Itihas ke Har Panne Ki
Ek Bohot Bada Uddesh Hota Hai
Jo Aap Aur Main Kabhi Samajh Nahi Paate.
Shayad, Meera Bai Ki Bhakti Ki
Panna Dhai Ke Sahas Ki
Chittor ki Jauhar ke askon ki
Ek Bohot Bada Uddesh Tha.
Ek Pratap Ka Charo Or Phelne Ki
Mewar Ke Suraj ki Roshni Ki.
Mewar, a land in Rajputana, is nestled between the serene Aravallis. With its beautiful lakes and forestland, the yellow soil that witnessed warfare, and the mighty temples that stood as a testament to the Bhajans of Meera Bai, its history and folktales reflect stories of bravery, rebellion, and loyalty. Rana Sanga, the most famous of rulers who sat on the throne of Mewar, died unexpectedly, leaving Mewar in a state of uncertainty. Here is where this story begins.
The year was 1535 CE, and Mewar's capital, Chittorgarh, stood invincible on the plateau surrounded by the Aravallis. The danger that loomed large after the king's demise was to the throne. Ratan Singh, the king's secondborn, was coronated rather quickly by the chieftains. But something was amiss. Ratan Singh felt the whisper of conspirators around him. Whether it was his kin or rivals, he could not tell. But paranoia got the better of him. He had survived his eldest brother, Bhoj Raj, in two wars and was crowned at Chittorgarh, yet he felt unsafe there. That prompted him to move out of the official residence of the kings at Kumbha Palace and move his family to the farthest end of the fort. But that did not help his fate. Ratan Singh was poisoned. By whom and why, nobody could tell. His family moved away from Chittorgarh immediately following his demise. That left Mewar in uncertain times. Rana Sanga's favourite wife, Rani Karnawati, chose her eldest son, Vikramaditya, to sit on the throne of the great Bappa Rawal, Shiladitya, Hamir, and Kumbha. Barely sixteen, this Rana was the primary cause of woe for the saint-poetess Meera Bai, the widow of his stepbrother Bhoj Raj, who left Chittorgarh. His constant indecent proposals had prompted Karnawati to tell Meera to leave the fort. The people of Chittorgarh believed that when Meera abandoned the fort, the luck of the fort left with her. It was deemed true when Bahadur Shah of Gujarat invaded Chittor, resulting in the Jauhar of Rani Karnawati. Before she died, the queen had asked Humayun, the exiled Timurid prince, to save her land as a token of gift to his Rakhi-bound sister. Humayun had restored Vikramaditya to the throne of Mewar. This marked a new and complicated time for the Mughal-Mewar relationship, which was once bloodthirsty in the Battle of Khanua between Sanga and Babar.
It is said that every event in life has its butterfly effect, and every sacrifice has a purpose. So, before we know the story of a prince who turned into a Maharana, it is important to know of the land and people who sacrificed so that he could be born.
Panna Dhai, the wet nurse who had once nursed the princes and future king of Mewar, was in charge of Kunwar Udai Singh, the youngest son of Rana Sanga. He was barely a teenager when his father passed and thirteen when his mother committed Jauhar. Panna Dhai, a middle-aged woman had been his wetnurse. She had been loyal to the Sisodiya family for decades and was now the only protector of the youngest prince of Mewar. Chandan, her son, was the same age as Udai, almost thirteen. They often ran around the fort of Chittorgarh and the Kumbha Palace. They played with swords. They frolicked by skipping pebbles on the Suraj Talab.
Vikramaditya engaged in drinking and dancing-girls. One of their kin, an uncle, Banbir (son of Sanga's deceased brother Prithviraj), knew it was a golden opportunity to seize the throne of Mewar for his dynasty. His father was an elder brother of Rana Sanga, and he deserved the throne. One night, the stars shone bright, and the moon was full. A corner of the otherwise dark and quiet Kumbha Palace was illuminated with lamps and chandeliers. Beneath them sat Rana Vikramaditya, wearing a gaudy red Safa, with gem-studded brooches. Pearl strings, a royal blue angrakha embroidered with gold, fit for the king. He was sixteen, handsome, with little traces of a thin moustache appearing over his thin lips. His lusty eyes drank in the beauty of the dancers who entertained him. Taking a sip of his wine, he would tell them to please him some more. A sudden commotion could be heard in the corridors. There was a cry for help from a woman at a distance. Swords clanked. Vikramaditya found it difficult to rise from his throne. His vision was blurred, balance was unsteady. He found himself reaching for the empty sheath where his sword was supposed to be. He realised that his sword was missing. Banbir entered the chambers, breathing heavily. His eyes were wild with anger. The hunger for power was evident in his demeanour. He wasted no time raising his sword and beheading the king. The dancing women shrieked as the blood spattered across the throne. A lifeless body lay at its feet.
Panna Dhai peeped out of the Jharokha of the Rani Mahal, looking over the Dangal Sthal. The silhouettes of warriors could be seen. She heard whispers in the corridor. "Ranaji is killed."
"Banbir is a traitor."
