The Princess and the Political Agent

by Binodini

  ‘Leiren has not left yet?’

  ‘He will be leaving. He will go home as soon as Ta’Matum arrives—here, let’s get up.’

  Sanatombi washes up. Mainu changes her into clean clothes. She loosely wears a thin shirt of parrot green made in a foreign land. A soft fine wrap of Indian weave covers her like a throw. The way she lies in that bed of dazzling white makes it hard to tear one’s eyes away. She takes a dab of clay from the potted holy basil that Leiren has brought in and places a generous spot upon her forehead. Sanatombi has not worn her marriage sandalwood paste since she became the consort of the Saheb—but she never stopped applying clay to her forehead. The Grand Queen Mother had taught her to do so when she was little; she could not easily stop doing it. She even takes a little of the holy basil clay with her whenever she travels with the Saheb. The black earth on her forehead is very becoming on Sanatombi.

  Sanatombi is ready. Mainu arranges her food to bring to her. Leiren’s skilled hands winch up her bed so that only her head is raised. The bed had been imported from England back when Sanatombi had become indisposed earlier, for her to lie in when she was unwell. Mainu has laid out her meal. She has already covered the little bedside table with a white cloth. She brings a little bit of rice in a small bowl of bell metal. Three or four serving dishes of silver on a silver tray made in Dacca. Sanatombi looks to Mainu, she looks at the dishes.

  ‘Let us start eating. Here is the finger bowl.’

  ‘Where is Khomdon?’

  ‘The younger princess has gone to the palace. I think she is going to be in the choir singing to the Lady Goddess today.’

  The house Sanatombi is in today is the one she built for her younger sister Princess Khomdonsana. Her husband was Ramlal—Meino. Since the man she herself had picked for her younger sister was a prominent police officer from the time of the British, he was also a powerful person during the reign of Little Majesty Churachand. He was a good choice to have entrusted Sanatombi to. In addition to arranging for appropriate servants, Churachand had said to Meino, ‘If my younger cousin and you would please let me know what my elder royal cousin is able to eat. … … … … I am afraid it is going to be a bit of an imposition on you.’

  Princess Khomdonsana was at her side every day when her sister had her meals, observing what she was able to eat, what she seemed to like. She was inquiring today upon not seeing her younger sister. Princess Khomdonsana had quietly entrusted her to Mainu. ‘I won’t be around today, sister Mainu. If she asks, please tell her as you think best.’

  The Saheb and Sanatombi had brought up Maharaja Churachand from when he was still a boy until the time he was able to take over the reins. They had defended the land in his stead. Churachand knew all about it; he had not forgotten. Maxwell had actually looked after Little Majesty as a father would, closely supervising him so that nothing went wrong. When he was about to be sent to Ajmer for schooling, his royal father and company had strongly urged, ‘He is the king, he must go as a king, with servants and attendants, an idol of Lord Vishnu, and balladeers to sing to him in his bedroom.’ Maxwell was alarmed. ‘The boy will be spoiled.’ His father disagreed, and said firmly that he would send only a few necessary personnel. The child wrote letters regularly to the Saheb from school—in Hindi, in English. How pleased the Saheb was: ‘… … … The boy is improving.’ Little Majesty did not forget any of this.

  He also knows that Sanatombi does not reveal how she has been drained by her sadness, and that she has lost her will to live. Little Majesty strives to make sure that nothing upsets her for any reason whatsoever. As do Meino and Khomdonsana. But Sanatombi is merely amused—Look at what these children think they are doing.

  Many memories come to her today. Mainu says, ‘You are not eating anything at all today. What am I going to say when the Divine Majesty sends for information later?’ ‘I have had enough, Mainu.’ Saying this, she bursts into sobs. Gathering herself at once, she said, ‘Mainu, what is the point in getting better?’ Sanatombi is very prone to tears these days. She cries without any warning. She has been ill for quite a long time now. Mainu also turns her face and wipes away her tears.

  Sanatombi may be remembering her Grand Queen Mother. Whenever Sanatombi made a fuss about eating, Jasumati would have the Grand Queen Mother informed. There were countless instances when her great-grandmother would come on foot to soothe her fussy great-grandchild: ‘Here, let great-grandmother feed you, there’s a good girl now.’

  The Saheb would feed the ailing Sanatombi with a spoon. ‘Please, Sanatombi, just one more. … … …’

  Sanatombi is not being difficult today. She has no one to be difficult with; she simply does not feel like eating.

