by Ranjit Desai
‘But Raje, how are we to manage such a huge force?’ Anandrao asked.
‘Anandrao, we have twelve forts and the territory around them. Use this opportunity to strengthen these forts. Let all the soldiers move to the forts. They will not be a burden on us. After all, the Lord has provided for us till now. Anandrao, Prataprao, Yesaji and Tanaji, I want you to take charge of the arrangements. Leave a few key soldiers at Rajgad and let the men move to the other forts before they suffer too much in the rains.’
Raje got up to move to his quarters when he heard someone say, ‘Maa saheb has asked for you.’
Raje turned to see Putlabai standing at the door. He sighed deeply and followed her. Jijabai’s mental state was the same as Raje’s. Raje’s heart broke seeing Jijabai’s forlorn face. She was unable to reconcile the fact that Sambhaji Raje was in Mirza Raja’s custody till the treaty was fully executed.
Jijabai asked, as Shivaji stepped in to her quarters, ‘Any news of Bal Raje?’
He said, letting out a sigh, ‘None. But I am sure he is fine.’
‘Raje, a child was sent across as a guarantee for the treaty—can you ensure his safety?’
‘Maa saheb, I have told you this earlier and will say it again; Bal Raje is safe there. Had I not been sure of it, I would not have steeled my heart and sent him.’
‘I leave it to you to decide what is right,’ Jijabai said with a sigh.
‘Maa saheb, believe me. Mirza Raja is a man of honour. He will not allow any trouble to befall Bal Raje.’
‘I don’t know how much you should trust an enemy. You are praising the same person who captured you.’
‘Please don’t misunderstand me, Maa saheb! You need to understand the enemy. Mirza Raja is loyal to Aurangzeb and will not do anything against him. But if you leave that part of it aside, there is no one as compassionate as him. He is large-hearted and true to his word.’
‘I am eager to see Bal Raje,’ Jijabai insisted.
Raje stared at Jijabai and said, ‘Let me see what I can do.’
Raje stepped out of the quarters. He sent a letter to Mirza Raja which the messenger carried immediately. The rains continued to pour incessantly.
After two days, there was still no reply from Raja Jai Singh. Shivaji was resting in his room in the afternoon when he was awakened by a noise. It was Manohari at the door, smiling. She announced, ‘Bal Raje is here.’
‘What? When did he arrive?’ Raje asked, getting up.
‘Just a few moments ago. He is in Maa saheb’s quarters.’
Raje went into Jijabai’s quarters to find Bal Raje sitting on her lap. Soyarabai, Putlabai and Sagunabai hovered around while Netaji Palkar was in attendance, standing in a corner. Sambhaji bent down in mujra seeing Raje and then touched his feet.
Netaji said, ‘Mirza Raja agreed to send him the moment he received your letter but the rains were incessant. He is deeply attached to Bal Raje. He was worried that he may get wet and fall ill. Hence, he ordered us to leave only when the rains stop.’
Bal Raje stepped forward pointing to his necklace, ‘Aba saheb, when I was leaving, Aajoba gave me his necklace.’
‘It is really lovely,’ Raje said. Turning towards Netaji, he asked, ‘Who else has come with you?’
‘No one,’ Netaji replied. ‘Rajaji said, “Take Bal Raje to Rajgad and stay as long as you wish to. Come back when you are comfortable. I am fine with that.”’
Shivaji threw a knowing glance at Jijabai, who avoided his gaze. Raje said, ‘You see, Maa saheb? I don’t normally falter in my assessment of people.’ Raje stepped out of the quarters with a smile on his face.
#
Mirza Raja decided to visit Kondana the moment the rains stopped. He was keen to see the fort which had been able to successfully withstand Jaswant Singh’s attack. He was satisfied seeing the huge, strong fort. After a proper inspection and an overnight stay, he returned with Jaswant Singh to his camp. He received a farman for Sambhaji Raje from the Delhi durbar. He sent a message for Sambhaji Raje to return immediately. The next day, Sambhaji Raje arrived at the cantonment and accepted the farman with grace. As part of the mansab, he was entitled to a revenue of five thousand, upfront payment of rupees two lakh and permission to use the emperor’s insignia. Sambhaji Raje was now officially a Mansabdar under the emperor.
