RANI: It’s very strange.
LAWRENCE: (Persisting.) Was he a good man?
RANI: No conqueror is a good man.
LAWRENCE: He forgot his friends quickly, didn’t he?
RANI: Each man has his ways. He used to say ‘a dog in sight is better than a brother out of sight.’
LAWRENCE: In his own way, I suppose, he was even just.
RANI: Justice is what suits oneself, isn’t it?
LAWRENCE: No, said the judge, justice is forever.
RANI: Justice is what the people consider just, said the fool.
(Pause.)
Do you know the story of the old woman and her daughter-in-law?
LAWRENCE: No, but I’ll tell you a better story—the story of an uncle and his niece. The cruel uncle passed a law that the body of the girl’s brother was to be left unburied on the field, because he had conspired against him. She disobeyed the law and secretly buried her brother. She was arrested, and this is what she said in her defence: ‘Your laws are unjust. I obey natural law—law ordained by Heaven and known to every man’s conscience. Burying one’s brother is natural justice, which is not of today or yesterday but eternal.’
RANI: Oh, let’s not talk of eternities.
(Pause.)
I betrayed my own soldiers! Maybe ruling a kingdom isn’t a woman’s work.
LAWRENCE: You’re a Queen.
RANI: What’s the use? The back of the Sikh soldier is broken.
LAWRENCE: (Genuinely moved.) You’re a great Queen, Rani Sahiba. You’ll always be a Queen. Your husband was the Lion of Punjab. He was the Lion of Victory and he left a great unified nation to his people. You must redeem his life. Your people—you must think of them. You’re all they have now in this troubled land.
RANI: (Gets up.) You believe all this, Larins. (As if in a dream, Wondering aloud.)
Yes … Yes … I must. I am a Queen … My poor people. My son … Dalip … (Pause.)
I must go now.
(She goes up to him.)
Oh Larins, I am afraid to like you.
LAWRENCE: Why?
RANI: For reasons the Resident understands.
LAWRENCE: And if the reasons were not there.
RANI: Then I wouldn’t be afraid.
(Pause.)
Oh Larins. (She takes his hand.) Larins, take this. (Hands him a diamond.) This is a symbol of our friendship and yours for safe-keeping. It belonged to His Highness and I value it greatly. Don’t lose it and don’t wear it. I must go now.
(She gets up.)
LAWRENCE: (Enthusiastically.) Did it really belong to the Lion?
RANI: Yes.
(Lawrence displays it on his robe.)
Don’t wear it, please.
LAWRENCE: Why?
RANI: Because it’s sacred.
LAWRENCE: (Hypnotized.) It’s beautiful!
RANI: Larins, what’s the matter? It seems to make you uneasy.
LAWRENCE: (Uneasily.) Oh no, no.
(Slowly he recovers, beams suddenly and swaggers about displaying the jewel to an imaginary audience.)
RANI: (Puzzled.) Please, Larins. Don’t.
(Pause.)
Are you all right?
LAWRENCE: (Absorbed.) Yes.
RANI: Then put it away.
HENRY: (Recovering.) Yes. Yes, of course.
RANI: (Putting on her veil.) Zubheda Begum salaams the Resident Sahib, and regrets that she could not interest him in her famous song.
(Lawrence returns the salaams. Lights fade.)
Act Two Scene 1
The Residency. Next day. It is late morning. The air quivers with heat and is full of the scent of white and yellow jasmine. Dust rises and whirls languorously at the slightest breeze. From near at hand comes the long, slow creaking of a Persian wheel, turning lazily. Water comes up and splashes out. Lawrence, Sher Singh, and Edwardes sit talking outside on the verandah. Lawrence is dressed in a chogah and is seated on a charpoy, leaning on a cushion. He smokes a hookah which is occasionally passed around to the other two, who are seated on the same charpoy to his left.
LAWRENCE: (Contemplative.) See those fierce plains, Edwardes! Everything has passed on them.
EDWARDES: Sir?
LAWRENCE: (Preoccupied.) Yes, they’ve all gone by; gone by this field on their way in or out of Hindustan—emperors, generals, saints, and beautiful women. Cities rose here in splendour, cities of the Aryas, the Mauryas …
EDWARDES: Cities of the Guptas, Moghuls.
LAWRENCE: They all rose and were destroyed and now lie forgotten among these wheatfields. So many great men passed on this ground—Alexander, Kanishka.
