The Co-Wife & other Stories

by Ruth Vanita

  But Champat Rai did not lose courage. He left Orchha and spent three years hiding in the densely forested hills of Bundelkhand. The emperor’s armies hovered around the region like wild beasts of prey. The king had to engage in constant skirmishes. Sarandha was always with him, renewing his courage. When he faced great danger, and lost hope and courage, the dharma of self-defence sustained him.

  After three years, the emperor’s generals informed him that none but he could hunt this particular tiger. They received instructions to lift the siege and remove the troops. The king thought his troubles were now over, but this soon proved a delusion.

  7

  The emperor’s armies have laid siege to Orchha for three weeks. Cannon shot has pierced the walls as harsh words pierce the heart. There are twenty thousand people under siege in the fort, but most of them are women and children. The number of men keeps dwindling. All thoroughfares are closed. Not even the wind can blow freely. There is very little food left. The women fast in order to keep the men and children alive. People are in despair. The women raise their hands to the sun god and curse the enemy. The children hide behind walls and shower stones down on them, but the stones scarcely go beyond the walls. Raja Champat Rai is troubled with a fever. He has been bedridden for several days. As long as they had him before their eyes, people were somewhat reassured, but his illness has spread gloom throughout the fort.

  The king said to Sarandha, ‘The enemy will definitely enter the fort today.’

  Sarandha: ‘May God not let me live to see that day.’

  King: ‘I am very anxious about these women and children. The chaff will be ground with the grain.’

  Sarandha: ‘How would it be if we fled the fort?’

  King: ‘Leaving these helpless ones here?’

  Sarandha: ‘It is best to leave them here now. If we are not here, the enemy will take pity on them.’

  King: ‘No, I can’t leave them. I can never abandon the wives and children of the men who have given their lives in my service.’

  Sarandha: ‘But we can’t help them by staying here.’

  King: ‘At least we can give our lives with them. I’ll die in their defence. I will flatter the emperor’s soldiers for their sake or bear the hardships of imprisonment, but I cannot abandon them in this crisis.’

  Sarandha bowed her head, ashamed, and thought that it would indeed be extremely base to abandon one’s dear companions to the flames and escape to save one’s life. How had she become so blindly selfish? But suddenly she had an idea. She said, ‘If you were assured that no injustice would be done them, would you object to leaving?’

  King (thinking): ‘Who will give us such an assurance?’

  Sarandha: ‘A letter of promise from the emperor’s general.’

  King: ‘Yes, then I’ll happily go.’

  Sarandha became lost in thought. How could she get the emperor’s general to make such a promise? Who would carry the proposal, and why would that merciless man make such a promise? He was sure of victory. Whom did she have so clever, so skilled at negotiation and so eloquent as to be able to perform this difficult task? Chhatrasal could do it if he wished. He had all these virtues.

  Having taken a resolve, the queen called Chhatrasal. He was the wisest and bravest of her four sons. When he came and saluted her, her lotus eyes filled with tears and a deep sigh issued from her heart.

  Chhatrasal: ‘Mother, what is your command?’

  Rani: ‘How does the battle look today?’

  Chhatrasal: ‘Fifty of our warriors have been killed.’

  Rani: ‘The honour of the Bundelas is now in God’s hands.’

  Chhatrasal: ‘We will make a raid tonight.’

  The queen briefly explained her proposal to Chhatrasal and asked, ‘Who should perform this task?’

  Chhatrasal: ‘I.’

  ‘Will you be able to do it?’

  ‘Yes, I am confident that I will.’

  ‘All right, go. May God fulfil your desire.’

  The queen embraced Chhatrasal and, lifting both hands to heaven, said, ‘Ocean of compassion, I have offered my young, promising son to the honour of the Bundelas. Now it is up to you to preserve this honour. I have offered a very valuable thing—accept it.’

