ask her.’
‘Is it possible that she has a lover and is yet a virgin?’
‘What do you take me for, a fool? She is no virgin, that’s for sure.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Don’t make me laugh. I am her husband, aren’t I?’
‘Why don’t you drop the case, Pyarelal? Your wife’s faithful to you, which is why she’s a virgin.’
‘What are you trying to suggest, Highness? That I’m impotent? Did I not prove my manhood with Rasikabai?’
‘You did. You most certainly did. But it took a while, the whole night as a matter of fact and much coaxing, I believe. Rasikabai tried every trick in her book and you know she wrote the book, if all the reports are to be believed. I grant you there’s a flame, however feeble, burning in you but your wife’s too inexperienced to stoke it.’
Pyarelal was crestfallen but he was not about to give up.
‘I’m telling you she has a lover. The night I was with Rasikabai, she was gone the whole night.’
‘Wherever she was last Monday, Rasikabai examined her yesterday and declared her a virgin.’
‘She has a lover. I know it in my bones.’
‘Find him,’ I told him, ‘and we’ll prescribe the harshest punishment under the law for him.’
Pyarelal finally went home. Virgin or no virgin, he knew his wife was cheating on him.
* * *
I had kept the afternoon free for Sahasmal, the head of city-planning. I had heard they were using ceramic channels for aqueducts in the kingdom of Vijayanagar and wanted to ask him why we couldn’t adopt the same system. The second problem was the drains. The roads in Chittor were fine in summer and winter but come the monsoons, the only way to be happy was to become a buffalo. The place was full of puddles and ditches. Swarms of mosquitoes hung above one’s head like a sizzling black muslin turban. The roads, at least, were a seasonal problem. The drains, unfortunately, were a nuisance round the year. Nuisance is a particularly inadequate and imprecise word in this context. They were a disaster.
For some bizarre reason, all my ancestors, great and small, could not see or think straight when they discussed the population problem in our kingdom. They always ascribed it to the wars that we were forever fighting. War certainly decimates us (the dead are nothing compared to the maimed, crippled and disfigured in every warrior family, not to mention the hundreds begging for alms on every street, lane and by-lane), but it is endemic and epidemic disease which wipes out a quarter or half of our population every few years.
Maybe nobody dwells upon the subject of sewers because it is an untouchable matter. But if we don’t pay heed today and bring the weight of both technology and the royal imprimatur to bear upon the problem, we are all going to be awash in our excrement and sewage.
The town-planner, Sahasmal himself looked a little abashed and was making genteel squeamish noises and wondering why we didn’t discuss architectural plans for a new complex of marble temples of the order found in Ranakpur or a new Victory Tower that would be twice as tall as the one that the great Rana Kumbha had built. After all, Father’s victories are no less than my great grandfather’s. I told him that they were excellent ideas and I was sure that he could find the finances for these projects from the generous denizens of our city as well as from the wealthy and far-flung citizens of Mewar, but that as far as the exchequer was concerned, it would stick to more mundane matters like discharge and outlet systems.
I think he got the drift and said he would look for the maps of the city’s drainage network, when Jai Simha Balech was announced. I excused the town-planner and asked him if he would find six that evening convenient to examine the maps. His jaw dropped in dismay and he started mumbling about the problem of locating such old documents. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if any such maps existed.
‘Good, that’s settled then. Six o’clock sharp.’ I wished him good day.
* * *
Jai Simha Balech was in better control of his emotions. I had a little difficulty keeping an opaque face. While I paid close attention to what he had to impart — how would I not, I could hear the rumblings of a crisis brewing — I resolved to sit in front of the mirror every day and practise the composure of the dead while I went through a litany of the most vicious scandals, disasters, setbacks and humiliations I could invent or perhaps merely recount from my own rich and variegated experience in these matters.
; ‘Your Highness will recall that Prince Vikramaditya visited my family five weeks ago. We were greatly honoured and though I was unable to look after him personally because of my commitments at the Institute, my family felt privileged and went out of the way to make him feel welcome. He returned to Chittor about a week ago.’
Yes, I was aware of that. Since then he had not only had the pleasure of peering under my wife’s delirious petticoat, he had composed doggerel of such scatalogical merriment that the whole town was gyrating to it.