EDWARDES: Harsha, Timur, Babur.
SHER SINGH: What’s this—a roll-call?
LAWRENCE: (Continuing.) They’re only names. The peasant has seen it all. Today, tomorrow, yesterday—it’s the peasant who holds the Punjab.
SHER SINGH: Larins Sahib’s a philosopher this morning.
EDWARDES: Such glorious dust inspires philosophy even among Company men. Have a drink, sir? Sher Singh?
LAWRENCE: No thanks.
SHER SINGH: I’ll have some English wine. You Angrez know how to live.
LAWRENCE: (Continuing as if no interruption had taken place.) We are to all appearances more powerful in India than we ever were. Nevertheless, when our downfall comes it will be rapid and the world will wonder more at the suddenness of the Empire’s end than at all it achieved. Empires grow old and perish. Ours in India can hardly be called old, but seems destined to be short-lived—what with that bungling lot in Calcutta. We appear to have passed the brilliance and vigour of our youth, and it may be that we’ve reached a premature old age. Who knows, Sher Singh, who knows how many will come after the British?
EDWARDES: But the peasant will always be there.
LAWRENCE: Yes, the Punjab peasant will always be there. Isn’t it reasonable then, that we win him to our side? To win him, we must work for him, for his sake. The memory of the British should rest in the peasant’s heart, in his timelessness.
SHER SINGH: As Sadi says, ‘The smoke of the poor man’s heart goes up to heaven.’
LAWRENCE: He also says, ‘What matters is to die on a silken pillow, or on the cold earth?’
SHER SINGH: (Clapping.) Wah, wah! Only a silk pillow’s softer.
LAWRENCE: But death’s the same.
SHER SINGH: A conqueror’s talk of the peasant smacks of hypocrisy.
LAWRENCE: Perhaps.
SHER SINGH: To the peasant they’re all the same.
LAWRENCE: What do you mean?
SHER SINGH: The peasant is an excuse for other ambitions.
LAWRENCE: There’s much good we can do for him, Sher Singh.
SHER SINGH: Ah Larins, even the wisest men forget where good ends and power begins.
LAWRENCE: (Remembering.) Is it time for the Shah’ alami Gate?
EDWARDES: Yes, sir. I’ll go and gather the men.
(Exit.)
SHER SINGH: (Noticing a jewel in Lawrence’s hand.) Larins, what’s that?
LAWRENCE: (Embarrassed.) Why, a jewel.
SHER SINGH: Where did you get it?
LAWRENCE: Do you like it?
SHER SINGH: Let me see it.
LAWRENCE: (Embarrassed.) No.
SHER SINGH: Wah Guru! That’s the Koh-i-noor? Who gave it to you? Larins, please return it. You can’t wear it.
LAWRENCE: Why not?
SHER SINGH: Only His late Highness could wear it.
LAWRENCE: Why can’t I?
SHER SINGH: (Panicky.) Larins, put it away. You’ll spoil everything. The people won’t like it. Give it back.
LAWRENCE: No.
(Embarrassed pause as Lawrence’s face shows him struggling with himself. Suddenly replaces it in his pocket.)
SHER SINGH: Let’s go, Larins Sahib!
(Exeunt.)
Act Two Scene 2
Shah’alami Gate, Lahore. Half an hour later. Sher Singh, Edwardes, Abbot, and Lumsden are f
acing the audience and Lawrence is making a speech. Noise of crowd.
LAWRENCE: Again, most honoured citizens of Lahore: yesterday’s killing of a cow on this spot has grieved me personally. On behalf of the entire English community, I assure you that this will not happen again. Please accept our sincere apologies.
(Shouts and booing from the crowd.)
My dear friend, Sher Singh, who, as you know, comes from one of the noblest families …
(Shouts: ‘Sher Singh, Angrezi todi.’)
To convince you of our sincerity, I have decided to waive one month’s land revenue for the citizens of this district.
(Shouts: ‘Larins Sahib zindabad.’)
We want to begin by listening to you, honoured citizens, rather than by ordering you about like ‘Lord Sahibs.’ We want to build canals, bridges, roads. We want to ensure as much justice as possible to each citizen. We want to prevent the soldiers from interfering in your everyday affairs.
(Shouts of approval from the crowd: ‘Larins Sahib zindabad’; ‘Angrez Badshah zindabad.’ Suddenly the sounds of musket shots Confusion.)