  ‘Shall we have a little of this grilled fish? Her Royal Highness sent it for you.’

  ‘Royal Mother?’

  Yes, her royal mother, the Dowager Queen, had sent it. The Lady of Ngangbam is still alive, Surchandra’s queen Premamayi is still alive. Even today she has not stopped thinking of others or looking out for them.

  She has finished eating. Tobacco is brought to her. Mainu offers her the hookah embossed with the gold lotuses.

  ‘Where is the banana leaf, Mainu?’

  ‘Oh, I forgot! Leiren, bring a piece of banana leaf.’

  Mainu fashions a mouthpiece from the banana leaf and inserts it in place of the gold pipe. The hookah of gold lotuses is tiny. Maxwell had sought out the smallest hookah he could find in Calcutta and brought it. He had said, ‘This is better, portable.’ The hookah is embossed in gold and is smoked through a gold pipe. At that, too, the Saheb had said, ‘Sanatombi, this pipe is terrible. Most unhygienic, it is never cleaned—you wash yourself daily but you have many dirty habits. Very bad—worse than your Hindu unclean pollution business!’

  Maxwell looked after himself well and conducted himself very carefully. He never forgot his habits. He always chided Sanatombi for her lack of personal discipline, sleeping when she felt like, eating when she wanted to, skipping meals, and forbade her from doing so. Ever since Maxwell said so, she always smoked using a mouthpiece of banana leaf, and the gold pipe simply hung on the hookah.

  She hands the hookah to Mainu and says, ‘Little Majesty will come tomorrow for certain, won’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he will come tomorrow.’

  ‘Send word for him to come tomorrow without fail. I have many things to discuss with him. … … … Mainu, I am going to give my temple grove in Vrindavan to Little Majesty.’

  ‘What happened to moving to Vrindavan when you are old? You can even move in before that when you have gotten a little better, and go back and forth. Why not just leave it be?’

  ‘Mainu, I am not going to live in Vrindavan. It is fine to just live here, it is all right to die here.’

  ‘You mustn’t say that. Your humble servant is waiting for Your Royal Highness to move to Vrindavan and serve you.’

  Sanatombi is silent for a little while. She looks at Mainu. She watches Mainu tidying up the room. Mainu seems to be a little tired of late. She is getting a little older. She is just a couple of years and a bit older than Sanatombi. Most do not know what Mainu is thinking, and what she is saying, not even Sanatombi. Mainu never likes to talk about herself. She never asks anyone for anything, or ventures an opinion. And so, everyone is afraid of Mainu, and none can see her as someone working for another person.

  Sanatombi says, ‘Mainu, are you still happy staying with me? Sometimes I think to myself, what will I do if you leave me?’

  Mainu almost cries, and says, ‘If you are going to say things like that to me, I am going to go away. It upsets me greatly, Your Highness, so please don’t ever say things like that. What will we come to if a little illness makes you act like this? Your Highness has brought this illness upon herself.’

  Sanatombi laughs a little and says, ‘Fine, I won’t say it. … … … Mainu, you have never once eaten from the Saheb’s kitchen. You can rejoin the others if you want to. I will talk to Little Majesty.’

/>   Mainu does not answer. Sanatombi knows the meaning of her silence. Mainu never talks about useless things for very long, but there must be something that she is thinking. It is true that Mainu has never left Sanatombi. Why is that? She never did once eat or drink with the Saheb. She cooks for herself. And there were many times she went hungry when she was not feeling well. When the Saheb learnt of this he had even hired a Brahmin to cook for Mainu. She has not been excommunicated. If she so desires, she can surely rejoin the others. Mainu knows this as well. But not now. She also knows that for all of everyone’s efforts, Sanatombi’s illness can no longer be stemmed.

  She says to Princess Khomdonsana, ‘Please write to the Saheb, my lady. Tell him to come soon. The onset of fever this time is not a good one. I don’t know, I am very worried.’

  Sanatombi has been getting a fever very frequently these days. Even if it ebbs for a day or two and it seems like she might be getting better, it always comes back again. Who knows why, but it has also been quite a long time since there has been news from the Saheb. The letter from three months ago was the last one. But Sanatombi does not bring this up. Mainu knows she thinks of the Saheb often but she does not mention him frequently. She does not know why. Perhaps she is upset with the Saheb for some reason.

  She could only ask Little Majesty when he comes, ‘Did you get any letter from your brother-in-law?’

