Sibling Rivalry

The following folklore has been taken from James Todd's Annals & Antiquities of Mewar, which speaks in detail of this incident of rivalry between Shakti and Pratap, which was indicated in Vir Vinod. However, historically speaking, no contemporary records of this story being true are found, except that before Jaivanta Bai left Chittorgarh for safety issues, upon Kunwar Pratap's return from Gurukul, he was posted at places at the foothills of Chittor and not near the fort, while Shakti Singh stayed in Salumber until both were summoned for the battle against the Afghans. Shakti Singh later moved to Mandalgarh. Some versions of the story also suggest the Brahma Hatya Kahani was meant to speak of a curse, foreshadowing the fall of Chittorgarh.

The summer morning witnessed the Princes of Mewar out and about the marketplace in the street of Chittorgarh. The people were going about their ways with sacks of goods to trade, merchants heckling, horses being led by weary travellers across the narrow streets. Kunwar Shakti Singh led the group of boys, his friends from Gurukul, the sons of noblemen and chieftains who had come to visit him in the palace. They stopped by occasional stores and bought knick-knacks to take back home from the capital. Shakti Singh led them down the Lohar Gali, where the blacksmiths had their small dark rooms. Everything from locks and chains to daggers and spears was made there. Shakti Singh took his impressed friends down the end of the lane to the weapon maker’s shop. The boys, barely out of Gurukul, were impressed by the number of weapons on display: lances, spears, different kinds of arrows, daggers and swords of all sizes. Kunwar Shakti Singh picked up a lance and held his stance. “Remember when I threw it right in the middle of the target at Gurukul?” The prince sounded boastful as his friends agreed. “But wasn’t it Baojiraj Pratap who was more accurate?” Veni Das asked. The others exchanged glances as Shakti’s smile faded. The old blacksmith walked out to offer salutation to the second in line to the throne before he asked what he was looking for. “My friends here wanted to take some weaponry as a token for their fathers from Chittor, so I brought them to the best…” Shakti led the boys inside the damp, cold room illuminated by the sparks of the iron being shaped in the fire, occasionally. It smelled of metal. The blacksmith smiled at the eager young men and proceeded to help them choose the right weapons.

“I’m telling you, Baojiraj. Kunwar Shakti is spreading rumours.” Veni Das’s words were dismissed by the heir apparent, who was watching a blacksmith sharpen his sword. “He said he is the best lanceman.”

“Maybe he is, Veni. Let it go.” Kunwar Pratap shrugged. 

“But Baojiraj, Kunwar Shakti…”

“Are you filling his ears against me, Veni Das?” Kunwar Shakti’s voice made Veni look pale as he lowered his gaze and shook his head, and the others gathered around them.

“Am I spreading rumours, Dadabhai? I just said I hit a perfect target with the lance at Gurukul.” Shakti’s words made his brother narrow his brows slightly. “Does that not make me the best lancer?”

“No.” Kunwar Pratap’s firm words made him tighten hisjaws as his friends looked amused. “It simply means you can hit targets.”

“But is that not…” Kunwar Shakti looked irked. He suddenly felt like Kunwar Pratap was insulting his capabilities in front of his friends. All the doubts he had, the feelings he suppressed when he had disappointed his father, despite his best attempts, came haunting back.

“You think you are the best? Huh? Is that it?” His tone made the crown prince pick up his sword, thank the blacksmith with a few coins from his pouch and turn to face his brother. “If it pleases you to hear it from me, Bhai, I am better off on the battlefield.”

“And how do you know that?” Kunwar Shakti looked irked. “You never went to the battlefield.”

“And neither have you. All I am saying is hitting targets is different from riding a horse and throwing a lance with perfect accuracy at a moving target.” Kunwar Pratap had a smile on the edge of his lips. “I have been practising, have you?” The blacksmith looked a little sceptical at the banter of the two princes. He had been in the business for three generations of Mewari kings, enough to know what sibling rivalry cost the state. Kunwar Shakti turned red with embarrassment as his friends smiled. 

“I tell you what, let's have a duel and see who is the best.” Kunwar Shakti suggested. Kunwar Pratap was not going to bow down to a challenge. It was unlike a Rajput to refuse one. He agreed, “Tomorrow at dawn, get your horse and see me at the fields near the Surya Talab.” He walked away, clutching the sword of Bappa Rawal, which he had been gifted as heir apparent. Lately, Kunwar Shakti felt like he had been flaunting it too much. It irked him.

Kunwar Pratap was in two minds about sharing the idea of duelling with his brother with Ranima. He knew the queen of Mewar would disapprove of such a public display of unnecessary animosity between brothers. She would order the duel to be stopped. Kunwar Shakti would assume it to be his way of not facing the challenge. It was difficult, but for the first time, Kunwar Pratap hid something from his mother. He feared the consequences if the news reached Rana Udai Singh. Kunwar Shakti, on the other hand, was determined to win this battle with his brother. If he did and the news of his skills was spread across the fort of Chittor by those who witnessed it, perhaps then his father would appreciate him as much as he appreciated Dadabhai. He was no less brave than Kunwar Pratap was. But a part of Shakti was also sceptical of hurting Pratap. Lance duelling meant one of them could be seriously injured when the horses charged at each other and lances were thrown, but he could not back out now; it would make him look like a coward to his friends. They would mock him and spread words of his cowardice across Mewar. He could never allow that.

The blacksmith had finished his last job late in the evening as he lit the torch that would help him get back to his hut at the far end of the fort. He cleaned his dirty hands with water from a pail and changed his clothes. Throughout the day, the words of the princes had haunted him. He needed to report it to someone, but whom could he approach? A soldier on the street would shoo him away or perhaps reprimand him for spreading fake rumours. There was no way a blacksmith like him could approach a chief or a nobleman. He walked down the narrow lanes of the empty market, lost in thought, when he chanced upon a figure in the shadow. Almost like God had sent him a messenger, the purohit of the Trimukhi temple appeared before him. 

