It is male chauvinism that has dealt a severe blow to the hearts and minds of women.
Then why is a woman idolized as Goddess Gauri or Bhawani? Why is she put on a pedestal by describing her as ādyāshakti, the primeval power or grihalakshami, the prosperity of the household?
Her lacerated questions, having lost their voice, went back to sleep in her heart.
The emancipation of women is reined in by men. Sage Manu had ordained that a woman had to be under a man’s control from the time she was born till she breathed her last. Did he never feel the need to understand a woman’s mind?
Men perhaps do not know that feelings of love and dedication are not precious merchandise that can be bought or seized. Has any man ever recognized a woman’s innermost feelings? Has he ever tried to understand her feelings of dedication? Has he ever respected the freedom of her soul? No, never.
A man is selfish by nature. He evaluates everything from his own point of view. It is his own value system by which he judges others.
Why was this persistent curiosity piercing her heart and soul again and again today? Why were these thoughts springing to her mind now, she wondered?
The authors of religious texts do not treat women with dignity. Why don’t they think it necessary to revise their treatises? Why don’t they realize that, according to the law of nature, the feelings and desires of a woman are as important as those of a man? She too is a conscious creature, a human being with a soul. Why should she be someone’s property? Why should a man take responsibility for her condescendingly?
Women are the fountainhead of purity. They are the bearers of culture. But the ancient philosophers and thinkers seem to have exhausted their intellectual energy in giving vent to the feelings of men alone.
Why then do they claim to be omniscient? She felt like telling the authors of these ancient texts, ‘You are not human but statues carved in stone that have no feelings.’
Her mind became numb for a while. All her thoughts and questions related to them stopped.
Realizing her position, she sighed. All her responsibilities had been taken care of. If this is not slavery in the garb of royal protection and care, then what is? Is my education, knowledge and wisdom worth nothing? How painful it is to remain idle after your ambition has been stubbed out and your intellect neutered.
Padmini wished she could banish herself to a lonely place, away from these stifling surroundings, be all by herself and wander aimlessly.
Outside, rows of trees stood mute with their heads bowed. Padmini gazed at the sun going down behind the thickets. The day had left a haze behind.
Silence hung in the air. A hush had fallen over the tense memories with no scent of the past. The grandeur, the glory, the opulence, the passion of love—all had stopped short.
Winter had gone by, but there was no sign of spring yet. Though the season had changed, not a single green leaf had made an appearance. Everywhere, trees were shedding dry leaves, which made a strange piteous sound. The sky had turned dusty and gloomy.
Where have the cool moonshine of summer, the saffron sunlight of autumn, the rejuvenating rainfall, and the seven colours of the rainbow gone? Is it that our own feelings and emotions lend a particular colour to life?
The trees with their denuded branches wove different patterns of shadows. A solitary narkat tree stood bent with unbearable weight. Every morning was burdensome and every evening leaden on her soul.
Festivals, ceremonies and rituals associated with these seasons had lost their verve. Days had passed but not a single song of celebration had been sung in the Ranivas, the queen’s apartment. Dancing girls did not swirl to the rhythm of their ankle bells. Earlier, they used to sing and dance with such passion that one would get the impression that the real pleasure was in performing.
But neither the dancing girls’ jingling anklets nor the melodious voices of female singers resonated through the hall any more.
A solitary oil lamp burnt in the room. Sweet-smelling smoke wafted up in the air. Padmini, all alone in the room, sat with her head bowed, lost in thought. She preferred solitude these days.
She had partly covered her delicate face with the anchal of her pink apparel. More than half her forehead was visible.
The sky had turned deep blue. Night spread its lustrous tresses smoothly.
But Padmini was not looking out. Immersed in a book by the renowned author, Shubhkirti, she read each line with great interest. ‘The way during the time of Pralaya, the annihilation of the whole world, the city of Prayag remained intact, the Kalpavriksha, the wish-fulfilling tree, was unharmed, the same way if during the Kalikal, the age of Kali, Mewar will retain its pristine glory . . .’
Every time I read this book, the clouds in my mind part and a ray of light streams in, she thought to herself.
Outside, there was some commotion. It sounded like the palace guards were scurrying back to their positions. In the background, an announcement was made in a grave tone: ‘The crest-jewel of all kings, Maharawal Ratan Singh has arrived.’
Instantly, the atmosphere changed into one of disciplined silence in awe of the king’s presence. It was after many months that the Rajan had thought of coming to her chamber. I wonder what drew him here.
Crossing the columns and the arches, he entered the room faster than she expected him to.
Padmini got up hurriedly. In the process, she dropped the tamal leaves on which the book was written. The detached leaves fluttered around before scattering on the floor. It was not difficult for the Rajan to recognize Shubhkirti’s handwriting even from that distance. He came forward to help Padmini pick up the leaves.
Shubhkirti, his former teacher, had taught him literature. He had instilled into the king the samskaras, the time-honoured spiritual values as enunciated in the ancient philosophical texts. When he was a child, Shubhkirti would hold his hand and take him around various temples: Kaitama Rupa Mandir, Samidheshwara Mandir, Gautameshwara Mandir, Shrinatha and Charbhuja. Sitting for hours on the banks of the Gambhiri, he would explain to Ratan Singh the deeper aspects of dharma. He would often, in the course of his spiritual discussion, break into a song or chant as if in a trance.
