Over the past months, Ajabdeh Baisa had trained her mind and
body to be Bijolia’s Baijilal. Bijolia’s very own “Ajbandeh” was now everyone’s
Baijilal, running the administration and defence for the Punwar house. She had
grown into what her mother thought was a reflection of the woman she always
admired, Maharani Jaivanta Bai. She feared mentioning that even to herself lest
wounds be reopened and cause pains that can never heal.
Ajabdeh had made Bijolia and her subjects her life, ever
since that faithful day she broke the norms and took an oath as Samanth. She vowed
to be the son her father wanted. However, although Bijolia was more than happy
knowing they were in Baijilal’s safe hands, she was clear that her position was just
as Balwant’s representative and nothing else.
As per the norms, the news had reached the Kumbha Palace.
Rawat Chundawat was walking down to the court when he could spot the messenger
from Bijolia. His heart had skipped a beat, worried for her. In the court,
discussing matters over the Afghan attacks were Ranaji and Kunwar Pratap. He had
managed to stop the messenger in time before he disrupted the court with the
letter from the place they now wanted to forget. He didn’t blame them, though.
Both father and sons were mere Katputlis of a bigger hand at play. He smiled
sarcastically at the Ranimahal. He had dispersed the man and read it twice. He
had smiled in awe at the seal from the new Samanth. He was now sure she was
indeed his soulmate, a fighter for life.
“Ranaji.” He had entered the court beaming, making everyone
stare in surprise.
“ Aapke haat mein yeh kya hai, Rawatji?” One of the eager
courtiers had asked. He had smiled.
“Bijolia mein…” Kunwar Pratap, rising from his seat, had made
him stop.
“Hu…Hum astrashala se aate hai.” He had walked away, not
looking up from the carpet.
His heart had made this weird skip of a beat at the
place’s mention, and he hated to admit the ache it caused. The ache she… He was
better off with his weapons and horses, away from everything that reminded him
of the two people one he had lost, another he had abandoned. Since that fateful day, he had not stepped into the Ranimahal corridors. He had heard both rooms
were locked the way they left them; he feared being trapped by memories he
needed to forget. Rawatji knew the boy; he had grown ten years in these few
months, but from the looks of it, she had grown much more.
“Rawatji, hum nahi chahte Bijolia ka koi bhi baat aap yaha
kare, unko koi madat chahiye toh aap dekh lena, lekin iss Chittorgarh mein
kabhi uss jagah ka naam nahi lenge koi bhi.” Everyone stared at the visibly
displeased Ranaji in awe.
“Hukum.” Rawatji had not dared to correct the concerned
father, who walked out after his son. He had kept the letter to himself.
Something told him this was important for later.
The Bijolia Palace was shining in the rising sun of the dawn
as a song filled the air and gave a peaceful feel.
“Akhiyaan Hari darsan ko pyasi.”
Balwant was running half-dressed through the corridor, about to fall, when his mother caught him.
“Hum e shama kijiye Ranisa, ve phirse uthne mein der…” The Dasi stopped at Hansa Bai’s cold look.
“Ek taraf Ajabdeh hai jo sab kuch samhal rahe, dusre taraf
baki saab jinko koi hosh nahi…”
“Kakisa.” Saubhagyawati interrupted, saving the three-year-old about to cry. “Chodiye na, baccha hai.”
“ Ajabdeh bhi…” Hansa stopped a little teary-eyed as
Saubhagyawati’s smile faded. “Uska bholapan cheen liya sabne.” She walked away
as Balwant looked confused.
“Chaliye bhai.” Saubhagyawati smiled at the boy.
“kesaar tilak, motin ki maala… Vrindavan ke vaasi.”
There
she sat, eyes closed, in her own simple and graceful way, in front of the
smiling Lord as they entered silently. She smiled, feeling their presence as she
took the Aarti thaal in hand for the last bit of the morning prayers.
