O: If the Nawab is satisfied only with incarceration, prince, consider it a blessing.
The prince arched his eyebrows. ‘What does it matter if I too am executed like Virendrasingh?’ he said. Angry sparks flew from his eyes.
‘I shall take your leave,’ said Osman. ‘I have done my duty. A different messenger shall convey Katlu Khan’s order to you.’
The messenger arrived in a short while. He was attired like a warrior belonging to a rank somewhat superior to that of the common soldier and was accompanied by four armed foot soldiers. ‘What do you want?’ the prince asked him.
‘Your residence is being changed,’ the warrior told him.
‘I am ready, lead on,’ said the prince, following him.
Chapter Twelve
Deceptive Appearance
GRAND CELEBRATIONS WERE at hand. It was Katlu Khan’s birthday. Everyone was engaged in diversions, dance, games, food, drink, etcetera, in the day—and even more so at night. Evening had just deepened, the entire fort was illuminated. Soldiers, sentries, noblemen, servants, citizens, mendicants, drunkards, actors, danseuses, singers, songstresses, musicians, conjurors, flower sellers, perfume sellers, paan sellers, food vendors, artefact sellers all thronged the grounds. Wherever you went, there were only garlands of light, music, scented water, paan, flowers, fireworks, whores. It was largely the same story in the inner chambers too. The Nawab’s pleasure palace was quieter, but also more luxurious. In every room lamps of silver, lamps of crystal, aromatic lamps showered soft beams of light. Fragrant flowers adorned vases, pillars, beds, seats, and ladies. The air could scarcely bear the weight of the scent of roses. Countless handmaidens—some dressed in gold, while others in blue, rust, green, pink or brick-red silk, each according to their taste—wandered about, brightening the lamplight with the gleam from their gold ornaments. The ladies whom they served were seated in their chambers, tending to their wardrobe for the evening with great attention. Tonight the Nawab would include everyone in the festivities in his palace of pleasure; there would be singing and dancing. Each of the women would have her desire met tonight. One ran her comb swifter through her hair in the hope of securing employment for her brother. Another let her hair loose upon her breasts and plotted on increasing her number of maids. One wanted to get her hands on property for her newborn, rubbing her cheeks to redden them, even drawing blood. Yet another, coveting ornaments like those recently acquired by some other concubine from the Nawab, drew deep lines of kohl under her eyes. Somewhere a maid accidentally trod on a virago’s pajamas while trying to dress her, and received a slap for her troubles. Elsewhere, a maid mistakenly uprooted a few strands of a lady’s hair, now weakened by her advancing years. At their sight the middle-aged owner of the locks wept loudly, her eyes streaming with tears.
Like a lily among wild flowers, like a peacock among birds, one of the beauties—her coiffure set already—was wandering from one chamber to another. Tonight no one was forbidden entry anywhere. The Almighty had bestowed every variety of beauty in the world upon this woman and Katlu Khan had bestowed every variety of ornament on her; yet her face bore not a trace of the haughtiness of beauty or the conceit of precious possessions. It held neither levity nor laughter. Her countenance was serene, grave; there was a deep suffering in her eyes.
Wandering thus within the palace, Bimala entered a beautifully decorated chamber, closing the door as soon as she had stepped over the threshold. Even on this festive night, only a faint light was lit in that chamber. At one end of the chamber was a bedstead, on which lay a figure, covered from head to toe in a sheet. ‘I have come,’ murmured Bimala, standing beside the bed.
Startled, the person who was lying on the bed uncovered her face. Recognizing Bimala, she cast aside the sheet covering her and sat up, without answering.
‘I am here, Tilottama,’ Bimala repeated.
Still Tilottama did not reply, only looking at Bimala intently.
Tilottama was no longer a young maiden numbed by bashfulness. At that moment, under the faint light, she looked as though she had aged ten years. Her frame was emaciated, her face gaunt. Her garments were plain and tattered. Her dishevelled hair was matted with dirt. There was not a hint of jewellery on her, only a few traces remained of the ornaments she was once adorned in.
‘I had said I would come—and I have,’ Bimala continued. ‘Why do you not speak?’
