CROWD: Yes, yes. The Wazir is right. The Angrez is right.
Resident Sahib zindabad! Wazir Sahib zindabad!
LAWRENCE: Thank you. Now I beg permission of His Highness, the Rani Sahiba, the Wazir Sahib and the illustrious Darbar’s indulgence to proceed with the ceremony of the day of honours. The Governor-General has been kind enough to recommend honours to fifteen nobles of the Punjab.
HERALD: (Announcing in a magnificent voice.) The concluding and most honoured event of the Darbar will now take place in the auspicious presence of and with the cosmic blessing of the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-conquering His Highness, the Maharaja, by the Guru’s grace firmly established in his kingdom and bringing prosperity and strength to the Khalsaji—His Highness!
CROWD: May he live long! May His Highness live long!
HERALD: To fulfil the special request of our honoured and bountiful ally to our South, the Honourable East India Company and the Right Honourable the Governor-General of India, and one of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council …
CROWD: May he live long!
HERALD: His Highness, as a special favour to our esteemed ally who is represented by the most honoured ambassador, Mistar Hendri Larins …
CROWD: Larins Sahib zindabad! Larins Sahib!
HERALD: His Highness will confer titles and honours on fifteen nobles of our court.
(Shouts, clapping, music, noise.)
The first and foremost Sardar of our court, the brave and noble Sardar Tej Singh, the Commander-in-Chief of the Khalsa, is to receive the first honour; from today he will be addressed as Raja Tej Singh.
CROWD: Raja Tej Singh, may he live long! Raja Tej Singh!
HERALD: The magnificent Raja will now step forth to be blessed by His Highness with the sacred tikka, as a mark of his new status … Raja Sahib!
(Tej Singh steps forward and kneels before Dalip. Lawrence personally takes the golden plate containing saffron to Dalip, who instead of placing the tikka on Tej Singh’s forehead, shrinks back into his seat. Immediate commotion among the crowd. Confusion and noise.)
LAWRENCE: Your Highness!
TEJ SINGH: Your Highness!
CROWD: Your Highness!
(Dalip snatches the plate from Lawrence, and turns it upside down over the head of Tej Singh. With his left foot, Dalip kicks the Sardar, who loses his balance and falls down. Laughter among the crowd. Noise, shouts. Lawrence, red with anger, looks at the Rani, who turns away.)
CROWD: May His Highness live long!
(More commotion. Noise.)
LAWRENCE: (Clapping his hands for attention.) His Highness regrets his inability to continue with the rest of the proceedings. The Darbar is dismissed.
DALIP: (To Lawrence.) I hate you, Larins. I hate you!
(Dalip runs away with Lawrence staring after him.)
CROWD:—May His Highness live long!
(Crowd begins to disperse quickly. Lawrence looks around for the Rani, who has already left.)
LAWRENCE: (To Tej Singh, sprawled on the floor). Off with you. Get out before you have to lick any more boots, you dog. The Darbar is over.
(Exit Tej Singh.)
LAWRENCE: (To Sher Singh.) Inform the palace that I wish to wait on the Rani Sahiba urgently.
SHER SINGH: Yes, Larins Sahib.
(Exit.)
(The last of the magnificent Darbaris leaves. Lawrence, alone in the Diwan-e-Khas, slowly moves across towards the mirror, adjusting his robes as he does so. After a long and admiring look at himself in the mirror, he slowly, deliberately moves towards the throne. Checking an initial impulse to sit on it, he walks behind it instead. He appears to be undecided, looks about him, and finally sits on the left arm of the throne. Long pause as he stares into space. Re-enter Sher Singh.)
SHER SINGH: I’ve informed the palace, sir, that you seek an audience with the Rani Sahiba.
LAWRENCE: (Absentmindedly.) Thank you.
SHER SINGH: (Still smarting from the insult.) The cheek of that boy! Why do you think he did it?
LAWRENCE: (Quite lost.) Eh?
SHER SINGH: (Continuing.) Not only does he insult the Commander-in-Chief—not only does he refuse to put the tikka on his forehead, but he also kicks poor Tej Singh.
LAWRENCE: (Ironically.) Poor Tej Singh?
SHER SINGH: Well, the poor man didn’t quite expect this on his day of glory.
LAWRENCE: He should have.
SHER SINGH: This is hardly something his greatest admirer should say.
LAWRENCE: Who?
SHER SINGH: You put him at the head of the list of honours.
LAWRENCE: There are reasons of policy.
