Victoria & Abdul

by Shrabani Basu

  Despite his closeness to the Queen, Karim was in a dilemma. He was still uneasy about the fact that he had come to Britain to be an orderly, but had ended up doing menial tasks. He had already informed General Dennehy that he wanted to return to India. In Balmoral he had met Sir E. Bradford, who had served as agent in Rajputana, and spoken in fluent Hindustani to him. Karim told him as well that he would like to go back to his family.

  Victoria, in the meantime, was troubled by news from other quarters. Duleep Singh had plunged into an even more rebellious mode. He had already published inflammatory documents inciting the Sikh community and telegraphed the Queen demanding a trial so that he could prove in a court of justice that his proclamation of himself as the ruler of the Sikhs was not disloyal. He had returned to Paris after an unsuccessful attempt to go to India and sent a telegram to Ponsonby stating: ‘I return to Paris, being unable to obtain justice, resigned stipend, thus ending annexation treaty and getting rid of all the dealings with the most tyrannical government in the world, Indian Administration.’ By October, Duleep Singh had sent wild letters saying he was going to the East and would attach himself to Russia; he was apparently trying to set up a Russian party in north-west India.12

  ‘Bertie [the Prince of Wales] showed me a really monstrous letter from the Maharajah Duleep Singh to Sir Dighton Probyn [private secretary to the Prince of Wales], who in spite of all the Maharajah’s violent rebellious letters and publications had written in Bertie’s name to condole with him on the death of his wife. He surely must be off his head,’13 despaired the Queen, still reluctant to condemn her former ward completely. She slept badly, troubled by his attitude.

  As the leaves turned golden in the autumn, the Royal entourage returned to Windsor. The journey from Ballater to Windsor was made on 25 November, the Queen comfortable in the Royal Saloon and Karim and Buksh close by. The summer had been a learning curve for the Queen. She had discovered more about India in the few months with Karim than she had ever done before. He too had learnt about her, her family, her habits and her preferences. She lay back and thought about how she would enjoy her interactions with Indian Royalty even more from now on. Maybe she would even speak to them in Hindustani.

  The Maharajah, Sayaji Rao Gaekwad, of Baroda and his wife, Chimnabai, were expected at Windsor and the staff were in a flurry to get things right. The Gaekwads of Baroda were a powerful Royal house and the Secretary of State had informed the Queen that the highly educated Maharajah needed some pampering. The Maharani was famed for her skills in classical music and was also known to be a good hunter – she had felled tigers in the jungles around Gujarat and been photographed standing with her kill, dramatically dressed in a sari with a rifle in her hand. The Maharajah was known to be a proud Mahratta and a well-known patron of the arts. On 2 December the Queen received Chimnabai and her sister in the Audience Room. All the men were kept out of the way and the ‘Indian attendants in particular’. The Queen was fascinated by the Maharani, whose demeanour was very different from the shy and retiring Sunity Devi of Cooch Behar. Chimnabai bent low and shook her hand.

  ‘She is a pretty little thing,’ recalled the Queen, noting what she wore in great detail: ‘a close fitting jacket & trousers, no petticoat, of pale blue satin over the whole a long crimson and gold gauze veil, which passed over the head and covered her completely excepting her face, which she uncovered as she came into the room. She had splendid jewels on.’14 The Maharani was wearing the sari draped in a traditional Mahratta way, passing between the legs, giving the impression she was wearing loose trousers. ‘She looks very gentle, but is said to be very wilful and to wish to see everything without being seen … both princesses had a red spot [bindi] painted in the centre of their foreheads,’ the Queen added, clearly impressed by her visit from a second Indian Maharani.

  Chimnabai spoke a few words of English and told the Queen she regretted not having seen the Crown Prince, Bertie. Her sister did not speak any English. The Queen ventured upon a sentence in Hindustani which Karim and Buksh had taught her.

  ‘I also presented Beatrice in Hindustani,’ said the Queen, evidently quite pleased with herself for having made the effort. The Queen received Sayaji separately, noting that he was ‘small, dark and not distinguished or good looking, but he seems very intelligent. He speaks English perfectly well.’ The Maharajah was dressed in white and wore a low red turban or cap and a necklace of large emeralds.

