Padmini Page 7

  ‘Then what? What will he do? Why don’t you tell me?’ Padmini asked with uncontrollable anguish in her voice.

  The melancholy in Sugna’s eyes deepened further. ‘In that case, he will kill the king and attack Chittor.’

  Dumbstruck, Padmini felt the words ‘Kill the king’ echoing all around and assaulting her ears continuously. A corroding pain ran through her body and mind.

  A disconsolate Sugna held her hand. ‘At this difficult juncture,’ she said, ‘you have to have some courage and patience. It is with patience that you can overcome this crisis.’ She couldn’t say anything more and fell silent. Tears kept flowing from her eyes.

  Padmini didn’t stir and kept sitting meditatively with her eyes closed. It looked as though she had turned into a rock that didn’t know how to melt and flow.

  Unnoticed, Lakshmi entered and stood there. With trepidation, Padmini asked, ‘What have they decided to do?’

  ‘They are still in consultation. They’ve not arrived at any decision yet. The advisory council is holding a meeting. Veerbhan, the crown prince of Mewar, is attending it.’

  Just then Magan came running in. All eyes turned to her with irrepressible curiosity. She must have some special message to convey, they surmised. She was panting.

  Lakshmi asked her impatiently, ‘What news have you brought? Tell us, we can’t wait. I’m on the verge of collapsing.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly what transpired. But . . .’ she gasped for breath.

  Apprehending some bad news, Sugna walked up to her and asked, ‘But what?’

  ‘They are likely to succumb to the sultan’s threat and surrender Ranisa to him.’ Her voice faltered as she tried to convey the most devastating message. Tears coursed down her face.

  Sugna’s eyes flooded with tears. She tried her best to say something but failed. Her throat and lips ran dry.

  Padmini was outraged. Impotent wrath brought tears to her eyes.

  What do they take a wife to be? Do they think that a wife is a commodity which can be given over to anybody just like that? Is she so inferior and contemptible? Why is her status as a woman subject to insults and humiliation time and again? Why, oh why? She searched the remotest corner of her mind but could find no answer to her question.

  Her question was moving in circles, like ripples created when a stone is dropped into water.

  The cycle of her thoughts started spinning faster and would not stop. She was faced with a strangely menacing predicament. On the one hand there was the safety and security of the king and the kingdom of Chittor, and on the other, her honour, dignity and chastity were at stake. Overcome with grief, anger and humiliation, she thought of killing herself.

  But will this save the life of the maharawal, the king? Will this stop death and destruction in Chittor?

  A furious storm raged inside her, leaving her agitated and disturbed. Her mind was buzzing with the Rajan’s cries for help, as though he was being whipped mercilessly in the sultan’s captivity. He is in great distress. I cannot let him suffer this ordeal. I’ll give up my life, my everything, to save him from torture.

  She had heard of the horrible conditions of the harems. Many of the wives and daughters of the sultan, and other women lodged there, had died of the suffocating inhuman treatment. The eyes of many so-called princesses had been plucked out. The sultan had put many of them to the sword. If she, too, were to be consigned to the same harem, then . . . ? She did not have the nerve to think beyond ‘then’. But the question stood before her, unmoving like a hill.

  With her nerves in tatters, she kept calling Sugna for something or the other; sometimes to fetch water, sometimes to shut the door, then to open a window. Sometimes she didn’t remember why she had called her. Sugna could understand why she was behaving like this, but she couldn’t find the words to console her.

  The day segued into the evening.

  The evening aarti that day was being performed in the Shri Eklinga temple. The sounds of the conch shell and bells were accompanied by the chanting of prayers. The words and sound of the prayers reached out to her and offered immense solace. In their soothing strains, she began to feel a divine blissfulness.

  Thanks to the strength of prayers, somewhere in a dark corner of her mind, the last glow of pride and self-esteem rose, flickering and refusing to die.

  A large number of brave men from this royal family have laid down their lives to keep alive their pride and self-respect for centuries. How can their supreme sacrifice be allowed to go waste? How can they let their glorious history be wiped out from the face of this earth in one stroke?