Mirza Raja had fulfilled one dream and was now eager to fulfil the other. He had seen the restlessness in Shivaji’s eyes and wanted to put him at ease. He started a correspondence in this regard with Aurangzeb. He soon received news of the royal farman which he had been eagerly awaiting. Shivaji was in Tal Konkan at that time. Mirza Raja dispatched a messenger immediately to summon Shivaji.
Raje presented himself at the cantonment the moment he got the message. He was received with great joy by Mirza Raja.
‘Raje, you are very lucky. My wishes have been fulfilled.’
‘I am happy too. I am honoured that Sambhaji Raje has been made a Mansabdar.’
Mirza Raja stepped closer and said, his voice full of joy, ‘Raje, the Badshah has sent out an urgent farman inviting you to the durbar.’
‘But I am not in his employment! I know he is large-hearted, but I have no right to accept the farman. It is Sambhaji who is employed by him.’
Mirza Raja was taken aback by Shivaji’s diplomatic refusal and said, his voice a little harsh, ‘Are you planning to refuse the royal invitation?’
Shivaji realized his folly and quickly changed track. ‘I am sorry, that’s not what I meant. I have received an honour I don’t deserve, and I was nonplussed for a moment. It is easy to accept such honour but difficult to maintain it.’
Mirza Raja smiled. He stepped forward and shook Raje’s shoulders and said, ‘Believe me, it is best that you are in the employment of the Badshah as it is in everyone’s interest. I was keen that you do not incur his wrath and was doing my best to get you invited. You are lucky to have received the farman. Let us give it the respect it deserves.’
‘Rajaji …’
‘Don’t worry, I will make all the arrangements. Diler Khan is a part of the inner coterie of the Badshah but he has never received such a farman till date. It is quite obvious that people are surprised at the honour that is being bestowed on you. It will add to your prestige.’
Shivaji had no choice but to nod his head in acceptance. But he was restless. He had routed Shaista Khan, had fought with all his might against the Mughals and had weakened Adil Shah. Now he was being summoned by the Mughal court. The farman would carry the respect, the honour and special recognition bestowed by the Badshah. It would carry a mehendi-stained handprint of the emperor himself. Protocol demanded that one was barefoot and sitting on one’s knees as a mark of respect while accepting the farman.
Shivaji could not hold back his anger. He curled his fists desperately trying to control it. Mirza Raja’s sardars were praising Shivaji’s good fortune and congratulating him. All Shivaji could do was force a smile on his lips.
A specially designed farman badi, a place to receive the royal farman, was set up a few miles from the cantonment. On the appointed day, Shivaji walked towards the new farman badi accompanied by Mirza Raja’s son Kirant Singh and Jani Baig.
The sun rose high in the sky while the green Mughal flag fluttered on the shamiana. The cavalry stood in attendance on both sides of the shamiana. Assuming that Shivaji was overwhelmed with joy, Baig tried to explain the protocol to be followed while receiving the farman. Shivaji somehow managed to hold back his tears and looked at his trousers which had been stained with mud while walking barefoot for a mile.
Kirat Singh said excitedly, on hearing the trumpets, ‘I think the farman has arrived.’
Swallowing his pride Shivaji bent down on his knees. His tears fell on the hot soil and vanished instantly. The trumpets and other instruments now were shrill in their welcome for the farman. The camel carrying the farman was made to sit down while Kirat Singh and Baig stepped forward and received the farman with great care and handed
it over to Shivaji’s outstretched arms with elaborate dignity and respect. Shivaji touched the farman to his forehead as the guns fired in salute. As Shivaji stood up, Kirat Singh exclaimed, seeing his tear-filled eyes, ‘Raja saheb, what’s this? Why are you crying?’
Shivaji smiled, wiping his tears with his fingers, ‘Kirat Singh, one doesn’t cry only in moments of sadness. One can also cry when happy.’
#
On their return, Mirza Raja gave Shivaji a hero’s welcome. Diler Khan and other sardars were in attendance in the shamiana erected specially for his welcome. He was, after all, one of them now! Everyone praised the royal clothes and armour sent for Raje, while there were murmurs of discontent among the sardars who had toiled day and night for the Mughal emperor but never received such honours. But no one dared to speak out against the emperor. Everyone went out of their way to praise Shivaji. He had been given the title of Raja by Aurangzeb. Mirza Raja asked Shivaji Raja to sit down when he noticed that he did not have any weapon at his side.
