Shivaji

  Firangoji got up and saluted. At that moment, Sambhaji came in and seeing Firangoji, rushed to touch his feet. Firangoji said, ‘Shambhu, my child, what are you doing?’

  Raje looked at both of them admiringly. ‘Firangoji, Yuvraj did what was appropriate. Else, you would not have addressed him as “my child”. You have seen him as an infant and seen him grow. Why shouldn’t he touch your feet?’

  Raje told Sambhaji, ‘Take Firangoji around the fort. And ask him to return here soon for the ceremony. Firangoji, I will take your leave now.’

  Later, Raje and Sambhaji met in their private room with Anandrao. Raje said, ‘Anandrao, I have called you here for a reason. I wanted to know why Hansaji went straight to Chiplun and did not come here.’

  ‘Raje, realizing that the sardars at Chiplun were disturbed after hearing about Prataprao’s death, Hansaji did not want to take any chances and left immediately.’

  ‘You should have informed me.’

  ‘You were busy and Hansaji was taking care of Chiplun. I thought there was no need to bother you.’

  ‘Anandrao, we must remember that our troops consist of a diversity of castes. It is a bundle of thousands of minds tied together by the rope of trust. A single thread breaking loose can create havoc.’

  A servant entered hurriedly then and said, ‘Maharaj, Putla Rani saheb has called for you urgently.’

  Raje was red with anger. He shouted, ‘Can’t you see I am busy? Tell her I will come when I am free.’

  The servant bowed and left the room. Raje continued his work and went to the palace much later. He said, the moment he entered, ‘Putlabai, I have other things to do than select garments for you. What was the hurry?’

  ‘Some things are sometimes more important than anything else,’ Putlabai retorted.

  Raje was taken aback to hear her answer. Her face was red with indignation as she tried to hold back her tears. He asked, his voice soft, ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘She did not ask for anything in her life. All she wanted was to see you once!’

  ‘What? Are you talking about Kashi?’

  ‘That’s good! At least you remember her!’

  ‘Don’t talk in riddles. What happened?’

  ‘She could not wait any longer!’

  Raje did not speak any further and walked out of the room. A palanquin bearer rushed to help but he brushed him aside and continued walking down towards the gate. Moropant, seeing Raje walk all alone, ran to be by his side.

  At the gates Raje jumped on to a horse and galloped all the way down to Pachad. By the time he dismounted at the haveli, the horse was foaming at the mouth. Leaping off the horse, he rushed inside to find Jijabai waiting for him. He entered the room without saying a word to the wailing ladies. Tears in his eyes, Raje stood in the hall a little away from Kashibai’s bed, his gaze vacant. He lamented, ‘Kashi! She came in a new young bride and was soon lost in the crowd. Following Mughal customs, Maa saheb had me marry many others but she did not say anything. She hardly spoke to me and now she never will again …’ Raje’s voice faltered.

  At a solemn ceremony, Kashibai’s body was consigned to a sandalwood pyre. Cold winds blew as Raje stood looking at the burning pyre, his eyes unblinking. Firangoji said, ‘Maharaj, please step back a little. The flames may singe you.’

  Raje looked at Firangoji for a long time. He said, his voice choked with grief, ‘The flames have already touched my life. Moving back will not make any difference now.’

  #

  A fortnight had passed since Kashibai’s death but Raje was unable to overcome his guilt. He sat in his quarters alone when Putlabai walked in. Raje turned to see her but did not say a word. A sob escaped her lips as she came near Raje’s bed. He asked, ‘Putla, what is the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know how to tell you—I made a mistake.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I was near Kashi’s bed. I should have called for you much earlier.’

  Raje touched her chin gently and said, ‘Putla, I am not angry at you. Don’t torture yourself.’ He continued after a moment, ‘You know she taught me a lot. I may be known for my conquests but I have failed as a husband, Putla. I could not spend a few minutes with her when she needed me most. I wonder what went through her mind at the end. Did she say anything, Putla?’

  ‘She said she was lucky to have you as her husband and was happy that you would have a coronation. She wished she could have been there for the ceremony but she was content. She said, “I wish to see him before I go.” When I said I would personally go and call you, she held my hand and said, “No, don’t disturb him—he is busy with his meetings.”’

