There’s a desperation to my impatience this time, however, which is new. I have no idea what it is that I expect to forestall but I have half a mind, make it three-quarters, to leave all the rais, sultans and princes, behind and ride Befikir non-stop to Chittor. And if Befikir collapses, I’m willing to run the last fifty or seventy miles to knock on Mangal’s door. News, Mangal, give me news.
I’ve taken to meditation twice a day, instead of just-once along with the rest of my yoga. I’m afraid I’m not doing too well. Babur intersects my attempts at equilibrium with parabolas, ellipses, trajectories and tangents that fragment and dislocate my mind and leave me feeling jangled. Fortunately, everybody else is in good spirits and ignores me.
It was difficult to tell whether the Sultan saw himself as a prisoner of war or as a guest of honour. Barring the occasional flash of temper, he was easy to like and did not have Prince Bahadur’s arrogance. He had only one problem. He was in the wrong profession. He would have made an excellent shopkeeper selling diamonds or saris. He had a story for every occasion and could talk you into anything. He was jolly, convivial and willing to listen as much as he liked to talk. Even the lowliest soldier or sweeper could go up to him and tell him about his first amatory conquest or the death of his six-month-old son. The Sultan had a genuine capacity to share in the joy, sorrows and perplexities of the populace, a rare gift for a king. Unfortunately, that was one of his few royal qualities. When in power Mahmud Khalji tried hard to be Sultan but he failed miserably. Now he was just a soldier, albeit a royal hostage, and he no longer had to play-act. You could see how relieved he was to be himself and what a good time he was having.
We were still close to three days from home when we got the news that Muzaffar Shah of Gujarat had died and his eldest son, Sikandar, had ascended the throne. Where was my one-time friend and guest Prince Bahadur? Was he still wandering around in search of a following and the crown? Had the new king of Gujarat, Sultan Sikandar issued a fatwa for his brother’s head? One thing was certain, so long as Bahadur was alive, neither Sikandar nor any of his other brothers could rest easy.
I needn’t have bothered to rush home. Delhi had fallen to Babur. Sultan Ibrahim Lodi and the King of Kabul had done battle in Panipat and the Sultan was no more. How simple it sounded when the courier read out the message. Was that all it took, a few words from a breathless rider to capture the most important crown in Hindustan? Was this the calamity that I had frantically hoped to avert by speeding to Chittor? Not Babur, but we, Father, should have fought Sultan Ibrahim Lodi and taken Delhi.
Five times Babur had negotiated the frozen, inhospitable passes of the Hindukush mountains and crossed the Khyber Pass and each time he had progressed further into Hindustan. How many years had I been following Babur’s career? All I had to do now was ride to Delhi and see the new Padshah face to face. Frankly, I knew that I wouldn’t even have to do that any more. I had little doubt that we were destined to meet sooner or later.
* * *
The Malwa campaign was everything I could have asked for. It got me the triumph I had so longed for after we had reinstalled Rao Raimul on the throne of Idar. Three-quarters of the township of Chittor crossed the bridge over the Gambhiree and were waiting behind the entire court and the Maharana of Chittor. His Majesty alighted from his elephant and took two steps towards Raja Medini Rai and me. This was contrary to all protocol and a signal honour. The Maharana stands firm and rooted to the ground regardless of the gravity, urgency or joy of the occasion. Whatever the rank of a vassal or prince, it is he who must step forward and bow to the sovereign. Medini Rai was about to bend forward to receive His Majesty’s blessings when Father placed his hand on the Rai’s shoulder to restrain him.
‘May Lord Eklingji look upon you always with favour. You do Mewar and us great honour by visiting us immediately after defeating His Majesty, the Sultan of Malwa.’ Father turned his head a fraction and the Pradhan Pooranmalji placed the victory turban in his hands. ‘Never in the history of the Rajputs have so few overwhelmed so many. It is our privilege to bestow the Veer Vijay saafa on such a victor.’