  8

  The next morning, after having a bath, Sarandha took items for worship in a thaal and went to the temple. Her face had turned pale and darkness swam before her eyes. She had just reached the temple door when an arrow from outside the fort came in and fell on her thaal. A piece of paper was wrapped around the barb of the arrow. When Sarandha put the thaal down on the temple platform and opened the note, her face bloomed with joy, but this joy was momentary. Alas! For the sake of this note, she had lost her beloved son. Who else could have bought a piece of paper at such a high price?

  When she returned from the temple, Sarandha went to Champat Rai and said, ‘Lord of my life, fulfil your promise.’ Startled, the king said, ‘Have you fulfilled yours?’ The queen gave him the letter of promise. Champat Rai looked at it closely and then said, ‘I’ll go, and if God wills I’ll fight the enemy once more. But tell me the truth, Saran, what did you have to give in exchange for this letter?’

  The queen said in a suffocated voice, ‘A lot.’

  Raja: ‘Well?’

  Rani: ‘A young son.’

  The king felt as if an arrow had struck him. He said, ‘Who? Angad Rai?’

  Rani: ‘No.’

  Raja: ‘Ratna Singh?’

  Rani: ‘No.’

  Raja: ‘Chhatrasal?’

  Rani: ‘Yes.’

  Champat Rai sprang up from the bed and then fell back on it unconscious, like a bird that flaps its wings on being shot and then falls lifeless. Chhatrasal was the dearest of all his sons. All his dreams of the future rested on him. When he recovered consciousness, he said, ‘Saran, you have not done well.’

  It was a dark night. Rani Sarandha was on a horse and Champat Rai in a palanquin when they left the fortress by a secret path. Many years before, she had seen such a dark, sorrowful night. That night, Sarandha had spoken certain harsh words to Shitala Devi. Shitala Devi’s prophecy had been fulfilled today. Would Sarandha’s response also be fulfilled?

  9

  It was midday. The sun god was overhead, showering down fire. A fierce wind that scorched the body seemed to set the forest and mountains aflame. It felt as if the fire god’s entire army was afoot, roaring. The sky trembled with fear before it.

  Rani Sarandha on her horse proceeded westward, taking Raja Champat Rai along with her. Orchha had been left far behind and every moment she felt increasingly assured that they were leaving the danger zone. The king lay unmoving in the palanquin and the palanquin bearers were soaked in sweat. Five riders rode behind the palanquin, all suffering intensely from thirst. Their eyes scanned the horizon for a well or the shade of a tree.

  Suddenly, Sarandha glanced behind her and saw a group of riders approaching. She sensed that all was not well and that these people were certainly enemies. Then she thought perhaps her son was coming with some men to help them. One continues to hope even in hopelessness. For several minutes she vacillated between hope and fear. The group came close, and the soldiers’ garments were clearly visible. The queen sighed deeply and her body began to quiver like grass. These were soldiers of the emperor’s army.

  Sarandha said to the palanquin bearers: ‘Halt where you are.’ The Bundela soldiers drew their swords. The king was in a pitiable condition, but the heroic soul in him shone forth at the awareness of danger, much like a suppressed fire flaring up when buffeted by the wind. He lifted the curtain of the palanquin and came out. He reached for the bow and arrows, but the bow which used to be like Indra’s thunderbolt in his hands now did not bend. He grew dizzy, his feet trembled, and he fell to the ground. The knowledge of the coming terror grasped him. Like a wingless bird which sees a snake approaching and leaps up only to fall down, Raja Champat Rai stood up and again fell down. Sarandha helped him sit up,
and tried to speak through her tears, but all she could say was, ‘Lord of my life!’ Her lips could not emit another word. Sarandha, always ready to die for honour, now became powerless like an ordinary woman, but in some ways this weakness is the beauty of womankind.

  Champat Rai said, ‘Saran, look, one of our heroes has fallen to the earth. Alas! The disaster I dreaded all my life has befallen me in my last moments. The enemies will lay hands on your tender body before my eyes, and I will not be able to move. Alas! Death, when will you come?’ As he spoke, a thought came to him. He reached for his sword, but his hands had lost their strength. Then he said to Sarandha, ‘Beloved, you have saved my honour on so many occasions.’