‘Raja saheb, where is your sword? Your clothes do not become you without your favourite sword.’
Shivaji smiled, ‘Rajaji, I have surrendered. Your orders were that I should come to you weaponless. I know one looks incomplete without a sword, but it is better than being insulted and asked to remove it in full view of the court.’
‘Raje, I swear in the name of the Lord that it never occurred to me that I should ask you not to carry your weapons. I apologize for the misunderstanding.’
Mirza Raja called for Kirat Singh and whispered something in his ears. Kirat Singh left the tent in a hurry. Wine was served and everyone enjoyed the evening. Shivaji sat there sipping from his glass of juice. Soon, Kirat Singh came back followed by a servant carrying a tray covered with a velvet cloth. A jewel-encrusted sword and a matching dagger lay in the tray. Mirza Raja presented both of them to Raje.
At that point, Mirza Raja looked regal—a broad, saffron tilak on his forehead, bright eyes below the white bushy eyebrows, sharp and aquiline nose and the luscious whiskers which shivered as he spoke. All of these reminded Raje of Maharaj saheb. Before Mirza Raja could realize what was happening, he bent down and touched his feet.
Mirza Raja hurriedly lifted him up. ‘Raja saheb, what’s this?’
Raje said, ‘I ask for your blessings.’
‘What for?’
‘You have given me back the sword which I had lost. Bless me that I never have to lose this again.’
Mirza Raja became emotional on hearing Raje’s words. He patted his back and said, ‘Raja saheb, so shall it always be. I always remember a couplet during such times:
‘A man should make himself so powerful that while writing the decrees of destiny on his forehead, God would ask, “My child, tell me what you want it to be!”’
Mirza Raja sat through the evening chatting with Raje. Many thoughts flitted through Mirza Raja’s mind. He asked, ‘Raja saheb, the rains have ended now. I intend to march on Adil Shah. Alamgir too has expressed the same desire.’
Shivaji was stunned on hearing Aurangzeb’s plans. Both the Adil Shah and Qutb Shah dynasties were Muslim but he never had imagined that the Mughals would decide to attack them.
Mirza Raja commented, ‘I am sure you are surprised to hear about my decision. If I am able to rout Adil Shah before I return to Delhi, the emperor’s reign would extend all over Hindustan. Alamgir would be mighty pleased with me.’
Shivaji nodded. ‘When do you intend to start the campaign?’
‘Quite soon. I want you to help me in this campaign.’
‘What help can I provide?’ Shivaji asked. ‘I am a Raja for namesake, with neither a kingdom nor an army!’
‘That was till yesterday. Now you are a Raja. Sambhaji is a Mansabdar now. If you come with your army to support us, we would be convinced that you are involved in the mansabdari. I can recommend that the territories captured from Adil Shah be put under your control.’
‘I cannot raise an army so quickly. There are resources involved and I will need some time.’
‘Raja saheb, don’t worry about money. I will give you two lakh rupees tomorrow. Don’t hesitate thinking it is gratis. I shall recover it from your jagir later. I suggest that you leave tomorrow and return with your troops at the earliest. We shall leave on the campaign once you arrive.’
Shivaji nodded and left for Rajgad the very next day. He sent out orders for the troops to gather the moment he reached Rajgad. Normally such an order would create a flutter of excitement but none was visible this time!
After issuing the orders Shivaji came to his chambers, lost in thought. He had dictated a letter to Balaji Awaji addressed to Mirza Raja assuring him that he was busy gathering the troops. He turned towards the door and saw Jijabai enter the room accompanied by Sambhaji. Raje got up seeing Jijabai. Balaji stepped out of the quarters discreetly. Raje hugged Sambhaji and said, ‘Maa saheb, you could have sent word to me. I would have come down to meet you.’
Jijabai said, ‘What is the point in calling you now? You don’t share anything with me. I wouldn’t find out anything any way.’
‘Maa saheb, I shared everything with you when I had lots to share. Now I tell you what is essential. I have no control over anything now.’
‘Raje, one must face sorrow with courage.’
‘Maa saheb, where do I get this strength from?’ Raje paced the room. He stopped suddenly and turned towards Maa saheb and said, ‘I received the farman. Look at the strength a mere piece of paper carries—to walk barefoot to receive the farman, to wait patiently at the shamiana for it and then, to receive it on bent knees without daring to look up! After all, it is the Badshah himself represented in the summons!’