The dawn broke as the field near the Suraj Talab grabbed the attention of the passing citizens. Some of them came by to pray at the temples at dawn, others to do their Surya Namaskar, and nobody had expected the princes of Mewar to be there, on their horses, being cheered by their friends. Curiosity gathered onlookers. The blacksmith and the priest reached just in time to push through the crowd waiting with bated breath, to see the princes at both ends of the field take stances with their lances aimed at each other as the horses neighed.  The priest did not know what to do. He needed to stop this at any cost for the sake of Mewar. If either of them were killed in this child’s play of ego, Mewar would be unstable in the future. The priest frantically raised his hand and appeared in the middle to stop the brothers.

“Move away, Purohit Ji.” Kunwar Shakti warned him. “You will get hurt.”

“I request you to stop, Kunwarsa.” The priest waved his hand frantically. “This duel is not good.”

“Please move away, Purohitji.” Kunwar Pratap agreed. “Let’s give the crowd what they wanted to see.”

The priest gasped and lamented that shedding royal blood only brought ill omen to Mewar. The princes, young and determined, did not know better.

“Once the lances are drawn, a Rajput can never back out without shedding blood.” Kunwar Shakti was determined as he held the reins of his horse.

“Bhai Shakti is right, Purohit ji, move away. Otherwise, we have to start with you in the middle.” Kunwar Pratap warned as his horse neighed. The people watched with bated breath as the Purohit drew out a dagger from his waist.

“You want blood? You can have mine, but I will not let you shed each other’s.” Before the princes or the crowd could react, Purohit had plunged the dagger into his chest and fell on the ground, soaked in blood. Everyone gasped, and the soldiers watching everything rushed to the palace to report the incident.

Within the hour, Purohit's body was laid to pay respect at the courtyard of the temple as people gathered, gossiped and exclaimed at an uncertain future at the impulsive act of Mewar’s crown prince and second in line. It was believed that they had been taken to the king’s court by the soldiers. 

Udai Singh sat on the throne, looking distraught as the chiefs surrounded him. His queens appeared behind the Jharokha to catch a glimpse of the Princes, standing in the middle of the courtroom, head bowed. Rawat Chundawat was the first to speak. 

“Ranaji, what is done is done… the Princes were trying to…”

“They caused a Brahmin to die. His blood is on them.” Raj Purohit interfered. “They must be punished.”

A few gasps were heard from the Jharokha. Sajja Bai’s eyes filled up, knowing the consequences of it might fall on her son, who dared to challenge the heir apparent. Jaivanta Bai held her hands firmly as they watched the court progress. Udai Singh sighed as he eyed the boys.

“I am extremely disappointed,” He said as he stood up. Kunwar Pratap looked up at his father briefly.

“Daajiraj…”

“Do not speak when I am speaking.” For the first time, Kunwar Pratap felt Udai Singh’s voice of authority echo through the courtroom as his father rebuked them. “I expected Shakti to be impulsive; he always is. He has no control over his emotions. But you, Pratap?” He shook his head at his firstborn, “You could not stop yourself from vanity, could you?”

Shakti Singh frowned slightly at his father’s words. In a competition to win his affection and get noticed more than Dadabhai, he seemed to have failed in gaining his disappointment, too. Udai Singh was more upset at Kunwar Pratap. “I have decided to exile both of you from Chittorgarh.” His words made the chieftains intervene. “But Ranaji, they have just arrived from Gurukul, and they have not even fought their first wars. They are naive and do not know what…”

“They are the future of this state and should know the consequences of their actions. Their public behaviour should be an example to subjects, not a display of vanity and ego. Raj Purohit Ji is right, the blood is on their hand. They murdered the priest of the Trimurti Temple, and they should repent for it.” He was firm. “They should live away from the protection of home to know how it is.” He suddenly remembered that Raj Purohit Ji had once predicted Kunwar Shakti Singh to be a rebel. He was always sceptical of that. Today, seeing the impulsiveness in his sons, he was scared. He rebuked them and his own fate. He even spoke of feeling like abandoning his second-born and taking away his rights to the title of Mewar’s prince. The chiefs watched Udai Singh being angry as he tried hard to compose himself in vain.

“If I may suggest Ranaji…” the Rawat of Salumber, Ram Das Chundawat, spoke. “I would like to take Kunwar Shakti to Salumber with me, and Kunwar Pratap may stay near Chittorgarh?” he suggested. The king agreed. The court was dismissed as the queens rushed to meet the princes. Sajja Bai shed tears as Kunwar Pratap could not meet his mother’s disappointed glance. “Apologise to each other.” Jaivanta Bai said at last, “And mean it.” Her words made Shakti sigh as he folded his hands and turned to Kunwar Pratap. “I am sorry, Dadabhai. I urged you to fight me for proving my point.”

“No, Bhai, we were both at fault. We both wanted to flaunt our skills to our friends.” Kunwar Pratap shook his head. “It's not your fault alone.” A faint smile formed on his lips as Kunwar Shakti nodded reassuringly. “I guess I am not even worth Daajiraj’s disappointment. He wanted to abandon me as a son.”

“That’s not true.” Kunwar Pratap lied. Truth be told, even he was taken aback by Rana Udai Singh choosing separate punishments for them. “I will see you soon.” He reassured his brother, who surprised him with a hug. “I promise you, Dadabhai, I will never fight with you again. We will protect Mewar together.”

“I swear on Eklingji, we will.” Kunwar Pratap reassured him.