  She tried to collect her dwindling courage and to calm her agitated mind and frayed nerves.

  For a while she kept sitting there, with absolutely no thought in her mind.

  Something will have to be done. I will not allow this unwise thing to happen. First of all, I’ll have to overcome this despondency and this defeatist mentality. A mind full of pessimistic thoughts cannot give anyone any hope. I am all alone, helpless and insecure. Unless this depressing feeling is conquered, no new idea can arise in my mind. Something or the other will have to be done. The way out of this predicament is within me. It is inside. But what is that something? Where is it? In what form?

  She had no identifiable thought. But some idea had been born.

  The entire palace was submerged in a depressing silence. Sugna came in with a lamp stand, which she placed on its affixed base. The ring of light created an aureole around itself while the rest of the room was blanketed in indefinable darkness.

  Sugna approached Padmini with light steps and said, ‘Prince Veerbhan will be here any moment. He’ll convey to you the message from the parishad.’

  Veerbhan? It’s been ages since I last saw him. And what message is he coming with?

  Her mind was lashed by waves of all kinds of wild guesses. Her faith, once again, began to wobble. She felt as if she was standing all alone on the brink of a deep and dark gorge.

  With some trepidation, she braced herself to receive the message.

  A sense of impending doom gripped her. It was beyond her imagination how she would take that ominous message. Despite the chill in the air, her brow was beaded with perspiration.

  Collecting all her strength and wisdom, she tried to calm her perturbed mind. Inside, she felt tremendous disquiet, but no one could have fathomed as much by looking at her poised demeanour.

  Sugna entered again and informed her that the prince had arrived.

  Her heart raced. Showing restraint in her voice, she said, ‘Show him in.’

  Prince Veerbhan came unaccompanied. Some years ago, when she had first met his mother, she had caught a glimpse of him. Now, she took a good look. He had grown into a strapping young man. But his face still retained the unblemished innocence of youth. Like his father, he was tall with broad shoulders; he had a fair and prominent forehead, a long, sharp nose and attractive eyes.

  A feminine glow on his face was reminiscent of his mother, Queen Prabhavati. A closer look revealed that he needed some more hard work and military exercise. A subtle sense of distress had mellowed his aristocratic upbringing as a Kshatriya.

  His gem-studded armlet was gleaming in the light of the lamp. There was an innocent artlessness on his face. Suddenly, Padmini felt a surge of motherly love. How fortunate is his mother!

  The prince bowed to her respectfully. Padmini surveyed him with all the calmness and dignity she could muster. ‘Welcome, Prince!’ There was neither entreaty nor an order in her words. They were merely words; hollow, devoid of any feelings. ‘Come and sit here.’

  Veerbhan took his seat on a cushioned chair. He sat quiet, and the expression on his face was impenetrable. Padmini searched his eyes but was unable to read his mind.

  Unaware of what was going on in Padmini’s mind, Veerbhan kept sitting there without saying a word.

  ‘What message have you brought, Prince?’ She broke the ice. The confidence in her tone seemed to startle him, bu
t he recovered quickly.

  ‘After prolonged discussion and consultation, it has been decided that Rani Padmini be offered to the sultan as a gift.’ His tone was extremely restrained and dry.

  There was no trace of warmth or mellowness in his voice.

  Padmini was not shocked. Nor was she agitated. Instead, she kept quiet, as though she already knew about the decision. A smirk flashed on her lips and disappeared the next moment. She kept gazing at Veerbhan. He remained expressionless. His nonchalance hurt her deeply. It was very painful for her to know that he lacked any emotional concern for her and that he was not kindly disposed towards her. She had never expected this. Whatever the reason, her heart wept.

  But, no matter what she felt, she could not allow herself to break down in front of a younger person. With great effort, she managed to suppress her feelings. Sorrow filled in rapidly.

  ‘Is this decision in keeping with the pride and self-respect of Mewar?’ she asked. Rage slowly took over.