  ‘No, I have not received any, Elder Royal Cousin. There have been no letters from him these days for whatever reason. Fine, I will telegraph him. My brother-in-law is very busy. He said he was running around. But letters from there take a long time to arrive, my royal elder sister. I will definitely send him a telegram.’

  ‘It is all right. I was merely asking. It does take some time for news to arrive from England.’

  Sanatombi did not want her cousin to be inconvenienced on her account. But it could be her desire for news about the Saheb that has led her to frequently ask Mainu about the king’s whereabouts.

  ‘Mainu, I will go to sleep.’

  ‘Please rest.’

  ‘What did my royal mother say?

  ‘Nothing very much, my lady.’

  Sanatombi said to herself, ‘What my royal mother endures on our behalf. She has always suffered on my account.’

  CHAPTER 7

  The war was over. The war between Manipur and the British: the war that brought Manipur’s sovereignty to an end. How did that happen? The people and the princes had not believed it would come to this, but the princes of Manipur did not seem to have remembered that a house divided against itself cannot stand. The powerful British did not let it go so easily after the palace guards had cut off the heads of the white men. They attacked from three directions—the Kohima contingent, the Silchar contingent, the Tamu contingent. A man who had come with the Silchar contingent raised the Union Jack at Kangla Fort. He was Major H. St P. Maxwell.

  When Jasumati heard that Chief Commissioner J.W. Quinton of Assam was coming because of the upheaval over the throne of Manipur, she came running to Sanatombi and reported, ‘Sanatombi, your Sovereign Father will be coming back. They say that he will be coming with the “Comeson Saheb” this time. They say the throne will be given back to him. By the grace of Lord Govinda we will be able to see your father. … … …’ It was true, it was indeed believed that Quinton would be bringing Surchandra with him. But the information turned out to be wrong. He was coming to capture Prince Koireng alive. It turned out that he was coming with a plan to annexe Manipur.

  The Meitei soldiers fought for a fairly long time. The good and the bad, the weak and the strong, all stepped up—saying, ‘I will fight too, I will fight too.’ But how were they to know that it would be as a creek against the ocean? How could the backward soldiers of a tiny country stand up to the highly trained soldiers of the British? On top of that, many ignorant people held the Meitei soldiers back. Along with Paona, Yengkhoiba and his lordship the chieftain of Yaiskul, many others died, scattered, or fled.

  News came to the palace, one after the other—news of the attacks by the British. Prince Koireng was not well at this time but he had no time to be sick. Even as he commanded the war, the king called the learned to read the signs from the gods. The astrologer said, ‘It is but five days until the ill-boding grip of Saturn is released.’ After hearing the words of the astrologer, just as the Divine Majesty was about to offer a feast to Lord Govinda, news arrived—the British were advancing upon the palace from three directions. The ladies of the palace and all the women and children were shifted to appropriate havens. All the idols, including that of Lord Govinda, were relocated to the royal priest’s. The Divine Majesty Kulachandra, Thanggal, Koireng, his younger brother and company remained in the palace. And the defence was merely a group of sixty soldiers. It was therefore clear that it was futile, but sixty select men lay in wait to fight off the vast army of the British.

  The soldiers who came in from the west arrived first, led by Lt Colonel Rennick. They brought with them advanced weapons, but what of the Meiteis? Each man was issued only five rounds, no more was given because the soldiers who had set out to fight had taken a lot of ammunition with them, and the palace was left running low. But Thanggal did not tell that to the soldiers. He said, ‘Men, stay sharp; Kangleipak must be saved … … …’

  Shots were fired at the northern and western walls. The commanders of the drafted contingents said, ‘Men, do not fire wildly at first. Fire one bullet first towards the heavens.’

  ‘Victory to Goddess Durga’—bang bang bang. Sixty rounds were wasted, fired into the sky.

  A son of Heingam said, ‘Hey, this is not right when so few cartridges are given.’

  The British planted their flag at Kangla Fort. The people of the land wept a great deal. Sanatombi also heard the news at her hideaway at Koirenggei. She knew right away that it was impossible for her Sovereign Father to return to rule the golden heart of Manipur. Sanatombi thought to herself—So what becomes of Sovereign Father? And what will befall my uncles? So, it is all over!

  She felt a deep regret—If only her Grand Queen Mother were still alive! She would have easily disciplined these errant princes. She would have easily settled it all. … … … If only my uncle Koireng had not kept secrets hidden from me! I might have done something too.

  The Grand Queen Mother had said to her one day, ‘Sanatombi, your father is a good-natured man but he is not forceful, he does not know how to build allies.’