‘Your Majesty, there is no greater honour for a Rajput than the Veer Vijay of Mewar. I shall wear it proudly always. But I must in all honesty confess that the credit for this remarkable victory is due not to me but to the Maharaj Kumar and as such the Veer Vijay is rightfully his and not mine.’
The Mewar court seemed to hold its breath, wondering whether this was excessive generosity or crass ingratitude on the part of Rao Medini Rai. Father, however, was in no humour to take offence and lightly chided the Rai.
‘Your Highness, this war effort may have emptied our coffers somewhat but our Minister of the Exchequer, the venerable Adinathji, tells me that things may look up a little now that His Majesty Mahmud Khalji may pump some life and lucre into our treasury. We may, therefore, be able to afford a separate Veer Vijay saafa for our son.’
Pooranmalji was already holding the second saafa which Father set on my head.
‘They tell me that you acquitted yourself rather well, son and have brought a rare and precious gift for me. Your mother and I and the Little Saint are proud of you.’
The solid regiments of soldiers behind us parted as Tej and Shafi escorted His Majesty, Mahmud Khalji.
‘Your Majesty, we are happy to present His Majesty, the Sultan of Malwa.’
The Sultan was not sure how much back-bending he had to do in front of the man who was at least temporarily his master and whose captive he now was. But Father could afford to be the soul of graciousness today. ‘We cannot tell your Majesty, how honoured we are to have so exalted a personage visit Mewar. Chittor throws its doors open to you and bids you welcome. We trust you will not find our hospitality wanting at any time.’
The Sultan decided that it was wise to bow before his captor now. The crowds went wild after that. It was Jai Maharana, Jai Raja Medini Rai and Jai Maharaj Kumar for a full ten days. Mother was a little bemused by the sudden change in my fortunes. She kissed me on the forehead and cheek and asked me, ‘Did you really beat that evil-looking man?’
‘No, Your Majesty. Our armies did. And I’m afraid we must all look more than a little evil to him. He appears a little lost to me.’
‘Well, so long as you are safe, I’m happy. Have you eaten, son?’
I could not help smiling then. My dear simple mother. I think she was the only one who put our victory in perspective.
‘I’m not impressed,’ Queen Karmavati bestowed one of her dire benedictions upon me. ‘Those who have meteoric rises have meteoric falls.’
But I’ll grant you this, Queen of all my ill-wishers, I, too, am not impressed by my victory. Don’t get me wrong. It was not an inconsequential battle and the prelude to the actual conflict was excellent training and experience. But we’ve subdued Malwa, not conquered it. And a new man sits on the throne of Delhi.
* * *
Babur is, at least for the time being, distant and unreal for the people of Mewar. There is an euphoria at home which even I find hard to resist. Sultan Mahmud Khalji has ceded Mandasaur to us. Medini Rai is now Rao of Chanderi and Silhadi has been awarded the jagirs of Bhilsa, Raisen and Sarangpur. Victory celebrations in Chittor have always lasted for seven days. This time His Majesty has decreed that the festivities be extended to ten days. Was the Maharana making amends for the triumph I was deprived of the previous time, or was he underscoring a point to my brother Vikramaditya who has arrived from Ranthambhor without his permission?
‘It is a pleasure, albeit an unwarranted one, Prince Vikramaditya, to see you in the capital,’ Father had refused to see my brother privately and had chosen to speak to him at the durbar held to honour the victors of the Malwa campaign, ‘but I believe the invitation we had sent was for your uncle Surajmal. Are we to understand that Ranthambhor is unguarded and if an enemy had an eye on it, could seize it without much resistance?’
‘The blame, Your Majesty, is entirely mine,’ Queen Karmavati spoke be
fore her son had a chance to say something foolish. ‘I missed him terribly and I knew that his brother, the Maharaj Kumar,’ she snatched my hand, ‘would be most upset if Prince Vikram was not here to share his joy and celebrate his victory.’
Nice move, my never-say-die second mother.
‘This assembly finds your maternal yearning most affecting, madam. It is for mothers to call their sons back and for fathers to send them away.’
The Queen let go of my hand and before I knew what she was up to embraced me with a theatrical flourish. ‘May your star rise to the meridian, Maharaj Kumar, and if it were possible, higher still. Take care of your little brother, Prince Vikramaditya.’