  The question was so sudden that the prince didn’t know how to respond. He dropped his eyes. He paused for a while and then said meekly, ‘We do not have any other option. The enemy has come right at our doorstep and is challenging us to face the consequences.’

  She heard him with impatience. Her face was red with irritation. She struggled to control her anger, which was growing by the moment. ‘It is very surprising, unfortunate and shameful that, being the scion of the royal family of Mewar, your blood did not boil, you didn’t feel outraged by such a hideous proposal.’ His eye caught the flame of rage that flashed in her eyes.

  The face of the prince darkened with shame. He was groping for something within him. Gathering all his strength, he said, ‘I’ve already told you, Ranisa, we are left with no option. The enemy is very powerful and Chittor is a very small state for him.’ After a brief pause, he added, ‘Moreover, we cannot shut our eyes to the crashing defeat of Ranthambore at his hands.’

  Her glowing visage retained the same expression as before.

  ‘You are mistaken, Prince! Neither is Chittor small, nor is its strength less. It is your fear which is great. You may perhaps recall that Hamir of Ranthambore had not accepted servility under Ala-ud-Din’s regime. He laid down his life but never admitted that he was weak and helpless. This cowardly thought never entered that intrepid king’s mind. Ranthambore was smaller in size and strength, with limited manpower compared to Mewar.’

  ‘What you say is true. I agree with you. But every truth is not practicable. We have practical and logistic difficulties that are insurmountable and . . .’ His guilt-ridden voice was left hanging in mid-air.

  ‘These so-called practical difficulties arise out of your own inability to face the situation. Only the weak and infirm come out with such excuses. This is not the path for the brave to tread on, Prince of Mewar!’

  He kept quiet for a moment. Or was he tongue-tied? He did not have any answer to offer. The conversation between them paused. The prince had heard that his stepmother was always peaceful and wore a smile. He was not prepared for this aggressive posture. Here was a lady who obviously wore her pride high, had a fire burning inside her; was well-informed, and brave at heart.

  In an effort to control the conversation, he said, ‘You are being emotional and in total disregard of the facts facing us. In rajneeti, in dealing with the affairs of the state, there is no place for emotions.’

  His remarks were intended to provoke her, but she refused to rise to the bait.

  ‘I agree, Prince, that emotions weaken the tough decisions taken objectively in ruling the state. But this kind of emotionalism is in fact positive and, therefore, in it lies its strength. The patriotic consciousness or deep and abiding love for one’s motherland does not have its roots in the intellect; its base is moral. Did you ever think what lasting impact your policy of abject surrender will have on the citizens of this state, whose trust you hold? The incident of this moment will become a precedent. The present draws inspiration from the past. It is a bridge between the past and the future.’

  Her voice, which was initially calm and placid, became excited towards the end. Something about Veerbhan’s attitude of pretentious bravery triggered an annoyance within her which she tried to check, but in vain.

  Veerbhan wanted to cut short this conversation. He had not come prepared to defend the committee’s decision. He had assumed that he would convey the decree to a meek queen and that would be it. Ill-equipped as he was to parry her attack, he had to respond. He spluttered, ‘We have resisted to the extent that was possible. If you coolly mull over it, you will come to the conclusion that there’s no other option available to us.’

  The words were delivered in a cautious tone.

  Padmini could sense why he was modulating his tone. The hidden intent gave her a rude shock. Still, she kept her tone as calm as possible. ‘There’s hardly any scope to mull over it, Prince! Until and unless you muster up enough courage to protect your honour by preparing yourself to make great sacrifices, you will continue to wallow in self-pity.’ There was no trace of despair and helplessness on her face.

  Defensively, Veerbhan took on a harsh and bitter tone. ‘It is not mine alone. It was taken by the parishad unanimously. According to a long-standing tradition, decisions on crucial matters are taken in consultation with the king, the feudal chieftains, the nobles and distinguished members of civil society. History bears testimony to the fact that many a times some major decisions were taken by feudal lords, which the king had to respectfully accept. This adventurism of pushing the entire state to the brink of disaster for the sake of a woman cannot be a wise move.’

