It was three weeks after Ajbante Kanwar turned twelve that she showed the first signs of womanhood. Amid fear and confusion, her mother taught her all the rules she was meant to follow and revealed the secrets of womanhood to her. Hansa Bai looked proudly at her growing daughter, who was self-conscious about what she was experiencing. Soon she had called Ajbante’s friends over, especially ones who were married into Bijoliya, to reveal to her daughter the details she as a mother could not express. Hansa Bai did not want Ajbante Kanwar to live in darkness, especially since she was now of marriageable age and sooner or later she would be wedded. With the secrets that were sprung at her, Ajbante Kanwar learnt to look at her changing body, the pain and strange emotions she was facing with less fear and more intrigue. She would blush at their words, but a strange fear loomed in her heart. She was suddenly a woman from the child she was a day ago. Her mother would say she would ask her father to look for a groom to fit their family alliance once he returned. The thought of an impending marriage that she had been taught of as a normal flow of life for princesses like her suddenly scared her.
Her father was away in Chittorgarh for a month-long festivity kept for all the chieftains who had contributed to the war. He was expected to return with some rewards. As Ajbante stayed confined to her chambers during those days of the month, she wondered what kind of celebration happened in the capital. There must have been light and fireworks, there must have been people, processions and gold coins being given away to the poor. She had heard of those from her father when he, as a child, witnessed such a celebration under Rana Sanga’s rule. Her thoughts ran to the gossip she had heard in the palace premises. The maids spoke in whispers, but she knew what they spoke of. Rana Udai Singh was apparently insecure about his son’s success. Ajbante Kanwar didn't quite understand that. Her father had praised the prince while her mother dressed his wounds. How could his own father… She had prayed, wondering what Kunwar Partap might have been feeling. He must be happy about returning home, especially reuniting with his brothers and sisters. But what was the danger Daata spoke of? Was his life at stake? The little Ajbante Kanwar had interacted with the prince and his mother; she was sure none of them would be scared of gossip or threats. But given how the situation was around the borders, her father expressed his displeasure at the celebrations. It was a waste of treasury and a sorry way to divert attention. Ajbante Kanwar wondered if Kunwar Partap thought the same about unnecessary extravaganza.
As gossip reached Bijoliya, in different versions, some saying that the crown prince of Mewar stayed in a Bhil settlement in Bhilwara, while others suggested he was at Jalore and then even Bijoliya, the quiet border town that was mostly ignored by everyone except travellers to and from Bundi, curiosity grew among people. Hansa Bai refused to indulge in such gossip, saying neither she nor her husband was aware of his presence there. Ajbante Kanwar did the same when her friends wondered if they had met the prince at a fair or on the streets.
“Imagine meeting Kunwar Partap and not knowing it.” Ratan Kanwar giggled.
“Don’t be silly.” Saubhagyawati, the priest’s daughter, shook her head intelligently. “He must have some royal aura; we would have known.”
“What if he were here, working in the palace?” Another girl wondered as she held Ajbante’s hand. “Imagine, you met him. What would you have done?”
“Oh, I would have fainted in fear.” Another woman made them laugh.
“I would have asked him to tame Bijli.” They laughed at Ajbante’s words. “Oh, Rajkumarisa, you think you can command Kunwar Partap to do what you want?” They looked amused. “You are so naive.”
“He must be a gentleman, so even if she did, he would not have scared her off.”
“Oh, I wonder how he talks, walks, or eats. What he likes to eat, what are his favourite dishes, his favourite colour, his favourite time of the day.” One of her unmarried friends blushed, making the others tease her. Ajbante wondered at her words. He likes Kheer, Ghevar, and sweets. His favourite colour must be blue, she saw too many angrakhas in that colour in the hut, his favourite time of the day was dawn.
“He must walk, talk or eat like any other human being. Any of us.” She cleared her throat, and the others laughed.
“Kunwar Partap is like us? Where is your imagination, Rajkumarisa?” They shook their heads.
“Oh, he must have fiery eyes, a great build, a thick moustache, a handsome face, he must wield swords with both hands and ride any horse reinless. Oh, what I would give to see him.” One of her friends gushed.
“Now she wants to marry Kunwar Partap.” They laughed.
“Who doesn’t? Any woman would want to marry him. Right, Rajkunwarisa?” She turned to Ajbante, who looked a little pale and did not respond.
“How would I know? I never met him.” She stammered.
“Oh. Come on. He is the heir to the throne. That is enough!” The others giggled. She wondered how true that was. She had seen him suffer because his parents did not get along. Who would want a marriage like that? She knew Kunwar Partap wouldn’t.
“People are saying the princess will be married soon.” Her father had told her mother the day he returned, and the children hovered over the new sword and jewels he had received from the king.
“I think it is time you start looking for a groom for Ajbante, too, Hukum.” Her ears felt warm at her mother’s words as she nodded suggestively at her father. Ajbante did not stop to see his reaction as she turned and ran down the corridor back to her room. For the first time, her mother had mentioned the idea of getting her married verbally to her father, and she was deeply embarrassed. Ajbante locked her doors and sat down on the floor, smiling. She had no idea what to expect from the idea of marriage, but what her mother revealed, followed by some of her friends who were married, scared her to the core. She had read books of love, poems of Bards praising the beauty of it, the soulful dances of Ras Leela, the secret meetings between Rani Padmini of Singhal and the Rana of Mewar, the rebellious escape of Raja Prithviraj Chauhan with Rani Samyogita. Nowhere had she read of marriage involving scarier realities, love needing expression of not poetry and appreciation, but physical proximity, which from the description of her friends seemed to scare her to the core. Ajbante wondered if she felt the way she did, how the princess of Mewar might be feeling now that her marriage was impending. Ajbante decided to trust God with her fate while she helped her mother prepare the palace and Bijoliya for the arrival of the groom’s wedding party. She wondered if they would be the only ones playing host or if someone from the royal family would come along from Chittorgarh. Her heart skipped a beat. What if it were Kunwar Partap? Her friends would embarrass her for sure, given how they were ogling an imaginary person. Ajbante smiled a little, amused at herself. Perhaps they would be disappointed to see she was right. He was just like them, humble, soft spoken, and kind. What if he told everyone they knew each other, and her friends got angry with her? Ajbante shook her head at her own silly thoughts. There was no way he remembered her.