‘I have said all that I had to, what else is left to say?’ Tilottama said.
Bimala realized from her tone that she had been weeping. Putting her hand on Tilottama’s head and tilting her face upward, she saw it was drenched in tears. Tilottama’s scarf felt damp under her fingers. The pillow on which she had laid her head was soaked, too. ‘If you weep like this day and night, how long do you expect to survive?’
‘What use is it to survive?’ said Tilottama passionately. ‘My regret is that I have survived all this time.’
Bimala did not reply. She began weeping too.
After some time, Bimala sighed deeply, and asked, ‘And what of tonight?’
Glancing disapprovingly once more at Bimala’s ornaments and finery, Tilottama said, ‘What of tonight?’
‘Do not be flippant, my girl,’said Bimala. ‘Have you not come to know Katlu Khan well enough yet? The villain has excused us this far, partly because he has not had the convenience, and partly out of the desire to give us the opportunity to contain our grief. But our exemption ends tonight. Who knows how he will vent his fury if he does not see us at the festivities.’
‘What fresh fury can he vent?’ said Tilottama.
‘Why give up all hope, Tilottama?’ said Bimala, calming down. ‘Our hearts still beat in our bodies, we still know our duty. As long as we are alive, we shall do our duty.’
‘Then throw away all these ornaments, mother. I cannot stand you in this finery,’ Tilottama responded.
‘Do not scold me till you have seen all my finery, my girl,’ said Bimala with a smile.
She extracted a sharp dagger hidden in her clothes; its pointed tip flashed like lightning in the glow of the lamp. Turning ashen, Tilottama said in surprise, ‘Where did you get that?’
‘Have you noticed the new maid in our chambers who came yesterday?’ said Bimala.
T: I have. Aasmani is here.
B: I had Aasmani fetch this from Swami Abhiram.
Tilottama was silent; her heart trembled. A little later Bimala asked, ‘Will you not give up this dress for tonight?’
‘No,’ said Tilottama.
B: Will you not come for the singing and the dancing?
T:No.
B: You will still not be spared.
Tilottama began to weep. ‘Listen quietly now. I have made arrangements for your release.’ Tilottama looked at her eagerly. Giving Osman’s ring to Tilottama, Bimala said, ‘Take this ring, and do not go to the dance chambers. The celebrations shall not be completed this side of midnight, I will be able to keep the Pathan at bay until then. He has discovered that you are my stepdaughter; I shall prevent him from exercising his desire for your company until then on the pretext that you cannot appear there in my presence. At midnight go to the door of the women’s chambers, a man waiting for you there will display a ring identical to this one. You can go with him without any fear, and he will take you wherever you tell him to. Ask him to take you to Swami Abhiram’s hut.’
Tilottama was thunderstruck; whether out of astonishment or joy, she could not speak for some time. Eventually she said, ‘Tell me more. Who has given you this ring?’
‘That is a long story; I shall recount it to you at leisure,’ answered Bimala. ‘For now, do as I told you, without hesitation.’
‘What will happen to you? Will you escape through some other means?’ asked Tilottama.
‘Do not worry about me. I will make my exit another way and meet you again tomorrow morning,’ Bimala assured Tilottama.
Tilottama did not realize that Bimala had blocked her own route of escape for her sake
.
It had been a long time since Tilottama’s face had showed any sign of joy; today, at long last she looked happy.
The sight filled Bimala’s heart. ‘Now let me go,’ she said, her voice choking with emotion.
‘I see you are in possession of all the news in the fort,’ said Tilottama hesitantly. ‘Where are all our family? Before you leave, tell me how they are faring.’
Bimala realized that even in her sea of despair, Tilottama’s heart was renewing its relationship with Jagatsingh. She had received the prince’s cruel letter, which had made not a mention of Tilottama. But telling her that would only add to Tilottama’s agony—so Bimala made no reference to it. ‘Jagatsingh is in this very fort,’ she said. ‘He is in good health.’
Tilottama was silent.
Wiping her eyes, Bimala left.