  Raje’s tears continued unabated. He said, wiping them, ‘Putla, my people consider me their god but here I am, unable to spend such precious moments with my wife. I could not fulfil such a simple wish! I conquer forts and win battles but I am a failure in my own house!’

  As he got up to look out of the window, Raje said, ‘It seems my men have arrived. I must leave for Chiplun now. I will be back soon.’

  #

  Despite the scorching summer, the cantonment at Chiplun bustled with activity. Each solider was busy polishing his weapons, grooming the horses and cleaning the tents. Hansaji Mohite and his sardars ensured that everything was spic and span for Raje’s inspection. The journey of a hundred miles from Raigad to Chiplun would not take more than a day and they waited patiently for Raje. Soon, a messenger came galloping in and announced his arrival. Hansaji and his men rode out a few miles to receive him.

  The soldiers, lined up along the entrance, bowed in mujra as they welcomed Raje. It was a glorious evening as the sun set in the western horizon, leaving a golden sky behind. Raje inspected the lines the next day and was satisfied seeing the arrangements. As he was about to leave, a young man looking at him attracted his attention. He asked, ‘What is your name? You look familiar.’

  The young man hesitated and before Hansaji could answer, Raje said, ‘Oh, are you not Ramaji Pangera’s brother?’

  Hansaji smiled. ‘Maharaj, you recognized him!’

  Raje said, his voice filled with pride, ‘Who can forget Ramaji’s valour and the way he fought Diler Khan! How can I afford to forget him?’

  ‘His brother too is equally brave, Raje. He was one of the main heroes in our battle against Bahlol Khan.’

  ‘And yet he is a mere trooper? Pangera, I am promoting you!’

  Pangera, delighted at the sudden promotion stepped forward and saluted smartly.

  After the inspection, as Raje rested in his tent, he said, ‘Hansaji, the camp is running quite smoothly. What made you rush here?’

  ‘The spies had reported a disturbance and I did not want to take any chances.’

  ‘Well, now that things have settled down, I am keen to appoint a Senapati. Whom do you suggest?’

  ‘I think Anandrao is a good choice. He knows our territory, has proven his loyalty and knows the tactics of war well.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Maharaj, mere loyalty or love for the country is not enough. It is a huge responsibility. I will not disobey your command but I am happy with what I am doing.’

  ‘Let us see,’ Raje said, without further comment.

  A further two days’ inspection provided Raje a much-needed break before he returned to Raigad. As he was preparing to leave, the sardars at Chiplun requested a meeting.

  ‘They have all come with the request to attend your coronation ceremony, Raje,’ Hansaji said.

  ‘I am overwhelmed by the love you shower on me. But if all you come to Raigad, who will manage the camp? What if the Adil Shahi troops or the Mughals take advantage of the situation?’ Raje asked.

  For a few moments, no one spoke. One of the sardars, Niyakar, stepped forward and said, ‘Maharaj, you may rest assured. We have made all the arrangements.’

  ‘I am pleased with your confidence.’

  ‘Maharaj, I have another request. We want to add another fe
ather to your cap before the coronation.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We want you to be with us when we capture the Kelanja Fort. Our spies tell us that our victory is certain.’

  ‘Hansaji, there is no question of defeat when you are around. It would be the best gift I could receive on my coronation.’

  The troops were filled with a renewed enthusiasm because Raje would be with them. Hansaji directed his men and after a fierce battle, they captured the fort. The saffron flag soon flew over the ramparts of the fort. After ensuring that the fort had been taken charge of, Raje decided to return. While inspecting the troops, especially those wounded in the battle, he was impressed seeing a young dashing soldier who stood straight, his spine erect, despite a huge gash on his forehead. The blood had dried flowing down to his chin. Yet, the man stood smiling as he saluted Shivaji. Seeing him, Raje asked, ‘What is his name?’

  ‘He is called Mahlari Tandel, and he fought bravely. He is a Dahija, leader of ten men.’

  ‘But why is he here? Should he not be taking care of his wounds?’

  ‘We told him to but he insisted on taking your blessings.’

  ‘I am impressed,’ Raje said, patting his back. ‘Now onwards you are not a Dahija but a Hazari, the leader of a thousand men. And you will be entitled to a palanquin too.’

