The Princess and the Political Agent

by Binodini

  It is winter. Christmas is over. It is foggy and very cold. Maxwell had left Manipur on a foggy morning such as this. Sanatombi asks when she sees her younger sister come in, ‘Khomdon, is there a fog today too?’

  ‘Yes, royal sister … … … Here, from brother-in-law in England.’

  Two Christmas cards. One to Sanatombi, the other—

  To Princess Khomdon,

  From her friend

  Colonel H. Maxwell

  He sends cards to many others like this. To his friends he had left behind in Manipur, to Little Majesty. Chonjon, Pheijao, even for Not Guilty; they each get a card with embossed flowers. They say—I am thinking of you from across the seas, I still love my beautiful, short and dangerous life in Manipur.

  Sanatombi holds the card and looks at it. She puts it under her pillow and says, ‘There is no letter?’

  ‘He wrote to your servant. It says if you would like, he will also come.’

  ‘What nonsense, one cannot come just like that.’

  But Sanatombi knew Maxwell would do whatever he decided to do, he would come if he decided to. He had said to Sanatombi as he was leaving, ‘Sanatombi, I will return, I will surely return.’

  Sanatombi says, ‘Khomdon, tell Meino to write a letter and say I am all right. Let him stay on there for a bit longer; have Meino tell him not to come.’

  Khomdonsana weeps secretly. She loves Maxwell dearly. He was truly her friend, and the day he left Khomdonsana had wept volubly.

  There had been a time when Maxwell had teased her a great deal; how they had fought. She had hated him then, she had been angry, jealous. But after he had taken her older sister as his wife they slowly became friends. Over those long years, Maxwell had become a father figure and brought up the fatherless girl, the child with no older or younger brothers. He had shaped the career of her husband Meino, son of the Arambam family. But he could not help Jasumati openly. He had known that she would never forgive him and so he had made a gift of paddy fields to the gods Jasumati worshipped.

  Khomdonsana is filled with sorrow today. She feels anew the emptiness Maxwell had left behind. Her foreigner brother-in-law Maxwell and Princess Khomdonsana were very close. She sometimes suspected her older sister was mean to Maxwell. In her heart, she took Maxwell’s side. Now that he was gone she thinks of her foreigner brother-in-law often. Maxwell enjoyed teasing Khomdonsana very much. He would take chocolate out of his pocket and say, ‘Open your mouth, eat.’

  The little girl Khomdonsana tugged at Maxwell’s shirt, pulled his tie, and touched him. She would say at home that they had not touched each other, and that she did not go indoors, and then she would go touch everyone else to defile them.

  Princess Khomdonsana said to Maxwell, ‘Open your mouth, here, come on, eat up.’

  ‘Let me see what it is.’

  ‘Cookie.’

  ‘Nookie.’

  ‘Eat it, you old thing. You don’t even know how to say it. It is cookie, you fool.’

  Maxwell did not eat what the little girl gave him. He was afraid to eat it, what if it was from the market.

  One day he took Khomdonsana on his horse and rode southward at a gallop. He stopped the horse when they came to the foothills of Langthabal. After he had tied the horse in an appropriate place, they walked together, Khomdonsana holding his hand.

  Maxwell said, ‘What is that building over there, do you know?’

  ‘Sure, I do. That is my Sovereign Grandfather’s father, have you heard of the name Gambhirsingh? It is where he died, do you know.’

  She told the story at great length: ‘He died from a snakebite … … … .’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Maxwell answered, feigning surprise.

  Khomdonsana talked a lot. She never stopped for a minute. Maxwell occasionally said ‘Oh, I see’, ‘Yes’, ‘Sure’, and they walked together.

  Suddenly the little girl cried out, ‘Hey look! Look, at the chicken flying over there! Is that a chicken? What bird

  is it?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No. Shall we ask the man over there? Look, look there’s another one flying, oh, there are lots of them!’

  They went up to the man who was chopping wood and asked him. Maxwell mixed in some Hindi and said, ‘What do the Meiteis call these birds that are flying a lot around here?’

  The man knew a little bit of Hindi. He said, ‘Chongaraba.’