If anyone was in dire need of care, it was I. I felt I’d just received the hug of death.
From across the room I saw my wife looking at me. She was deliberately keeping a low profile and staying in the background. Not just the humble people of Mewar but even the courtiers can forget where they are and do the unthinkable: turn their backs on His Majesty and prostrate themselves at the Little Saint’s feet.
I thought I could handle my brother’s sudden surge of fraternal affection but I had a premonition that the relationship between Father and Queen Karmavati had reached some kind of turning point It was likely that she still shared his bed more often than any other queen or concubine but I had the inexplicable feeling that she had broken free of him. In the past, however peeved or aggrieved she was with him, he was the final arbiter; she would perforce turn to him for redressal and a sly reinveigling into his affection. She was, I suspected, past desperation now. Perhaps my wife’s ascendency had something to do with it though I was sure that the Queen knew from her spies that there was nothing sexual afoot between the Princess and His Majesty and that the Little Saint did not fancy politicking. This is extremely simplistic. I mention it merely because the Queen believed at some deep gut level that the way to control a man was through sex. Time was running out and if she did not make a decisive move, her son Vikramaditya might find it difficult to gain the throne of Mewar.
I feared her but at the moment my fears were on behalf of Father.
Chapter
37
The essence of life is not cause and effect. It is perversity. There is no telling the consequences of one’s actions. As you sow, so shall you reap has a neat ring to it but you are making a grievous mistake if you put your faith in that kind of cheap sentiment. There are no just deserts. The wages of sin are not necessarily hell and the path of goodness is often lined with treachery for the world is predicated upon the principle of randomness.
Who would have imagined that Medini Rai of all people would do me in?
‘I do not need to protest in what high esteem I hold you and your family, Highness. Do not ask me to give you reasons for it but I beg you, do not do this.’
‘It’s rather late for that, Maharaj Kumar. The deed is as good as done. The Rana himself has given his approval.’
The Rai had called me over to the Atithi Palace for a drink and we were sitting on the terrace in the chill evening air.
‘I do not know how to phrase this, but perhaps you feel beholden for what Mewar did for you.’
‘Nobody’s forcing my hand. I am grateful to you and to His Majesty. But is it not possible that I might have developed a fondness for you over the past few months?’
‘I do not take this honour lightly, nor am I ungrateful, but I hear the drums beating in Babur’s camp calling us to war. Perhaps we can take up the matter after Mewar and its allies decide on a course of action.’
‘If we resolve to confront the new ruler at Delhi, as I suspect we will, then will you ask us to wait for the outcome of the war?’
‘It would be reasonable to assume that, wouldn’t you agree? Not everybody returns from war.’
‘Precisely. If I do not return, I would like you to be the shield and light for my family.’
‘That we already are, Highness, even without the formality of an alliance between the two families.’
Perhaps I spoke that last sentence a trifle too eagerly for Medini Rai laughed out loud.
‘We know how devoted you are to the Princess from Merta but a saint is no substitute for a wife. My daughter is a loving girl, Sire. She would have brought cheer to any home, but Chittor has a special place in her heart. She worships you since you rescued both her brother and her father.’
‘I do not wish to sit at an altar. One saint in the family is more than enough.’
The Rai was as taken aback by the sharpness in my voice as I was.
‘My daughter thinks the world of the Princess and aspires like most of our countrymen to be her companion and confidante but she is no saint, Highness. You’ll find a woman in your bed, one made of ordinary flesh and blood.’
The only one apart from me who was against my second marriage was Queen Karmavati.
‘Mark my words,’ she interrupted Father and me while we went over the guest list, ‘he’ll make a mess of it. That wouldn’t upset me so much except that he will ruin our relationship with Medini Rai.’ Then she turned to me. ‘We know what you intellectuals are like, you cup your hand over your ear and you think you hear the sea. Still waters don’t always run deep, Maharaj Kumar, it’s usually just wind in an empty tunnel.’