  Malhari was elated and touched Raje’s feet as his tears fell on the ground.

  While returning, Raje enquired about the facilities at the cantonment at Chiplun and ensured that the troops were not short of food, clothing or any other requirements. The troops wanted to felicitate Raje personally and each one paid their regards. It took the entire afternoon for the ceremony to be completed.

  While leaving, Raje said, ‘Hansaji, I am really impressed the way you have managed the camp. The takeover of the Kelanja Fort was another example of your bravery. I am appointing you the commander-in-chief. You shall have the title of Hambirrao.’

  Hansaji was felicitated and received the royal commander’s clothes, sword and a jewelled aigrette for his turban. Hansaji was now Hambirrao Mohite. That night, having found someone to fill in Prataprao’ shoes, a satisfied Raje left for Raigad.

  On his return, Raje called a conference and discussed the issues at Chiplun with Annaji, Moropant and Nirajipant. He said, ‘The camp needs far more provisions than what they have right now. We need to ensure that they are given adequate rations before the rains begin. At the same time, I want to warn them to be careful about their expenditure. They will have to manage within tight budgets. I will write to Hansaji personally.’

  He sent him a letter: ‘You are hereby instructed that you need to manage the coming monsoon season with utmost care and ensure that the food stocks are used frugally. Each man will have to sacrifice. No one should harass the ryots for fodder for the animals or for food. The ryots work for our benefit and we cannot loot our own people. Please be careful about the fireplaces lest rats run away with burning wicks while cooking and set fire to the haystacks. Let there be no cases of harassment from the Mavals. No soldier will be spared if he is found violating the laws.’

  Moropant was quite impressed after reading the note. He remarked, ‘Maharaj, you seem to be very familiar with rural life.’

  Raje laughed. ‘Moropant, I have spent time with Dadoji who worked with the Mavals and sorted out their problems. We were supposed to be the landlords, but Dadoji taught me how to deal with the ryots. I would not have got companions like Tanaji, Baji, Jiva and Shiva otherwise. I know what poverty is. When I escaped from Agra, I had to survive on begging for alms as I roamed the countryside dressed up as a mendicant.’

  Those present were seeing a new facet of Raje’s personality.

  It was a month since Raje’s inspection of the Chiplun camp. Raje had returned to Raigad when Gaga Bhatt called upon him to discuss the preparations for the ceremony. With Jijabai, they went to the Lakshmigriha where the throne was being readied. A lovely pair of scales for the tula ceremony was also being readied. Next to the scales stood silver and golden pitchers, gold vessels and silver square stools and many other such things. A curtain was moved to reveal the throne. It was a fabulous piece of work, octagonal in shape, and studded with precious gems. Lions, with eyes of rubies, adorned the eight corners while a canopy was supported by eight pillars. Chiselled images of fruits, trees, birds and other animals were seen on the pillars.

  Moropant explained, ‘Maharaj, the throne has been made as per instructions in the scriptures. Thirty-two maunds of gold has been used to make it, not to mention an enormous quantity of pearls and precious stones.’

  An intense agony overshadowed Raje’s face. He said, ‘Could we not have used fewer gems? Each gem I see here reminds me of my gems in war, my companions in each battle—be it Tanaji, Suryaji, Murarbaji, Prataprao or Pangera! They far outshine the gems here.’

  Jijabai looked at a sword with a gem-studded hilt and asked, ‘Shivba, whose sword is this?’

  Raje said, his voice emotional, ‘Maa saheb, this is the sword Mirza Raja Jai Singh tucked in my cummerbund while blessing me.’

  Moropant led Raje to a raised platform where ornaments were on display.

  ‘What are these for?’

  ‘They are for Tulja Bhawani and the Kasba Ganapati on Maa saheb’s behest.’

  Raje looked at Jijabai, who said, ‘I had made a promise to the Lord when you were imprisoned in Agra that if you came back alive, I would overlay the sanctum sanctorum in Bhawani’s temple with silver.’

  ‘Then we must do it! After all, we are going to mint coins for the coronation. We will spend a few more on this cause.’ He said, turning to Moropant, ‘Please see to it that a lakh silver coins bearing my name are nailed to the floor of the sanctum sanctorum. It is my duty to fulfil my mother’s promises.’