  He went on to say, ‘This bird, very good price. Medicine, for medicine. Witch doctors like them a lot. Come one day with a gun. Let’s make some money. Very good medicine.’

  ‘What medicine?’

  ‘Iton, nungsung, it can even dissolve stones.’

  Maxwell said, ‘Hold on.’ He took out his notebook and wrote in it—

  Hoopoe—Chongaraba

  Cures—Iton (dysentery?) Nungsung (piles?)

  Then after saying ‘thank you’ he walked on with the little girl. He said, ‘Khomdonsana, I am tired, let’s sit down.’

  He was about to sit down on the grass.

  Khomdonsana yelled out, ‘Hey! You’ll get bitten by kakphei!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kakphei, don’t you know kakphei?’

  ‘No, I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t even know that? Kakphei is, it goes like this. It bites, I’m also scared of them.’

  ‘I see, leeches. Kakphei don’t like old man. They like you.’

  ‘What’s with this crazy man? Did the leech say it likes me? Where am I going to find a bigger fool than you?’ the little girl said impertinently. In this way, the two friends often went about together.

  Today he is gone, he is far away. One could not say whether one would see him again or not. But Princess Khomdonsana could not forget this old man across the seas, and always thought he would come back. She asked her ailing older sister, ‘Royal sister, my brother-in-law did say he would be coming back, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he did … … … Khomdon, where is that photograph your brother-in-law took of me at the residency? … … … Khomdon, how is the residency?’

  CHAPTER 19

  As soon as the new residency at the Konthoujam homestead was completed Maxwell moved Sanatombi in and they lived together. Jacaranda, oleander, flame of the forest and the like grew among the long-lived sacred fig and mango trees. Many flowers from foreign lands began to blossom, in many colours, in many seasons. Ginger lily, the white patchouli, jasmine, star jasmine and stone orchid slowly learnt to flower alongside them. Attached to the tall trees, there flowered the golden khongammellei, the iyonglei orchid and yerumlei dendrobium, the foxtail orchid, and bunches of blue vanda orchids. How beautiful the new residency was, how lovely was the new household.

  Not Guilty, who had studied pena ballads at one time, picked a spray of marsh orchids and gave it to Sanatombi, singing—

  Flowers climbing among the rocks,

  Green, green in their beauty,

  Petals blossoming over the stones

  Branches spread in comely profusion.

  Oh, my precious beloved,

  The flower that spreads upon the stones

  Now blossoms in its fullest beauty.

  Sanatombi and Mainu laughed. Maxwell also laughed and asked, ‘What’s he saying?’ Sanatombi explained to Maxwell that the pena balladeer was singing a song of praise to flowers.

  Not Guilty said, ‘If you would like to hear, your servant will call my pena ballad teacher and have him sing for you.’

  Maxwell liked to get on horseback and go riding in the morning. Sometimes he would take the two golden retrievers with him. The two dogs would run alongside him. Now Maxwell rode with a consort—Sanatombi. After riding a long distance, Sanatombi and Maxwell returned, each mounted on a horse. She could ride very well now. People watched the spectacle of the two of them riding. Sometimes Sanatombi would ride side-saddle. The chignon tied high upon her head dropped in a ponytail down to her waist. Tucked into her chignon, a single hibiscus that had flowered in the hedge of
the residency. At other times, she would wear men’s clothes, her hair tied loosely behind her. As soon as she rode into the driveway of the residency, she would, with a flick of her head let her hair fall loose. Her hair scattered, covering her shoulders. Sanatombi rode on ahead, Maxwell behind her. She brought the horse to a halt in the courtyard of the residency but she did not dismount. She would not get off her horse until Maxwell carried her down.

  The residency was filled with Meiteis all day. Khomdonsana came bringing her friends. They played in the boats on the crescent-shaped pond at the top of the lawn. Lotuses bloomed there, many lotuses of a hundred and eight petals—lotuses red, lotuses white. The young Meitei girls came and made a lot of noise in the residency colony. Mainu was really living with Sanatombi now. It was beginning to get hard to say what the residency in Manipur was, whether a Manipuri household or the household of a foreigner. Sometimes Maxwell would take Sanatombi to dinner at other foreigners’ homes in Manipur. Sanatombi would wear a bright red sarong and a stole of raw silk embroidered in gold and come out sashaying in front of Maxwell. Not Guilty would sing giddily as they walked by—

  Come, my lovely,

  Come, let us go.