Transported to another world, the king was lost in thought.
Padmini shut the door and sat on the bed, close to the king. She began to stroke his hair. The king kept lying indifferently. It was the same room, the same bed and yet how different the king looked!
‘Are you tired?’ she asked, the cool of the morning breeze in her voice.
‘No, it’s not so. Just . . . I managed some free time and thought of seeing you.’
He closed his eyes and returned to his thoughts. It looked as though he was wandering in an unknown valley, going up and down desultorily. She gently nudged him off his somnolence and asked, ‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Hmm,’ he said, slowly opening his eyes, ‘I’m thinking if it will ever be possible to strengthen peace, tranquillity and cultural moorings in Mewar.’
A shadow of inner conflict came over his face. He had a sense of foreboding that the state was going to face a serious crisis.
In the softest possible tone, she tried to comfort him saying, ‘Why do you worry? The people of this land are hard-working and strong enough to endure all kinds of hardship. They have patience. They know how to wait. Once durable peace is restored . . .’
‘In the present circumstances, durable peace is only possible in dreams. We have two options: One, we meekly accept the subjugation of that savage and serve him in his royal court, and the other is to oppose him tooth and nail and continue to face untold misery.’
He paused for a moment, pulled himself together, and said in a decisive tone, ‘The stage of choosing is past. Now our path is clear.’
Once again, the odious image of Ala-ud-Din’s savagery, immorality and treachery seemed to flash before his eyes. He grimaced.
‘There is no rule of dharma in his unjust dispensation. What prevails is his fanatic arrogan
ce and his belief in crushing the opponent by hook or by crook. In his military campaign, he would not bother to see if what he was doing was just or not. He murdered his own uncle who was his father-in-law too.’ Padmini listened, muted.
He went on, ‘Even in his administration, he indulges in injustice and discrimination against those who do not subscribe to his faith. In his state, Hindus are not allowed to keep money and assets beyond the bare minimum.’
‘Why should he have any problem with legitimate claims on hard-earned money?’
Retaining the gravity in his voice, he said, ‘He thinks that money and wealth beyond a limit emboldens the subjects to revolt. It provides the wherewithal to organize a mass uprising. His political aides have advised him that the common citizens of the state should be ruthlessly pushed to the brink of utter poverty and destitution, so that even in their wildest dream they dare not think of raising the banner of revolt.’
‘What I hear is that he proselytizes people of other faiths by force. Is that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t understand how a person forced to convert to another religion will have any faith in and respect for it. In fact, faith in one’s own religion gives true bliss to the soul.’
The king took a deep breath and said, ‘I can’t believe that the pious and divine soul Muhammad could have taught his followers to adopt this path. What I have come to know from reliable sources is that Ala-ud-Din is not a devout Muslim. He doesn’t understand the true spirit of Islam and the Quran.’
With an innocent curiosity, Padmini asked, ‘He doesn’t have the wisdom or the intent to follow the path of righteousness. He has no faith in his own religion or in spiritualism, and yet he goes on winning war after war. How?’
‘Hmm,’ he explained, ‘the bottom line of our cultural tradition is that life as a human is a mahayajna, a big sacrificial rite. It is on the basis of this yajna that the universe rests. The meaning of the yajna is this: we have to offer all our greed, our desires as sacred oblation into the sacrificial fire. In other words, we have to surrender our all and even lay down our life to the cause of upholding and protecting our long-cherished ideals. But this is not the case with him. He brazenly believes in brute force and unethical means. People like him do not rise above worldly pleasures and the spoils of this world. They would not delve into the mysteries of human existence. Questions of “Who am I?”, “Why am I?”, and “Where have I come from?” do not churn in their minds. At this moment they have power. They have left their homes and come here not for any spiritual quest but to sack Chittor, which is known for its wealth and resources. They are hell-bent on looting this country as long as they can, as much as they can. Using their strength of power and pelf, they recruit starving men in thousands into their armies and use this force to annex one territory after another.’
‘This means our religion is so weak . . .’
The king perceived the question troubling his queen and said without changing the tone of his voice, ‘It is not that our religion is weak compared to theirs, or that it makes us weak. The differences that we see between religions are superficial. There is nothing like our God is different from theirs. God is one. God cannot be defined intellectually. He can only be realized through the soul.’
‘Why then do people fight in the name of religion?’
He paused, thought for a moment, and continued, ‘Our fight is not against Islam. Absolutely not. We are fighting against a foreign invader who is indulging in the most vicious and barbaric acts. He is bent upon destroying faiths and beliefs of those who do not kowtow to him.’ His tone remained serious, but there was no tension visible on his face.
He continued after another pause, ‘He doesn’t believe in respecting the faiths and customs of others. Our sages, Manu and Yagyavalkya, taught us to give due recognition to diverse faiths and respect the religious sentiments of their followers.’
