“A part of our love should live after us, and that’s how
our love survives time.”
Rana Udai Singh had been out on a
celebratory hunt, hearing the news of the arrival of a grandchild. He had met a
sage in the forests near Lake Pichola, and a prophecy was made that had worried
the entire clan. The news had reached Kunwar Partap in Kumbhalgarh through
Ajbante’s letter. She was in the last month of her pregnancy and confined
mostly to her room; perhaps that is why the volume of her letters to him had
increased even when he could not reply to all of them. Ajbante Baisa mentioned
the sage had talked about a change of capital and impending doom at
Chittorgarh. This made Kunwar Partap want to rush back home.
Ajbante Baisa was informed by her maid-in-waiting, Kesari Bai, that the Maharanisa had talked of the establishment of a new
capital at the bank of the Lake Pichola. But
why make a new capital when we need funds to raise a strong army, and we also
have Kumbhalgarh at our disposal? Ajbante Kanwar wondered and hoped Kunwar
Partap would return in time to add some sense to the decisions. Although people
avoided talking of such issues in front of the heavily pregnant Kunwarani of Mewar,
in her sleepless nights, Ajbante Baisa read out the Veer Granth of her
forefathers, and that of Kunwar Partap, hoping the infant would be as brave as
they were. She felt the infant move inside her belly, perhaps kick too, and smiled, waiting to hold her baby in her arms.
At midnight on a spring day, Ajbante
Baisa felt a sudden pain and alerted Kesari Bai. Within minutes, her room was
turned into a nursery and care unit as the cry of a newborn broke through the
first light of dawn. Tired and weak, Ajbante Baisa barely managed to hold on
to the newborn, wrapped tightly in a piece of cloth as the wet nurses rejoiced, “It’s a boy.” As per the rituals, one of the ladies of the extended family was
called upon to breastfeed the newborn, but the Kunwarani of Mewar wanted to
feed her child herself. To everyone’s surprise, the Maharanisa agreed.
“Some rules can be broken if they are not
wrong.” She had said sternly before anyone raised any questions. “If a mother
wants to feed her child, then no rules can stop her.”
Kunwar Partap arrived the next day as
Mewar celebrated, but he was not allowed inside the room. Instead, Maharani Jivanta
Bai took him outside to greet the waiting crowd and thank them with coins and
gifts. He had then headed for a much-needed talk with his father. Everyone was
in a celebratory mood, and Kunwar Partap found no better day to talk to the
otherwise moody Udai Singh. Kunwarani Ajbante Kanwar was flooded with gifts
from the constantly visiting ladies of the royal houses of Mewar. They all blessed
her baby boy, but she asked the wet nurses eagerly, “When can Kunwarsa see his
child?”
“At the naming ceremony, on the twenty-first day of the Child’s life.” They smiled, understanding her eagerness “It is
then that the naming ceremony will take place at the palace.”
She cuddled her sleeping baby in her arms
as he sneezed softly, making her smile. The rays of the sun fell through the
jharokha on his face, and he winced a little, disturbed. Ajbante Kanwar noticed
how his nose was similar to that of his father, while the ladies said he looked
just like her. She kissed her baby softly on his forehead and whispered, “Bhanwarji, we have a tough battle ahead called life, but your Maasa will
always be your protector, I promise.”
The naming ceremony was graced by Ajbante
Kanwar’s family and Kunwar Shakta Singh and his family. Ajbante Kanwar enquired
about the absence of Kunwarani Heer Kanwar from Ranisa Sajja Bai when she was
informed that she was also expecting. Ajbante Kanwar immediately ordered Kesari
to arrange for some gifts to be sent on her behalf to the second Kunwarani of
Mewar. As she stepped out of the room, dressed in her wedding jewellery and a new
lehenga, her son was taken away from her arms by the Maharanisa, who walked
away towards the hall while she joined the other ladies at the jharokha. As
soon as the wiggling baby was taken away, Ajbante Kanwar felt a little strange, like a part of her was missing. She stared at the Maharani making her way to
the Yajna Kund while she was greeted and congratulated by her mother, sister
and the other ladies.
Ajbante Baisa was dying to read Kunwar
Partap’s face when his Ranima took the child to him and placed him on his lap.
She admitted to herself that his expression was indeed priceless. She smiled at
the sight as he held the baby boy and kissed his forehead. The baby cried out,
startling him and making everyone laugh as he looked at his mother nervously.
Maharani Jivanta Bai taught him to pacify the child with gentle pats. It was
then that he had looked up at the Jharokha, behind the veil, right at her with
proud eyes and smiled.
“What should we name the child, Guruji?”
Rana Udai Singh had asked the Rajguru.
“A name starting with 'A' will be
auspicious for this spring child who will sit on the throne of Mewar someday.”
The Rajguru smiled. With his mother’s nod, Kunwar Partap whispered a name
into the child’s ears, making everyone curious.
