Padmini

by Mridula Behari

  A terrifying explosion was heard from the south side as though a meteor had fallen from outer space.

  The thunderbolt-like sound was followed by a frightening uproar. With the screaming of several people, the sound of several pitchers breaking was heard.

  Prince Veerbhan had died a hero’s death. The future king of the Guhil dynasty had been killed in action.

  Everyone in the antahpur, the women’s apartment, was weeping bitterly.

  Padmini trembled from head to toe in shock. She felt as though a thousand-pronged sharp weapon had pierced her heart.

  The prince’s angelic smile glowing with pride, his innocent young face, his radiant forehead, his sparkling eyes came before her.

  The centre of the maharawal’s thoughts, the flame of his hopes and aspirations, a part of his soul, his beloved son was no more.

  She thought of Prabha Mahal, the palace of Maharani Prabhavati. She shuddered to imagine how the maharani must have received the news. The apple of her eye, her son, dearer than her own life, was gone. It was hard to believe.

  Silent tears streamed down her eyes. Memories hovered in the dark galleries of the mind like birds with clipped wings.

  Atop Chittavari hill, the sultan’s tattered flag fluttered. Enemy soldiers could be heard cheering in the farthest corner of the fort. The terrifying noise of their laughter was echoing through the corridors of the palace. The deserted streets, lanes and by-lanes were haunted by the fearful and brutal enemy.

  The rudders of Mewar had become so fragile that there was no knowing when its boat would sink midstream. All hopes of winning the battle had been dashed. The fall of Chittor was imminent.

  All this while, the enemy continued to get reinforcements to launch even more deadly attacks. Another painful piece of news came in: Badal had been killed. He had fought till the last drop of his blood. Mewar had lost its last most valorous warrior. Everybody in the women’s apartment remembered him glowingly; they admired him as an invincible warrior. Sounds of smothered sobs began to rise.

  The garrison had lost most of its brave men. It seemed as though it had become lifeless. Just a handful of senior officers were left to face the sea of the sultan’s forces.

  Defeat after defeat. Setback after setback. Destruction after destruction. However, the maharawal had not lost an iota of his vigour. The life force in him was as dynamic as ever. Also, deep inside somewhere, there was an intense feeling at work: ‘One who sacrifices all for the sake of a cause never perishes. He is immortal even after his death. Only such brave souls rule the hearts of people.’

  Maharawal Ratan Singh held a meeting with his advisers, including warlord Lakshman Singh, Ajay Singh, Bal Hamir and a few other commanders. Once again, a new plan of action was chalked out and new decisions taken.

  They still had a fire burning in their hearts.

  * * *

  Sugna brought news from a source outside. It was difficult for Padmini to guess anything from her face. So distressed was she that nothing sounded shocking any more. She had lost the curiosity to hear what Sugna had to say.

  But she had to listen to her. She had to make an effort to concentrate. She tried to stay expressionless, but failed to do so.

  Sugna spoke unemotionally, ‘Bal Hamir, the successor of a small branch of the Guhil dynasty endowed with the title of the Rana, has been declared the future ruler of Mewar after Maharawal Ratan Singh.’

  A faint image of the boy flashed before her eyes for a moment. She sat silently.

  Sugna reported the council’s decision verbatim, ‘After analysing the circumstances, it was decided that Hamir be anointed as the crown prince and sent to Sisod, the original jagir of the Ranas, along with some warriors under the guardianship of Ajay Singh, so that in the future he can regain Chittor by mobilizing forces and building military power.’

  ‘There’s another piece of information.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Padmini incuriously.

  ‘Before leaving for Sisod, Ajay Singh will bring Hamir to you to receive your blessings.’

  Something stirred inside her. She was no more impassive. There had been some reaction inside her.

  ‘When will they come?’

  ‘They should be here any moment.’

  Sugna began to tidy up the room. The new crown prince of Mewar was about to arrive.

  The other day Prince Veerbhan was here. How everything has changed. Today she will see the new yuvraj.