‘He came over personally to the school and thanked me in the warmest terms. He felt invigorated by the country air and by all the hunting and riding that he had done with my four sons. “You must come again. Soon,” I told him. “I intend to, Uncle, I intend to,” he said and left. Almost on his heels, I am sure they crossed each other, my two eldest sons rode over to Chittor.’
Balech stopped. I closed my eyes for the punch line. It did not come.
‘Highness, I do not know how to proceed.’
I kept my eyes closed. This is good training for a future king. I willed myself not to conjecture. Flow with the tide, hold your tongue, relax every muscle in every part of your body. Go dead, go dead. Never show surprise or any other emotion.
‘I beg your forgiveness if what I tell you now gives offence to your ears. But tell it I must. You are aware that we run a stud farm in our estates which the Rana, your father, bequeathed to me for my loyalty many years ago. By the grace of Shri Eklingji, the stud farm has done well. We supply horses to the army and to the gentry. Your own Befikir is from one of our most prized lines.
‘A year and a half ago, the Solankis of Godwar reserved a filly called Kali Bijlee. She had come of age and we were about to dispatch her to the Solankis when Prince Vikramaditya espied her. She’s a fine mare, one of the finest we’ve bred. The Prince wanted her. My sons offered him any horse on the farm but this one, since it had already been sold to someone else. The Prince graciously declined the offer.
‘After he left, my sons discovered that Kali Bijlee was missing and so were nine other horses.’
I had seen my brother with the new horse. A bit too flashy and high-strung for my liking but a beauty if I have ever seen one.
He was playing some game he had learnt recently, where you hit a puck with a wooden stick while riding horseback, when I first saw her.
‘Where did you get her?’
‘Picked her up at a horse fair in Ajmer from a Pathan. Like her?’
‘Must have cost you an arm and a leg. Make it two arms and two legs.’
‘It’s not the money which matters, it’s the pleasure of riding such a fine, highly pedigreed creature, brother. But what would you know of pleasure?’
He had a point there but I was not sure how he had raised the monies to buy her. He was overextended as it was and in debt to almost everybody in the family, including, believe it or not, to me. Well, there was always his mother, Queen Karmavati. She had her sources, not to mention her own private cache, hidden, god knows where.
‘That is not all. The night before he left, he bribed my horse-breaker who’s reputed to be the finest in the country; even better than the one in the service of the Emperor in Delhi. I cannot trace him but suspect that he and his family are under the Prince’s protection.’
I didn’t have to will myself to be dead. I was numb and cold. Father, and I, and I think almost anybody who’s had anything to do with Vikramaditya know that he is not a man who’s waiting for trouble to happen. He makes it happen. We all know what to expect and yet none of us can keep pace with my brother’s inventive ways.
‘I want the mare back. As to the horse-breaker and his wife, I’m sure you’ll do the just thing.’
Just thing, just thing. Just the thing I need. Do I know what is the just thing? Leave alone for anybody else, for myself? And even if I did, how do I go about getting the just thing done?
‘Jai Simhaji, why did it take you close to a week to report the matter to me?’
He hesitated. ‘If I had had my way I wouldn’t be here today either. I went to Adinathji, then took the matter to the Pradhan Mantri. They commiserated with me but hinted that I would be better off if I forgot the whole business.’
I wondered if Jai Simha Balech would have taken up the matter with Father if he had been around instead of me.
* * *
I went to see Vikramaditya. There was no point summoning him. He might refuse to come. I could at least spare myself that humiliation.
‘I urge you to return Kali Bijlee to Jai Simha Balech immediately,’ I saw no reason to beat about the bush, ‘and he’ll not file criminal charges against you for theft.’
‘Who’s Kali Bijlee?’
‘The horse that you stole from Jai Simha Balech’s stud farm.’
‘My horse is called Kajal and I bought it from a Pathan near Ajmer.’
‘You have papers to prove the purchase of the animal?’
‘Sure. But I threw them away.’
‘Any witnesses?’
‘It’s not a wife I bought, just a horse.’
‘Will you give the mare back to Rawat Balech?’
‘No, I will not.’