EDWARDES: I think it’s coming from that side.
SHER SINGH: Larins Sahib, are you hurt?
LAWRENCE: Just a little. We’d better go.
ABBOT: My God! And quickly. That one just nicked my hand.
LAWRENCE: Is anyone hurt? Are you hurt, Abbot?
EDWARDES: I beg you to get away from the spot, sir.
(More shots, confused sounds.)
ABBOT: I was against coming here at all.
LUMSDEN: It’s obviously a conspiracy. Let’s give them an English volley.
LAWRENCE: No.
LUMSDEN: (Muttering.) I’d like to butcher the whole lot of them.
ABBOT: Let’s teach the niggers a lesson.
LUMSDEN: Burn the damn street! That’s what they deserve …
ABBOT: Filthy heathens!
EDWARDES: The cheek! We came to apologize, and they take advantage of us.
ABBOT: This is what we get for treating the natives differently. We’ve made asses of ourselves.
SHER SINGH: Shut up, all of you. Larins Sahib is hurt.
(To Edwardes.) Help me with his arm. Take him to the Residency. All of you go quickly. I’ll stay and try to find out who’s behind this.
(Exeunt all Englishmen. Tej Singh and Lal Singh enter from the shadows.)
TEJ SINGH: (Hidden by shadow of wall.) Psst Attari! Psst Attari!
(Sher Singh turns round, his hand on his sword.)
LAL SINGH: (Coming out.) Sat-sri-akal, Sardar Sahib.
SHER SINGH: Sat-sri-akal. What are you doing here, Raja Sahib?
LAL SINGH: (Ironically.) An honour to meet you, Sardar Sahib. Since you became such an important man, little people like us rarely have the pleasure.
SHER SINGH: It isn’t every day that we meet a traitor turned Wazir.
LAL SINGH: On the contrary, it is a rare sight to see a full fledged stooge of the English.
SHER SINGH: An honest man’s a humbler being than a Wazir who betrays his army and his people.
TEJ SINGH: (Roaring.) Oi! Angrezi chamcha, be polite to the Wazir.
SHER SINGH: Speak, what do you want? I’m in a hurry.
TEJ SINGH: The boy’s in a hurry. We fought beside your uncle, Sham Singh. Learn to respect your elders.
SHER SINGH: (Aroused.) Sham Singh was the only hero among cowards and traitors. Don’t take his name—you’ll only defile it.
TEJ SINGH: I’ll break your head in two, you …
LAL SINGH: (To Tej Singh.) Shut up, you son of a pig.
(Appeasingly to Sher Singh.)
Now, now, Sardar Sahib, tell us what’s it like being with the Angrez?
(Confidentially.)
Is it true, they don’t bathe?
SHER SINGH: Is this what you wanted to discuss?
LAL SINGH: No, Sher.
(Going up to him and putting his arm around him patronizingly.)
Now Sher, we’ve come to you with a proposal. Do you want to remain a slave of the Angrez, or would you like to work for the glory of the Khalsa and the greatness of your land?
SHER SINGH: With traitors?
LAL SINGH: Come now, Sher. Let’s forget the past, and …
SHER SINGH: (Interrupting.) Speak, what do you really want from me?
LAL SINGH: My friend, we want the Koh-i-noor, which the Rani has given to the Resident.
SHER SINGH: What makes you think the Resident has got it?
LAL SINGH: I know everything.
SHER SINGH: Why do you want it?
TEJ SINGH: (Naïvely.) So we can sell it to Dost Mohamad.
LAL SINGH: Shut up, you son of an owl. Let me do the talking.
(To Sher Singh.) No, my dear friend. It’s for the good of the land. I need the diamond to show the Darbar what kind of Queen they have—she’s selling our country to the Angrez swine.
SHER SINGH: A traitor is hardly in a position to judge others.
(Pause.)
You dogs, don’t you think I know our Rani? Whatever the world may say, whatever her weaknesses, she’s the only Rani we have, and her son the only Maharaja. And the Punjab hasn’t a better friend than she. Besides, we need her son to keep the kingdom together. So traitors, it’s no use trying …
LAL SINGH: (Interrupting.) It may be worth your while.
SHER SINGH: It can’t be worth my while.
LAL SINGH: Even if you could be the next Wazir.