Padmini listened to him intently. A well-read woman herself, she tried her best to come to terms with what she had heard. However, she could not convince herself how such an evil-minded invader could not be defeated by those who had always followed the tenets of their faith so religiously. Unable to come to a conclusion, she put it before the king.
He responded, ‘We have to go a little deeper to settle such doubts. Our way of life is based on certain values, ideals and a code of conduct. The philosophy of karma, as enshrined in our scriptures is so deep-rooted in us that our behaviour is dictated by it. All our actions, both physical and mental, have consequences, which we have to face in our next lives. Similarly, during our present life, we face the consequences of our actions, good or bad, in our past lifetimes. Accordingly, the ultimate aim of an individual is to attain liberation from this cycle of births. Since Khilji doesn’t seem to believe in this philosophy, his conscience does not prick him. He thinks he can commit the most heinous crimes with impunity.’
Padmini knew the king was right. She looked thoughtful. The king continued, ‘Unfortunately, the wicked Ala-ud-Din is not guided by the true spirit of Islam, which teaches the virtues of love and peace. The meaning of the word “Islam” is peace. Khwaja Nizamuddin Auliya, a Sufi saint of the Chishti dynasty, worked to create an atmosphere of religious tolerance. He explained to the people the real form of Islam. According to him, everybody should try to realize God by following the devotional practices of their own faith,’ he added.
‘These are matters of religion and faith,’ said Padmini. ‘But the fact remains that we are a deeply divided nation. In the face of this serious crisis, all the states of Aryavart, big or small, should have joined hands and put up a formidable front. But they haven’t. Why don’t they realize, or rather why are they not made to realize, that united they will be able to stand up to the invaders and divided they will fall? Nobody will survive. Our great culture, our glorious tradition, our Vedas, our scriptures, all will disappear from the face of the earth.’ Padmini’s innocent face seemed to have acquired a reddish glow.
Maharawal Ratan Singh smiled softly, as one smiles at the simple curiosity of a small child. ‘This is what he is taking advantage of. The internal differences of the Rajput rulers have strengthened the hands of a tyrant, such that his tentacles have spread far and wide. The rulers of this land have never maintained cordial relations. They may pretend to be friendly, but in their hearts they nurse envy and animosity for each other. And since the Turks’ occupation of Delhi, all states, big and small, have lost their nerve.’
After a moment’s pause, he continued, ‘Lakshman Singh, a brave warrior, is trying to get help and support from the neighbouring states. But seeing their present state of mind, he is very disappointed. They are either tactfully skirting the issue of getting involved or trying to dissuade him from taking on the sultan of Delhi. How can they help others when they themselves are in fear and trepidation? All of them have their own axe to grind. They have nothing to offer except dry sympathy.’
Ratan Singh fell silent, but his expressions showed that he had more to say.
‘You are saddened by it?’
The sadness on his face was replaced, in an instance, with a neutral expression. He spoke in an enlightened tone, ‘No, Padme! I have felt enough sadness. Now it is time I take up my responsibilities as a soldier. I need to be alert and gird myself up to face any eventuality. This fight is not just against a person but against adharma, unrighteousness and injustice as well.’
His face indicated the firmness of his resolve. He regained his composure and said, ‘The support of the people of Mewar is my greatest strength. They have become fully aware of the situation and are conscious of their duties in this hour of crisis. Today, in every home there are warriors like Gora and Badal ready to join the force.
She was gazing at the Rajan affectionately. There was no dilemma, no indecisiveness, no dithering. Instead, he was full of unswerving confidence.
‘When is he likely to attack?’
‘He was forced to retreat last time. He has seen that
our soldiers are brave and fearless and our fort is impregnable. He needs a strong army and sufficient logistics before he can plan an attack, and he needs time for that. This time he will mobilize a large number of soldiers, for whom he has to arrange a huge quantity of arms, horses, food, drinks and other things. And this is a time-consuming exercise.’
He is elaborating the future scenario so calmly. But a flame is flickering in the depths of his eyes. Who knows when this dormant volcano may erupt?
‘Let him come with as big an army as he likes. He will have to face strong resistance. Every citizen of this land is ready to sacrifice his life. Moreover, our garrison is naturally fortified from all sides. Since times immemorial, it has been providing extraordinary security to its custodians.’
He was silent for a few moments. But his silence was not static. It was brimming with thoughts. He seemed conscious of the path he had chosen. The path was not easy; it was full of obstacles. ‘But the enemy can lay siege to the fort and we can’t do anything. It is surrounded by an open field and this garrison on the hilltop is isolated. Although it is difficult for them to get here, they can barricade it to prevent movement of men and supplies. If we are defeated under siege, it will only be because of the blockade,’ he said staring into space.
Scared to her wits, Padmini instantly put her hand on the Rajan’s mouth, ‘Never ever utter such ominous words for Chittor, please!’
This brought a smile to lips. Comforting Padmini, he said, ‘Fine! If we win the battle, I will think of shifting the capital to some other place.’
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and immersed himself in thoughts. With an intense feeling of closeness rising in her heart for him, she said softly, ‘Rajan!’
His eyes were closed. With closed lips, he murmured, ‘Hmm?’
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