“Baisa…” The Daasi ran through the Rani mahal of the Bijolia
palace searching for a folded, wrapped letter in hand.
“Baisa…?” She asked a passing by Daasi.
“Kanha mandir…” She didn’t finish as the one with the letter
ran.
Baijilal was worried about her flickering Diya. It was about to
die when she saved it from the gusty winds with her hands.
“Baisa.” The daasi stopped breathlessly.
“Baijilal.” Saubhagyawati corrected, irritated. She smiled at
her friend.
“Kya hua hai Kasturi?” Her smile faded at the letter in
hand. The daasi looked down at the carpet, prompting her to get up and take the
letter. The seal was from Rawat Chundawat’s place. She frowned as she struggled
with the string.
News from Chittorgarh?
Was Ranima… Opening it, she froze like a stone-cold statue. Her warrior
hands were shaking.
“Ajabdeh?”
Saubhagyawati’s voice shook her. “Kya hai isme?”
“Vivah nimantran.” She said plainly as Saubhagyawati
frowned.
“Vivah? Kiske?” She had raised her eyebrows. As far as she
knew, Rawatji’s son was still an infant.
“Woh… woh… aise kaise maan gaye?” Her teary eyes made
Saubhagyawati’s heart sink as she hugged her friend tighter than she ever did.
Ajabde stared blankly at Kanhaji, smiling. Breaking away from the hug, she wiped
away the tears.
“Kasturi.” She called the daasi awaiting her orders.
“Humara palki taiyyar karo. Hum… abhike abhi niklenge.”
“Kaha?” Her mother asked in awe as they turned to face her.
“Wohh kakisa…” Saubhagyawati stopped at her hand gesture.
“Vrindavan.” Ajabdeh walked away as her mother looked
worried.
The streets of Vrindavan were filled with Krishna’s chants
and stories. From the curtains of her Palki, she could make out the temples, the
narrow lanes, and the riversides. After travelling for two days, they reached
the lonely huts of the Ashram.
“Baisa.” The daasi called softly. “Hum aa gaye.”
“ Humare liye jo vastra abhushan hum ne mangwaye thee, aap
laye na?”
“Ji baisa.” The Daasi held out the bundle.
Maharani Jaivanta Bai was just another hermit here. The
children called her Mausirani and spent time with her, listening to her stories
and lessons. Her days were spent in the Lord’s name, and she had learned to
control her urge to know the news from Chittorgarh. She was sure he was in good
hands. After all, Ajabdeh was as much her choice as his.
“Sita ji vanvas gaye, bina Ram ji ko sawal kiye aisa kyun?”
An innocent voice asked. She smiled, remembering another boy had asked her the
same, the boy she had left behind, her life, her heart…
“Kyunki…” A voice behind her broke her trance, “ Sita ji
nahi chahte thee ke unke karan Ram ji ka rajdharm vrast ho. Raghukul ki writ
hai, Rajdharm ko ve sarvapari mante hai.”
She looked wide-eyed at the one in front of her. Not a
single piece of jewellery on her, she was wearing the saffron attire she once heard Meera
Ma had adorned, that of the saint, the wanderer. Rudyaksh's jewellery and her hair were left open. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Ajabdeh?” She frowned, worried.
“Ranima.” She smiled with teary eyes before running to hug her.
Jaivanta Bai cupped her face in worry and anxiety.
“Hua kya hai?” She dreaded the answer more because Ajabdeh
smiled in her tears.
Chittorgarh was lit up in its glory for a marriage. Marriage at the Bhattiyani queen’s will. She had tried to make relations
with Marwar again in vain, as Ranaji opposed, but Sajja bai’s sheepish niece, Pur Bai
Solankhini, was better than a certain Jaivanta Bai’s reflection any day. With a look
and a smile at her, she was already scared of the “Chotima.” The girl seemed
half dead at the thought of who she was marrying, adding to that the rumours that
flew about the marriage, the wife at Bijolia and his mother. Which princess
would even dare talk to him?