SHER SINGH: There are also reasons of honour.
LAWRENCE: An Englishman learns to master his feelings.
(Pause.)
SHER SINGH: I wonder how the boy got it into his head?
(Pause.)
I suppose His Highness really must detest Tej Singh. He must have done this …
LAWRENCE: No, someone else is behind it.
SHER SINGH: His Highness knows Tej Singh is a traitor. Ever since Ferozshahr and Sobraon …
LAWRENCE: (Impatiently.) I know, I know. But the boy’s not capable of doing this on his own.
SHER SINGH: Then it must be Lal Singh.
LAWRENCE: It can’t be the Wazir, because the boy hates his guts. It can only be the Rani. (Rani suddenly bursts in, obviously agitated.)
RANI: Larins, Larins!
(Lawrence nods to Sher Singh, who goes out quickly.)
Since when have you needed to wait on me?
LAWRENCE: (Embarrassed.) Well, ah …
RANI: Don’t be a coward. Say it.
LAWRENCE: Why?
RANI: Why? I should ask ‘why.’ That son of a pig deserved it. You want to know if I put Dalip up to it. Yes, I did. And I’m not at all sorry for what my son did.
(Pause.)
LAWRENCE: Why, why did you have to meddle with this?
RANI: You Angrez have been helping that traitor from the beginning. Now you’ve made him a Raja. It’s disgusting! Half the Punjab knows he’s a scoundrel and just because he does your dirty work …
LAWRENCE: Tej Singh’s a useful man.
RANI: … and apologizing to Lal Singh like that. I’ve never been so humiliated.
LAWRENCE: Matters of policy, I’m afraid.
RANI: (Suddenly breaks down.) Oh Larins! Larins, why are we talking like fools: You and me; yours and mine. It’s ours, isn’t it? You’ve always … no, we’ve always wanted what was best for the Punjab. Larins, why did you do it?
LAWRENCE: Why did you do it?
RANI: I don’t know … because I hate him.
LAWRENCE: It was wrong.
RANI: Why did you put that scoundrel’s name at the head of the list? I thought you didn’t like him either, Larins.
LAWRENCE: I don’t. But you’ve insulted my Government.
RANI: But you, Larins, you’re more important.
LAWRENCE: No, not always.
RANI: (Puzzled.) Something’s wrong. Why has my Lawrence changed so much? Next he will want to put his own name on the list. (Goes to him.) Oh Larins, then it’s true?
LAWRENCE: What?
RANI: Larins, I’m afraid. I’m afraid something terrible’s going to happen soon.
(No response. Lawrence stares away blankly.)
LAWRENCE: I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.
RANI:. All right Larins, I’ll go back to the palace. When you feel better, come to see me. I shall be waiting.
LAWRENCE: I mean you’ll have to go far away … far away from here—Sheikhupura.
RANI: (Turning pale.) Why?
LAWRENCE: (Smiling.) Because my Government wants it.
RANI: You’re joking?
LAWRENCE: No.
RANI: Why?
LAWRENCE: Because those are my orders.
RANI: You’re my friend, Larins; how can you ask me to go away?
LAWRENCE: Yes, I’m your friend. That�
�s precisely why you must go.
RANI: But I’m the Queen. I’m the Regent. My son’s the King of the Punjab. How can I go? Of course you’re joking.
LAWRENCE: No, you’re no longer the Regent.
RANI: Since when?
LAWRENCE: Since now.
RANI: And my son?
LAWRENCE: He remains where he is.
RANI: The King?
LAWRENCE: Yes.
RANI: You’re taking my son away from me?
LAWRENCE: He’s the King.
RANI: He’s my son.
(Lawrence makes no reply. Rani almost hysterical.)
He’s my son, and no one’s going to take my son away from me.
(Lawrence still makes no reply. Rani continues to look expectantly at his expressionless face.)
Oh God, what have I done? Why are they doing this to me? (Suddenly calm.)
Yes, I know. I know they’re angry in heaven. I betrayed the Punjab, and it’s their payment for Sobraon. It’s their retribution. Larins, do you really think I deserve this? Tell me, do I?
(Pause. Silence. Lawrence staring like a statue. Rani animated.)
I’ve got you. I have-got-you. Why only me? Why do you pick on me? The pigs Lal Singh, Tej Singh—They were all responsible. They’re equally guilty. And Tej Singh, the biggest scoundrel, you’ve made him a Raja. Is this your English justice? Tej Singh, the Commander-in-Chief, who cut his own army’s retreat. What could be a bigger crime? Why blame only me? I didn’t even fight.