  Seeing Jijabai overwhelmed with emotions, Raje quickly changed the topic and said, ‘These ornaments are really well crafted. Who are the artists?’

  ‘We have heard of the expertise of craftsmen from Jaipur and Udaipur but these are exceptional,’ Gaga Bhatt said.

  Pride was evident in Raje’s face when he said, ‘Well, you will find talent if you search for it. What is lacking is our vision.’

  At that moment, a man with a tilak on his forehead stepped in. He was wearing a simple dhoti and kurta and had a sharp, pointed nose.

  Moropant said, introducing him, ‘Maharaj, this is Ramoji Dattoo, the man who built the throne and other things you see here.’

  Raje said, taking a ring off his finger, ‘I cannot believe the work you have done. Congratulations!’

  #

  The day of the coronation was approaching fast. All the sardars and their men were busy with their respective duties. A huge number of guests were expected and special tents, havelis and cottages at the fort as well as at Pachad were being constructed.

  Raje, along with Sambhaji, walked along the road leading to the foot of Pratapgad. The palanquin bearers walked along with them. It was the beginning of spring and the palash flowers added to the charm of the dense green foliage around them. The tamarind trees, wrapped in a shawl of green looked lovely. As he reached an open space, Raje stopped, looking at the summit.

  Sambhaji asked, ‘Aba saheb, shall we rest for a while?’

  ‘Shambhu, I did not stop because I was tired. I was reminded of the day I fought and killed Afzal Khan.’

  Sambhaji looked at the spot where Raje’s eyes seemed transfixed. A thicket covered it from three sides and it looked intimidating. He exclaimed, ‘I cannot imagine it! It must have been extraordinary!’

  ‘Each moment was precious. As I descended from the fort, I cannot tell the thoughts which swirled through my mind!’

  ‘Was it difficult—killing Khan?’

  ‘It was not about killing him, Shambhu! I was worried about his strength, his army and his camp which backed him. We were infants in front of his huge army. We had managed to take over his camps at Supe, Indapur, Wai and the Koyna valley. That night,
our strength multiplied manifold—we suddenly had hundreds of guns, thousands of horses and camels, elephants and wealth worth crores of hons. It was all due to the blessings of Jagdamba.’

  At Pratapgad, Raje prayed at the temple. He offered a golden umbrella as a decoration for the Goddess. Seeing the lovely parasol bedecking the idol, Raje cried tears of joy. He prayed at the temple for a long time. While leaving he said, ‘Shambhu, it is only thanks to Her blessings that we are able to fulfil all our desires. She knew I could not visit Her at Tuljapur and She made a divine appearance one night. I installed an idol of Her here so that I may pray to Her whenever I wished. Wherever I go, Her image stays with me.’

  That night, Raje and Sambhaji participated in the performance presented by a group of wandering dancers. The celebrations continued well past midnight and everyone, oblivious to the presence of Raje and Sambhaji, were engrossed in singing. The dancers, with their burning torches, added to the allure of the dark night. The next morning, as the eastern horizon was lit by the rising sun, the festivities ended. Despite having spent the entire night awake, Shivaji was not fatigued as he walked towards his quarters, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  #

  A distance of nearly fifty miles was covered quickly as Raje was eager to meet Samarth Ramdas. As he crossed the gorge, the dense forest gave way to a cool shade. It was here, sitting in a cave, that Samarth had written Dasbodh.

  Raje crossed the river to see Samarth and his disciples walking towards him. Alighting from his horse, Raje bowed humbly. The sonorous sound of the flowing stream added to the beauty and divinity of the place. It was a wonderful setting while Raje took Samarth’s blessings in his cave. A quiver of arrows hung on the wall attracted Sambhaji’s attention.

  Samarth said, ‘Shambhu, don’t be surprised. This place has all kinds of dangers—whether from Mughals or wild animals.’ He opened one end of his crutch to reveal a shining blade. He said, ‘One must know that the compassion of the weak and the non-violence of the meek have no meaning. Only strength gives them meaning. I don’t think I need to use these weapons now that our Shivba is going to be made Chhatrapati. Our land will no longer be orphaned. Shivba, I feel blessed that you are going to be crowned soon.’