Badal’s voice did not show any sign of tiredness even though the military operation had left him exhausted.
‘The maharawal thought for a moment and then looked at Gora. The next moment, his mind and feet worked at lightning speed. Escorted by two armed guards, he went to the waiting steed. The maharawal took over the reins and spurred the horse into a gallop. He took the safe route that passes through the dense forest. Uncle Gora’s eyes brimmed with tears of joy.’
A feeling of high regard for Gora arose in Padmini’s heart, which soon merged with the tenderness of her affection for him. The attendants were listening to Badal open-mouthed, their eyes on him, waiting to hear more.
‘As soon as the maharawal left, the royal army grew suspicious and began to shout that they had been cheated. Bhim Singh and Sangram Singh kept the advancement of the enemy soldiers in check. Had they failed to do so, the maharawal would have been hemmed in by the enemy soldiers, in which case it would have been impossible to stop them. The two commanders attacked the enemy camp, killing several soldiers. Strengthened by their warriors, they continued to break through the enemy troops who resisted but were fighting defensively. They were stunned by the sudden assault. Further, the killing of six or seven of their skilled fighters demoralized them.’
Padmini was daunted by the details. Her eyes shone as she listened to Badal.
‘The battle was heavily tilted against them. They soon came to know that Gora was leading the operation. They surrounded him as though he was their sole enemy. But with his unparalleled fighting skills and extraordinary swordsmanship, he was able to make his position strong. He was fighting as if it was a personal fight, as though he had only that day to prove his loyalty towards the maharawal, to take revenge on Raghav and to prove his reputation as an accomplished man-at-arms. If one could look at him, it seemed as if he was Lord Shiva and this was his dance of annihilation.’
The more the attendants listened to the blow-by-blow account, the more their hearts were filled with wonder. Everyone hung on to each word, impatient to know every nuance of the attack. Badal’s words were pregnant with his courage and fortitude.
‘Nisurat Khan, the chief of their army, who had let loose a reign of terror on the surrounding villages, confronted Uncle Gora. He attacked Gora, who swirled immediately and escaped unhurt. But then his left arm received a heavy blow. Uncle Gora flew into a rage. In his counter-attack, he beheaded Khan in a swift motion. Screams of terror rang through the air, forcing the sultan to come out of hiding. As soon as Gora’s soldiers saw him, they pounced on him. But the sultan’s guards rallied around him and took him away to an undisclosed location. This turned the situation to our advantage. Their focus shifted in an effort to protect their Badshah. We seized this opportunity to mount a vigorous attack. Disorganized without a commander, they began to lose ground.’
As Badal kept up the narration, he relived the moments and was overcome with jubilation.
‘While this was going on, the enemy soldiers closed in on Gora and found him alone. But he was alert. He swung around and attacked them one after another. The sharp edge of his formidable sword penetrated their armour and killed them, even as his eyes flashed. Unfortunately, he lost contact with us and died a hero’s death.’
Silence descended.
How did he die? How did someone who seemed to have a hundred arms and a hundred eyes succumb? Padmini’s heart was torn with helplessness that nothing could be done for the mighty warrior.
‘But by then, the situation was under our control. We had pulverized their defence. The sultan probably understood that it was difficult for his forces to match us. His encampment had been demolished. He ordered his troops to flee. They ran for their lives, causing a stampede in which some of them were trampled.’
‘It doubled our enthusiasm. We pretended to chase them but let them escape,’ Badal said with a smile. ‘Some of our soldiers stayed back to perform the last rites of those killed in action. They will also bring back the large cache of arms left behind by the enemy.’
He paused and continued, ‘But the campaign is still incomplete.’
The attendants, who were listening attentively, exchanged perplexed glances. What more remained to be achieved?
‘The sultan will not sit quietly. Shocked by this defeat, he will launch a counter-attack with greater vengeance. Whether this will happen immediately or after a while, no one can say. But he will come.’ As he spoke, Badal’s face wore a look of determination.