  Many desire you,

  Many covet you,

  Come, come walk

  In front of me.

  Never angry with Not Guilty, they listened, laughing, and said, ‘He has an excellent voice.’ Once Not Guilty had pestered them so much that they had his pena ballad teacher come and sing. They made him sing the story of the hero’s torture by an elephant. Maxwell listened intently and said, laughing, ‘Where is that villain Nongban, I will arrest him and put him behind bars. … … ...’ Not Guilty began taking liberties. He would take the tray from the bearer bringing in the morning tea and would stand outside their bedroom door and sing,

  Divine King and Queen,

  Dawn breaks and the world is astir.

  The python rolls over in his morning sleep,

  The wild wolf has cleaned his fangs.

  Arise, oh Divine King.

  Sanatombi would say, ‘Oh, this fellow’, and would turn over and go back to sleep. Maxwell would have been up a long time ago. He was an early riser. And so, they spent their days. They did not know how time went by. Maxwell would take Sanatombi on his travels when he had a chance. He taught her to climb the hills, and how to camp out under a tent in the forest. Sanatombi began to adapt to Maxwell’s lifestyle, and Maxwell was no longer roundabout with Meitei lifestyles. One time Maxwell took Sanatombi abroad with him and stayed away for about three months. This was the first time Sanatombi had stepped outside Manipur. How she enjoyed it, how happy she was. The densely green hill ranges of Shillong, the susurrating pine leaves, the waterfalls and lovely houses, strange peoples, she marvelled at them all, she saw them all. Maxwell took her to the races, he took her to flower shows. Sanatombi whispered to Maxwell, ‘I want this flower, let’s plant it at home, can we buy it … … …?’

  Sanatombi truly enjoyed their trip to Shillong. He took her to Shillong all the time. Maxwell said, ‘Sanatombi, I am thinking I will retire in Shillong. Let us look for a house with some land.’

  After a visit to Shillong like this, they brought back a piano. Everyone’s astonishment knew no bounds when they brought it with great difficulty on a bullock cart along the newly constructed northern road into the residency. They had never seen anything like this before.

  Mainu said, ‘What is it? What is it for?’

  ‘It’s a musical instrument. It is called a piano.’

  ‘So big! Who’s going to play it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe the royal son-in-law will. An old lady forced us to buy it from her. We did not want it very much as it is too big. But it was hard to say no to her seeing the state of the old lady. I don’t know, he is such a pushover … … … .’

  Maxwell seriously looked for a house with a plot in Shillong thinking he would retire and live there. He looked at many houses but there was not one that appealed to him. Having heard that a Parsi woman was selling her house, Maxwell had gone to look at it, and after a second look, he took Sanatombi along with him. It was not quite in the centre of Shillong, but a little way off, just where one started climbing up to Upper Shillong. The place was very beautiful, though there would be a bit of a difficulty with water, but Maxwell liked this house the best of all the ones he had looked at and thought that he just might buy it. The elderly Parsi woman came out and received them warmly. The woman, who was about seventy, still turned out in finery. She wore a sari of white muga silk, its long drape falling in front of her, its end tucked into her waist on the left. A scarf of maroon over her black pullover covered her back. One knew right away that she was a woman who came from a good and prosperous family, a woman who was used to dressing up well and looking presentable. She would have been a beauty in her time. To look at her, but for the sari she wore, she looked like a person from the West. Her complexion was very fair. All her children had got married and settled down. She did not live with anybody. This widow had tended to this house and compound with love for all these years. Now she was old and she had decided that after finding a suitable person to sell her house and compound to, she would go and live with her daughter in Poona. She proceeded to discuss the sale of the house with Maxwell, and she thought he might take good care of the orchids that her husband had so loved. The husband and wife had painstakingly gathered these orchids. There were even some from Manipur. The woman took the flower-knowledgeable Maxwell into the garden and said to him, ‘This is Cymbidium micolasianum and this is Paphiopedilum venustum. … … …’

  She continued, ‘Vanda from Manipur, I am sure you know it.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Maxwell smiled.