  This was also what had troubled Chandrakirti—that, and his Koireng’s combativeness and rebelliousness. Even though Sanatombi was young, the Grand Queen Mother had confided these internal matters to her. She was confident that she could hear these—Let her hear, she was now the eldest of her father’s children. Indeed, the Divine Majesty Chandrakirti had been troubled. He had worried—Who will follow after me, what will happen after me! He knew his Surchandra and Kulachandra would not make strong monarchs. There were only two men who could ensure its future, to fend off the powerful, crafty British government waiting for the right time and an opportunity to swallow Manipur whole, who could defend Manipur, rife with rebellious princes waiting for their chance. One was Prince Koireng, the other was Prince Pakasana. But no, it was forbidden to break with righteousness, Manipur must maintain righteousness.

  One day the king saw in a dream a tall ladder that grew taller and taller to touch the heavens. It became one with the sky. Climbing it were his sons, one after the other. Surchandra seemed to be leading them. All of a sudden, as they climbed the ladder, they seemed to start fighting amongst themselves. Each tried to drag the other down. The ladder and all his sons fell towards the earth.

  ‘Oh, dear Lord Vishnu, what have I dreamt!’ muttered the king.

  The Grand Queen Mother and the king called all the princes together into a room. No one else was allowed to enter.

  The Divine Majesty said to them: ‘My sons, do not do what is not right. Know that the day righteousness is no more is the day Manipur comes to an
end.’ Sanatombi heard this story from her Grand Queen Mother.

  The Lady of Meisnam knew her son’s time was at hand. His illness this time did not augur well. She consulted the scholars, and they said, ‘The forty-years’ reign that the Divine Majesty was foretold has some time left yet. According to our calculations, we think there are four more years to go.’ But the Lady of Meisnam worried. She was his mother, and she worried. She issued strict orders. ‘No other people may enter the palace, word must not spread that the king was not well.’ The aging Grand Queen Mother, the Lady of Meisnam, did not remain quiet. She worked out all the internal affairs and gave discreet directions—for what if something ill befell Chandrakirti? The king’s condition worsened but the Lady of Meisnam did not have time to shed tears, she did not have time to grieve. She called Thanggal and consulted with him, ‘So what about it Major, what needs to be done?’ Thanggal was her closest friend, one who had been in service of the court since the reign of her husband Gambhirsingh.

  ‘One must be prepared, Queen Mother. Your sovereign son did not heed my advice but there lives one powerful man still whom we should be careful about … … …’ answered Thanggal. The Lady of Meisnam knew of whom he spoke. He was Prince Borachaoba, chieftain of Yaiskul, the son of Maharaja Narasingh. It hearkened back to the time before the accession of her son. It was counsel that Thanggal had given a long way back to Chandrakirti, before his sons rose up in rebellion.

  Thanggal had said to Chandrakirti in the past, ‘Your Majesty, it would be better to uproot the imperial sacred fig that is growing at Nityaibat Square. It is a tree of great strength.’

  ‘Major, you may not touch my cousin. Do not worry, he will do no harm,’ the king had hastily replied.

  The king Chandrakirti’s fondness for Prince Borachaoba had been the talk of the land. But Chandrakirti never once forgot that even though they were only clan relatives, had it not been for his uncle Lord Narasingh, it would not have been possible for him to sit on the throne of Manipur. It would have been easy for Narasingh to have occupied the throne of Manipur had he wanted to. But Narasingh was a man of true Meitei blood. He never once forgot how during the Seven Years Devastation, his older cousin Gambhirsingh had tried with enormous difficulty to wrest Manipur back from the Burmese. Gambhirsingh had also known that it would not have been possible had not a generous and selfless man like Narasingh been by his side. The monarch Gambhirsingh, the Powerful and Patriotic, had held his younger cousin Narasingh, who had shared great tribulations with him, in fond regard. Before he died, he had held his hand and entrusted the merely two-and-a half-year-old Chandrakirti to his younger cousin. For nine long years, Narasingh had brought up little Chandrakirti without a false thought and ruled the land in his stead. Chandrakirti never forgot this. He could never wrongly take Prince Borachaoba who had grown up with him like a brother in the same house. And this he also knew—that his mother had never known Narasingh’s true character. His intensely protective mother sometimes took things to excess. That the attempt to assassinate Narasingh with the swing of a sword was recorded in the court chronicle greatly pained Chandrakirti.