(Quiet again. Silence, goes closer to Lawrence and takes his hand.) Larins, say something. Why don’t you say something? I don’t mind … tell me that I’m wrong. I’m strong. But say something.
(Suddenly concerned.)
Are you all right? Then, why don’t you speak?
(She slaps him lightly on the face. He reacts. She smiles.)
Larins, I don’t want to leave you.
(Puts her head on his chest.)
I want to love you. Why are you sending me away? Don’t you love me any more? Tell me you don’t love me. For God’s sake, say something.
(Quiet again. Lawrence is like a stone. Rani continues to lean on his shoulder. Long pause. Suddenly she draws away.)
You can’t do this to me! Angrez or the Angrez’s father can’t touch me. Does the Angrez realize who I am?
(Slowly, deliberately imperiously.)
I am the Mother of the Punjab. I am the wife of the One-eyed Lion. You won’t dare! I am the Mother of the Khalsa. Touch me and you’ll have mutiny on your hands. Once I leave, a curse falls on the Angrez. And the first one to go will be you, Larins.
(Pause.)
Give me back my jewel!
LAWRENCE: (Hiding the jewel behind his back.) No.
RANI: It’s mine. Give it back.
LAWRENCE: No.
(She tries to grab it unsuccessfully.)
RANI: Why?
LAWRENCE: I can’t. The Governor-General has promised it to Queen Victoria.
RANI: Oh Larins! I gave it to you as a symbol of my faith—a symbol of our friendship. No! (Pause.)
Is this how you treat a Queen? You are dirty like the rest of the Ferangis. Never learn manners. There are ways of treating kings and queens. Do you know what the defeated Porus, king of the Punjab, answered Alexander? Alexander asked him, ‘Porus, how shall I treat you now?’ Porus replied, ‘Treat me as a king treats a king.’ And Alexander did so.
(Pause.)
You’re intoxicated, Larins! Something demonic is urging you on to your destruction. Believe me.
(Pause.)
God, now I understand your robes, your Darbars, and your ‘Angrez Badshahs.’ It all fits. And your obsession with my late husband. You’re drunk, my friend. Power’s gone to your head. And you’ve forgotten your friends.
LAWRENCE: That’s not true!
RANI: Of course it’s true. My old Larins is no more.
LAWRENCE: No.
RANI: It is and you know it. (Pause. Softly.)
When are you sending me away?
LAWRENCE: Today.
RANI: No! I’ll run away. I’ll hide. (Pause. Pleading.)
Will no one come and help? Will no one say ‘Stay, Rani, stay.’ You Sardars—I don’t expect anything from you. I’d love to kill you, you sons of pigs. You’re happy, I know, to get me out of the way. I spit on you—all of you. You fools, you don’t realize that the same fate awaits you. Your game is over. The Punjab belongs to the Angrez. The One-eyed Lion is dead today! (Hysterical.)
The Khalsa! Yes, the Khalsa will save me.
(Pause.)
Isn’t there a Sikh who needs me? What’s happened to you, men? I, the Mother of the Khalsa; I, the holy-wedded wife of the Lion; I need you. Where’s your heart, men? Has the Angrez reduced you to fighting for money? Where’s your honour? Shame!
(Pause.)
Dalip! Dalip! Where are you, Dalip? Have you too forgotten me? Dalip!
(Offstage sound of Dalip’s voice shouting faintly. ‘Mai, mai.’)
There he is! (Begins to cry. Dalip enters.)
DALIP: Mai, I was looking for you. (Rushes into her open arms.)
Mai, do you know … (Interrupts himself.)
Mai, you’re crying!
(Pointing to Lawrence.)
Is Larins making you cry?
RANI: No, my boy.
DALIP: (To Lawrence.) Larins Sahib, I don’t like you any more. Why do make my mother cry?
(Rushes towards Lawrence as if to kick him, but Rani pulls him back before he can touch Lawrence.)
You dismissed my Darbar. Only I can dismiss my Darbar—for I am the King. From today, you are not my friend.
(And he strikes his right thumb nail to his upper teeth to convey that they are no longer friends.)
RANI: No, my boy.
DALIP: And he doesn’t go on shikar with me any more, Mai. I’m going to make Baba write to his London Queen to change him. I shall sign the letter, and the Queen will do as I say—for I am the King, and Queens listen only to Kings.