  When they were having tea in the living room, the old lady said, ‘If you decide to take this house, I also have two valuable possessions. Please take them as well. Since I am about to leave I will let you have them for cheap.’

  The old lady went into her house and she had her Khasi servant bring out a large box. She opened the box and showed, from what era she had liked and bought, a Manipuri dance costume with all its bracelets and decorations. One could but only call it a dance costume for it was aged beyond belief and painful to behold. The peplum was threadbare. The head decorations, the brace of bracelets, all were old. It must have got shopworn from showing it off regularly, surely not from wearing it. Sanatombi was amused no end, and Maxwell looked at Sanatombi and gave a small smile. The old lady must not even have known that the dance costume was from Manipur for she said, ‘I am sure the young lady will like it. She can use it as an evening dress.’

  Maxwell felt like laughing even more but he did not. He said, ‘Good idea.’

  The other was the old piano. It was still in very good condition despite being old, but what could one do with it? Of course, even if Maxwell had known how to play the piano at one time, he did not want to play the piano in the residency. As they came out to leave, they left the old lady saying over and over again, ‘If you can, please take these two things as well or you will regret it later.’

  Ultimately, he did not buy it as the land was not very well developed, but he bought the piano, thinking, ‘It would be good to play it now and then. I might even teach Sanatombi how to play it.’

  Not Guilty wanted to try out this amazing musical instrument just one time. He said, ‘It couldn’t be as difficult as the pena.’

  But he never touched it out of fear for the Saheb, nor did he ever hear it played; it just kept sitting there in the drawing room of the residency. One day, hearing a sound coming from the drawing room after dinner was over, Not Guilty looked in and was taken by utter surprise. Maxwell, the dignified Political Agent of Manipur, was sitting beside the music box and producing the most astonishing sounds. Sanatombi was standing beside him. Not Guilty ran all over the place telling everyone, and all gathered to peep at the scene. They dispersed before long in fear, but they left Maxwell still playing the piano. Not Guilty s
aid to Mainu, ‘Wow, what a great man our Saheb is. This is why women fall for him instantly.’

  Maxwell held Sanatombi lovingly in his arms after he had finished playing the piano and they sat together in the drawing room. The fire in the fireplace burned red. He said, ‘Sanatombi, my mother played the piano very well, she also sang beautifully. We do not belong to the royal family like you do, we did not grow up in wealth, but we all used to gather around to listen to my mother play the piano after dinner … … … We thought the sounds of the piano made us feel as one.’

  Maxwell talked about many things—about his native land, about his distant home, about his wild, unsettled life. Sanatombi leant upon his breast and listened to these stories.

  Sanatombi felt very tender that day. Who knows, perhaps it was the sounds of that wondrous musical instrument, she loved Maxwell even more. She felt frightened that this man from a distant land might grow distant from her. She said, ‘What would have become of me if you had not come? I would have died without knowing you exist.’

  Maxwell felt restless after playing the piano, after playing the songs of his land. He recalled his life in the past, the life he had left distantly behind, and felt an urge to tightly hang on to it. His grasp seemed to slip wherever he reached out for a hold and he felt small and alone. He saw before his eyes his land of snows, his far-off home, the dearly loved people of his household. But Sanatombi was resting upon his breast without a care. Maxwell stroked Sanatombi gently upon her head and said, ‘Come, let’s go to bed, go change out of your clothes.’

  Sanatombi went into the bedroom. Maxwell was left looking intently at her. He looked at the dying embers of the fire and saw many faces before him. He sighed deeply and he also went in the bedroom. He changed out of his clothes and went into the bathroom to wash up.

  He came out to see Sanatombi in only a moss-green sarong standing in front of the mirror combing her hair. The well-built Maxwell quickly took off his shirt and put his arms around Sanatombi from behind. He said, softly, ‘Come, let’s go to bed.’