Ajbante Kanwar found herself by the Menal waterfall that made enough noise for her to not hear Kunwar Partap approaching with the horses. She was lost in thought.
After two days of playing host to the royals of Bundi, yesterday, the king had informed her father that they would start their journey to Chittorgarh early in the morning. As she snuck out of the palace, she saw the pompous procession of elephants decorated with gold ornaments and horses with golden quilts over their seat being led out by the Bundi soldiers. The palace was awake earlier than she anticipated, and she had to squeeze in a little time and excuse herself for her “prayers”. But as she sat by the waterfall, she was unsure whether he could come. She looked up at the sky clearing into dawn as she sighed and shook her head. He must be preparing to leave. Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar stood up, brushing her lehenga as she turned to leave. If she wasted more time, Daata would scold her. She had not worn her warrior attire under her lehenga, fully aware that they would have no time to practice. She wanted to promise him to continue her training with Bijli after he was gone. Something felt heavy in her heart as she played with her bangles and breathed in. She was about to turn when she was jolted by his presence behind her.
“You should be more aware of your surroundings.” He frowned at her shocked face as she lowered her eyes from his and nodded silently. “Do you know about self-defence?” She nodded unsurely, rubbing her hands together. “Umm… yes. My Guruji taught me to use the Khanjar…”
“What about the sword?” She looked reluctant and visibly shocked as she shook her head. “You should learn that too, god forbid you need to protect yourself from multiple people, the Khanjar may not be a good option.” She nodded silently as he managed a faint smile. “The next time I come around I will teach you.” She looked a little perplexed at his words. “I will tell Guruji…”
“Can I not teach you?” He asked, sounding a little bruised. “Do you know how many people call me the best swordsman in the land? I can fight with both hands.” She looked up briefly at his words as her lips parted. So that rumour was true. “It’s not that…” She bit her lower lip, unsurely. She wanted to say she would not wait for him to return in some distant future, but learn to save herself like he suggested, before Daata got her married. She was not even sure she would still be in Bijoliya the next time he was there. But she kept quiet as his brows narrowed.
“Can we sit down?” He did not wait for her approval as he let the horses graze and chose a dry rock to perch himself on. With one hand on his sword and another resting on his thigh, he eyed the surroundings for onlookers. Ajbante Kanwar observed him with a faint smile. He sat like a king almost instinctively. Replace the rock with a throne and his red pagri with a crown jewelled one, and he would be perfect. Her heart skipped a beat as he caught her staring. He gestured at the rock beside him as she nodded and sat down on it, straightening her lehenga and the dupatta on her head.
“I may come back when they leave for Bundi…” He said, staring at the water, “Or not. I am not sure how the tradition goes.” He smiled sheepishly. She nodded. “I suppose … that… that the Bidai procession doesn’t involve people from the Bride’s side except the maids travelling with her.” He nodded at her words as she stared at the water. The sky was filled with the red hue of the sun rising from behind the forest horizon, as the hue reflected on her calm face. He eyed her, staring at the water, her breath slow, lips quivering as if unsure of what more to say. Her hands were together on her lap, fidgeting with her bangles. He turned his gaze towards her and sank into the view as if he was going to remember it for a long time. Ajbante Kanwar shifted a little at his gaze, her hand touching the dupatta and her hair unsurely to check why he was staring. His eyes did not shift from his gaze as she cleared her throat.
“So, your father has someone in mind?” His question made her stare back at him, brows furrowed, cluelessly. “Pardon?”
“For your marriage?” He asked as she looked away. Perhaps she was shy about the topic as her cheeks flushed. A coy smile appeared on her face as she lowered her head briefly. “He says it should be an alliance that… umm…”
“Benefits Mewar?” He sounded almost amused. “So all fathers think the same, I suppose.” He almost murmured to himself, thinking of the times when Padmavati was betrothed to the prince of Bundi. Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar looked up at his words as he looked back at the water, throwing a few pebbles he had collected from the soil, skipping them.
“He says a chieftain family from Marwar or Bundi would be good. Especially with the Turks…” She bit her lips as he smiled.
“And you agree to that?” She had no idea she could have a choice. She looked confused. “Pardon?”