  Emotions dashed inside her heart like waves upon the shore, reflecting their hues and then receding into unknown depths of her heart.

  She heard footsteps coming closer.

  Sugna raised the curtain of the room.

  Ajay Singh and Prince Hamir entered. Both of them bowed before the queen.

  Hamir was now the anointed prince.

  Padmini looked at Ajay Singh. He was fully armoured. A huge shield was tied to his back. Tucked in his cummerbund were two swords, one each on either side of the waist. He was holding an iron helmet in one hand. His eyes were not dreamless like before. A tiny glimmer of hope rested in them. His persona presented him as a brave and fearless protector.

  Padmini’s gaze moved to Hamir and stayed there. Mustering all her hope and happiness, she said, ‘Victory be to the future king of Mewar!’

  The young prince was wearing royal headgear with a jewelled crest on it. His forehead was adorned with tilak. A pearl necklace was hanging till his waist. She looked at his face searchingly. He wore the dignified demeanour of the royal lineage, the radiant glow of the rising sun on his face. She looked into his eyes and felt her heart lift in the fearlessness and clarity in them. The soft pink lips were countered by a determined chin. It was after many days that Padmini began to see things clearly. The young prince seemed to be filled with pride and enthusiasm. Charmed by the captivating presence of the young prince, Padmini took pleasure in watching the gestures of his hands, the little movements of his body, and the expressions on his face closely.

  Conscious of his official position, he said, ‘I have come here to seek your blessings, Rani Ma!’

  The word ‘Ma’ melted her heart. She wished she could run to him and envelope him in an embrace. But she reined in that emotion.

  What do I tell him when there is so much to say? She was quiet for some time, searching in her heart for a gift of words. Then she said, ‘In the Gita, Lord Krishna addresses the moral dilemma of Arjun who is loath to go to war. He says: kshudram hridayadaurbalyam tyaktvottishta Parantapa, which as you know means “rise with a brave heart and destroy the enemy completely”. He further says: swadharmapi chāvekshya na vikampitumarhasi, dharmyādhi yudhāchachhreyoanyatkshatriyasya na vidyate; you should not vacillate as it is against your dharma, and that for a Kshatriya there is nothing greater than a war against evil. Being a Kshatriya, you are a born warrior and therefore, it is your duty or dharma to fight your enemy who is adharmi or unrighteous. Nāsato vidyate bhāvo nā bhāvo vidyate satoh: nothing is permanent or imperishable. Childhood, youth, old age, this body with all its wealth, the sea, the river—all are ephemeral. They are not real. What is real is that which is eternal. And what is eternal or everlasting is the fame and glory you earn by your valour. It is your good and evil deeds that live after you.

  ‘In every age, asuras or demons are born. In the Satyuga, it was Hiranyakashipu, in the Treta it was Ravana, and in the Dwapara it was Jarasandha and Kansa who were demons. But in every age, great men have descended to destroy them. For the Kshatriyas, there is no holier yajna or sacrifice than fighting the enemy in war. The bravehearts hold sway over the battlefield. The stream of blood that flows during a war is the wish-fulfilling purnahuti, or the final oblation. The battleground is the receptacle of the ‘havi’ or offerings as oblation for the sacrificial fire. He who shows exemplary gallantry in war is the recipient of the fruit or reward of a sacrificial rite in which dakshina of immense value is offered.’

  Hamir listened attentively, respectfully. He was conscious of the fact
that she was preparing him physically, mentally and spiritually for the challenges that might appear in his life. His face glowed with immense satisfaction.

  After a pause she continued, ‘The heavy responsibility of preserving and protecting the pride and honour of Mewar rests on your shoulders henceforth. In order to be able to take up this onerous responsibility, you have to sacrifice your selfish needs and shun the life of luxury and ostentation.’

  The queen continued to speak with great emotion, ‘Even if you have to live the most austere life, surviving on just wild fruits, sleeping on a bed of dried leaves, you will never make any woman a pawn on the chessboard of your political ambitions. Unfortunately, some rulers are so vicious that for fear of facing defeat and losing the life of opulence, they have given away their daughters to the invaders to be thrown into their harems. That too with no qualms. There are others who have shamelessly chosen to lick their boots, bartering their self-esteem with their favours.’