  When she heard this, the blood rushed back into Sarandha’s withered face. Her tears dried up. The hope of being of some service to her husband filled her heart with renewed strength. Looking at the king in a way that inspired confidence, she said, ‘If God wills, I will do so until I die.’

  She thought the king was indicating that she should give up her life.

  Sarandha picked up the sword, put it against her breast, and said, ‘This is not because of your orders. My heartfelt wish is that when I die my head should lie at your lotus feet.’

  The king said, ‘You haven’t understood my meaning. Do you want to leave me in the enemies’ hands to be bound in fetters and mocked in the streets of Delhi?’

  The queen looked enquiringly at him. She still did not understand him.

  Raja: ‘I’m asking a boon of you.’

  Rani: ‘Most willingly.’

  Raja: ‘This is my last prayer. Will you do as I say?’

  Rani: ‘I will.’

  Raja: ‘You have promised. Don’t refuse now.’

  Rani (trembling): ‘I’m waiting to obey you.’

  Rani: ‘Run your sword into my breast.’

  The Rani felt as if a thunderbolt had hit her. She said, ‘Lord of my life!’ She could not speak further. Despair filled her eyes.

  Raja: ‘I don’t want to live to wear fetters.’

  Rani: ‘How can I do this?’

  The fifth and last soldier fell to the ground. The Raja said, angered, ‘So much for your proud talk of preserving honour!’

  The emperor’s soldiers leapt towards the Raja. He looked at the Rani with despairing eyes. The Rani stood undecided for a moment, but our decisive powers grow stronger in critical moments. The soldiers were about to seize the Raja, when Sarandha darted forward like lightning and ran her sword through his heart.

  The boat of love sank into the ocean of love. Blood flowed from the Raja’s heart but there was peace on his face.

  What a heart! The woman who would give her life for her husband has taken his life today. Sarandha’s sword has pierced the heart that she embraced when she enjoyed the pleasures of youth, the heart that was the centre of her desires, that which nourished her pride. Has any woman’s sword ever done such a deed?

  Ah! What a sorrowful end to self-respect! Such incidents of self-respect are not found even in the annals of Marwar and Udaipur.

  The emperor’s soldiers were astounded by Sarandha’s courage and endurance.

  Their chief stepped forward and said, ‘Rani Sahiba, as God is our witness, all of us are your slaves. We will obey your orders with alacrity.’

  Sarandha said, ‘If any of our sons survives, give him these two bodies.’

  So saying, she ran the same sword into her own breast. When she fell lifeless to the earth, her head was on Raja Champat Rai’s breast.

  The Farce of Brahm

  THE WIFE

  I REALLY AM ILL-FATED, OTHERWISE WHY WOULD I HAVE TO WITNESS such disgusting scenes all the time? It’s bad enough that I have to see them, but unfortunately they have now become part of my life. I am the daughter of a highly esteemed Brahman, whose decisions on important and profound religious issues were considered sacrosanct. At home, I don’t remember our ever having put even a drop of water in our mouths without having first bathed and worshipped the gods. Once, I had a high fever and had to drink my medicine without a bath and puja; I regretted that for months. The washerman could not set foot in our house. The Chamar woman could not sit in the veranda.

  But once I arrived here, I became part of a corrupt universe. My husband is very compassionate, moral, and a very competent man. My father favoured him on account of these virtues. But my father didn’t know that these people are followers of an unclean path. Let alone evening prayers and worship, no one here even bathes regularly. Muslims, Christians, all come and go in the sitting room, and my husband sits in that room, happily drinking water, milk and tea. He even eats sweets there. Just yesterday, I saw him drinking lemonade. The groom, who is a Chamar, comes freely right into the house. I’ve heard that my husband goes to feasts at his Muslim friends’ houses.