The attendants, cheerful a moment earlier, panicked. A quiver of fear returned to their eyes. They were uncertain if they should feel elated at the victory or be intimidated by the prospect of the counter-attack.
Padmini knew that Badal was conscious of the impending situation. She did not say anything, but her vigilant eyes were looking at something else.
Finally, she asked Badal, ‘Where were you in this campaign? I can see that you are badly wounded.’
He replied respectfully, ‘I was leading the second line of attack. In fact, I had requested my uncle to take me under his command. But I was an emissary in his mission of rapprochement. Fearing that they might recognize me, I was assigned charge of the second line.’
Padmini smiled and said, ‘Modesty forbade you from mentioning your deeds of bravery, but I know for certain that your incomparable valour reached new heights in those moments.’
‘It’s my privilege, Ranisa! But it was you who aroused this strength and capability in me,’ Badal said with a smile of delight.
Padmini went into her bedchamber and returned with a seven-stringed pearl necklace. She placed it on a silver plate and offered it to Badal. ‘This is a gift from me for your gallantry. Please accept it.’
Badal received it with great humility. Bowing respectfully, he said, ‘I feel honoured by your kindness, Ranisa! May I now take your leave?’
Padmini nodded and said, ‘God bless you!’
Badal strode out. Her eyes followed him till he disappeared. She could not help but say, ‘A brave warrior who would willingly lay down his life to keep his word. May he live for eternity!’ Tears were flowing from her eyes.
She was moved by what she heard of Gora’s loyalty, bravery and valour. The honour of Mewar was safe but not without great sacrifice.
She sighed and called Sugna. ‘Go and tell the chief badaran to make arrangements for sending silver platters laden with gifts of fine clothes, gold ornaments, jewels and sweets to the widow of Gora and the wife of Badal.’
‘Yes, Ranisa!’ Sugna bowed and left.
The opalescent glow of the setting sun fell on the floor; the deepening translucence of the evening began to descend.
The sound of celebratory drumbeats continued to rise. At the temple of Lord Eklingji, the maharawal was being weighed in jewels.
It looked as though a new age had dawned. And the man of this new era was Gora, who had sacrificed his all for the sake of his country and his king.
* * *
The evening was progressing. The darkness of the night began to spread. The sky, studded with the moon and stars, looked breathtaking as though it was vying with Padmini’s ethereal charm.
The evening was dedicated to the beauty of Padmini, who was getting ready.
Her attendants entered the room with small bowls of white butter, yoghurt, milk with aromatic herbs, scented water and other unguents. While the other attendants were busy doing one thing or the other, Magan, with her sense of fun, ensured the atmosphere was energetic and celebratory.
Padmini wanted the make-up to be simple and modest. But in this hour of celebration, they would not listen to her. Lakshmi, who was an expert beautician, wanted to seize this opportunity to exhibit her art.
She busied herself in getting Padmini ready. Lakshmi had an excellent collection of rare herbs and other natural products for skin treatment. She knew many home remedies that used sandalwood paste, saffron, musk, turmeric and other herbal extracts. But that was not what she was here for. It was an occ
asion for her to exhibit her extraordinary skill of applying make-up that enhanced appearance.
Chests inlaid with gemstones, full of fine silks, gold ornaments and jewellery were lying open. Intense discussions were held to decide which dress would suit which colour and which set of jewellery would best match the queen’s dress and make-up.
Hours later, after she was adorned with the traditional shringar, Padmini looked divinely gorgeous. A crescent-shaped ornament with pearls dangled over her crystal-smooth brow, a chaplet studded with rubies caressed her slender neck, a garland of twenty-one pearl strings embraced her rounded breasts, and armlets set with jewels clasped her arms. She was aglitter in exquisite finery with gleaming bracelets, earrings, rings and a diamond nose stud.
Her golden ghaghra, red blouse, colourful bodice and red odhani were like the gossamer to her beauty. She waited with her luminescent eyes hidden under long lashes, her luscious tresses waving like the pennant of the god of love, fragrant with the smell of flowers and the parting bedecked with pearls.
