The Princess and the Political Agent

by Binodini

  But what about Sovereign Father!—thought Sanatombi.

  Manikchand gave the news when he came back, ‘What a travesty, a child who is not entitled has now been made king … … … Do you agree with this? It is like they have not thought at all about Prince Lukhoi … … … .’

  ‘What of it? He is also the grandson of royal grandfather Narasingh.’

  Sanatombi busied herself as a housewife. She mopped and wove and the house was sparkling clean. Not once did she show her unhappiness to members of the household. Manikchand organized the household and sought to establish a good and proper lifestyle.

  But she heard the news, one after the other, and she could not hold it in any more. Their only Lukhoi died from smallpox. The government’s refugee Surchandra, Ruler and Victor of the Hills, passed away in Calcutta. There was nothing more to think after this.

  CHAPTER 8

  It is still light when Princess Khomdonsana enters Sanatombi’s invalid room. Tall and slim, she is not fair like Sanatombi. There are slight traces of pockmarks on her face. Khomdonsana is setting out to sing in the women’s choir for the Festival of the Goddess.

  Sanatombi looks hard at her and says, ‘Where are you off to all dressed up?’

  Khomdonsana is clad in blue of a darkish hue. She wears a chequered stole of raw silk. Her hair is swept up neatly in a chignon that falls in a long ponytail. She wears a marei necklace, a single strand of gold.

  ‘There are two places to sing at today. First, we sing at the palace, then there’s another venue, at the house of the palace administrator.’

  ‘But why so early?’

  ‘The teachers say I have to sing a solo passage. I am going to go rehearse it a bit first.’

  ‘Oh, so you can sing solos and all now?’

  ‘Who knows. … … … Well, I will get going now. You’re all right today? All your staff are here. Ta’Matum, sister Mainu, I am off … … … .’

  Princess Khomdonsana sashays out. Sanatombi laughs, staring after her—Look at her, all married and all. She had been very little at the time of her Sovereign Father’s departure from Manipur. Her mother Jasumati had taken her to her parents’ home to bring her up. Her little sister had never known the pleasures of being a princess. Sanatombi loves her all the more as she thinks this.

  Matum the attendant runs in.

  ‘The Divine Majesty is here.’

  Sanatombi is set all aflutter. She is overjoyed that he was showing up after saying he would not be coming today.

  ‘Matum, call Mainu. Tell her to lay out the royal seat.’

  The etiquette-savvy Mainu hurries in and places a white cloth on the red velvet, covering the reed stool that was laid out, and retires, standing off at a little distance.

  On this day, Little Majesty does not come in the car they call Italy, nor in the horse carriage, but on horseback with two junior attendants. In his riding outfit. He wears khaki breeches and a bright red high-necked polo shirt of fine wool. Rather than taking the royal seat set out for him, he pulls up the little chair and sits down right next to Sanatombi’s bed. Sanatombi’s face brightens as if shrouding clouds had parted. She says laughing, ‘How nice my little brother looks in red.’

  ‘Do I look like a little shrew making off with a red chilli?’ the dusky king answers with a laugh.

  ‘Not at all. You look great whatever you wear.’

  ‘So, what have you had to eat today?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Mainu keeps feeding me all kinds of things.’

  ‘Sister Mainu is a gem of a treasure … … … .’ Saying this, he looks and smiles at Mainu standing, shrinking in a corner.

  ‘Little Majesty, when I am dead and gone, place your sister Mainu with my little cousin the Lady of Ngangbam.’

  Maharaja Chandrachand’s queen is also a maid of Ngangbam, a niece of Premamayi, the Lady of Ngangbam.

  ‘Has someone been saying you’re going to die?’

  ‘No, but who can tell when we will die. … … … This current illness, Little Majesty, I do not think I am going to recover from it.’

  ‘What kinds of things are you saying?’

  ‘So, why have you come today when you said you were coming tomorrow?’

  ‘I will come today, and I will come tomorrow too. … … … Here, my royal sister.’ He hands three pieces of paper to Sanatombi, three telegrams.

  ‘Brother-in-law sent these from England. He sent them within a week, but they arrived all together today. I wanted to let you know so badly that I hurried here.’

  ‘What do they say?’