RANI: No, my boy
LAWRENCE: Your Highness …
DALIP: (Interrupting, with the same gesture.) Go! (Exit.)
RANI: What are you going to do to him?
LAWRENCE: He’s perfectly safe. He’s going to Simla.
RANI: Shame! Larins, after all you told me. You’re dirty and cruel! How can you snatch my son away from me? For eight months I kept him in my womb. Then I brought him up slowly with care and love. What will I do if anything happens to him? He gets frightened, you know. He has no one except me. Who will look after him? I don’t need a kingdom, but don’t take my son away.
(Long pause. Suddenly excited she goes closer to him.)
Larins, I’ve an idea. Why don’t you take us to England? Let’s leave this dirty place to the Angrez. Come.
(Lawrence shakes his head.)
Why, what’s the matter? All right then we can go to Nepal.
LAWRENCE: No.
RANI: (Broken.) Oh Larins! I don’t want to go away. Larins, I love you. (Leaving.)
I’ll always think of you. You too, remember me. (Trying to smile.) Adieu, said the Queen.
LAWRENCE: Adieu, said her Resident.
(Exit Rani. Lawrence moves towards stage right. Whispering offstage. Commotion. Sounds become louder. Muffled shouts ‘The Rani is banished,’ ‘The Mother of the Khalsa is leaving,’ ‘Save the Punjab.’ Bells, confusion, music. Full lights, and Sher Singh bursts in.)
SHER SINGH: Ranjit Singh is dead today!
LAWRENCE: Why?
SHER SINGH: The Punjab is dead today!
LAWRENCE: Why, my friend?
SHER SINGH: You’ve banished the Mother of the Punjab. Time is up. His Highness is too young to know what he wants. The Punjab is now another pawn in the Angrez’s game.
LAWRENCE: Sher Singh …
SHER SINGH: (Interrupting.) I want to resign, sir. I too want to go away. I’m tired of this place.
LAWRENCE: Don’t be a fool, Sh
er Singh. This is political life. There are ups and there are downs.
SHER SINGH: Not when your Mother’s banished.
LAWRENCE: I didn’t know you felt so strongly about her.
SHER SINGH: She’s the Mother of the Punjab.
LAWRENCE: A tough Sardar like you believes in these myths?
SHER SINGH: She’s flesh and blood. You’re separating her from her son. The Angrez is clever. He needs the boy for legitimacy; and the mother is thrown out.
LAWRENCE: But these separations take place.
SHER SINGH: Larins Sahib, in our land the relationship between mother and son is sacred.
LAWRENCE: So many young soldiers die. They get separated from their mothers.
SHER SINGH: They die in battle—a-noble death.
LAWRENCE: This is also battle.
SHER SINGH: No. She’s Ranjit Singh’s wife. And the Angrez have insulted the Punjab.
LAWRENCE: There are reasons of state policy, Sher Singh.
SHER SINGH: She was the Queen, wasn’t she?
LAWRENCE: There are queens and queens.
SHER SINGH: No, there is a way of treating a Queen. I have tasted enough English brandy. Now I must go. Time is up.
LAWRENCE: Stay, Sher Singh. Did you know her?
SHER SINGH: You knew her.
LAWRENCE: She wan’t the most exemplary ruler.
SHER SINGH: You should say that, sir? I thought you respected her.
LAWRENCE: I do. I do, Sher Singh.
SHER SINGH: I thought she was your special friend.
LAWRENCE: She was.
SHER SINGH: Then why did you do it?
LAWRENCE: I am executing my government’s policy.
(Pause.)
SHER SINGH: You hypocrite! You never loved anyone. You don’t deserve anyone’s friendship. You turned into a hypocrite when you saw how powerful you’d become. You imagined that you had become Ranjit Singh.
LAWRENCE: (Shouting.) Stop it. Do you know to whom you are talking?
SHER SINGH: To a friend, who was …
LAWRENCE: No. You are talking to the Angrez Badshah!
SHER SINGH: Your Angrez Badshahs, your chogahs, your jewels, purple cushions—they were signals. I understand you now! You’re evil. (Laughs bitterly.) You still think you’re doing it for the Punjab—as though … as though nothing had happened. If you realized it, I’d call you ambitious. Not evil. But you don’t know yourself and that terrifies me.
LAWRENCE: Stop it! Stop it!
SHER SINGH: (Quietly.) I thought we were friends. We have nothing more to say to each other. I might as well go.
Three Plays Page 10