Chapter Thirteen
Displaying the Ring
AFTER BIMALA LEFT, Tilottama’s thoughts—as she sat alone in her chamber—gave her cause for both joy and sorrow. She reminded herself again and again of the possibility of imminent release from the villain’s cage. She was doubly joyous dwelling on the thought that it was Bimala, who loved her more than life itself, who had arranged it. But then she wondered, ‘Even if I am freed, where should I go? There is no such thing as home any more.’Tilottama began to weep again. As these thoughts jostled in her, another one rose in her mind. ‘Then the prince is well? Where is he? In what condition? Is he a prisoner?’ Her eyes misted over. ‘Ah, fate! The prince is a prisoner because of me. Even if I sacrificed my life for him, would that be recompense enough? What can I do for him?’ Her thoughts continued. ‘Is he in prison? What manner of prison is it? Is no one else allowed in? What does he think of in prison? Does he recall Tilottama? But of course he does. I am the cause of all his suffering. How he must condemn me!’ And then she thought, ‘What is this? Why am I thinking thus! Has he ever been known to disdain anyone? It is not that, my worry is, what if he has forgotten me, or what if he believes I have been installed in a Yavana residence, what if he no longer has room for me in his heart because of this.’ But immediately, she mused, ‘No, why would he think that; I am imprisoned in the fort just as he is, why then should he hate me? But if he still does, I shall explain and beg him to understand. Will he not understand? But of course he will. If he does not, I shall lay down my life in his presence. In the old days women were tested by fire, not in this fallen age, but so what, I shall immolate myself in front of him.’ After that, she wondered, ‘But when will I get an opportunity to be in his presence? How will he be freed? What purpose will my escape serve? Where did my stepmother Bimala get this ring? Can it not be used for his escape instead? Who will be at the gate to escort me? Can he not accomplish this task? Yes, I shall ask him, let us see what he says. Can I not meet him once at least?’ And then her thoughts told her, ‘But how can I request a meeting? And even if there is one, what shall I say? What can I possibly say that will heal my suffering?’
Tilottama could not stop thinking.
A serving maid entered the chamber. ‘What time of night is it?’Tilottama asked her.
‘It is past midnight,’ the maid replied. Tilottama waited for her departure. After the maid had completed her tasks and left, Tilottama left her chamber with the ring given to her by Bimala. Her anxieties returned. Her legs were unsteady, her heart trembled, her face was pale; each time she took a step forward, she took another backward. Eventually she mustered sufficient courage to proceed to the door of the inner chambers.
The inmates, the Negro guards and all others were participating in the festivities; nobody appeared to notice her, although Tilottama could not help feeling that everyone was watching. Somehow she negotiated her way to the entrance to the inner chambers. The sentries had given themselves up to pleasure. Some were asleep, some awake but dead to the world, others only partially conscious. No one noticed her. Only one man stood at the door—he, too, was dressed like a sentry. ‘Do you have the ring?’ he asked Tilottama when he saw her.
Apprehensively, Tilottama showed him the ring that Bimala had given her. After examining it carefully, the man in the sentry’s uniform showed the ring in his own hand to Tilotttama. ‘Come with me,’ he told her, ‘do not worry.’
Tilottama accompanied the sentry nervously. Almost everywhere, the sentries were as inattentive as they had been at the entrance to the inner chambers. Tonight in particular, the doors had been thrown open, no one said anything. The sentry escorted Tilottama through several doors, chambers, and terraces. Eventually arriving at the gate leading out of the fort, he said, ‘Where do you wish to go now? Instruct me so that I may obey.’
Tilottama was unable to recollect Bimala’s directions. Her first thought was of Jagatsingh. She wanted to say, ‘Take me where the prince is.’ But timidity, her old enemy, attacked her once more. She could not utter the words. ‘Where do you wish to go?’ the sentry asked again.
Tilottama could not speak, she seemed to have lost control, and suddenly she felt tremors in her heart. She could not see anything, could not hear anything; she was not even aware of the words slipping out of her mouth. The only word that the sentry could make out, indistinctly, was ‘Jagatsingh’.
‘Jagatsingh is imprisoned at present,’ he said, ‘in a place which is beyond the reach of anyone. But come with me, for I have been ordered to take you wherever you wish.’
