After a little pause she continued, ‘The king is there to protect and propagate dharma and righteousness, and not let it be destroyed. If he cannot lay down his life fighting adharma, the evil forces, his life is worthless. Listen, Prince, the would-be ruler of this kingdom! Remember, empires are built and destroyed, victory comes and goes, but only those who are dedicated to their cherished values and uphold them in the face of the worst circumstances are the ones who live their lives truly. It does not matter who wins the war ultimately. What matters is who fought for freedom and self-respect. Only they are admired and adored in times to come.’
The admonitory tone in Padmini’s voice became more pronounced. The reasons she put forth were not intellectual rhetoric. They were an outcome of her deep understanding of the prevailing situation and the knowledge she had imbibed in the natural course.
‘Killing one’s conscience is far more terrible than defeat on the battlefield. This body without soul or conscience is as good as dead. The guilt of losing your pride and glory will eventually burn you to ashes.’
Veerbhan felt slightly wounded. He was finding it more and more difficult to justify his assertions. He found himself torn between his mother’s secret wishes suggesting an easy way out of the crisis and Padmini’s strong stance against meek submission. But he tried his best not to expose his vulnerable position.
‘I understand, but it remains a fact that many sovereign rulers have bowed down before the sultan,’ Veerbhan said, his tone softer. The disdain with which he had initially addressed her had been extinguished. No longer could he speak to her with feigned unconcern as he had earlier. ‘Whoever dared to make light of his immense power invited total destruction of their states and their people. In the circumstances, what else can we do?’
Is that all they could come up with? Annoyed at their helplessness, Padmini was furious. She realized that there was no use losing her temper or breath any more. Yet, she had to say, ‘Don’t tell me about his enormous power and resources. My spirit sinks to hear that the kings and rulers of Aryavart, the land of the great Aryans, have surrendered to the authority of the sultan.’
Then staring into space, she added, ‘This attitude of throwing up your hands will lead you nowhere. Unless you resolutely decide to fight against this injustice, this atrocity and unprovoked attack on your territory, nothing is possible.’
Padmini’s forceful assertion rendered Veerbhan speechless. However, he decided to continue to dominate the conversation, whichever way he could. ‘I do respect your noble sentiments, Ranisa, but sometimes we need to understand the ground reality and the reality is . . .’
Padmini cut him short. ‘A king worth his salt would not be the victim of circumstances, which you call reality. Rather, he creates and conditions it. He makes his own destiny. He is duty-bound to protect the poor and helpless. If he himself dithers, what will be the fate of his subjects? In that case, they will be exposed to unchecked injustice, humiliation and unethical practices. There will be no place for avowed principles, high ideals and values. History is replete with examples where even the greatest and most affluent kings, who lived in luxury and completely neglected their citizens, have vanished from the face of the earth because they could not muster up the courage to wage a war against their opponents. It is adharma to bow your head before a demon out to invade your freedom and dignity. If you abandon dharma, no god will come to your rescue. It is extremely deplorable if the common citizens feel insecure. Let us for a moment consider that we will be defeated, but even in that eventuality, our self-respect will win. And as long as we are able to protect our self-respect, the name of our state will remain indelible in the annals of history.’
Veerbhan was stunned. Padmini’s words carried the strength of her conviction. They did not grow in a vacuum. He did not have the courage to argue any further. A line of demarcation stood between his indifference towards Padmini and his disillusionment. Many and varied questions began to sprout within him. These were the questions, the importance of which lay in the fact that they arose even though they remained unanswered.
The swagger with which he had walked in began to recede. Padmini could sense it. She knew that in his heart of hearts, he was easy and sensitive and in search of answers.
Padmini reiterated, ‘This proposal is shameful for Kshatriyas. Even a small ant would not desist from biting, as fiercely as possible, when trampled upon. What about you? You are going to be the king of this land, my son!’
The word ‘son’ slipped out of her mouth of its own. But the moment she said it, some remote corner of her heart throbbed for a moment.
