“Uncertainties often bring out the true character, and ego
often burns down the image of a man.”
Maharani Jivanta Bai frowned a little at
the messenger who stood at her threshold. She was not an official letter
bearer, but a maid. Her veiled face could easily pass her as one of the maids
of the Chittorgarh Palace itself, but Maharani Jivanta Bai’s keen eyes knew she
wasn’t one of them.
Kunwar Partap was seated on the couch in
her room, savouring some freshly picked mangoes, when the sound of the girl’s
anklet alerted him.
“Ghani Khamma.” The girl seemed uncertain.
Kunwar Partap’s hand stopped before he picked up the last mango.
“I… came with a message from…” Before the
girl could complete her sentence, Kunwar Partap had walked up to her and
snatched the letter from her hand.
“You may go.” His voice was monotonous. The
girl stared at him a little scared from behind the veil, bowed to the queen and
left in a hurry. From the sound of her anklet, it was evident that she was
running down the corridor towards the gates.
Kunwar Partap was standing at the threshold, still inspecting the letter that had arrived. It did not take his mother a
moment to realise that it did not contain an official seal.
“Who was that?” Her question was more of a
firm doubt.
“A messenger.” Kunwar Partap frowned a
little uneasily.
“I could see that. Who sends you a letter
without a…”
“Ranima.” Kunwar Partap cut her short. “I
am sorry. I will be back.”
Before Maharani Jivanta Bai could react, he
was gone.
“Hai Eklingji. I hope everything is fine.”
She let out a prayer.
Her husband had brought home a new bride.
Veer Bai Jhalla was going to cause a war between Rajputana’s biggest forces,
everyone believed. The poor girl was being blamed for the lust of men; Jivanta
Bai felt pity for her. At the same time, she was concerned for Mewar. Maharani
Jivanta Bai knew that it was Kunwar Partap who wished it to be untrue,
especially with the forces of Afghans and Turks posing as impending threats to
the Rajputs. She had seen him worried about the security of the borders. A war
with Marwar was simply not on his agenda. With Kunwar Shakta away, Kunwar
Partap wanted someone to support him in his decision to enter peace talks. He was
spending most of his time with his most trusted chieftains talking over the
matter. She was sure from his face that most of them thought only war could be
a fitting reply to Marwar.
She called her maid in waiting, “Find out
where that girl came from.”
“Ji Maharanisa.” She watched the maid leave
with a sigh.
Closing the doors of his chamber carefully,
Kunwar Partap smiled relieved. For the past year, he had received these
letters. They were not addressed to him; neither did they mention the name of
the sender. Yet, he replied only once, urging the sender to keep him
updated each week. Was it because he had nothing to say? Or because he knew
somewhere in a corner of his heart who sent those? He was concerned about border safety, and each week, these letters gave him insight into the movement
of the Afghans and Bundis within the Bijoliya borders.
He opened the letter. Over the past year,
the formality of long letters had shortened into just what needed to be
told.
“Khamma Ghani. I am fine. The family is
doing well, too. Is there really a quarrel in the family there?” He couldn’t
believe the letter had three sentences. He couldn’t help but smile. Over the years,
the letters had a strange code to them, codes only he understood.” I” referred
to Bijoliya and “Family” to the borders. He frowned at the last sentence. The
letter was smaller than usual. Was it because he didn’t reply to them, or was she doubtful that someone else could also read them? He sat down unmindfully.
Did she fear spies? He stared at the last sentence. The talk of an impending
battle with Marwar was doing the rounds. She had asked him a question. Maybe
because she wanted to know about the securities. Kunwar Partap unknowingly
praised her intelligence.
“Khamma Ghani.” Ajbante’s hand brushed the
ink blot on the paper. Ever since the maid arrived with the letter from
Chittorgarh, Ajbante had excused herself on the pretext of a headache and
locked herself in her room. He actually answered her. Or did he answer the
informer? Did he even know it was her? Something in her believed he did.
“The quarrels are getting serious. The
family is in trouble.” Her heart thumped in her chest. What she heard from
behind the curtains of her father’s meeting was right then, he confirmed it.
The war was going to happen. She had heard her father talk of how the war was
going to decide Mewar’s future and that of Kunwar Partap. It was an important
war for him. He had won three wars in the past two years, but this was a great
battle. Somewhere, Ajbante had her doubts. Did they actually need a war with
Marwar exactly when the Turks were conquering the seats of Lahore and Dinpanah
back then? The fifteen-year-old Jalaluddin Mohammad had a great army, they said.
Men, she gathered, had their adrenaline
rushing at the scent of warfare. They were up in arms over every smallest issue
that could even be resolved with a peace talk. Ajbante cursed her thoughts.