“Dadabhai kya yeh sahi hai?” Kunwar Vikram had frowned at
Kunwar Shakti for the third time.
“Hush.” He had stopped his brother just as Kunwar Pratap entered
his face, all calm, unreadable.
“Dadabhai hum ko apse baat karni hai.”
“ Bhai Shakti hum…” his words were interrupted by a sevak.
“Ranaji ne sabko tilak ke liye bulaya.” The brothers looked at each other in silence.
Kunwar Pratap was walking down the corridors with his
brothers in tow. Something kind of made him restless. Was it marriage all over
again, or the fact that these two, who were always in secret support of Ajabdeh
Baisa, didn’t even utter a single word to him against this, even when Chotima
instructed no invitation to reach Bijolia… Why was he even thinking of the girl
who… He breathed in. Kartavya Kunwar
Pratap, Raghukul ke kartavya.
It was time to meet the people of Chittorgarh before the
tilak as he appeared in the window of Appearances with his father, who was
beaming proudly.
“Kunwar Pratap ki Jai!” The crowd cheered at his humble, folded hands.
“Dadabhai, Chotima aarti ke liye bula rahi hai.” Vikram
smiled, beaming. He frowned at his brother’s over-excited pitch before walking
away.
“Dadabhai Shakti aap nishchit hai ke…” Vikram whispered.
“Jis Bhabisa ko hum jante hai, ve chup nahi baithengi. Aur
agar hum sahi hai, toh… shayed badima…” Shakti nodded, hopeful.
The Bhattiyani queen Dheerbai was dressed up in her glory
today. After years of patience, she was finally going to taste victory. Or so
she thought.
“Chotima?” Kunwar Pratap’s unsure voice made her turn with a
smile, while Kunwar Jagmal looked displeased at his mother’s happiness.
“Chaliye Kunwar Pratap, aarti thaal taiyaar hai, purvajo ke
kaksh mein.” She led him out to the hall where the family waited.
Purbai was putting on her jewellery, helped by her mother, aunt
and sisters. Some words around the palace still haunted her.
She was irreplaceable.
She, who was never
to be named.
She committed a crime, as per the rumours, the crime of taking
his mother away.
She, who always ruled his heart.
Where was the Solankhini
princess going to stand in this palace? She wondered at the happy faces. This
alliance was needed. That’s all she knew. For her father, for Sajja Bua. Veiled as per the norms, she walked to the hall of the
ancestors. Big room, portraits, and Lord Rama’s idol. She looked around. Smiling
faces. His… however, full of responsibility and… sadness?
Kunwar Pratap could actually make out that not a single soul
in this room felt what he felt each time he came here, the goosebumps, and the
lump in his throat. The feeling he had once shared with his mother and… He
closed his eyes and took a short breath, inhaling. For once, he wished this
girl felt that way; at least then, they could even try to be friends. But he
knew she didn’t. Like all the others, she saw a big room. Nothing else. She was not….” her”
“ Vaar ki maa aarti kare.” The panditji instructed, “Pehle
Vadhu ki… phir…”
Rani Dheerbai took the aarti thaal from a not-so-pleased Sajja bai and walked towards the girl. Kunwar Pratap looked away as the scene
haunted him with memories.
“Ruk Jaiye Dheerbaiji.” The voice ran a shiver down his
spine.
Udai Singh couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw Jaivanta Bai standing at
the threshold of the hallway. Bending down at the threshold, she touched it
with her forehead and the Maharani of Mewar walked in, dignified, in all her
grace.
“Ranima, Kunwar Pratap’s voice choked as Dheerbai looked at
her like she had seen a ghost.
“Jija” Sajja Bai was the first to reach for the hug.
She stared coldly at the Bhattiyani queen before walking up
to her husband. As Kunwar Pratap came for a hug, she stopped him with a hand
gesture. She was clearly displeased. Purbai was already in awe of this lady’s
grace and dignity, but unsure whether to approach her.
