Shivaji

by Ranjit Desai

  The messenger was ushered in. One of Inayat Khan’s men read the letter:

  ‘Before noon tomorrow Shivaji will reach your city. You are thus requested to hold discussions with the merchants Baharji Bohra, Haji Kasam and Syed Baig and decide the amount of money you will pay us. If you refuse, we will be forced to use our might to destroy your city.’

  The foreigners looked at Inayat Khan in disgust and they stormed out of his palace, and the next morning Inayat Khan took shelter inside the fort with his family. He carried all his personal belongings and wealth with him. The moment the merchants heard of Khan’s escape, they too ran towards the fort. Inayat Khan allowed them to enter the fort after collecting huge entry fees.

  The Subedar had run away! The top merchants had followed suit. There was chaos everywhere. Where would the ordinary people go, the river and ocean on one side and Shivaji’s eight-thousand-strong army on the other?

  The English were preparing to fight their own battle. They wanted to protect their harbour at any cost. The cannons were readied and Oxenden decided to march with his two hundred men, surprising everyone and giving the locals some confidence. The men in the harbour were scared by seeing the people running around.

  Seeing them making arrangements to leave, one of the chowkidars asked Babul, Ramsharan and Momin, ‘What, you too are running away?’

  ‘What do you expect? Shivaji …’

  ‘What is Shivaji going to do you? He has many rich men to plunder.’

  ‘Our lives are precious and you are going to be in trouble.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Your sardar Inayat Khan has locked himself in the fort. You will face the Marathas first.’

  ‘Go away!’ the chowkidar said, feeling a little scared.

  In a while the guards too vanished, finding their escape routes.

  #

  By noon, the sound of horses approaching Surat sounded like a sheet of torrential rain rapidly moving towards the city. Shivaji’s eight-thousand cavalry pitched their camp just outside the city and a tent was pitched in the shade of a mango tree for Shivaji.

  Raje looked in the direction of Surat. The white dome of the masjid was visible from a distance. Bahirji Naik came followed by Babul, Ramsharan and Momin who were really Vithoji Manke, Appa Ramoshi and Abdul Qadir. They bent in mujra as Raje asked, ‘Vithoji, how is Surat treating you?’

  ‘Maharaj, Surat is waiting for you!’

  ‘Do we expect any resistance?’

  ‘Who would resist? The Subedar is hiding in his fort, but the English are ready to attack.’

  ‘How many of them?’

  ‘Around two-hundred-odd.’

  ‘And the Mughal forces?’

  ‘None at all. There are no guards either!’

  ‘We have sent a message for the ransom. If they agree, we need not loot the town. Let us wait.’

  It was evening but there was no message from Surat. Shivaji said, ‘Netaji, take five hundred men and go into the city. I want to strike fear in the hearts of the men when you loot the town. Let us see if this puts some sense into their heads. Moropant …’

  ‘Ji, Maharaj.’ Moropant stepped forward.

  ‘Send a letter to the Englishmen. Demand a ransom of three lakh rupees. Tell them that we do not have any enmity against them, and we are fighting the Mughals.’

  Oxenden replied promptly and said, ‘Tell Shivaji Raje that we are traders and do not have liquid cash. But we can pay in form of spices or cloth. You must promise not to destroy our goods. But if you try to harm the harbour or the godowns, we will retaliate. We await your reply.’

  Raje smiled reading the message and said, ‘Saheb seems to be large-hearted. He knows that we cannot carry loads of cloth or spices home. For the time being, don’t touch the Englishmen. Scare the Subedar by sending our troops to the base of the fort, and don’t allow him to get out. We will wait till tomorrow morning before we begin to loot the city. Moropant, what is the news from the harbour?’

  ‘It is in our control.’

  ‘Raje, look! Mahadev pointed with his sword in the direction of the town. Two trails of smoke could be seen billowing from Surat. It was getting dark.

  ‘Netaji seems to have started his work.’

  It was night when bullock carts stacked with utensils and other kitchen equipment reached the camp. The number of troops to be fed were not small. There were many carts full of fodder for the horses, and a herd of goats followed soon for meat. It was a winter night and a hundred small fires burnt across the camp. Raje sat in his small tent with a small fire inside for warmth. Netaji returned from Surat with each rider carrying bags full of gold coins and jewellery. The loot was spread out in front of Raje.