  ‘He seems to be very worried to hear Your Royal Highness is not well. In the last telegram, he asks me to take you to Calcutta for treatment. He wants me to let him know if you get any worse and he also says that he will come.’

  ‘Show me.’ Sanatombi reads the telegrams.

  Sanatombi smiles a little. It is not really a smile of disbelief—it is a smile of exhaustion. Her lips smile but her two eyes are filled with tears.

  Sanatombi holds Little Majesty’s hand and is silent for a while as she fights back her tears. Little Majesty does not know what to say. The people standing around them wipe their eyes.

  She says, ‘Little Majesty, let me say something. I have been wanting to say it for a long time now. The temple grove in Vrindavan that your brother-in-law bought for me, take it. It is better that it belongs to you.’

  ‘Will you not reside there again? It is good to keep a temple grove.’

  ‘I am not going. I will just stay here near all of you.’

  Little Majesty understands what Sanatombi wants to say, but he asks no more. He says many things to make her forget, making light of it all, and laughs merrily to try and cheer up his cousin.

  ‘Little Majesty, is there anything very wrong to give me a cremation after I die?’

  ‘There you go again. If you are going to say things like that, I am not going to come any more. Even if you must die, do it after brother-in-law gets back.’

  ‘You are the king, whatever you decree will be accepted. Please cremate me after I die.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but what if I die before you?’

  ‘Do not say that, such things must not be said.’

  ‘Is a king immortal, my royal sister? Come, let us talk about happy things. Mainu, did you get the bread I sent over? Was Her Highness able to eat it? I had my Brahmin cook in the palace bake it. They are really getting very good, my Brahmin cooks.’

  Little Majesty knows that Sanatombi was used to their food after having lived with the Saheb for so long. She ate it with pleasure.

  ‘Aren’t you getting late, Little Majesty? Go, you will be late for Lord Govinda. And why did you come on horseback? Don’t go riding in the dark, late at night. … … … Little Majesty, tell your brother-in-law I shall not be going to Calcutta. … … … It is fine here too. How would Calcutta be any better?’

  Ever since Sanatombi took ill, the Saheb would take her to Calcutta or Shillong for medical treatment every so often. Today, too, across the distant seas, he is thinking of taking his Sanatombi to Calcutta for treatment. But today she does not want to go. The zest to live seems to have died in her. Little Majesty also knows that though not seen outwardly, Sanatombi has started to fall apart. The patient had ceased to help in her treatment.

  ‘Sister Mainu, what will she eat tonight?’

  ‘She does not eat at night, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Bring the bread I sent, let us give her that.’

  ‘I’ll eat on my own. Go, you will be late. It is not good to be late. They will be waiting to start the dhop choir.’

  ‘I will stay to watch you eat. I will not go to Lord Govinda today,’ answered Little Majesty.

  ‘You cannot do that, Little Majesty. You must not take the royal duties of the land lightly. I am all right, go.’

  But still, the king cannot leave Sanatombi.

  ‘Little Majesty.’

  ‘Yes, my royal sister.’

  ‘I was
thinking. … … …’

  ‘What is it, Royal Sister?’

  ‘I want to offer kirtan hymns for Sovereign Father. I have been seeing Sovereign Father in my dreams very often lately.’

  ‘Your humble servant offers one every year. The kirtan I offer to Lord Govinda every year is for all the kings of all the lineages of Manipur.’

  ‘I know that, but I was thinking I wanted to offer one on my own. Please arrange that. If I can’t ask you, who can I ask?’

  ‘Then of course I will.’

  Sanatombi had offered a kirtan when the Saheb was around. But it was not at Lord Govinda—it was at the queen’s, the Lady of Ngangbam. She had wanted to offer it at Vrindavan but she was not allowed to enter the grove at the Pool of Radha that the Divine Majesty Chandrakirti had built. Unhappy at this, she had talked with the Saheb and had bought a temple grove at Vrindavan. Sanatombi wants to offer the kirtan to Lord Govinda just for her Sovereign Father. Maharaja Churachand decides to arrange it to fulfil his cousin’s wish. Sanatombi looks intently at her family cousin. Her two eyes brim with tears. Little Majesty lowers his head.

