by Binodini
Once he passed away, the Lady of Meisnam and Thanggal completed all the arrangements. Surchandra was installed as king before the royal remains had turned to ash. It was not announced to the public before all the preparations were in place. The Lady of Meisnam had said as the king was taken to the royal cremation ground, ‘My king, mother’s son, my precious, so you have left your mother today.’ But she did not weep for any in the land to see.
Today, the throne that was so deeply loved is occupied by foreigners. What next? The people waited restlessly.
Sanatombi felt restive—she felt a certain emptiness, it seemed as if there was nothing more to think about. She was at her war haven. Elders, women, children, all wept: Manipur was finished, what would become of them? She did not feel like joining them and talking, she preferred to keep to herself. And what with her husband’s mother weeping—her Manikchand had not made it back. Sanatombi consoled her, ‘He will surely return, mother. The royal son-in-law is not that stupid.’
She was also worried about Manikchand. This trip to Cachar was one she had encouraged. She had strongly urged him to go to Calcutta to see her Sovereign Father but who knows what he would have done, where he had reached? And what use was any news that he would bring now?
People started returning to their shambolic homes after things had calmed down a little. Sanatombi and company were going home too. Now it was clear, the ruler of Manipur was the Political Agent. He now sat firmly in Kangla Fort.
One heard the news, one after the other—Kulachandra was captured, Thanggal had surrendered himself, Koireng had been apprehended from the house of the Dewan of Thokchom. People were left watching from a distance. No one could come to his aid. Word spread—horses and cattle of the Meiteis had been rounded up, the people were starving. … … … For a full month, the golden land of Manipur was like a graveyard. The royal market shut down. The defeated Meiteis were brought in droves. They were made to kneel in rows in front of the sahebs. Several tall white soldiers walked to and fro in front of them. The Meitei who had accompanied the sahebs from Cachar said in Meiteilon, ‘Say you are sorry, say it.’ One among the lot raised his face and replied, ‘Why should I say I am sorry?’
The saheb said in Hindi, ‘What did he say?’
The interpreter replied, ‘He says he is sorry, Saheb.’
‘All right. Let them go. Tell them they must be afraid of us.’
‘Go, go along now, go back to your homes,’ the Meitei said.
They returned to their homes but found there was no rice to eat, there was no money to buy any. Destitute women and children overcame their fear in their want and came out at night with lit torches. They picked up anything that had been discarded, anything that people could not take with them and had left behind as they fled across Yaralpat. They scattered as soon as they heard the horses of the foreign soldiers. It was a time when foreign soldiers swarmed all over the place.
Sanatombi did not know what to do. She paced back and forth at the Nongmaithem household, nursing a burn she had not known before. Slowly she began to gather news—news of where the Lady of Ngangbam had fled to, of her mother Jasumati, her younger sisters, and of her friends and acquaintances.
She wanted to meet the Lady of Ngangbam just one time. But whom could she go with?
‘It would have been good if Manikchand were here,’ his mother said to herself constantly. Sanatombi also wanted her husband to come back soon.
The Lady of Ngangbam was all she had now. She was also the only one she could really talk to, and the Lady of Ngangbam would have accurate information. Her younger brother Lukhoi was not that astute.
Oh, what a fool I have been, we missed it by so little— Sanatombi thought to herself all night long.
The Lady of Ngangbam had called her one day and talked with her. Sanatombi was already at Nongmaithem at the time. And the king was her Sovereign Father Surchandra. The Lady of Ngangbam had said, ‘Sanatombi, I have a suspicion. I see that your uncles are perhaps dividing into camps. There are some who resent your father—this will not be good for your Sovereign Father. And what with the rivalry between Koireng and Pakasana increasing, I am very worried. What shall we do? It would not do to remain silent.’
‘I have not heard anything. All right, we will do as you say.’
‘All your uncles are fond of you. Mainly, Koireng must be pacified. I will handle Paka. I have also spoken to my younger sister Angangmacha to calm Koireng down. Why don’t you also go and meet your uncle Koireng, and approach him in a roundabout way and see? Do not say anything directly.’
Sanatombi came to Prince Koireng’s residence early one evening and asked Angangmacha, Younger Lady of Ngangbam, ‘Is Royal Uncle in the residence?’
Koireng came out briskly when he heard Sanatombi had come. ‘What is it, my dear, what is the matter?’
He was in the house in a serious meeting with some people at this time. He sent the others away and, after making her sit down properly, asked again, ‘What has happened that you have come today, and so late?’
Sanatombi did not know how to talk indirectly.
She forgot what the Lady of Ngangbam had advised her when she saw Koireng and blurted out bluntly, ‘Is it true what I am hearing, Royal Uncle?’
‘What have you heard?’
‘That Royal Uncle has some ill feelings towards Sovereign Father.’
‘Who has been saying all sorts of things to my child?’
‘It is going around that people are angry with Sovereign Father, including you. Why is that? What’s going on?’