‘Do not underestimate the common people of this state. The sentiments of bravery, valour and sacrifice are deeply and permanently embedded in them. In fact, these are the virtues they hold high. Here, within everybody, there is something that is bigger than them. Within you, too, there is someone greater. I want you to listen to that somebody, that inner person. The initiation of a prince begins on the very day of his coronation. The first thing he ought to know is that a king with strong determination and loyal subjects makes for a worthy state.’
Veerbhan was trying, unsuccessfully, to stay poised. Padmini had not only hurt him but also managed to provoke him to think anew. He was finding it difficult to be indifferent.
Softening her tone, Padmini added, ‘This fort is not merely a structure of bricks and stone. It is the embodiment of our self-respect. In order to protect this self-respect, umpteen numbers of patriots have laid down their lives valiantly. Lineages of various faiths, the Vedics, the Shaivas, the Jains, the Buddhists, have made this land sacred. You should not forget its glorious tradition and your past with all its achievements. Do not, for heaven’s sake, desecrate them by handing over the respected daughter-in-law of this family to that licentious rogue.’
Veerbhan didn’t argue. He silently regarded this queen before him who had managed to invoke his love and pride for Mewar, his motherland, with her assertive words. Why didn’t anyone in the presiding committee remember this pride? A conflict was brewing within him, pulling him in two diametrically opposite directions. A strangely grave expression spread over his countenance as though he was fighting a war within. He stood there quietly, lost in himself.
He dropped his eyes and fixed them on the ground. The inner conflict began to show on his face. Placed in a dilemma over whether to agree with Padmini or not, his mind continuously encircled an indefinable orbit.
He remained there for some time. Then abruptly, without saying anything, he bowed low to Padmini. Still unable to meet her eyes, and still deep in thought, he turned around and left.
After Veerbhan had left, an uneasy silence reigned in the palace. Padmini didn’t realize how shaken she was until the prince left. She played and replayed her conversation with Veerbhan in her head. Where had the words come from? She wondered what his actions would be. She knew her conviction had moved something in him. Yet, she dared not hope for any positive outcome. The mixed feelings of desperation, indignation and disgrace reflected on her face.
A storm of conflicting thoughts was raging inside her; her mind oscillated ceaselessly from hope to despair. A glimmer of hope now had been overtaken by a dampening apprehension within moments.
No positive thought—not even one—could stay in her mind for long. But why was it that the tendrils of hope refused to break? There was something in the depths of her heart, but what was it? She could not bring herself to ascertain whether that something really existed or if it was just an illusion.
In anxiety, she wiped her face now and again.
What should I do? Should I leave myself at the mercy of Veerbhan?
She stood up and paced the room.
No, I can’t do that.
Should I immolate myself?
No!
Should I compromise with the situation?
Every time these questions arose, her mind responded with a forceful ‘No, no.’ Her voice had turned into a thousand voices reverberating all around.
What should I do then? The question rang through her mind over and over again. After all, her existence depended on the answer to this question. Yet, she was unable to arrive at a decision. The storm in her mind continued unabated.
She felt as though she was standing alone at one end of the earth, with strong winds blowing away the sand from the desert, and she was unable to find her way.
Was she so weak that she would be blown away by circumstances like a twig? Was there no way other than abject surrender? Again, a voice rose from the bottomless depths of her inner-self: No! No! No!
What the advisory council had decided was immoral and a brazen assault on the virtues of truth and honour. I cannot accept it, she thought. Not that she was gratuitously adamant. She wanted the glorious traditions of the royal family to be preserved and protected at all costs. And this needed strong resolve and the strength of self-confidence.
I will revolt, she thought to herself.
But how and in what way? That was still unclear. It seemed as if everything was covered by a thick pall of the dust carried by strong winds, and all around there was dense fog. She was conscious of the fact that in moments of crisis, emotions need to be restrained. She was aware that it was only with patience and a balanced state of mind that one could arrive at right decisions. If she could not free herself from the clutches of indecisiveness at this moment, she thought to herself, she would be destroyed.