  I can’t bear to witness this. My whole being brims with loathing. When he comes to me, smiling, takes my hand, and seats me beside him, I wish that the earth would split open and swallow me up. Oh Hindu race! Have you made slavery to man the primary duty of a woman’s life? Our opinions, our principles, even our religion have no value at all.

  Now I can’t bear it any longer. I want to end this state of affairs today. I’ll get out of this demonic trap. I have resolved to take refuge with my father. Today, there is an intercommunity feast here. My husband is not only participating but is one of the main organizers. It is thanks to his industry and inspiration that this irreligious atrocity is being perpetrated. People of all castes are sitting together and eating. I have heard that Muslims too are sitting with everyone else. Why don’t the skies fall? Won’t God come to earth as an incarnation to protect dharma? Brahmans do not even eat food cooked by other Brahmans apart from their very close associates; here, this great community has fallen to such depths that they are not in the least ashamed to sit and eat with Kayasthas, Banias and Muslims, and, on the contrary, are proud of doing so as a sign of unity.

  THE HUSBAND

  When will that auspicious day dawn when women of this country will be enlightened and will help men in national organizing? How long will we remain trapped in the machinations of Brahmans? When will our marriage system acknowledge that compatibility and uniformity of opinions between a man and woman are much more important than caste and clan? If this were acknowledged, I would not be Vrinda’s husband and she would not be my wife. Our thoughts are as far apart as earth and heaven. Although she does not say so explicitly, I am sure that she is disgusted by my way of thinking. I sense that she does not even want to touch me. This is not her fault; it is the fault of our parents who have done us this great injustice.

  Yesterday, Vrinda opened up. Several of my friends had proposed an intercommunity feast, and I happily endorsed the proposal. After many days of debate, some select gentlemen finally organized the meal yesterday. There were only four respectable Brahmans apart from myself, and the rest were people of other castes. This open-mindedness was intolerable to Vrinda. When I returned after the meal, she seemed upset, as if somebody had hurt her deeply. Looking at me with distressed eyes, she said, ‘Now the doors of heaven must surely have opened!’

  These harsh words struck my heart like an arrow. I grew tense and said, ‘Only those who are crippled, undutiful and lifeless worry about heaven and hell. My heaven and hell are both on this earth. I want to achieve something in this field of action here and now.’

  Vrinda: ‘Blessed are your manly endeavours! From today, happiness and peace will reign in the world. You have uplifted the world. What greater benefit can it receive than this?’

  I said irritably, ‘God has not given you the wits to understand this issue, so how can I explain it to you? Even the stupidest man can understand how these distinctions among us have harmed our nation. No one doubts that eliminating this discrimination will benefit the country. However, there are those who know the truth but want to deny it.’

  Vrinda: ‘Can’t there be mutual love without eating together?’

  I thought
it useless to enter this discussion. I felt the need to take refuge in a principle that was beyond debate. Vrinda is very religious, so I decided to defeat her with her own sacred texts. I said gravely, ‘It may not be impossible but it is certainly difficult. But think, how great an injustice it is that we who are all children of one father are disgusted by one another, and are busy upholding systems of high and low. This whole universe is the mighty form of that one God. That God’s light illuminates every creature. Only this physical form separates us from one another. In reality, we are all one. Just as the sun’s light does not become different when it goes into different homes, in the same way, God’s great spirit does not become different when it enters different living beings.’

  This shower of reasoning flooded Vrinda’s dry heart. She listened to me, rapt. When I fell silent, she looked at me with devotion and began to cry.

  THE WIFE

  My husband taught me wisdom which awakened me; I was lying in a dark well. This teaching lifted me up and took me to the radiant peak of the mountain. I have dishonoured so many spirits with my ideas of my high family origins, my false pride, my arrogance about my pure caste! Great father, forgive me, forgive the harsh words that I, because of this ignorance, have uttered to my husband at whose feet I should worship, and forgive the disrespect I have shown him!