  That evening, the Queen held a reception in the White Drawing Room where she awarded Sayaji with the Star of India. Everyone was in uniform all around and the Queen herself wore a ribbon and the Star of the Order. She also presented the Maharajah with one of the enamel portraits of herself that she had given the other Indian Princes over the summer. She had enjoyed meeting the Gaekwads, even if they had come to see her a bit late in the Jubilee year.

  A few days later, Karim and Buksh watched in wonder as the giant Christmas tree went up in Osborne House and the colourfully wrapped presents were laid below. Christmas was always spent at Osborne with the traditional decorations and festivities. Karim had seen the English families going to church in Agra on Christmas Day dressed in their Sunday best. To celebrate Bada Din, as they called Christmas in India, with the Queen in her own house was something special. The idea of decorating Christmas trees and putting presents out with them was a German custom and believed to have been introduced in England by Queen Charlotte, the wife of King George III. However, the tradition was popularised further and brought to its present form by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who laid out a table beside the tree laden with chocolates, cakes and Christmas delights. The Queen did not forget to give a present to Karim and Buksh on their first Christmas; both received a signed photograph of her. There was even a chance for Karim to go pheasant shooting after Christmas and he enjoyed the outing, noting that it was ‘quite absorbing and interesting’.15

  The Queen’s favourite Indian Prince, the Maharajah of Cooch Behar, dropped in during the Christmas season to say goodbye before returning to India. Karim and Buksh had gotten quite accustomed to serving him and now knew his favourites. The Maharani had already turned back for India as she could not stand the cold.

  The Queen went to bed on New Year’s Eve in a reflective mood. That night she wrote in her Journal:

  The Jubilee time was so richly blessed, not one mishap or disturbance, not one bad day … Never, never can I forget this brilliant year, so full of the marvellous kindness, loyalty and devotion of so many millions, which really I could hardly have expected …16

  It had been a year of celebration and splendour and the Queen had been moved by the devotion of her servants. Her discovery of India, her Indian servants and her freshly acquired knowledge of Hindustani had all given her a new-found happiness. Looking out of her window in Osborne, over the grounds she had walked with Albert and John Brown, she thought of the years past and what lay ahead. She was learning a new language and discovering a new culture. The Queen gave a satisfied sigh. The possibilities were endless.

  5

  BECOMING THE MUNSHI

  Karim felt a thrill of excitement as he took his first curtain call. Sitting in the front row, leading the clapping, was the Queen. He was on stage, wearing costume and make-up and performing before a select audience in Osborne House during the New Year celebrations. The tableau was the Queen of Sheba starring Princess Beatrice in the title role and Ponsonby as Solomon. Both Karim and Buksh were playing Indian servants.

  Theatricals were an essential part of the festive season at Osborne. The Queen loved the shows. She would often drop in for the dress rehearsals, supervise the costumes and the back drops and even look at the scripts. Alick Yorke, the Queen’s equerry, was the director of these productions. Known for his easy wit and penchant for telling rude jokes, Yorke famously was the subject of one of the Queen’s classic reprimands. Once, during a dinner party at the Palace, he had whispered a rather risqué joke to a German guest seated next to him. When the Queen heard the
laughter from the top of the table, she asked Yorke to repeat the joke. Though there were several ladies present at the table, Yorke repeated it for the Royal ear. Yorke’s joke immediately invited the famous Victorian one-liner: ‘We are not amused.’ The good-humoured equerry, however, took all this in his stride and concentrated on staging the Christmas plays before the Queen and her guests. The tableaux were very much a family affair; treading the boards were the Queen’s children and members of the Royal Household. Ponsonby dreaded dressing up for the performances, but the Queen’s enthusiasm for these evenings left him with no choice. Karim and Buksh also found themselves swallowed up in the costume extravaganza.