  She looked at Hamir and saw that he was hanging on to every word. She sensed that he wanted to say something but felt short of words to articulate it properly.

  ‘I hope you understand what I mean.’

  The concern and affection in her voice touched him. His eyes sparkled.

  He nodded and moved closer to her, feeling energized in the protective shade of her love.

  ‘I will pray to the Almighty: May my Hamir be so powerful so as to destroy the enemies of the state completely. May he achieve his cherished goals and be the protector of this land and its flag.’

  Overwhelmed with emotions, she added, ‘May you become the ideal of the patriotic people who love their freedom! May people of the world remember you as long as freedom and struggle is honoured in this world . . .’ And then she was done.

  Padmini suddenly felt tired, as if she had been emptied of all that was good in her. A flicker of pain showed on her face. Hamir was looking at her with childlike innocence. He had never before experienced such love and trust.

  When he spoke, it was with the gravity of a person beyond his age, ‘I swear by Ma Padmini that I will not rest until I finish our enemies off the face of the earth.’

  Once again, his addressing her as ‘Ma’ sent a ripple through her being and reverberated inside her for a long time. Ma . . . Ma . . . Ma was the only sound that filled her heart. The small icicle of maternal love grew into a stream that flooded her soul. Unable to control her feelings, she held her arms out and Hamir walked in. Overwhelmed, she felt as though she was floating in the river of eternal love and bliss.

  The darkness inside her was dispelled. She was a complete woman now. Her life as a human being had a sense of purpose. She felt as though what she had lost many lifetimes ago had been returned to her.

  As soon as she became conscious of Ajay Singh’s presence and of her own emotional state, she checked herself. She had to make some effort to change her expression and look normal.

  She turned to Ajay Singh and said, ‘You are an experienced warrior. You have to teach Hamir the art of warfare just the way Bhishma taught Yudhishthir the techniques of fighting the opponent.’

  ‘I will, Ranisa!’ Ajay Singh assured her.

  ‘To protect Hamir’s life is also your responsibility. You understand how important his safety and security is given the circumstances.’

  ‘You needn’t worry. I will protect him even if I have to risk my own life. It is my sacred duty to protect him.’

  He explained to Padmini their strategic advantage: ‘The natural conditions of this area are mostly in our favour. There are many ruins and caves in the vast forest of the Aravali hills. These caves are so huge that thousands of people can be accommodated inside. They have small holes as well to facilitate ventilation and sunlight.

  ‘The high altitudes and serpentine tracks can be dangerous for those who are not familiar with the terrain. The enemy troops trying to enter the area will be visible from above and can be killed or repulsed by shooting arrows and rolling boulders down the hills.’

  He reassured her, ‘Also, there are a large number of fruit trees and plenty of firewood. The area has many ponds and abounds with precious minerals and metals. There is no cause for concern. Besides, the state’s treasury has been shifted to undisclosed locations. Essential material, documents and maps are in safe custody.’

  Then he fell silent.

  An unknown hope set her mind to rest. She gazed at him, but there was no trace of fear on his face. His eyes were shining like that of a lion cub. She could sense that the blood of a braveheart was coursing through his body.

  She went up to a table and picked up a gem-studded sword lying on it.

  She came back to Hamir and offered it to him. ‘Accept this gift from me, Yuvraj! The red gem on it is the symbol of enthusiasm and vigour in your life. Remember, those who take the trouble of crossing deep gorges alone reach the mountain peaks.’

  Hamir accepted it with the dignity of a crown prince.

  ‘May you be blessed with power, piety and long life! May Lord Eklingji protect you.’ She felt a surge of emotions. She had to swallow hard as she added, ‘God comes to the rescue of those who follow their dharma assiduously.’

  ‘Do we have your permission to leave, Ranisa?’ asked Ajay Singh.

  Padmini raised her hand to bless them. A smile displaying her maternal affection quivered on her face.