“You agree that marriages should be about alliances and benefits to the state?” He repeated. Ajbante Kanwar gulped because he sounded displeased. For all she had heard from her friends, she was not sure anymore. She shook her head. “I don’t know what marriages should be about.” She said truthfully. He shrugged. “You have seen them around you.”
“My parents… had an alliance, so did Daata with his other wives. They seem… happy.”
“Happy?” Kunwar Partap asked. “And what is this happiness?” Ajbante Kanwar looked confused again, but she continued.
“Umm… they have understanding children, Maa sa takes care of the palace while he takes care of Bijoliya. They have an understanding about alliances and…” She could see his displeasure as he grunted inwardly, but she continued. “She prays when he is at war.”
“Don’t you think women do that because if the men die or lose the war, their future is plunged into darkness?” He eyed her gasp. “And not because of love or care?”
“I feel they have respect for each other and the relationship. I guess that care comes with it. I mean, everyone prays during wars, even if their loved ones are not fighting the battle.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. But then I don’t think you witness men the way I do.”
“Meaning?” She enquired. He was unsure whether to introduce Ajbante Kanwar to the reality of men she was oblivious to. But should she not know now that she was supposed to be married?
“Are you sure you want to know?” He asked unsurely. “The truth may make you lose respect for a lot of people.” He was firm, “Including your king.” His words made her look up. “Then I guess it's your choice whether or not you want to…”
“Soldiers are not the only people who travel to the war front.” He stared at the water as he continued. “And they are not the only collateral damage of war.” She waited for him to speak again.
“Women, dancing girls, concubines, young, old, traded often for their flesh, are served to soldiers, chieftains and kings, exchanged or captured during wars, tortured, killed, forced to…” He eyed her, unsure of how many details he could allow himself to give out. “There is no mercy or respect for any woman of any age, caste, class or kind.” Ajbante Kanwar surprisingly did not look dazed by this.
“I am aware of it.” She nodded.
“Who told you?” He asked with a frown. She smiled faintly.
“Nobody tells women the details of such things, but we know. We know when men indulge, when men stray, when they lose respect.” She eyed him “We know from the moment we are born, to save ourselves from the world. From our own people, let alone others.” She paused as he looked impressed. “But I am not sure why you want to tell me…”
“Because I want you to know that is the cost of alliance, not love.” He sounded a little agitated and her calm voice helped him compose himself as she smiled faintly and asked, “Love? Is that not a concept for Bards and Poets, books and novels?”
“So you think it doesn’t exist between two people beyond the realms of stories?” She looked away from his piercing gaze.
“I do not know, Kunwarsa. I have not seen the world as much as you have.”
“I have a friend, Veni.” He said abruptly. “He chose to save a girl who was being attacked by the Chambal by goons. He decided to marry her. She was an orphan.” Ajbante Kanwar nodded. “He brought her home and claimed that he loved her.”
“And?” She enquired.
“And I have never seen him look at another woman since, let alone indulge at the war front.” He looked up at her, observing him. “To me, that is love.”
“Do you… umm…” Ajbante regretted starting the sentence without second thoughts. “Want that? Yes.” He said without blinking. “But as an heir to the throne, I have to do what everyone before me did, what everyone expects me to do.” There was a sense of longing in his voice. The sudden cracked voice of a peacock in the forest rang through the air, beating the chirping of birds. It jolted Ajbante Kanwar.
“I must leave. Maasa will be looking for me.” She stood up, unsure of whether to bow, wait for him to leave, or walk away. He eyed her as he got up and sighed.
“Write to me.” His words made her look up at him, “When your alliance gets through.” He added. She nodded. “Daata will send an invite…”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “You will write to me about what you actually feel about the alliance.” She looked confused. “I can’t write to the heir of…” She was aware of the code of royal conduct and did not want gossip.
“Write to Kika, it will reach me.” He interrupted. “And I will tell you how the wedding was.” He made her smile with a nod. “When I make friends on my travels I intend to keep in touch.” he took the reins of the horses, “I must take your leave now.”
“Friends?” She almost whispered as her eyes widened. He nodded, “What are we if not friends?” Ajbante Kanwar stood there, watching him leave.
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