Being a Rajputani, she couldn’t possibly think of peace talks, could she? She
had heard the men gathered in their courtyard talk of how this was going to be
the war they had waited for a long time. A knock resounded, startling her
from her thoughts. A maid had arrived with another letter from Mandalgarh.
Ajbante opened the box, kept carefully hidden behind her clothes, and placed
the letter under the pair of bangles, with the other two letters in it, with a
smile before opening the letter that had arrived with a royal seal.
“Khamma Ghani Rajkumarisa.” She smiled while reading the letter. “Mandalgarh seems to keep me occupied more than I thought
it would, and with the impending war, I have been busy. However, I must express
my gratitude for the wonderful handmade rakhi you sent me for my success.
And I hope you have liked the Kachli I gifted you last time. Although I must
admit I know nothing about women’s choices, and it was Maasa who chose that one
for the Kunwarani of Mewar.” Ajbante’s smile faded a little as she let out a
sigh “I am also writing to inform you that Dadabhai is not in favour of the
war. He is currently at Salumber to talk to Rawat Saidas Chundawat of Salumber about it, and they
will probably head to Bijoliya to do the same with Rao Ramrakh Punwar. Wait for your
special guest, Bhabisa. Thank me later. Kunwar Shakta Singh.”
Ajbante stared at the letter for a moment.
Her throat was dry, and her eyes suddenly wore a smile that refused to go. Was
it because he was also not in favour of the war, and their thoughts were
alike? Or was it because Kunwar Shakta gave her news she couldn’t imagine!
At dinner, Ajbante Baisa decided to tell
her father that Kunwar Partap could be arriving with Rawat Chundawat to talk to
him about something important. Rao Ramrakh Punwar was, however, clueless about what the
urgency was. The frown on his face refused to go, and it troubled Hansa Bai as
well. Knowing that Kunwar Shakta would never pass on information without
surety, Hansa Bai ordered the palace to be cleaned and prepared for the arrival
of the guests. If he were at Salumber, as Ajbante informed, it wouldn’t even
take him a week to arrive at Bijoliya.
Deep into the night, Ajbante stopped in
the dark, empty corridor at the light coming from one of the map rooms. She
tiptoed carefully to the threshold to watch her father sitting there, with a
rather serious face and two maps spread before him.
“Not enough men…” She heard him murmur.
Smiling faintly, she walked back to the kitchen where two maids were cleaning up
after a day’s work.
“You wanted something, Baisa? You could call
us.” They sounded alert. She shook her head with an “I want to do this myself.”
Rao Ramrakh smiled faintly, watching his
daughter knock at the door. Ajbante rarely disturbed him at work, unlike Ratan
Baisa, and she always came with a sense of peace for him, just like her mother.
“Ajbante.” He managed to take the frown off
his face, reading her worried eyes, “You haven’t slept yet?”
“So haven’t you, Daata Hukum.” She smiled a
calm smile, handing him a glass of cold buttermilk. Then she sat across him on
the floor, with the map in between. “Do you think this is right, Daata Hukum?”
She frowned at the map.
“What is?” The man stopped at his sip and
stared at his daughter.
“The war.”
“If Ranaji decided…”
“But ...” Rao Ramrakh frowned at Ajbante, cutting
his words short. That was so unlike her.
“Pardon me.” She realised her urgency and
rubbed her hands together. Rao Ramrakh smiled.
“What do you think, Rajkumarisa?” His words
made her smile, for they had a tone of respect in her insight that her father
always trusted.
Kunwar Partap was happy that Rawatji agreed
to his suggestion of urging the Rana to have a peace talk. They had arrived at Mandalgarh at midday to be greeted by Kunwar Shakta. All they needed now was for Raoji to agree before the four of them headed to Chittorgarh with the proposal before it was too late. Kunwar Shakta was in a sudden rush to start for Bijoliya upon their arrival. The battle was a lost cause. Especially when they heard that the Afghans had joined the other side. Udai Singh had eyes on one of Haji Khan's dancing girls when he had tried to negotiate terms with the Afghans and it did not go well in his favour. Rawat Chundawat had witnessed how the odds turned against them with Udai Singh's one attempt to take away Haji Khan's dancing girl.
Kunwar Partap frowned at him, making Rawat
Chundawat ask, “What is the hurry, Kunwarsa? We can go there tomorrow. Rao ji is
not leaving for Chittorgarh now.”
“Yes, Rawatji, but Badi Ranima always say
that why not do things today than leave them for tomorrow?” He hoped that he
had managed to affect Kunwar Partap with his words, but it was in vain.
“We will rest here tonight after an
inspection of the camp. I want to check things myself. We will start for Bijoliya
at dawn.” He couldn’t help but admire how stubborn his Dadabhai was.