Her body, slender as the malati creeper, was adorned with gems and jewels. But it was her soft effulgence that stood out against the finery. The luminosity of her large dark eyes outshone the beads of her pearl garland. Her body brimmed with voluptuous youth as though it was a life-like statue of a celestial nymph.
She looked at herself in the mirror and felt as if it had been years since she had last seen herself this way. Tonight, the Rajan will see this beauty. A pleasant thrill of anticipation ran through her. A sense of blessedness quivered in her eyes.
The moon hid behind a chunk of clouds, but its luminescence continued to transcend the screen.
The decorated bedchamber stood transformed. Chandeliers, with strings of grape-shaped gem-lamps hanging from the high-domed ceiling, lit up the room. The light from them created an illusion of undulating waves. A wisp of smoke from burning incense sticks spiralled upwards, and the air was filled with the pleasant smell of musk and agaru. The bed was strewn with flowers from the palace garden. A rose water sprinkler, a vial of scent and gajras of sweet-smelling flowers had been placed close to the bed. The elaborate decoration befitted the breathtaking elegance of its mistress.
The attendants had left. The tinkling sound of their anklets had receded into the distance. The noisy fireworks of their giggles had faded.
Oil lamps placed in the niches were glowing. The night was soft and Padmini was waiting for her soulmate eagerly. Every passing moment seemed like an age. It seemed as though it had been a lifetime since she had seen him.
Shrubs and thickets, flowers and creepers, groves and gardens were drowning in the gathering darkness. Beads of water glistened like pearls on the leaves of the lily blooming in the pond. Cool air wafted in through the intricately-designed lattice screen of the balcony.
Once, overcome with emotion, the Rajan had said, ‘I wonder when I look at you, Padme! You have come from a place of wilderness. Nothing seems to grow there except the stunted wood apple trees and some cactus-like plants. It is an endless expanse of sand and dunes as far as one can see. Long spells of drought have turned the region into a desolate, parched landscape with acute scarcity of water. How did it happen that an extremely beautiful girl like you was born in that dry barren land?’
She laughed at hearing that. Her beautiful teeth as white as the buds of the kunda flower sparkled. Her smile spread a gleaming light.
‘Our land was not always like that. There was a time when the Saraswati used to flow there. And long ago, a roaring sea did exist there.’
‘I don’t know what distant past you are talking about,’ the Rajan said with a teasing smile. ‘When I reached there, the blistering midday sun was beating down mercilessly on us. We were running on the burning sand chasing a mirage. We could not find any trees to offer us shade. After wandering a lot, we finally located a shami tree in whose sparse shade we could relax. Even that isolated tree, thirsty and covered in thick layers of dust, had lost its natural lustre.’
A smile flashed on Padmini’s face. She looked her husband in the eye and said, ‘Why did you take so much trouble to go to that land? What for?’ Mischief glinted in her eyes.
‘You will not understand, my love. The attraction of a beautiful woman like you is irresistible. But you didn’t answer my question: how could a celestial damsel like you be born in that arid dustbowl?’
This time her laughter was louder, her blush brighter. Ratan Singh was soaked in that cascading bliss. He gazed longingly at his tantalizingly charming wife.
‘The answer to your question lies in the long history of that land. When Lord Krishna left Mathura for Dwaraka, the gopis, the cowherd girls from Vrindavan who loved him intensely, could not bear the separation. Their yearning and longing increased with every passing moment. In desperation, the lovelorn women set out in the direction Krishna had set out. Krishna, however, had chosen a different route to reach Dwaraka because in those days the Kalayavan forces had laid siege to Mathura’s western border, and the Jarasandh forces stood on the eastern border. To avoid the two-pronged conflict, Krishna took a longer route through the rugged and rocky desert. It took him a long time to reach his destination.