  After the sound of a silver-toned bell, the dark red curtains parted disclosing the various groups. Queen of Sheba was the first tableau to open the 1888 season, with the Indians making their theatrical debut. They took their place in full costume standing behind Ponsonby’s King Solomon. Next was Carmen with Minnie Cochrane, lady-in-waiting to Princess Beatrice, playing the lead role. Prince Henry of Battenberg, Princess Beatrice’s husband, took on the role of Toreador, and Major Arthur Bigge played Don Jose. The third tableau – Queen Elizabeth and Raleigh – was performed by Princess Beatrice and her husband. All the tableaux were staged with elaborate backdrops and costumes and the Queen applauded heartily, congratulating each person individually. Karim and the other Indian servants were soon to take an active part in these tableaux, with Karim later getting a lead role in some. Visiting dignitaries and local families would often be present and Karim found it exciting to be on stage with the Royals. He had lost some of his initial reserve and shyness and could often be seen laughing and talking with the Queen’s maids.

  In the family atmosphere of Osborne, the Queen treasured her moments with Karim. Yet Karim had informed General Dennehy that he wanted to return to India. Dennehy had said he was extremely sorry to hear about this and agreed to frame a petition to the Queen on Karim’s behalf. ‘I waited in dread anxiety to see what view our Kaiser-i-Hind would take of the matter,’ recorded Karim in his Journal.

  On 5 January, the Queen replied to Karim.

  General Dennehy has read me your petition. I am sorry you think you cannot remain permanently in my service, but I quite understand your motives and feel you are right. I only regret that you should never have been told before you came what you were expected to do.

  I shall be sorry to part with you for I like and respect you, but I hope you wil remain till the end of this year or the beginning of the next that I may be able to learn enough Hindustani from you to speak a little. I shall gladly recommend you for a post in India which could be suitable for you and hope that you may be able to come and see me from time to time in England.

  V.R.I.

  [True copy signed T. Dennehy, Major General]

  The Queen was relying more than ever on Karim. Her ever-increasing demands on his time, to attend to her boxes and correspondence and give her Hindustani lessons, left Buksh struggling to manage their regular tasks alone. Keen to relieve Karim from some of his menial duties, the Queen decided she needed reinforcements and ordered for more Indian servants to be brought to the Royal palaces. In February she wrote to her eldest daughter Victoria (Vicky), Princess Royal, and Empress of Germany:

  I take a little lesson every evening in Hindustani and sometimes I miss writing by post in consequence. It is a great interest and amusement to me. Young Abdul (who is in fact no servant) teaches me and is a vy. strict Master, and a perfect Gentleman. He has learnt English wonderfully—and can now copy beautifully and with hardly any faults. He will I hope remain and be vy. useful in writing and looking after my books and things and a third is coming to wait at meals. Mahomed, the stout one, is going on 4 months leave to our great regret and the new one will arrive before he goes.

  The Queen had decided that when Buksh returned, ‘Karim would no longer wait at meals wh. is what he feels a good deal’. She now felt that Abdul deserved to be elevated in rank from the other servants.

  In March 1888 she recorded the arrival of another servant: ‘Have a new servant, called Ahmed Husain, a fine soldier-like looking man, very tall and thin.’ Other Indian servants who were soon added to the Queen’s services were Hourmet Ali, Abdul Hussain, Sheikh Ghulam Mustapha and Sheikh Chidda. The portly and cheerful Buksh immediately welcomed the newcomers and taught them the ropes. Karim was always more reserved, though he too was happy to have more Indian company and catch up with the news from back home. Nearly all the servants were from Agra.

  The Indian servants could now be seen everywhere and formed a small coterie, enjoying cosy after-dinner chats by themselves. They became a familiar sight on the streets of Windsor as they wandered around on their days off, looking in at the shop windows and strolling along the river. Their colourful clothes and turbans always set them apart and inevitably aroused curiosity among the locals. The Indians were given rooms in King John’s Tower in Windsor Castle. However, the regular staff at the castle refused to tidy their rooms and a charwoman came in from the town to clean their rooms every week. They were allowed to keep their own chickens, which could be seen running around the castle yard, as they were free to slaughter their own livestock and prepare their meals.