  Sanatombi was the royal granddaughter of His Majesty Gambhirsingh. And Churachand was the royal grandson of His Majesty Narasingh. The two kings had loved each other greatly. They were related by lineage, not blood brothers, but they had joined hands on the battlefield, on the battlefield to save Manipur from the Burmese. What relation could be closer than that powerful alliance forged by Gambhirsingh, unmatched in his prowess with the spear, and Narasingh, unmatched in his prowess with the sword, as they came together as one, to deliver Manipur, a land that had been under the Burmese for seven years. It was a relation forged when together they washed their hand-weapons that had slaughtered the Burmese, in the dark, clear waters of the Chindwin. The river Chindwin was their witness. One said ‘my younger brother’ and the other murmured ‘my lord’ in reply. They never dropped the word ‘my’ whenever they addressed each other. With a strong bond in trust, the true defender of truth Narasingh never once harboured a false thought about his kinsman Gambhirsingh. Manipur never forgot the story of these two men. Everyone still remembers it. This was why Chandrakirti loved the sons of Narasingh. Therefore, years later, it is no great surprise to see the royal grandson of Narasingh treat the royal granddaughter of Gambhirsingh with love.

  After a little silence, Little Majesty says, ‘From tomorrow onwards, I will come once a day every day to look in on you. Otherwise if brother-in-law hears of it, it will be the end of me.’

  ‘I am fine, Little Majesty. You are the king; it is not right to waste time like that. Your brother-in-law was always angry about wasting time. All right, leave now. I will send word if I am really not feeling well. Never fail in your worship of Lord Govinda, Little Majesty.’

  Little Majesty rides off on his horse. Sanatombi listens to him as he gallops away. Her uncle Koireng had also ridden off like this one day; Maxwell had ridden off like this one day too. The sound of the horses fades into the distance. Sanatombi grips the bed that she lies in and sobs. Sanatombi is weeping, and today she takes a pleasure in it.

  CHAPTER 9

  Manipur was once again a land ruled by a king. The sahebs installed Amusana, also known as Churachand, the great- grandson of Maharaja Narasingh, in the newly constructed palace at Khurai Khundon. Lord Govinda was also moved back in from His refuge during the war. How happy the people of the land were, how many of them wept. They had not believed that the royal family of Manipur would ever return to the throne of Manipur. They had thought that the throne where the Lord of Lords Pakhangba, the Heavenly Serpent King and Leisna, his Meitei queen, had shone for one hundred and thirty-five years would become a playground of the foreigners. They had thought they would never hear the great bell of Lord Govinda ring again. There was great joy when they heard that the child Churachand, the royal great- grandson of the Divine Majesty Maharaja Narasingh the Powerful and Patriotic, was made the king.

  But the sacred palace at Kangla had become a footstool of the foreigners. On one hand, the clever British sought to conquer the hearts of the Meiteis but on the other, they razed and renovated Kangla Fort, its shrines that had been there for many centuries, and the palace, in order to display the civilization of the West. Most of the buildings in the Kangla were pulled down. The shrine of Lord Wanggol, the shrine of Goddess Nunggoibi, the shrine of the Elders, the shrine of Lord Lainingthou the Mighty, were all considered unsightly and razed to the ground. And with that, the religion, rituals and beliefs of Manipur, its civilization, were flattened over. From that day on, the distinctive face of the land of the Meiteis began to gradually disappear.

  But life slowly returned. The calendar of service rituals to Lord Govinda was resumed without any change. The king was the child Churachand, but the land belonged to Lord Govinda. Slowly the lives of the Meiteis began to continue again. They began to build new residences, temples and offices at the new palace. But the foreign government ignored their pain at not being allowed to return to Kangla: they pretended to be unaware of it.