But the poor naïve women from the land of Braj, deeply attached to Krishna, went astray in the desert and could not find him. They were exhausted. Left with no option, they decided to settle down there. We are told that they were our ancestors.’
The Rajan laughed heartily and said, ‘Now I understand. So this exquisite beauty is the legacy of the gopis, Krishna’s devotees.’ His eyes sparkled with exuberance.
Those beautiful moments now seemed like a dream. That period in her life was full of many such pleasant and sensuous experiences. Any attempt to recall them would present before her mind’s eye a rainbow of heart-gladdening images.
The image of the Rajan’s face with beads of perspiration on his brow was deeply ensconced in her mind. How handsome he looked, so manly! She was bubbling with a yearning to be embraced by him. Today I will bind him with the cords of love and longing and the warmth of the most intimate feelings.
The Raj Marg, the royal highway, was lined with streetlamps. Dim lamplights were twinkling in the windows of some houses and mansions. Silence had descended. Only the feeble sound of celebration could be heard from afar.
Sometimes destiny makes us wait for such a long time that a moment seems like an age and a day becomes a kalpa, an era of millions of years. Restless, Padmini stood close to the oriel window like a statue. In that ominous silence, something stirred within her.
The glamour and glitter of lavish opulence had dimmed. She was becoming impatient to surrender herself to him.
It was past midnight, but Maharawal Ratan Singh was yet to arrive.
Sugna came and raised the wicks of the lamps and poured more incense into the containers. Wisps of fragrant smoke rose in tangles.
Apprehensions began to flutter in her mind. Sugna could sense the tension but chose to keep quiet. She went back without saying a word.
Perhaps he will spend the night in Prabha Mahal with his patrani, Prabhavati. After all, she is his principal queen. She deserves the highest regard. And this night is special.
But the Rajan had clearly said that he would spend the night with Padmini.
What happened to his word?
There had been no intimation, no message and no communication.
What could be the reason?
She was struggling to cope with the tangled emotions troubling her.
Suddenly, a voice within her said, ‘When one is overcome with emotions, every word that is uttered is not necessarily a bond. Therefore, the Rajan is neither bound to keep his word, nor does he owe an explanation to anyone.’
Maharani Prabhavati’s image of her self-proclaimed superiority crossed her mind. A part of her felt she was entitled to it. The Rajan has a commitment towards her.
Then, a question struck her like the twang of a bow string, ‘What about me?’
&n
bsp; The long wait had blurred her thoughts and sapped her spirit.
An unfamiliar void pervaded her emotions. She had everything she could aspire for. And yet there was something that was missing.
Will this night that promised to fill her heart with a sense of pride and glory pass this coldly?
Something akin to a stinging pain rose within her. The beaming smile that flashed on her visage a while ago had disappeared. She felt a shiver of apprehension. Hope began to turn into dejection.
She tried to assuage her crushed soul.
What is so strange about it? Rani Prabhavati has the first claim on the Rajan. She is senior to me both in age and place of honour. She is his patrani and . . .
Beyond that, she found her heart unprepared to concede more generous thoughts.
She was not willing to believe that he would not visit her. She did not want to give up hope and confidence in the face of apprehensions.
Padmini is the queen of his heart. He has to come to me. There is no doubt.
A thrill of joy ran through her.
But why does this thrill lack energy and appear so despairingly solicitous?
A sense of something missing was gnawing at her, but what was it?
Her desperate eyes wandered across the mysterious criss-cross of light and shade patterned by the moonlight filtering through the trees. Her sense of unease grew with every passing moment. A solitary bird separated from its mate flew away from the bushes beyond the pond, crying kreen . . . kreen . . . all the way. The darkness deepened. The quietude thickened.
Sugna arrived just as Padmini’s wish-fulfilling wait reached its apex. With helplessness writ large on her face, she kept her eyes downcast, as if she would rather not meet Padmini’s eye. Padmini stood transfixed. Her heart raced but she kept her inner turmoil concealed. She did not let anybody know what was troubling her.
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