"Panna, he is coming for Udai Singh." Fear loomed large in the air. Panna could feel her breath increase, heart racing. She remembered her last promise to Rani Karnavati before her Jauhar. Panna Dhai knew her worst nightmare was coming true. She needed to protect Udai Singh, the only living heir of the Sisodiya dynasty. She stared at her son, Chandan, sound asleep on the mat on the floor, in a white angrakha. The lamp flickered in the wind as she spotted Udai Singh, prince of Mewar, asleep on the bed in the same white angrakha. Panna knew what she could do, but was she brave enough to do it? Panna would not have given it a second thought if her life were in question. Chandan was her only child. Her blood and soul. Panna's heart sank as she tried to keep a brave face. Her eyes were teary as she decided on the fate of her child. A mother was supposed to protect her child. But a true Rajputani was supposed to protect her vow to her motherland. It was time for a test of Panna's loyalty. Panna remembered all the times she had treated Chandan and Udai the same. Her sons. She was a mother to both. How could she choose between them? The clamouring increased in the hallway. She had to decide quickly. Panna wiped away her tears, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself.
Panna woke the children up. "We will play a game." She suggested.
"What game, Maasa?" Chandan rubbed his eyes eagerly.
"A game of hide and seek." She kissed the boy.
"Why are you crying, Maasa?" He asked as Panna shook her head. "Because I am so happy playing with you."
She made the boys exchange places. Udai lay down on the mat, anticipating the rules of the game. Chandan, for the first time, climbed onto the soft bed of Udai, eager for the playtime.
"The challenge is to lie still and not move. It's called..." Panna Dhai's voice trembled. "Playing dead."
The boys nodded. They had never played the game before. "No matter what you hear, or how afraid you are, you will not move or make a noise. Promise me?" She asked the boys. Before long, there were footsteps in the corridor. Someone was banging at her door. Panna Dhai stepped back in fear, murmuring prayers to Lord Someshwara. The soldiers barged in.
"Where is Kunwar Udai?" One of the soldiers asked. Panna stood still as Banbir walked in. "Answer him." His voice echoed through the room. Panna Dhai, with trembling hands, pointed to the bed where her son lay still. Banbir smiled. The soldier walked up to him. With a single slash of his sword, he had beheaded the boy. Just as he promised, Chandan did not move. He did not make a noise. He did not even understand that he was losing his life for the sake of Mewar.
Panna shrieked in dismay. To the soldiers, it looked like she was mourning Udai. She was mourning the loss of a prince. Panna held the blood-soaked body of Chandan close to her bosom as she wailed. She apologised in her thoughts. I am sorry. I am truly sorry, Chandan. I have been the worst mother. Forgive my sins. She vowed to herself. Chandan's sacrifice will not go in vain. She was determined. More than ever before, she now wanted to protect Kunwar Udai Singh.
The soldiers left after ransacking the room and inspecting the sleeping child. She wiped away her tears, noticing blood on her saree. She asked Udai Singh to get up.
"We need to leave." Her teary eyes made him worry.
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"Somewhere you will be safe." Panna Dhai turned his face away from the lifeless body on the bed. Udai Singh stood in disbelief.
"What happened to Chandan?" he let out a cry. Panna Dhai did not answer. She hugged him in silence. Udai Singh knew in that moment what she had done. Panna Dhai led him away from the room, through the dark corridor.
"This is no time to be weak. You are the future king of Mewar." She said.
"Am I?" He asked in disbelief. "What happened to Bhaisa?" Before Panna Dhai found the courage to answer him, the soldiers were heard rejoicing in the victory of Banbir. "Victory to Banbir", echoed in the palace.
Panna Dhai held Udai Singh's hand. She found his guard to show her into a dark, secret tunnel that led out of the fort. A few torches burned on either side of the damp wall as they made their way out to the bank of the River Gambhiri. As soon as she reached the bank, Panna sat down on her knees and cried in relief. She said a soft prayer as she turned around and looked up at the fort one last time. She vowed not to return to the place of her sin. The memory of her son made her lose composure as Udai Singh consoled her.
"Look, Dhai Ma. A boat." Udai Singh pointed. The boatman waved at them. Panna Dhai was relieved that he was one of the trusted chieftains of Mewar.
"Quick, get Kunwarsa into this basket." He suggested as he pointed at a large basket on the boat. "I will cover him with fruits."
"Where are you taking us?" Panna Dhai asked as they stepped onto the boat.
"To the fort of Kumbhalgarh, where he will be safe." The man replied as he started rowing the boat upstream. Far in the horizon, the sun was rising in the east. A new dawn was about to set in Mewar's history. Panna watched the fort of Chittorgarh slowly vanish behind them. In two days, they would be in Kumbhalgarh, starting afresh, with a new identity. Panna Dhai's unimaginable sacrifice was going to change the course of Mewar's history.
I have noticed of late that no reviews have come my way, and I find myself wondering whether the tales are indeed reaching you or making you happy. Should you find pleasure in my stories, I kindly ask that you spare a moment to leave a word or two. Your thoughts would be most welcome and greatly hearten this humble writer.