I am, as usual, intrigued by the Queen’s linguistic reconditeness. It matters little that my second mother’s words will not bear close scrutiny. There’s an aphoristic condensation in her turn of phrase. What it succeeds in doing is to set up a chain of dissonant images that are compelling because they seem to share a common thread or belong to a family of metaphors. Is Mother at heart a poet? She appears to be saying something deep even when we don’t understand her or worse, when she is talking gibberish. She is not through with me yet.
‘Do I need to tell you which vessels make the most clatter? You’ll rue the day you get married, Prince. God help the poor girl.’
‘If you are finished with prophesying, Madam,’ Father remarked impatiently, ‘the Prince and I could get back to more pressing and mundane business.’
Is it possible that venom and loathing incinerate deception, politesse and euphemism and go straight to the heart of the matter? The Queen certainly saw the future better than my misgivings allowed me to.
My wife Sugandha had disowned the burden of her father’s looks when she was born but there was something engaging about her innocence and her wish to please and be liked. Medini Rai had not exaggerated when he had advised me that she was made of flesh and blood. She was not chubby but there was a softness in her that was disconcerting. I was convinced that if I pressed my index finger into her arm or the knot at her navel, her flesh would gently wash and settle over it and I would not see my fist again.
I am convinced now that wedding nights don’t suit me. This is not belated wisdom but short of running from the marriage ceremony, I had done everything in my power to resist a second betrothal. I was gauche, if not downright offensive with the Rai, and anyone but my father-in-law (how strangely that phrase sits on my tongue) would have taken umbrage and not just withdrawn the offer of his daughter’s hand but nursed a lasting and vindictive grudge against Mewar. The Rai, however, thinks of me as his friend and well-wisher. How long will it take him to discover his mistake? And what form will his regret assume?
And what about the Little Saint? What kind of equation does she have with my new wife? As always I have no clue. A week before the marriage, she came into my study and announced rather theatrically, ‘I’ll be vacating my rooms.’
‘Why?’
‘You may not suspect it but I’m not exactly unaware of the momentous event which is about to overtake Mewar.’
Did I detect a note of mockery in her voice or was it really the sarcasm of the wounded? Not only has my wife been the keenest backer of the concept of bigamy, she has practised what she teaches. A wife-in-law (is that what a wife calls her husband’s second wife?) would ease the pressure of domestic duties on Greeneyes,
not to mention free her from the onerous task of making small talk with the said husband so that she could devote herself full-time to the Flautist.
‘You’ll want your privacy with the lady.’
‘I’m not the first nor will I be the last in the Mewar royal family to get remarried.’
‘What if I want to?’
‘Want to what?
She knew I was being deliberately obtuse but she was not fazed.
‘Remarry?’
‘There are enough rooms in the palace and I believe a wing has been redone.’ I continued to talk at cross purposes.
I had, however, merely played into her hands but it was too late to do anything about it.
‘For whom? Me or you?’
I have neither the skill nor the quick-wittedness for the lethal riposte and thus failed to point out that with or without a separate wing, her assignations and affairs of the heart had continued undeterred.
I sometimes wonder if my wife is a conundrum without a key. Or if there was one, it’s been lost a long time ago. For what does one make of the Princess’ behaviour with my new wife? It must have been a week after my second wedding. I was coming home from work when I saw Sugandha calling out ‘wait, wait, wait’ to the Little Saint. Greeneyes stopped at the bottom of the stairs and allowed Sugandha to catch up with her.
‘Can I come with you to the temple?’
‘The correct verb is “may”. You can come to the temple with me but you may not.’ The Rai’s daughter was too naive to take offence at the Little Saint’s pedantic snub.
‘Why?’
‘Your place is with your husband, not in my hair.’
Why is Greeneyes, for the first time since I got married to her, going out of her way to make enemies? Has my luck suddenly taken a turn for the better? Has she become jealous and possessive?
Sugandha looked at my wife, then at me, ran up the stairs and locked herself up in her room. If she expected me to take her side, she was mistaken. I was not about to arbitrate between my two wives or encourage a race between them for the number one position.
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