  The mother of Little Majesty, Lalitmanjuri Numitleima, Maid of Moirangthem, and her father, the king of Moirang, tried to conduct themselves with propriety. They went door to door to the princesses of Manipur and the distinguished royal ladies of the royal dynasty and requested them: ‘Little Majesty is but a child, so would the royal princesses and ladies lead, instruct and arrange for the uninterrupted worship of Lord Govinda?’ Princesses who believed a lost Manipur had come back again came in droves and gathered at the palace. They gave advice for the king, and taught him the ways of the royal court. Some who remembered the age gone by also wept. Though the Maid of Moirangthem, mother of Little Majesty, and her father remained very deferential, there were some new princesses in the new palace who sometimes said hurtful things. The royal grandfather, the king of Moirang, requested the princesses: ‘Would their royal highnesses arrange the new kunja ras dance to be performed for the first time in the new palace … … … .’ Sanatombi was also among those who were called up. Sanatombi did not want to go; she was now living quietly. Ever since her Sovereign Father died, Sanatombi had lived a quiet life. She did not feel like doing anything. But her husband Manikchand and her mother-in-law said, ‘Go, why don’t you; and if you don’t want to be a part of it, don’t. It is not nice not to go when people invite you in a friendly manner. And on top of that, the worship of Lord Govinda must not be interrupted. … … …’

  So, Sanatombi went one day. The ras rehearsals had already started. Since it was a dance that everyone pretty much knew already, it was really more about getting together, so they sat around, talking. They asked about each other: ‘So how have you been? And where did you flee during the war … … … .’ Forgotten were their sundry dissatisfactions as the fallen princesses of Manipur once again found a place to gather and meet.

  ‘And how are you, Sanatombi?’ her royal aunts asked of her.

  ‘Just getting by.’

  ‘Has Manikchand returned?’

  ‘Yes, he is back.’

  They all knew Manikchand looked after Sanatombi well and let her know no want. The well-behaved Manikchand was always highly commended by her royal aunts. But Sanatombi brooded. The new palace and the new set-up was like a dream to her; there seemed to be something not quite right about it. She sat in a corner watching what the others were doing. At this point, a sharp-tongued, newly hired court attendant at the palace, a busybody from who knows where, came up to her and said, ‘Why are you so quiet, Your Highness? You must want to be the lead dancer since you are still young, but I suppose it is not possible now. It seems Little Majesty’s older sister Muktasana is going to lead. Do not be unhappy, Your Highness, it is just the times. I don’t know what to say, it’s actually quite sad come to think of it.’

  Having said this, the busybody pretended to have work and briskly walked away. Sanatombi did not know whether or not she really felt unhappy, but it left her feeling wounded.

  She
had answered shortly, ‘Sister Tathong, I am not here to be in the dance. I merely came because I was asked to.’

  Sanatombi felt deeply hurt. She could not easily dismiss the words the insolent woman had hit her with. She remembered her Grand Queen Mother. She had been a part of the worship every time a ras was offered to Lord Govinda ever since she was very little. It was not simply because she was a daughter of the royal household that she was the lead dancer or the second dancer, or played the role of Radha the Divine Consort. Sanatombi danced very well. Her movements were right, her sense of rhythm was faultless. Her Grand Queen Mother had summoned teachers to coach her privately in movement and rhythm. How her great-grandmother laughed happily, as she tilted her head and watched.

  She would say, ‘My granddaughter is the best of all. Sanatombi, rise on your toes a little when you dance. Do not make a lot of waves, just give a hint of it. … … … Now, that’s it, how beautiful, my princess heroine, my heroine.’

  Sanatombi smiled as she danced.

  ‘Do not smile, it is not proper. It is not proper to smile when worshipping Lord Govinda.’

  ‘I won’t smile tomorrow, all right?’

  ‘You will end up making a habit of it.’ So instructed her great-grandmother.

  Sanatombi said to herself, ‘I do not covet them at all, I do not want to be in their dance at all. Just look at what they think they are doing, I do not envy them at all.’ She remembered how she was made to dance the Divine Consort in the maha ras when she was very little. She slept soundly in her nurse’s lap. They woke her up just before the disappearance of Krishna when it was nearing the time for the Divine Consort to make her entrance. The dresser had already swirled her hair into a little topknot and finished everything while she was still sleeping. They only had to put the dancer’s skirt and peplum on her and shake her out of her drowsiness before they made her go in and join the dancing cowherdesses. She had not forgotten any of it. She remembered it all, and it came back all over again. And to think that I would want to lead in today’s dance! What a laugh … … … —thought Sanatombi. She was fairly young at this time and she was furious. Sanatombi quietly crept away while everyone else was noisily occupied. She headed not to her husband’s home in Wangkhei, but straight to Janmasthan, the residence of the Dowager Queen, the Lady of Ngangbam. She herself had no idea how she came to head in that direction.