Prince Koireng realized it was not possible to keep Sanatombi in the dark. He looked down like an apprehended thief. He knew that Sanatombi trusted him and loved him more than anybody else.
‘Whatever your dissatisfaction, please tell me. I will tell Sovereign Father. What have you been doing to each other?’
‘It is not quite what you’re thinking, Sanatombi.’
‘Then what is it?’ pursued Sanatombi.
‘I know what you are getting at. As Lord Govinda is my witness, I have no gripe with my elder brother the king. But we are outsiders, we are the children of the other wives.’
‘Who is saying that?’
‘No one, but we are reminded of it very often.’
‘But by whom?’
‘Who else but your uncles who are the blood brothers of your Sovereign Father? Mainly Paka, he has been very insolent, Sanatombi. … … … Huh, as if to say my brother is the king. They are the king’s younger brothers, and we the sidekicks. We feel very hurt, Sanatombi.’
‘Are you saying my Sovereign Father is also of the same mind?’
‘Let us stop this talk. It is all right by me, but Jila is young and I cannot control him.’
‘Please do not spare the insolent, break them into pieces.’
‘One cannot just do that, can one? The ties of blood are not that simple,’ Koireng said with a laugh.
Sanatombi realized the matter was not an easy one. It had become serious. And that Koireng’s anger was at her father, Surchandra. What could she do? She was but young, and she did not live nearby. How was she to put out the embers that were being fanned. She had also heard of little incidents of resentments here and there on the side, but she had not realized that matters had come so far.
Before he died, the Divine Majesty Chandrakirti had given his youngest son Jila’ngamba a boat to ride in and play. He named him Victor of Jila because he was born after the durbar at Jila. He loved him dearly as he was the youngest. Prince Jila often rode in this boat and played in the royal moat, and would pull it ashore and store it in the armoury when he was done. Jila remembered the boat sometime after his Sovereign Father had died and sent for it, only to be refused by the armoury. He was told, ‘We cannot give it, it is the order of His Highness, the Keeper of Horses.’
Prince Jila was stung. He was also embarrassed in front of his servants. He sent his men again: ‘I was not planning to ride in the boat, I was only going to k
eep it in my house from now on.’
The reply came: ‘No property of the palace can be given to anybody without informing His Highness Prince Pakasana, the Keeper of Horses.’
‘Oh, so now I am no longer of the palace! I have now become anybody!’ The truth was that Prince Pakasana was a man who liked rules, and he watched closely over his elder brother Surchandra. He thought playing on boats in the royal moat could pose a danger to the enemy-ridden throne at Kangla, that it could result in strangers infiltrating the land easily. But Prince Jila who was merely seventeen did not understand this.
Instead of ordering it to be kept at the armoury, it might have been better to have called him and explained things to him, but being a half-brother, the misunderstanding came first. There had been no time to find out the truth and umbrage had preceded.
Little resentments began to mount in this manner. Though not obvious on the outside, Surchandra’s brothers born of the same mother were on one side—Prince Pakasana, Prince Thambousana, Prince Gopalsana; on the other side were those born of different mothers—Prince Kulachandradhwaja, Prince Koireng, Prince Angousana and Prince Jila’ngamba. The camps fell into place. The seeds of Manipur’s destruction were sown from that day on. But Koireng did not reveal all to Sanatombi. He chattered cheerily about other things and escorted her back to the Nongmaithem family himself. Sanatombi thought her work was done and believed that there was nothing to fear, that it was all hearsay. She did not worry any further and went on living her life at Nongmaithem.
One evening at dusk, Manikchand returned quite unexpectedly. Manikchand’s mother wept as though he had come back from the dead. She had believed he would never return. No one had thought he would be able to slip in like this in the middle of the war with the foreigners. Manikchand said, ‘There are about twenty of us who came back together. We came after getting a pass from Silchar, it wasn’t that much trouble. … … …’ The entire household was overjoyed. Sanatombi was also happy, and they exchanged news about the ones who returned, and those who had stayed back. She asked him if he lost anything, about where he took refuge, and so on.
Manikchand’s mother said, ‘I don’t know what to say, my son, I had not believed you would ever return. It is good that you have come back in one piece. Some of the paddy got confiscated by the sahebs. They left most of it when we said it belonged to Her Highness. Four of your uncle’s horses got caught up in the sweep. So many horses were taken away this time.’
‘Where do they keep them after taking them away?’ asked Manikchand.
‘I don’t know, people say Indian traders bought them and took them to India. Never go away again from now on, my son. Whether we have enough to eat or not, let us all stay together always as a family from now on.’
After dinner that night Sanatombi said, ‘Did you drop in on Sovereign Father?’
‘How could I, what with all the news around us. I had thought of going but Ta’Cheiteino and the rest said it would be pointless, they would not allow us to see him even if we did, so we dropped the idea. Then we thought we just had to get back in to Manipur, and hurried back. … … … The Lady of Ngangbam, and your mother, how are they all?’
‘I don’t know. It’s been a while since I saw them. They say they have come back from their war havens.’