  ‘Netaji, did you loot the entire town in one evening?’

  ‘No, Maharaj. This is just from the octroi house and a few other houses. We set fire to just two houses as per your command.’

  ‘We were able to see the smoke. Netaji, we will wait till dawn tomorrow. Any movement from the English camp?’

  ‘No. All seems quiet.’

  ‘Divide the cavalry into two. Each soldier should have another horse along with him to carry back the loot. Our spies will guide them around the town.’

  It was dawn as Raje stepped out of his tent. He had draped a white shawl around himself and Mahadev was trying to revive the dying fire. Shivaji was about to give orders for the looting to start when he spotted five men being escorted towards his tent. The man in the middle seemed like a man of cloth, a Reverend Ambrose. An interpreter accompanied him.

  Shivaji said, ‘You and your fellow Christians need not have any fear. Rest assured that you are safe.’

  Father Ambrose had come to recommend the name of a businessman in Surat who had amassed a lot of wealth but was known for his large-hearted and charitable nature. Raje entrusted one of his men to ensure that the businessman’s shop and house were not touched. Father Ambrose returned a happy man.

  As soon as he left, Shivaji instructed Netaji, ‘Ensure that the women children, masjids, all places of worship irrespective of the religion, are not sacked either.’

  He then issued the orders the men had been waiting for, as he pointed in the direction of Surat. ‘Ravage the city of Surat which stands as a symbol of Mughal arrogance. Collect her wealth for the Swaraj. Go!’

  The soldiers eagerly galloped towards Surat. The streets lay deserted, empty of the usual hustle-bustle of the morning. All doors were tightly shut and the spies escorting the soldiers pointed out the rich businessmen’s homes and guided them through the streets. One could hear screams of the women as the soldiers looted the houses. A whip usually did the job in case the businessmen refused to hand over their riches. Now they were more worried about their health rather than their wealth! They were arrested and sent along with the loot towards the camp.

  The loot continued till noon. The houses were burnt using oil collected from the oil merchants and the sky was filled with smoke rising from Surat. The camp was becoming full of the loot and the prisoners that accompanied it. Raje stood near his tent, standing below a tree. The loot was piled in front of him while the clerks were busy sorting gold, silver, jewels and other such valuables.

  More than half the city had been looted by sundown. The houses being set on fire continued to belch out huge clouds of smoke. The rich merchants had taken shelter in the fort while their houses continued to burn. The soldiers found twenty-eight kilograms of pearls apart from other riches in one merchant’s house! The Maratha troops enjoyed the loot they continued to amass without any resistance.

  Worried that the Marathas may attack the fort, Subedar Inayat Khan ordered the cannons to fire. The cannon balls fired from the fort fell on the city, destroying it further. It was ironical that the Subedar, responsible for protecting Surat, was accelerating its destruction.

  By nightfall, the burning city was a fearsome sight. Huge balls of smoke continued to spiral heavenwards and fires burnt everywhere. Havelis and houses
were tumbling down as they burnt away. The black smoke had made the day look like evening and now the fires made the night seem brighter than day!

  #

  The loot began again at sunrise the next day. The Englishmen got the news that Shivaji’s ships had arrived in the harbour. They were scared but were also relieved on hearing that Shivaji had ordered that their jetty and ships not to be touched. The Subedar, on the other hand, was a worried man—worried about the flak he would face from the Mughal emperor. A restless Inayat Khan decided to send an emissary to Shivaji. The emissary left the fort with four soldiers on horseback.

  As Shivaji was busy supervising the loot, Tanaji came in with a few men and said, ‘Maharaj, we caught two traders trying to cross the river with a few barrels. When we questioned them, they tried to escape saying the barrels contained oil but we opened them to find that they were full of gold coins. We managed to confiscate thirty such barrels!’

  ‘Our ships are arriving any moment now. Load the barrels into them.’

  The traders turned out to be the same men whom Raje had pardoned the previous day because they had pleaded that they were very poor. They now begged for mercy. ‘Raje, please pardon us this once. We are willing to pay whatever you ask.’