She lay down tired, heavy-eyed. Her own hand on her chest felt unbearably heavy. She didn’t know when she fell asleep. Frightening dreams . . . a horribly fiendish woman . . . hell . . . a nether world strewn with human bodies and dollops of flesh . . . screams . . . moans of pain . . . loud guffaws . . . nauseating sex in the open . . . men and women being whipped, tortured, persecuted brazenly . . .
She woke up with a suppressed cry. Drenched in perspiration, she groped around in the dark recesses of her head. It seemed as if hordes of venomous serpents were slithering across her mind. How do I bear this? How do I consent to the pain of being disgraced by the brazenness of an undeserved punishment? She sat there for a long time staring into space as if looking at her ignoble, hideous future with open eyes. She let out a stifled cry, ‘Unbearable!’
Padmini suddenly felt angry with everything that women had to go through: unjust customs, family traditions and the presence of dynastic honour. A cascade of memories came flooding back.
Mother had been especially fond of her. She doted on her. When she came out of the wedding pavilion after the ceremony was over, her mother, with all the affection in her voice, had wished that Padmini be blessed with a son. Father had wished her good luck at the time of departure and said lovingly, ‘May you be blessed with all the comforts in your husband’s place!’ He added a word of advice, ‘You have to uphold the prestige of your father’s family with your exemplary conduct and behaviour there. Always remember that you are not only Maharawal Ratan Singh’s wife, but also the mother of the future offspring of that family. You have to shoulder the serious responsibility of upholding and maintaining the honour and sacred traditions of that great dynasty. Your duties should be uppermost in your mind.’
The gravity of their blessings and the freshness of the memory brought tears to her eyes. The expression on Mother’s face when she was bidding her adieu was deeply etched in her mind. Mother was gazing unblinkingly at Ratan Singh, the bridegroom. There was a lot of love and affection in her eyes for him, but the separation of her daughter had saddened her greatly. There was nameless apprehension, but the moment her eyes turned to Ratan Singh that feeling would dissipate. In that look, there was a combined feeling of faith and trust for Ratan Singh.
Padmini was about to board the chariot, when her father became emotional. Choked with affection, he said, ‘May the All Merciful bestow His grace on you!’
Where is your All Merciful, Father? Tell me, where is He? Her heart cried with helplessness.
It was a moonless night. Everything was deathly still: the wind seemed to have dropped to nothingness; the copses stood silent like witnesses to a grief-stricken atmosphere. Is it possible that all the planets and other celestial bodies have chosen to pause on the axis of that moment? An endless expanse of darkness had spread. Padmini felt alone; like the only living creature awake; self-absorbed, burning silently like the undiminished orb of a lamp in the midst of impenetrable darkness. There was something unidentifiable inside her that wanted to jump out with vengeance. What was it that was moving about her mind unstoppably? She tried to shake the feeling off her. What are you doing, she admonished herself. She had very little time at her disposal; and she had to make the final decision of her life.
She brushed the tears away and stood up decisively. She had the right to choose her own way, she thought to herself. Nobody could take that away from her. She had to act courageously.
The courage of her convictions awakened something in her. How long could she suffer with patience? How long did she have to wait for them to be active, for someone to protect her? How long was she expected to sit quiet without taking any initiative? How long? Her inner strength rose. She was bristling with anger and excitement against her own helplessness. Her loyalty and sincerity, her wedding vows, her family values would never allow her to accept the proposal.
Suddenly, she felt an upsurge of immense strength and confidence.
No more delays. Any more delay will be dangerous. Life is a hard truth and should not be subjected to emotions of any kind. She knew that any action in this regard had to be taken extremely carefully, after considering all aspects seriously and not on the spur of the moment. It would be sheer foolishness to squander such hard-earned self-strength with a wrong move.