“What name did you choose, Kunwarsa?”
Rawatji asked eagerly, “Tell us.”
“Amar.” He looked up at the jharokha, and
Ajbante Baisa’s eyes twinkled.
“Bhanwar Amar Singh ki Jai! Kunwar Partap
Ki Jai! Kunwaranisa Baisa ki Jai!” The cheers made the baby wail, prompting
Maharani Jivanta Bai to take the child from the confused father’s hand and
walk away from the hall. In a moment, he was playing on his mother’s lap as the
ladies danced around in merriment inside the Ranimahal.
It was almost past dinner time when Ajbante
Baisa patted her son gently to sleep, inspecting his tiny fingers and
arms, and smiled at the baby moving in his sleep.
“Amar.” She had whispered, kissing the baby’s
tiny soft palm, when the door of the room creaked open, alerting her senses. Almost immediately, she reached for the
dagger tucked under her veil.
Kunwar Partap was surprised to find his
wife staring suspiciously as though he were a looter and holding her dagger in
a defensive position.
“Easy!” he smiled, amused. “Who else do you
think will come here so late?”
“I don’t want to take chances with my
child!” She placed the dagger down on the bedside table while he removed his
Safa beside it.
“So you learnt at last!” He chuckled.
“Hush!” She warned, “You will wake
Bhanwarji!”
“Ajab, he is a baby, please let’s call him
Amar, at least between us.” Kunwar Partap spoke, sitting down on the bed and admiring the sleeping infant. “Daata gave you a nice name, isn’t it, Bhanwarji?”
“Who is calling him Bhanwarji now?” Ajbante
Baisa sat on the other side of the bed, facing him, with the sleeping child in
the middle. “For the last fortnight or so, no one entered this room past bedtime, so I was a little alarmed.” She explained.
“So you see, Amar, as soon as you arrive,
your Maasa seems to have forgotten me totally!” Kunwar Partap saw Ajbante
Kanwar frown.
“That’s not true!” Ajbante Kanwar was
defensive, making him smile. “While you were away and I could not move, I made
you this!” She took out a dagger holder, made of velvet and designed with
stitches, for Kunwar Partap, who smiled at it.
“We need to be prepared for things, Ajab.”
His face grew a little serious as she frowned. “My talks with Daajiraj seemed
to yield very few effects on him; even Bhai Shakta feels the Turks are a
serious threat, and I sense we should be ready for war. I told Daajiraj that if
he moves to the Picholi, I am not leaving Chittor in trouble.”
“What did he say?” Ajbante Baisa asked
worried, knowing very well that the prophecy could indeed be true.
“He said I can move with my troops and
family to Kumbhalgarh, but I can never be permitted to stay here. It’s Mewar’s
future in question.” Silence filled the room, and Ajbante Baisa could hear him
sigh.
“What do you want, Kunwarsa?” She asked at
last.
“I don’t know, Ajab, I fear... I fear I may
just need to go against Daajiraj to serve Mewar someday. His interests seem to
be in personal security rather than our people...” He looked up at her calm face, “I
don’t know, Ajab, I have so many responsibilities, towards Mewar, my people,
Ranima, you and...” He looked at the sleeping child “I never want Amar to see
me like I see my own father.” Ajbante Baisa walked up to him and placed her
hand gently on his shoulder at this.
“Amar and I will always be proud of you,
and whatever you decide, remember it is for Mewar first. I can assure you that
if needed, you can be free from any responsibility towards us...”
“I know you are capable of protecting him, Ajab, but... I don’t know... He just makes me want to survive every battle, you
know?” She smiled at his words and nodded slightly.
“And it’s Amar who will always choose his
Daata over his Maasa, his Maasa even forgot I...” Kunwar Partap tried to lighten
the mood, for tonight was not about battles and politics.
“I
knew you would sulk once he is here!” Ajbante Kanwar shook her head, placing his
dagger into her handmade holder.
“You seem to know a lot!” He smiled, “I like
it.”
“That’s it? Only like?” She frowned, “Now, who seems to have lost all interest in me?”
“Well, I was thinking Amar should get a new
mother, too, to play with him.” His teasing tone met her narrowed glance as he
caught her hand, making her give him warning looks.
“I swear, Kunwarsa, if he wakes up, you are
going to put him to sleep!”
“I will be happy to, Ajab.” He tightened his
grip on her hand, making her smile, “You gave me all the happiness in the world!”
The new parents
stared at the child in the dimly lit room of the Kumbha Palace, sleeping peacefully
with proud, admiring eyes.
Amar Singh, I was born on the 16th of March, 1559, at Chittorgarh. At the mere age of 8, he fought his first battle. He was an able ruler and the son of his parents. He had taken part in all of Rana Partap’s major battles and had won 17 wars, big and small, against the Mughals before entering an honourable peace treaty with Emperor Jehangir for recapturing Chittorgarh as he had promised his father.