  ‘Tanaji, behead them—they deserve nothing less.’

  At that moment, the emissary from the Subedar reached Raje’s camp.

  ‘They seemed to have finally woken up. Bring him here.’

  The emissary bent low in mujra as he entered Raje’s tent.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Shivaji said.

  ‘Raje Shivaji! I have been sent here by Inayat Khan, the Subedar of Surat and representative of the Mughal durbar. Subedar’s message is: “You are warned that your actions will only increase the wrath of the emperor. You are thus asked to return all the loot at once. If you do so, the Subedar will put in a good word in your favour to the emperor.”’

  ‘And …’

  ‘The Subedar is also willing to give you appropriate compensation. You need to return all the loot first.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Raje asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Raje stood up. His face was stern and he had lost his earlier smiling countenance. He growled, ‘Shame on you! Your Subedar ran away like a coward when we marched into town and is hiding in the fort. And you have the temerity to ask me to return the loot? We will do whatever we want in Surat. Who will stop us?’

  ‘I will show that I am not a coward!’ and so saying, the emissary took out a dagger and leapt at Raje. Mahadev, standing alert, cut off the emissary’s hand in one deft stroke of his sword. The emissary lunged at Raje with his bloodied hand and fell on him. The guards pushed the emissary away, but there was a red patch of blood on Raje’s shoulder. The news that Raje was wounded spread like wildfire in the cantonment and within minutes, there was a massacre as the soldiers took revenge by killing the captives.

  Raje ran towards the camp to stop the massacre. He wanted to let the soldiers know that he was safe and stop the massacre. By the time everyone realized that he was well, many prisoners had died. Raje returned to his tent exhausted. He was annoyed at Inayat Khan’s emissary’s foolishness. He ordered severing the hands of twenty-two of the captured men. Six of them had lost their lives in the earlier massacre.

  Raje said, ‘Continue looting Surat and do not spare anyone. Collect only gold, silver and coins.’

  While the loot continued, Shivaji’s soldiers managed to capture an emissary en route to Delhi to meet Aurangzeb. He had a large amount of jewels, being sent to the Mughal emperor as a token of appreciation, with him. The looting of Surat continued till the end of the third day. The ships were loaded on the fourth day. The value of the gold, silver and gems amounted to crores.

  In the meanwhile, the news of Mahabat Khan marching towards Surat with a huge army reached Raje. While releasing the prisoners, Raje said, ‘Give this message to your Badshah and your Subedar: Your Surat is “badsurat” now, ugly and barren. This is the land of the Hindus. You are currently ruling in the Deccan and in Delhi. Those lands are not yours either. One day, we will prove that they belong to the Hindus.’

  With the blowing of the trumpets, the Maratha cavalry moved out of the sacked town. Surat, a shining jewel in the Mughal crown, and a city resplendent with its wealth just four days ago, had now been reduced to resemble a smouldering, burning log.

  #

  En route to Rajgad, the Marathas celebrated Makar Sankranti and they were all eager to reach home. Raje had marched right into the heart of Mughal power and wealth and collected loot worth crores of rupees. He was now eager to hear praise from only one person—Maa saheb!

  Raje could imagine Jijabai holding a traditional tray at the gate of the palace, waiting to welcome him. He spurred his horse forward in eager anticipation. Seeing Rajgad looming large in the distance, Shivaji forgot his tiredness as he increased his pace. He barely acknowledged the salutes as he climbed up the fort. Trumpets and horns announced his arrival. He glanced at the saffron flag and was a little disappointed to see it lie limp against a windless sky. As he dismounted, he saw Firangoji and was surprised to see his hair unruly, his head uncovered.

  Firangoji’s whiskers quivered with emotion as he received Raje with tears in his eyes.

  Raje asked, dismounting hurriedly, ‘Firangoji, what is the matter?’

  ‘Raje! The elder Maharaj saheb …’ He left his sentence incomplete.

  Maharaj saheb had left the world forever! Controlling his emotions, Shivaji asked, ‘Firangoji, how did this happen?’

  ‘Maharaj saheb had gone on a campaign with Ranadullah Khan and Sarja Khan to Bidnoor. They had camped at a place near Shimoga. Maharaj saheb went out to the forest when he spotted a tiger. He chased the tiger on horseback when …’

  ‘What happened then?’ Raje asked, his voice trembling.