‘Raje!’
‘Let me finish, Maa saheb! After receiving the farman, one has to touch it to one’s forehead and then come back to the shamiana. I have never seen such an insulting act. Mirza Raja has gifted me a sum of two lakh rupees to make the trip to Delhi.’
‘Did you accept the invitation?’
‘That is the only weapon in the hands of a fallen soldier!’
Seeing tears in Jijabai’s eyes, Shivaji exclaimed, ‘Maa saheb! Are you crying? You did not want a disheartened son about to commit suicide, did you? You wanted one who could face these things squarely. Then why are these tears in your eyes?’
Maa saheb wiped her tears away and a strange glint came into her eyes. She said, ‘Shivba, it is all right to celebrate one’s defeat. Imagine the mental torture the mighty Arjuna went through when he donned the dress of the dancer Brihannala. And what did the majestic Bheema think when he had to put on the apron of a cook? What went through Yudhishthira’s mind when he had to lift Kichaka’s slippers with his own hands? Raje, it is those who face calamities with courage that find a brighter future. A man’s destiny is determined by his ability to face problems with dignity. They are the ones who are blessed by Bhawani. Have faith in her blessings, Raje!’
‘I too live by those hopes, Maa saheb,’ Raje said.
Sambhaji stood in the room listening to them with a quizzical expression on his face. Shivaji said, turning to him, ‘Maa saheb, our Sambhaji Raje is a Mansabdar now. I am going to lead his troops and march against Adil Shah with Mirza Raja. Bal Raje, will you lend me your troops?’
Bal Raje did not understand Raje’s question and asked innocently, ‘Shall I come along too?’
Raje hugged Sambhaji and said, ‘I hope you never have to go on such campaigns. You would not be able to bear such sorrows.’
Sambhaji wiped Raje’s tears with his soft, small palms and asked, ‘Aba saheb, are you crying?’
‘Yes, Raje. It is my good fortune that I still have Maa saheb’s shoulder to cry on. Go and play outside now!’ And turning towards Jijabai, he said, ‘Maa saheb, I am tired. I will go and rest a while. Don’t send anyone to my quarters.’ Raje turned towards his quarters on tired feet.
#
Mirza Raja’s cantonment was soon turning into an ocean of so
ldiers. Men were joining from all over. Raje arrived with six thousand of Sambhaji’s soldiers and seven thousand of his own men.
He had a tent specially erected for him. He would play chess with Manucci, who would often come to see him, and would hear a lot of news from him. Raje was impressed with the firangis coming to India across many seas and oceans. Manucci was a fair and good-looking young man. His eyes shone with the brightness of intelligence and Raje liked watching them exhibit a myriad of emotions when he would trap him in the game of chess. Raje looked up, sensing someone in the tent, to find Mirza Raja entering. He got up hurriedly when Mirza Raja said, ‘Please continue with your game, Raja saheb.’
Shivaji knew that Mirza Raja would not come in unless he had something urgent to talk about. He said, ‘I am tired and was planning to stop the game in any case.’
‘Don’t leave your game half-finished.’
Shivaji blurted out, ‘There is a different pleasure in leaving a game midway.’
‘I do not understand.’
Recovering quickly, Shivaji said, ‘Please ignore what I said.’
Manucci left the room after gathering the chess pieces.
Mirza Raja said, ‘I suggest that we leave tomorrow. It is a good day.’
‘As you desire,’ Shivaji said, nodding.
‘Raje, you know this territory better than anyone else. I suggest you lead the march.’
‘As you command.’
‘I was expecting exactly this reply. I will go now—there are many other things to wind up.’
The next morning, they woke up to the sound of trumpets announcing their departure. The entire cantonment was filled with the trumpeting of elephants, the neighing of horses and the moaning and groaning of carts as they moved the cannons. Shivaji reached Mirza Raja’s tent at the crack of dawn. He was accompanied by Netaji, Prataprao, Anandrao and Yesaji. Mirza Raja stood waiting with Ugrasen, Daud Khan and Diler Khan.
‘Come in, Raje. I was waiting for you. I was wondering where we should start our campaign.’
Shivaji was dumbfounded, much to Diler Khan’s pleasure who said, ‘Let us begin with Phaltan.’