“Ranaji.” Her voice echoed throughout the hall. “Yeh sab kya hai?”
“Jaivanta hum…” Udai Singh looked shocked. She shows up
after months, in a Sanyasini attire, asking him questions about something he
had not decided and had no clue she knew. The Jaivanta he knew, however, didn’t
surprise him.
“Ek patni ke hote huye, unke sehmati ke bina Pratap ki koi
vivah kaise ho sakta hai?” She stared at her son, disappointed as he looked
away. “Bataiye?”
“Waise bhi, aapse kisne keh diya ke hum mahal Ajabdeh ke
liye chod ke gaye?” Her words shocked both father and son as Shakti smiled
victoriously at Vikram. A gasp followed from the ladies.
“Pratap? Aapse aise
bhool ki toh hum e apeksha nahi thi.”
“Ranima woh Patra…” His mouth went dry. His heart sank, beating.
She was not the reason?
“Grina karte hai na
aap humse, karte rahiye ghrina, lekin humne toh aapse prem kia tha Kunwar
Pratap hum prem hi karte rahenge…”
Her last words haunted him like never
before. He should have listened once. Just once.
“Ajabdeh.” His voice shook as the hall full of people stared
at him. In months, he had taken that name out loud, and yes, his shaking voice
proved much more than guilt. He missed her, his shadow; he was miserable and
alone, and none could replace her ever. He had hated to admit all those to himself,
but he knew it. His voice made Pur Bai look up and smile faintly. She who ruled his heart. It was all
true!
“Ha Ajabdeh.” Jaivanta’s voice was calm and firm.
“Jija, accha hua aap aa gayi thoda vishram…” Dheerbai
stopped at her cold stare.
“ Ranaji apko lagta hai jis Ajabdeh ko hum ne beti mana tha
uske upar aarop lagake hum mahal chod denge? Kyun?” Her question made Udai
Singh restless.
“Lekin phir kaun…” Sajja asked what Shakti wished she did.
“Umm woh ab…” Dheerbai started as Jaivanta Bai answered, “Wohh abhi baad mein dekhenge.”
“Ab?” Shakti asked, staring at a visibly moved Pratap.
“Bhabisa ke paas kaun jaega?”
“Aur yeh vivah?” Purbai’s mother looked troubled.
“Vivah avashya hoga.” Jaivanta Bai answered, smiling. “Hum
vachano se murte nahi hai. Lekin, Ajabdeh ke sehmati se.”
Her words made Kunwar Pratap look up. He knew what he had to
face now. An apology was not enough for what had happened, and then there was a
wedding. A wedding, Ajabdeh will need to approve. The Ajabdeh he knew would cry
out to her Kanha, but approve it with a smile as brave as it would scare him.
He had seen her do that before. For the greater good.
“Ajabdeh Baisa Bijolia mein nahi hai.” Rawatji entered as
the crowd stared at him.
“Kya? Kya matlab nahi hai?” Udai Singh frowned.
“Ve teen din pehle hi waha se nikal gayi, kisi ko nahi pata
kaha gayi hai.” Rawatji nodded as Kunwar Pratap looked distraught.
Jaivanta
smiled, instructing Dheerbaiji.
“Jab tak yeh vivah nahi hota hum yehi rukenge, aur haan humare
ek khaas Atithi ayenge kal, unko bhi humare kamre mein rehne ki vyavastha karva
dijiye.”
“Kaun Atithi?” Udai Singh frowned.
“Humare Pratap ke vivah hai.” Her voice was clearly taunting, “Aur humne ek Atithi bulai, uspe sawal? Koi humare kamre mein nahi aenge. Hum ko
shanti chahiye, aur vivah hote hi hum chale jaenge.” She spoke firmly.
“Kunwar Pratap.” She touched his shoulders lightly, and he
felt like crying, hugging her.
“ Hum e pata hai, jo sahi hai, aap wohi karenge.”
Her smile made him guilty. Where was
Ajabdeh?