  ‘He was a very talented rider, but the horse tripped and Maharaj saheb was tossed up like a flower high in the air. He died on the spot.’

  Firangoji hugged Raje tightly. The tears would not stop now. After a while, extracting himself from Firangoji’s embrace, Shivaji asked, ‘Maa saheb?’

  Firangoji said, wiping his tears, ‘Raje, what can I say? Maa saheb wanted to commit sati. The preparations were made as well but everyone tried to convince her to wait until you return. But she is insistent on jumping into the fire.’

  ‘Did she plan to commit sati before seeing me?’ Raje asked, unable to believe what he had heard. He turned and rushed towards the palace.

  The palace was cloaked in a strange silence. No one dared look up as Shivaji rushed towards Maa saheb’s quarters.

  He stopped at the door. Maa saheb sat on the floor wearing a green sari. She had green bangles on her hand, and the other queens sat around her.

  Jijabai looked up and seeing her Raje exclaimed, ‘Shivba!’ as she hugged him tightly.

  After a while, Raje asked, ‘Maa saheb, were you planning to leave me?’

  ‘Raje, you are not a young boy anymore. He is gone and there is no further need for me to stay alive.

  Jijabai spoke with such determination that Shivaji was scared. She was everything to him! He said, ‘Maa saheb, birth and death are predestined. One cannot force either of them. It is you who taught me this! Maharaj saheb is not here anymore for me to display my exploits to. If you also go away, whom shall I show my valour to? Maa saheb, I have never done anything without your advice and counsel. I cannot go on any campaign without your blessings. If not for me, Maa saheb, you need to live for the Hind Swaraj. Who else but you can bless the formation of the Swaraj?’ Raje could not hold back his tears.

  Jijabai said, wiping his tears with her fingers, ‘Raje, don’t trap me with your words.’

  Raje sensed a little hope in her voice and continued, ‘Maa saheb, I mean it!’ He touched her feet and said, ‘Maa saheb, I am bound to fulfil my promise of creating a Swaraj. I shall not have a moment’s rest till it is formed. I will fulfil the oath Maharaj sah
eb made to Khandoba. Give me your blessings!’

  Jijabai hugged Raje, much to his relief, and he knew that the danger had passed. A light breeze of happiness touched Raje in the midst of the deep sorrow of his father’s death.

  #

  The rituals and other formalities to mourn Maharaj saheb were over but Raje was worried about Jijabai’s health and would spend as much time with her. The young Sambhaji was helping this cause by playing with her.

  Jaswant Singh was still camped outside Kondana but Shivaji was not worried. It was a strong fort and he smiled at Jaswant Singh’s dogged yet foolish determination. All the while that Raje had marched on to Surat, looted it and returned, Jaswant Singh had continued to camp outside Kondana.

  Jaswant Singh knew that it would be impossible for him to capture Kondana once the rains began. He tried attacking the fort but was repulsed with equal intensity. Around the same time, his ammunition store caught fire and killed a few soldiers. The twin mishaps were enough to send Jaswant Singh back to Pune. He had lost his nerve after five months of unsuccessful attempts.

  This was welcome news for Shivaji, who reached Kondana the very next day to honour the soldiers who had fought the Mughals valiantly.

  The loot from Surat and the Mughal failure to capture Kondana was a great boost for Raje. His strength had increased manifold. Raje decided to recoup all his losses since Shaista Khan’s conquest and ordered Netaji to attack the Mughal territories. He marched himself on Ahmadnagar province. The attack on Ahmadnagar had been held in abeyance since his attack on Junnar. He managed to ravage the province right up to Aurangabad. By then, the winters were over and summer was in full scorch.

  One day, as the summers were ending, Jijabai sent Raje a message:

  ‘I have been informed that Khavas Khan has again decided to march against you from Bijapur, supported by Baji Ghorpade. I am sure Amba’s blessings are with you. Don’t let Baji get away this time.’

  Raje touched the letter to his forehead reverently and said, ‘Yesaji, Adil Shah has gone against his word and has asked Khavas Khan to attack us.’