What is to be done then?
Whom to look to for support?
Whom to take into confidence?
There were questions and only questions. Her awakened consciousness was beset with unanswered questions.
She was mentally prepared to undergo any amount of suffering for the sake of her family honour and her duty as a virtuous wife. She could sacrifice her all, even her life. But she did not know how. Thoughts, one after another, crossed her mind.
Tired of thinking about it, her mind stopped working.
Whatever it is, something must be done. Thinking idly and doing nothing will not lead anywhere. I have to live; however painful this life might prove to be. If others are not doing anything, I will have to do something. It’s time to act.
She sat on a chair near her bedstead. The night was passing and she was desperately searching for a path through the overgrown thorny bushes that had lacerated both her body and mind.
From somewhere faraway, a half-awake bird cried.
She was absorbed in her thoughts: how could one free the Rajan from the captivity of the invincible army of the mlechhas, the barbarians? Who would be brave enough to take up the cudgel head-on? The problem was she didn’t know many people personally who could be trusted to handle the situation with wisdom, strategy and bravery.
The thought of Mahamantri Mahan Singh came to her mind instantly. He is an expert in warfare and a seasoned adviser. Shall I go to him and request him to . . . ? But . . . She arrested her thoughts.
He may not be the most suitable person for the task ahead. He is undoubtedly a great warrior. There is no dearth of physical and mental strength in him; I know that for certain. But perhaps, strategically, the quickness of his mind may not measure up to the need of the hour. The strategy that he would perhaps formulate may fall short of the desired finesse.
Next?
Ajay Singh of Sisod? She had met him already. She had great respect for him. He was a decent and dignified man who was very popular among the people. He, along with his elder brother Arsingh, had fought against the Turks in the battle of Malwa, which claimed the life of valiant Arsingh and left Ajay Singh seriously injured. He had to undergo prolonged treatment in Sisod. She had been told that he was much better now, but had not completely recovered.
She thought of Badal, a brave young man. She had heard a lot about his courage. People were all praise for his good sense and judgement. She knew that he was at present holding the charge of defending important check-posts on the Dhori highway of the Mewar–Gujarat region and also the entryways on the inaccessible terrain of the Aravalis. A well-built man, he had the reputation of being powerful and brave with some experience in tactical warfare. The only hitch was that he was all of twenty or twenty-one years of age. Would it be advisable to assign him the charge of the mighty task of leading the operation, she wondered. Courage and zeal alone would not do. A well thought-out plan was equally, if not more, important. What if, in his zeal to accomplish the task fast, he made an error of judgement and fell into a trap?
What could the alternative be?
She couldn’t think of any other options. She hardly knew anybody she could depend on. When you are living in comfort, you don’t think you would need people to rescue you. It is only when you are in trouble that you need them.
This land has many brave men.
She was looking for a person who was held in high esteem for his personal power and dedication; one who commanded respect and would strike fear in the minds of others.
Suddenly the thought of Gora Rawat of the Chauhan dynasty came to her mind. Why didn’t I think of him before!
She knew the influence he had on people at large. He had proved his worth on several occasions. He was a reserved and introspective person, not given to sharing much about himself.
She began to deliberate on this idea.
Even in the toughest of times he follows his dharma religiously.
Those who follow their dharma or discharge their duties honestly realize the truth automatically, she knew. He had already fought the deadliest of wars displaying exemplary organizing capacity and valour. He had acquired complete expertise in strategic planning, military operation and growth of military power. He was fully equipped with the qualities required to lead operations: firmness, organizing capacity, ability to mobilize the forces, setting and achieving goals and targets. He had all those qualities based on which she could assign this responsibility to him. She remembered now how the Rajan had once said that Gora could be compared with the best warriors in the world. He had the ability to turn an adverse situation to an advantageous one when the situation demanded it. She had heard that he was a strong-willed person who was not swept away by emotions. And that he had the capability of finding the truth.
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