TEJ SINGH: (Naïvely.) I thought I was going to be the Wazir.
LAL SINGH: Shut up, you village idiot.
SHER SINGH: Even if you offered me the throne, no.
TEJ SINGH: The throne is reserved for the Raja Sahib.
LAL SINGH: Shut up!
SHER SINGH: Good day, traitors.
LAL SINGH: Wait! (Softly.)
You know I command an ear in Calcutta.
SHER SINGH: With your Curries and Shurries who made you the Wazir.
LAL SINGH: It may be prudent for the Resident to turn over the jewel.
SHER SINGH: Now it’s blackmail.
LAL SINGH: Well, ah, I don’t think Calcutta will look too kindly on a Resident accepting such expensive gifts.
SHER SINGH: If you want to blackmail him, speak to the Resident yourself. Traitors, I have work to do!
Act Two Scene 3
The Residency, an hour later. Lawrence is sitting on a divan, smoking a hookah. His left arm is heavily bandaged. Enter Rani and Dalip.
RANI: (Admonishingly.) What has the Resident done to himself? Didn’t I warn him not to be a hero?
LAWRENCE: (Smiling.) ‘Heroes are foolhardy,’ said the lion.
RANI: ‘Fools are also foolhardy,’ replied the crow.
LAWRENCE: ‘Fools have a heart,’ said the lion.
RANI: ‘The wise have a head,’ said the crow.
DALIP: (Impatiently.) Larins, why didn’t you shoot them? With your aim, you would have got them easily.
LAWRENCE: No, my boy. I didn’t know who was shooting.
(Pause.)
Rani Sahiba, where were you and His Highness when this happened?
RANI: Why, in the palace, of course. You don’t think that we were shooting, do you?
LAWRENCE: No. Remember, you told me about the Sardars …
RANI: (Interrupting.) Child, why don’t you go out and play with Baba?
DALIP: But I want to be with Larins.
RANI: Later. Now go.
(Exit Dalip.)
What about the Sardars?
LAWRENCE: Nothing specific, Rani Sahiba. I’ve a feeling that the firing this morning was connected with your conspiracy of the Sardars.
RANI: You mean, to divert attention.
LAWRENCE: Somehow I feel their target was in the palace.
RANI: (Afraid.) No! Dalip? No, it couldn’t be.
LAWRENCE: Perhaps not. There’s no point speculating.
RANI: It could well be some lunatic Brahmins who did the firing.
LAWRENCE: Perhaps.
RANI: (Suddenly examining his chogah.) Larins, what is this? This is my husband’s chogah. What are you doing with it?
LAWRENCE: (Quietly.) You won’t understand, Rani Sahiba.
RANI: (Disturbed.) What are you doing with my husband’s robes? Can’t you leave him alone? You’re obsessed with him.
LAWRENCE: (Defensively.) This has nothing to do with your husband.
RANI: Then what’s it all about?
(Pause.)
Tell me—I have a right to know.
LAWRENCE: A right?
RANI: He was my husband; I am the Regent. Besides, you are my friend, and I want to know what happens to my friend.
LAWRENCE: One shouldn’t know everything about one’s friends.
RANI: I must know.
LAWRENCE: (In agony.) There’s nothing to know.
RANI: (Sincerely.) Yes, there is.
LAWRENCE: You won’t understand.
RANI: I understand too well.
(Pause.)
LAWRENCE: No.
RANI: (Disappointed.) You’re just like the rest of them. I thought there was something different in you, Larins. You were simple, austere, single-minded. Now you’re behaving the way the other Ferangis did when they got power under my husband. They became swollen.
(Lawrence makes no answer, attempting to hide the traces of an inner conflict. Rani comes closer.)
Larins, are you all right?
(Pause.)
You were so free of vanity. That’s what I liked about you. You were different.
LAWRENCE: You don’t like me now.
RANI: Of course, I do, silly. I … I do. I do. I do, too much. (Embarrassed.) Now see what you’ve made me say.
LAWRENCE: (Quietly.) This is all to be a better Resident, I think. If you Indians respect authority from its appearances, then it’s sensible to appear properly, isn’t it?
RANI: I’m only sad that my old Larins is changing. I liked you as you were—a soldier with a purpose.
LAWRENCE: The purpose isn’t lost.
RANI: I’m afraid it will be, once you start wearing all these things.
Three Plays Page 7