‘Then I have to go look for them. And where are the British staying?’
‘In Kangla,’ answered Sanatombi shortly. She had hoped that Manikchand would bring news of her Sovereign Father. She had heard that some people had gone to see him. They had been allowed to and there had not been much restriction. But Sanatombi let the matter go and did not question Manikchand any further; perhaps it just hadn’t worked out that way.
Sanatombi worked very hard those days, it was astonishing. As soon as the sun rose, she jumped into the pond. She dabbed clay on her forehead and went into the kitchen. She got the meals cooked. There was no waiting for her to finish the chores. The Brahmin cook from before the war had stopped coming and Sanatombi had not been able to ask after her.
When it became apparent that war was going to break out, Sanatombi had said one day, ‘Mother Brahmin, please do not come any more. It is not good to travel far from home at this time.’
‘But who will cook for you?’
‘Mother and I will manage. There aren’t many of us anyway.’
She sent people to ask after the Brahmin cook at her hideaway one day but she did not ask her to cook again, thinking, ‘What is the point?’
Sanatombi lay low. She just worked and worked. Manikchand began to gather news of his friends and relatives—the Lady of Ngangbam, Jasumati, Princess Khomdonsana, and others.
Manikchand said, ‘Shall we send some paddy over to Royal Mother?’
‘Send some to the mother Brahmin instead.’
Sanatombi said to her mother-in-law, ‘Mother, teach me how to weave with fine thread. I am going to weave.’ Her mother-in-law was surprised to hear Sanatombi say this, but she was pleased too. She thought to herself, ‘My daughter-in-law has come to her senses.’ Sanatombi and her mother-in-law wove together. It was not that Sanatombi did not already know how to weave at all. She had taken part a little bit when the Grand Queen Mother hired people to teach the maidens of the palace how to weave. Among the looms set up in a row for the princesses there had been one for her too. But she did not learn to weave properly, having merely wandered about here and there. Her mother-in-law was surprised that Sanatombi wove beautifully, as if she had woven all throughout her life. She had stick-to-it-iveness and her handiwork was neat like those of the clever women of Wangkhei.
One day, Manikchand said, ‘The queen, the Lady of Ngangbam, is asking us both to come urgently. There seems to be an important matter she wants to talk to us about.’
‘What about?’
‘I think it is about Prince Lukhoi. The Lady of Ngangbam has some inside information that they are going to appoint a new king altogether for Manipur.’
‘What about Sovereign Father?’
‘That is what the queen wishes to talk to us about. It seems the government is no longer thinking about bringing back His Majesty. … … …’
‘Then what is the point? What is there to talk about? Would the royal son-in-law please go on your own. Please tell my royal mother I wouldn’t know anything about this.’
Manikchand did not bring it up a second time. He went by himself. He apprised her when he returned but seeing Sanatombi’s manner, he felt apprehensive and did not elaborate. Who knew how she might answer!
Sanatombi did not seem to want to hear much about the palace these days. Sanatombi was only twenty-two years old but she seemed to have matured all of a sudden. How frugal she was and how carefully she ran the house. Her mother-in-law was overjoyed.
‘If only I could get a grandchild now that she has become responsible,’ said Manikchand’s mother.
A child had been miscarried at two or three months. Sanatombi was taken very ill at that time. Despite a lot of spells and rituals she never conceived again. Seeing her mother-in-law’s disquiet Sanatombi said one day, ‘Since I am not bearing any children, please find another wife for the royal son-in-law. … … …’
Her mother-in-law was startled. The thought had indeed crossed her mind—Did she know that or what! She did not think that one so young would say such a thing.
Life was calm on the surface but a powerful storm continued to rage within Sanatombi. Not a day went by when she did not remember her good-natured Sovereign Father who had shamefully sought refuge among strangers. She wanted to see him just one time, but how? She did not get help from her husband Manikchand. He was a clever man in other ways. He was a man who conducted himself very carefully and never wanted to put himself at personal risk. And so Sanatombi kept quiet.
What is to be done about Sovereign Father? What shall I do, what to do?—thought Sanatombi all the time. But she felt exhausted, she didn’t feel like doing anything, of being able to do anything.
But new
s filtered in whether she wanted to hear it or not. News of the might and accomplishment of the foreigners. One day, a deep sound of cannons was heard from the direction of Kangla Fort. The earth shook, the windows and doors of the house rattled loudly. It was a fearsome sound. People panicked—What is it now? They began to pack up their belongings, preparing to flee again. But it was nothing, only the sahebs blasting the two enormous leogryphs of brick that stood in front of the palace citadel. Why? And to say that that was nothing?—She saw the two beasts clearly before her eyes. The child Sanatombi had played at their feet. She knew the two beasts very well. They were alive to her. Oh, so the two beasts have been reduced to dust!—Sanatombi was grieved, she was very aggrieved.
News came shortly, news that the British had installed Crown Prince Bhubonsingh’s seven-year-old little grandson as the king of Manipur. Notices were posted here and there—‘Manipur is ruled by a king.’
