RAABTA

Rao Ramrakh Punwar had walked into the camp tent upon the declaration of his arrival and bowed to the Rana of Mewar. Rana Udai Singh was sitting on a makeshift throne inside the tent with a spread of fresh fruits, wine and nuts on the carpet before him. He gestured at Rao Ramrakh as one of the servants offered him grapes that he politely refused. He eyed Rawat Chundawat, standing by the king, his hands folded across his chest, his face looking worried, his bushy brows narrowed, and his long, oiled and combed beard looking neat as he eyed Rao Ramrakh. Almost as if he could read his mind, the Samanth of Bijoliya knew that, like himself, the Rawat of Salumber did not quite agree to the need of this battle. Yet here they were. Rao Ramrakh realised they were probably waiting for the Senapati, Kunwar Partap, as some soldiers came and spread some maps of the terrain as instructed by Rawat Chundawat. The guards declared the arrival of the prince of Bundi as Rana stood up to welcome his son-in-...

  “Baisa, there is a letter for you.” Kasturi, Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar’s personal attendant, had a scroll in her hand as she frowned. The only people who wrote to her were her friend Saubhagyawati and Daata from the war. Both of them were in Bijoliya. She took the scroll from Kasturi as a shiver ran down her spine.  Rao Ramrakh Punwar attended the celebration of Rajkumari Padmavati's grand wedding. He had come home and told stories of the grandeur. He had received a sweetmeat gift to take back home as well. As the children indulged in it, Ajbante Kanwar had thought that maybe the celebration had caught up with Kunwar Partap, and he was unable to write the letter he had promised. But a week had passed since the Bidai entourage had left Bijoliya, and she had not heard from him. Ajbante Kanwar cursed her expectations of taking his words literally and found herself in tears one night. She had been scared when she realised that the lack of communication hurt her. She attributed it...

Kunwar Partap entered the relatively quiet stable premises at the break of dawn, checking on Bijli, who was asleep, when he heard the sound of anklets near the cow shed. He walked up to the entrance of the stable, from where he could see her, her dupatta placed loosely over her wet hair, devoid of jewellery, the way he had never seen a royal lady, with a basket of flowers in one hand and a plate of sweets in the other. She was distributing sweets to the cow keepers, veterinarians and everyone who came by on the occasion of Lakshmi giving birth to her calf. “What will you name her, Hukum?” an old man asked. She smiled shyly, pressing her lips together. “Mandakini, Kakasa.” The old man smiled at her suggestion. “Like the Kund? Very nice.” Kunwar Partap walked up to Lakshmi’s shed only after most people had dispersed to their work. Ajbante Kanwar heard footsteps behind her and turned with the plate that now had one sweetmeat left. Alarmed at his sight and at the lack of options she could...

Dusk was setting in and the citadel of Bijoliya was slowly being wrapped in a blanket of mist. The late autumn leaves were rustling and the wind carried some of them in through the jharokha of the palace. “Kasturi, clean the floor before Maasa comes by for the evening. You know she will not like the floors dirty before her evening prayers.” She picked up the dried leaves in her palm gently twirling them by the end and observing their texture as Kasturi rushed to do what was ordered. She looked up at the sky, peeping slightly from the balustrade. It was then that she saw her father’s horse being led away. He was home, why had he not summoned her? With a slight frown, she stepped down the swirling flight of stairs, gently pulling her lehenga over her ankles and ran towards her father’s chambers. “But you can never let anyone know. Not even Ajbante.” She stopped at the threshold alert as her father spelt out her name. She realised that in her hurry to catch the sunset from the tallest dom...

1553 CE It was not like he had never seen a damp cold room in a modest village. It was just that he had never called it home. The thirteen-year-old boy eyed his mother, trying to read her face. She seemed satisfied with the arrangements as she thanked the mysterious man who left after bowing. When he left, his mother started moving the things, unpacking the little they had with them. A thousand questions ran in his mind. Could they not go back home to Chittor? Why did they even leave Jalore? It was not like Rao Akshayraj Songara ever told his daughter to leave. But was she the kind to burden her father with her worries? He eyed his mother again. This time she had started cleaning the floor. The sight disturbed him a little. He had never seen his mother do such chores back home in Chittorgarh and never imagined the chief queen of Mewar would ever need to. She did not look upset at all. Perhaps she was good at hiding it but he was not. He had explicitly mentioned his disappointment that ...