‘Do you realize the consequences of this? The Rawat is a friend of Father’s and one of his trusted lieutenants. Do you want to alienate him and his clan for a mere horse? The mare was sold to Godwar’s Solanki who’s fighting on our side against the Sultan of Gujarat. Do you have the faintest inkling of the political repercussions of your actions?’
My tongue tasted like dry ash. What an ass I was to try to reason with my brother.
‘The horse is mine. And even if it wasn’t, no Rao, Rawat or Raja for that matter could take it from me. Pusillanimity is your second name, brother, but I am the King’s son. I will take what I want.’ He smiled. No, he’s incapable of that; he leered. ‘Including the throne.’
* * *
I went back to my office and got hold of Mangal.
‘Can you find out where Prince Vikramaditya’s new mare is? If you can locate her, tell me how many men are guarding her. I know you don’t have to be told this but can you do it without raising suspicion?’
I knew it was pointless but I recalled that ancient master statesman, Kautilya’s advice. ‘Never dismiss the obvious because it is obvious. Make a checklist and go over it point by point meticulously.’
I sat down quietly and wrote down three alternate scenarios: 1. We do not find Kali Bijlee. 2. We find her and confiscate her. And 3. We find her but cannot take possession of her. Under each of the three alternatives, I made a list of possible actions to be undertaken. It took me the best part of an hour to make corrections and additions and shuffle some of the points around. At the end of the list, I wrote in a bold hand: Time is of the essence. I will think things through. Act swiftly. But within the framework of the law.
Writing something down doesn’t make it happen, but at least you know what you expect of yourself.
‘She’s not there and the syce, stable-keeper and anybody connected with the mare won’t talk.’
‘Post two of your people to watch Prince Vikramaditya’s movements. I want to know who visits him and for how long. If he goes out of the house I want to be told on the instant. Inform the Prime Minister, the Chancellor and the Home Minister that there will be a Security Council meeting at nine tonight at my office. Ask the captain of the guard to report here at the same time and await my instructions. Tell Rawat Jai Simha Balech that we will require his presence at ten past nine. Go. A crisis is not the time to feel self-important. You’ll only end up giving the game away.’
I pored over the drainage network with the town planner. My interest in sewage must have been contagious. Instead of plumbing and excrement and dirty water, he began to see it as a problem. He was going to be all right now. He was already looking for the other part of the problem: the solution.
I was interrupted twice, both times by Mangal who took me aside into the antechamber. My brother V
ikramaditya was conferring with his three closest cronies, Fateh Simha, Sajjad Hussein and Mahesh Gaur. The second message was that Sajjad Hussein had left Vikramaditya’s residence in a hurry.
‘If Sajjad Hussein leaves the fort, he is to be intercepted after he has crossed the Gambhiree, not before. I repeat, not before. Let your men make sure that this is done when no marriage party or nautanki troupe is in the vicinity. Sajjad may have an escort. Ensure that our men are not outnumbered. Strip Sajjad and dispossess him of all missives and monies. Incarcerate him and his men in Kumbhalgarh fort. You are not to leave Chittor, Mangal, or lead your men on any forays. You’ll only co-ordinate my instructions, and see that they are carried out to the letter.’
The town planner was in a state of elation. I asked him to submit his plans for rehauling, extending or totally replacing the old sewage system in a phased manner and to write a report on costs and raising funds for the project either in terms of a new water tax or whatever optimal scheme he could devise. I had a quick bath, changed and composed my mind.
Adinathji was the first to arrive. If he had an inkling of what the emergency session was for, he had no intention of sharing it with me or probing me. All in good time. It was odd how much I learnt from this man whom I had no reason to dislike and yet wasn’t overly fond of. His virtue was not that he held his tongue but that he listened. It was not a passive listening. I suspected that our Prime Minister Pooranmalji did that. He too heard people out, but with a closed mind. Adinathji, on the other hand, notwithstanding his cold fish expression, would take his time weighing the pros and cons, but if he found reason in what he heard, would not think it a matter of honour to stick to his opinion merely because it happened to be his or because it was the received wisdom on a subject.
‘What, what is all this ado about? Whatever it is, couldn’t it be put off till the morning?’ My uncle Lakshman Simhaji couldn’t wait for the door to close before putting me on the mat. As an after-thought, Lakshman Simhaji added, ‘Your Highness.’
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