They had assumed the Bijoliya palace would
still be asleep in the wee hours of dawn, but Kunwar Partap was a little
surprised to find Hansa Bai waiting to welcome them to the palace.
“It looks like someone already informed
them about our arrival.”
Rawatji’s words made Kunwar Partap shoot a
suspicious glance at Kunwar Shakta, who was quick enough to ignore his glances
and walk up to greet Raoji.
Kunwar Partap got off his horse and walked
up to greet Hansa Bai with folded hands and a faint smile. As Hansa Bai
welcomed both the princes to her palace with a guest’s welcome of traditional
aarti, Kunwar Partap’s eyes wandered over the threshold. He realised it the
minute his eyes had travelled to one of the Jharokhas inside the hall, and
Ratan Baisa smiled at him. Realising his mistake, Kunwar Partap was quick to
focus on the red and blue carpet that lay beneath his feet while Kunwar Shakta
wore a victorious smile.
After the refreshments were served and the
maids left them alone in the hall, Rao Ramrakh Punwar smiled at the guests.
“You should rest in your allotted chambers;
we can talk before lunch, Kunwarsa.” He addressed Kunwar Partap as Kunwar Shakta
savoured the sweets.
“I think we should talk before we go to
rest, Raoji.” Rawat Chundawat spoke on behalf of the prince.
“Is it something serious, Rawatji?” He
asked.
“I think there should be no war.” Kunwar
Partap’s words made Ramrakh Punwar stare right across him at the threshold, surprised. Kunwar Shakta’s eyes travelled with his to his right, and he stole a
glance at Kunwar Partap as Rawatji smiled with “Ghani Khamma Ajbante Baisa.”
“Khamma Ghani Mamasa.” She had smiled from
behind the veiled face as she helped the maid put down the silver plates full
of fresh summer fruits. “Please help yourself, Kunwarsa.” Kunwar Partap looked
up at her veiled face, thinking the words were addressed to him, while Ajbante
placed a plate in front of a smiling Kunwar Shakta.
“Dhanyavaad Baisa.” His words made Kunwar
Partap look away, with Rao ji apologising.
“I am sorry, Kunwarsa, my daughter
interrupted.”
“No, Raoji, Baisa is a wonderful host.”
Rawat Chundawat smiled in admiration “And a good warrior too, I have heard.”
His words made Ajbante smile faintly as she stole a glance at Kunwar Partap’s
unreadable face.
“She helps me a lot in administrative decisions
and…” Raoji smiled.
“Daata Hukum...” Her soft words came almost
like a protest against her father praising her.
Ajbante Baisa had turned to leave, behind
the maid who had walked away a minute ago and stopped at Rawat Chundawat’s
gesture at her father’s praises.
“We would like to know your views on this, then, Baisa, isn’t it Kunwar Shakta?” Rawatji smiled.
“Yes, I was very impressed by her
observations at the Gurukul. What do you say, Dadabhai?” Ajbante stared at him, nodding slightly as she smiled at the approval and stood her ground beside her
father, facing him.
Kunwar Partap continued, “I think this war
should not happen.” His eyes were fixed on Raoji hopefully.
“Why do you feel so Kunwarsa?” Raoji
frowned “We are well equipped. If you think we are going to lose this…”
“Yes, we are well equipped, but now that the
Turks are imposing a threat over our head, the Afghans are breathing down our
neck, a war between the biggest states of our land will perhaps help them.”
“Because, like in the time of Rana Sanga, we
can only fight invading Turks united in the cause under one banner?” Raoji
asked, a little surprised.
Kunwar Partap smiled in appreciation.
“Exactly what I believe, Raoji. I am glad
you feel the same.”
“It’s not me, actually…” Kunwar Partap
frowned at his words and noticed someone else clear her throat, making Raoji
stop between his sentence as he asked,
“...Anyway, how can I help to stop the war, Kunwarsa?”
Around
mid-1556, Mewar and Marwar got involved in a clash of egos in which Kunwar
Partap was the Senapati of the Mewari Army. The war lasted 18 days and ended in
a treaty. Mewar was in a bad position owing to the Afgans led by Haji Khan supporting Maldeo and Marwar. As a aftermath of this battle, Marwar lost Ajmer to the Mughals, and Mewar lost Sirohi briefly as well. After this war, Pratap fought two more wars, before his
marriage as Senapati, one at Dungarpur being particularly famous. While some say a similar story of Udai Singh being mesmerised by a dancer, another version of the Dungar war suggests that Udai Singh had insulted the ruler of the land, who were actually allies of Mewar, and he decided to join Marwar and later the Mughal side. Whatever the reasons were, Udai Singh failed to be diplomatic in forming allies or maintaining them.