  Karim remained the Queen’s favourite. He had a proud bearing and the Queen’s reliance on him increased every day. She had already started discussing the contents of some of her letters with Karim. He listened politely, sometimes offering his comments. The religious riots during Muharram continued to trouble him and he discussed it again with the Queen, pressing her gently to do something about it. She never tired of praising Karim to her children and her Household, and wrote to Reid:

  I wish to observe with respect to Abdul that he has changed very much and though his manner may be grave and dignified he is very friendly and cheerful with the Queen’s maids and laughs and even jokes now – and invited them to come and see all his fine things, offering them fruit cake to eat … he is very handy and intelligent and obliging and is useful for his great knowledge of his own language and of course I am now quite accustomed and at home with him.1

  The Queen’s favourite Indian Prince, the Maharajah of Cooch Behar, came visiting in March and she invested him with the Knight Grand Cross of the Indian Empire. She also met Duleep Singh’s children, Princesses Bamba, Catherine and Sophy and Prince Edward Duleep Singh, who called on her. Despite the indiscretions of their father, the Queen showed the utmost affection for the children. The Queen hosted the first Drawing Room of the year at Buckingham Palace and proudly wore the Koh-i-Noor as a brooch, revelling in her new-found knowledge of India.

  Soon it was time for the annual trip to Europe. The Queen had decided that Karim and the other Indian servants would accompany her. She travelled in cognito as the Duchess of Balmoral when she went on her European trips. However, since her annual departure was always reported in The Times newspaper, there was little secrecy about it. The entourage that left for Florence was particularly colourful as it included a band of newly arrived Indian servants dressed in their traditional clothes and turbans, who attracted large crowds at each station. The Household always marvelled at how the Indians managed to travel so light, carrying their things on board in a small cloth bundle, while they themselves struggled with several boxes. The Queen herself travelled with her entire paraphernalia, including the memos, souvenirs, medals, photographs, diaries, ink-pots and pens that usually cluttered her desk at Windsor, Balmoral and Osborne. In later years, her donkey went too as she often took a ride on the donkey cart. Boxes of food were carried from Windsor packed in special containers, looked after by the Indian servants and the Queen’s maids. It felt very much like a picnic.

  The crossing took place from Portsmouth to Cherbourg on 22 March, the Victoria and Albert escorted by torpedo boats. The Queen spent the night on board at Cherbourg, not forgetting to have her Hindustani lessons with Abdul in the evening. These would continue no matter where the Queen was. Abdul had made a phrase book of
everyday Urdu words for her and written them out in the Roman script. The red pocket-size book with gold edging contained words and phrases that the Queen would use with her Indian servants and visiting Royalty.

  The words set out from A to Z included under A:

  Anyone

  koick

  Animal

  janwar

  Again

  phir

  Advice

  sallah

  Anger

  khafa

  The phrases included a selection of everyday terms plus some intriguing sentences reflecting the Queen’s life in Court:

  You may go home if you like

  Tum ghar jao agar chhate ho

  You will miss the Munshi very much

  Tum Munshi ko bahut yad karoge

  The tea is always bad at Osborne

  Chah Osborne men hamesha kharab hai

  The poor boy has a very bad pain in his hand

  Garib laundi ke hat men bahut sakhat darad hai

  The egg is not boiled enough

  Anda thik ubla nahi hai

  Hold me tight

  Ham ko mazbut Thamo2

  For the Indians it was their first trip to Europe. From Cherbourg, the Royal train took them to Florence, passing through the French countryside into Italy. The carriages were designed for maximum comfort. The day car consisted of a drawing room and a small compartment which was once used by John Brown and later by Karim. The sleeping car had a dressing room, bedroom and a compartment for light luggage where the maids slept on sofas. The Queen shared the bedroom with Beatrice; she occupied the large bed, while her daughter slept on the smaller one. The dressing room had a Japanese motif with the washstand covered in dark red Moroccan leather and toiletries made of white metal. The drawing room was luxurious, the walls covered with silk drapes in pale yellow brocade with the shamrock, rose and thistle. A dark Indian carpet lined the floor and the curtains were blue and white. The furniture was comfortably regal, consisting of a sofa, two armchairs and Louis XVI style footstools covered in blue silk with yellow fringes and tassels. Four lights suspended from the padded ceiling completed the look of ‘antiquated splendour’.3