  Every sentence from him created turmoil in her mind.

  The use of the expression ‘a woman’ pierced Padmini deeply, as though she had been hit by a shabdabhedi vaan, a mythical arrow that follows the trajectory of a sound.

  Is a woman next to nothing? Doesn’t he realize that a woman carries with her an entire culture? She is the very source of ethos and progeny. She is the preserver of long-cherished morals, customs and values. The evildoers perish, but culture flows eternally. Will Veerbhan, with this mindset, be the one ruling this state?

  Her eyes flashed with a multitude of emotions: anger, contempt, indignation, vigour, hurt and more. So much more.

  With her sharp mind she could guess that Veerbhan’s thoughts and actions were full of antipathy and prejudice against her. Whatever he was saying was perhaps a culmination of years of bitterness towards her. Rani Prabhavati was bent on avenging the loss of her sole influence and exclusive claim on the king. Perhaps she wanted to give full vent to the rancour, which she had been harbouring for years, by taking revenge on Padmini. What better opportunity could come her way than this?

  The venom of vengeance in his voice inflicted a thousand wounds on her self-esteem. But outwardly, she remained unaffected. The strength of her self-confidence lent a determined tenor to her voice. ‘You talk of traditions, Prince? So, let me know, is there any tradition that allows the daughters and daughters-in-law of the royal family to be given away so spinelessly for the sake of the wealth or territory of the state?’

  The prince, the son of Rani Prabhavati, was about to say something, but the words that had welled up to his lips receded instantly. He, however, continued to give her a look of disdain and disregard.

  Padmini continued in an even more strident tone, ‘Listen, Prince! Now that you have forced me to speak up, let me tell you in plain words that even if you ignore all other things, you cannot afford to ignore the fact that I, Padmini, am the wife of the king of Mewar and not second to Maharani Prabhavati, your mother and his first wife.’ She went red with rage.

  Bringing her pitch down, she added, ‘This is hardly the time or occasion to rake up the wrangle in the family. It is true that destiny has made me the cause of this crisis, but am I to blame for this? As fear is bad, so is ill will. We cannot find the right way out unless we break this vicious circle of action and reaction arising out of
this love-hate tangle.’

  Veerbhan was taken aback by her aggressive posture. He felt greatly embarrassed, as though it was he and his mother Prabhavati who were solely responsible for Padmini’s fate. He was not prepared for this. He was under the impression that Padmini was very simple and unambitious, and with that image of her in his mind he had come to deliver the message. He had thought that he could sweet talk her into accepting the decision. In fact, he had not even imagined that he would have to do that. What he saw of her was beyond his wildest imagination. His sullen surprise was overtaken by his need to defend the stance he had conveyed.

  ‘This is not a new thing for royal families. Raja Ram Chandra Deo, the Yadava king, married his daughter to Ala-ud-Din. But he was not excommunicated on that account. The Huna, the Shaka, the Kushana and other rulers, too, entered into marital relationships with the royal families of Aryavart. This custom is neither unknown, nor is it humiliating.’

  She felt as if she had been slashed with the quickness of lightning. Her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead turned red with indignation. Affronted by his brazen retort, she felt aggressive and resolute in her conviction.

  However, she said with subdued anger, ‘I am not arguing for the sake of argument, nor do I agree with your assertion. Rani Padmini is the wife of the king of this land. She was duly married to him with all the ceremonies and rituals, including the seven bridal steps and circumambulation around the sacred fire. The sanctity of the institution of marriage must be upheld at all costs. In accordance with this sacrament, I happen to be your mother. Just think, if your mother Prabhavati were in my place and she were to be bargained over like this, would you still keep sitting with your hands folded, do nothing and let things take their course fearing defeat at the hands of your enemy? Will that stand of yours be just or right? Is it what you would call your dharma? The circumstances may change, but the truth does not. The truth is like the sun, always shining despite everything.’