  ‘Let’s go, Hamir!’

  Hamir bowed and left with Ajay Singh. Before he disappeared from view, he turned and threw a childlike glance at her. A reassuring smile danced on the corner of his lips as if to say: ‘You don’t have to be terrified by the challenges ahead of me’. His stately gait bespoke self-confidence.

  Soon they were out of sight. Just like the pink glow remains in the sky after sunset, the sound of their footsteps continued to linger in her ears.

  But even after she could no longer hear them, Padmini was flooded with maternal love. She continued to look in the direction they had left in. She recalled the look on his face when she had blessed him and the reassuring smile when he turned to look at her. She closed her eyes and was soon lost in the comfort of his presence when she had embraced him. Unintentionally, she smiled and beads of tears from her eyes dropped to the ground.

  The sun disappeared. A pink glow remained.

  * * *

  Suddenly, heart-rending cries and wailing from the palace tore into the air.

  The king had been killed on the battlefield.

  Maharawal Ratan Singh, the king of Mewar, the last ruler of the Rawal lineage, was dead.

  An era had ended. The sovereign power had been eclipsed. The thick shadow of all-devouring despair and despondency descended all over.

  A wave of grief swept over the women’s apartment. Everybody was weeping uncontrollably. Grief-stricken Sugna could not raise her head. She had pressed the hem of her dress over her mouth in an unsuccessful effort to check the unceasing flow of tears, but her hiccups were unstoppable.

  Who would tell the queen? Who would console her? What could one say to her?

  In a state of shock, Padmini was listless. She looked unmoved, unaffected, without emotions or sense of judgement, thoughts or sensation. She was lifeless like a stone, a body without soul.

  Suddenly, she felt pain in her lower abdomen. It felt as if her heart was sinking and her ears were buzzing. And then, a shooting pain arose as if a poison-dipped arrow had pierced her heart. The excruciating pain rose up to her larynx. Tears flowed silently from her eyes.

  The memories of moments of joy tore through the cloak of gloom and dejection and came alive once again. Those days when her beloved husband was always by her side played out in front of her. Those intoxicating nights they spent in each other’s arms, those moments of love, the unforgettable charming smile, each and every incident, and the memories associated with them flashed before her eyes.

  It was difficult for her to believe that the Rajan was no more. She had a feeling that he would come to her with some good news
any time.

  * * *

  The wind was drifting in all directions, weighed down by the wailing of a woman separated from her husband.

  The army of Sultan Ala-ud-Din was spreading like wildfire, like a flame with a thousand tongues, destroying everything in its way: men, the sturdy walls, the iron gates. The army was at the main gate. Rejoicing wildly, they were shouting. There was fire and smoke everywhere.

  The atmosphere was stifling. The splendour of Chittor had been reduced to ruins. The vestigial remains of the stately buildings and the leafless trees stood like mute spectators of the invader’s sport of destruction. The landscape was barren and desolate.

  In an attempt to boost the morale of the soldiers, the Ranas of Sisod were crowned and anointed one after another. One by one, they appeared on the battlefield and laid down their lives.

  Kal, or time, in its most horrendous form was staring them in the face. There were no options left. Preparations for the last sacrifice had begun inside the fort.

  All goods and assets were being collected to be offered to the god of fire, so that there was nothing left for the enemy to take. Married women were preparing for jauhar. The surviving warriors dressed themselves in saffron robes and were readying for the last fight. Bracing for the end, they had pain, anguish and agony in their hearts. However, they were driven by a unique sense of self-respect.

  Elephants, horses and camels, who were reared with a lot of care and who were as dear to the warriors as their own children, were beheaded. The mute animals submitted themselves at the altar of sacrifice, bowing their heads as though they were conscious of the defeat.

  All the gold, silver, diamonds, precious gems and jewels, and all valuables were offered to the fire as the wood crackled and spat. The ear-splitting sound of things falling and breaking was frightening. Solid metal melted and turned into liquid. The flames rose higher.

  In no time, everything was reduced to ashes. Only the glow of the burning fire remained.