The sentry re-entered the fort. Without any awareness of what she was doing or where she was going, Tilottama turned, too, like a puppet on a string, following him the same way. Arriving at the entrance to the dungeons, the sentry realized that, unlike the guards everywhere else who had become careless after all their carousing, every guard here was alert at his station. ‘Where has the prince been imprisoned?’ he asked one of them. The guard pointed with his finger. ‘Is the prisoner awake or asleep?’ the bearer of the ring now asked the prison guard. After checking, the guard said, ‘The prisoner responded to my question, he is awake.’
‘Open the door to his cell, this lady will visit the prisoner,’ said the bearer of the ring.
‘What!’ said the guard in astonishment. ‘Do you not know I have no such order?’
The bearer of the ring showed Osman’s coded ring to the sentry. Bowing, he immediately opened the door.
The prince was lying on a humble cot in his cell. Hearing the door being opened, he looked in that direction curiously. When she was near the door, Tilottama found herself unable to move any more. Her feet were rooted to the spot; she held on to the door frame to prevent herself from collapsing.
When he saw that Tilottama was reluctant to enter, the bearer of the ring said, ‘But what is this? Why do you wait here?’ Still Tilottama’s feet refused to carry her into the chamber.
‘If you do not wish to enter, let us return,’ continued the sentry. ‘This is no place to wait.’
Tilottama prepared to turn back. But her feet refused to carry her in that direction either. What should she do now? The sentry grew anxious. Lost in thought, Tilottama advanced without realizing it. She entered the cell.
As soon as she set eyes upon the prince inside, Tilottama froze again; she supported herself against the wall by the door, her head bowed.
At first, the prince did not recognize Tilottama. He was astonished at the sight of a woman here—the more so because she only stood by the wall, looking at the floor, without coming nearer. Rising from his cot, he approached the door and looked at her closely.
For a fleeting moment their eyes met. Tilottama’s lowered hers towards the floor at once; but she leaned forward slightly, as though about to prostrate herself near the prince’s feet.
The prince stepped back, and immediately Tilottama stiffened, as though under a magic spell. Her heart, which had bloomed for a moment, shrank again. The prince spoke, ‘Virendrasingh’s daughter?’
Tilottama felt as though an arrow had pierced her heart. ‘Virendrasingh’s daughter?’ Was this how he would address her now? Had Jag
atsingh forgotten Tilottama’s name too? Both remained silent for a while. ‘What is your reason for this visit?’ the prince continued.
‘What is your reason for this visit!’ What manner of question was this! Tilottama’s head reeled; the chamber, cot, lamp, walls…everything seemed to spin around her; she leaned her head against the wall for support.
The prince waited a long while for an answer; but who would answer him? When he realized that a response was unlikely, he said, ‘You are suffering, go back, purge your memory of all that has happened.’
Tilottama remained under an illusion no longer, she collapsed on the floor like a creeper severed from a tree.
Chapter Fourteen
Obsession
JAGATSINGH SAW THAT Tilottama had no pulse. He fanned her with his garments, but seeing no sign of her regaining consciousness, he summoned the guard.
Tilottama’s companion approached him. ‘She swooned all of a sudden. Who has come with her? Tell them to come and tend to her.’
‘I am the only one who has come with her,’ said the guard.
‘You!’ said the prince in surprise.
‘No one else has accompanied her,’ said the guard.
‘What is to be done then? Inform a maid.’
The guard left. Calling him back, the prince said, ‘There will be trouble if you inform anyone else. Who in any case will sacrifice the revelries tonight to come and help her?’
‘That is true,’ said the guard. ‘And whom will the guards allow entry into the prison, either? I do not have the courage to bring other people in here.’
‘What shall we do then? We have only one recourse; send word immediately through a maid to the Nawab’s daughter.’
The guard left swiftly to perform his bidding. The prince tried to tend to Tilottama as best he could. Who could tell what thoughts ran though his mind? Who knew whether there were tears in his eyes?
Alone in the dungeons, the prince remained thus absorbed with Tilottama. What would happen if word could not be sent to Ayesha, if Ayesha could not help?
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