by Ranjit Desai
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One relentless campaign after another had taken a toll on Shivaji’s health and the royal physician insisted he slow down a little. He decided to rest at Harihareshwar, a beautiful place by the seaside. He recovered from his fever but the weakness remained. After a few weeks, he returned to Rajgad. The queens too rushed from Pune to Rajgad. One day, Aurangzeb’s messenger arrived. Aurgangzeb had decided to move to Delhi and written, ‘You are hereby requested to meet me as soon as possible. If you are unable to present yourself, you may send your Diwan Shamrao Nilkanth along with your troops. I will capture Delhi and in return make you wealthier than you would have ever imagined.’
Shivaji’s advisors thought that it was a golden opportunity. After all, the mighty Aurangzeb had personally asked for help.
Shivaji only smiled and said, ‘I don’t think that we should support the Mughals in their fights. I am not in favour of extending any help to Aurangzeb.’
Shivaji’s inability to help was conveyed to Aurangzeb and he was quite expectedly annoyed. But he did not have the time to exact revenge—it would have to wait for some other day. He had a task at hand—dislodging his father and taking charge of Delhi.
Aurangzeb reached Agra and within three months, he had put his father in jail. He managed to kill his brothers and occupy the Delhi throne, being crowned the Mughal emperor. Shivaji did not want him to continue his enmity and sent his messenger Sonopant to Delhi to welcome the new emperor.
Jijabai said, ‘I think you have managed to stall the enemy.’
‘I don’t think so, Maa saheb. He is not going to forget the insult so easily. He is a cunning politician. He would act as if he had forgiven the past and I am fine with it for the moment. I am not worried of him right now but …’
‘What are you worried about?’
‘There are ominous murmurs of revenge in the Bijapur court. I don’t know when they will show their true colours. Their commander-in-chief, the erstwhile Subedar of Wai, is itching to find a reason to attack us.’
However, at that point, Shivaji could not afford to think of Afzal Khan as his mind was preoccupied with Sai’s health, which had been steadily deteriorating ever since the birth of Sambhaji. Shivaji decided to move her to Pratapgad for recuperation.
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Badi Saheba sat in her durbar, fuming with anger. She wanted the Maratha menace to end. Shivaji had managed to capture their forts, taken charge of the harbour, attacked many provinces, looted the Kalyan treasury while Bijapur had sat and merely watched—she could tolerate no more. A tray with the traditional paan kept in the hall was ready for a brave commander, who would dare to take the challenge. Anyone who picked up the paan, and hence taken up the challenge, would lead the campaign against Shivaji.
The Bijapur court had able commanders like Ankush Khan, Rustam Zaman, Yakut Khan, Siddi Hilal and other loyal ones like Baji Ghorpade, Mambaji Bhosale and others. They were all silent and looked down on the floor at the carpet. They did not dare to meet Badi Begum’s angry glare.
She thundered, ‘Usne azmat-e-shahi ko lalkara hai. He has challenged the might of Bijapur. We need to defeat him for the sake of our religion and our kingdom. The royal durbar is looking for a brave volunteer to step forward.’
She scanned those present in the durbar and her voice boomed again, ‘Is there a man among you who is ready to stake his life for the protection of our kingdom?’
Everyone was silent. They continued to look down when suddenly Afzal Khan walked confidently towards the throne. He was a hugely built man. There was a sort of brutish arrogance as he walked, his eyes confident as he came and stood in front of the throne. His left hand held the sword’s handle. He bent low in salute and then looked at those assembled in the court with contempt and said, ‘Jille Subhani, I am at your service. I am itching to kill enemies of the state, so please tell me who I should destroy.’
‘Shivaji … the rebel of the Deccan!’
Khan smiled and said, ‘Is that all? I am surprised that there is no one here who can fight against him. Begum Huzoor, I will take care of that scoundrel Shivaji. Who is this Maratha rat anyway? I will drag him to this court soon!’ and he picked up the paan from the royal tray.
The crowd erupted with cries of ‘Subhanallah, Subhanallah!’ Badi Begum then gave her jewel-encrusted sword to Afzal Khan as a token of appreciation.
Khan had the support of many sardars and his son Fazal Khan. His two younger sons were also part of the force. Soon, a huge army was being readied and it lumbered its way towards the Maratha Swaraj. The zenana khana consisted of many palanquins and elephants pulled heavy cannons while the green Adil Shahi flag fluttered from the howdah on the lead elephant. The entire contingent marched in the hot, dusty summer and they had only one objective: Shivaji.
They had moved barely a few miles from Bijapur when Khan indicated that they should camp. He assembled all the sardars in his tent that night. His mediator, Krishnaji Bhaskar, stood near him. Khan looked at the assembly and said, ‘I don’t want to reach Shivaji by the shortest way possible. We will go via Tuljapur, Pandharpur and then reach Wai.’
‘Please pardon my interruption but why choose a long route to a short one?’ Krishnaji Bhaskar asked, wondering why Khan would choose such a circuitous route.
Afzal Khan smiled and moving his hand over his beard, he looked at Krishnaji Bhaskar. He said, ‘I am not sure when the rains will start. This contingent is huge. We don’t want to get stuck in rains. The route via Pandharpur is dry.’
Everyone nodded in agreement while Khan avoided revealing his actual plan. The next day they marched towards Tuljapur, which was nestled amidst the hills, and one could see the golden spire of the Bhawani temple from a distance. The people of Tuljapur got the news of Khan’s imminent arrival and ran helter-skelter. The contingent reached the town and Khan got down from his elephant, surfing the area. He asked, ‘The Hindus consider this a sacred place, don’t they?’
Krishnaji Bhaskar read his mind and said, his hands folded, ‘Khan saheb, we Hindus consider this sacred. It is akin to Mecca.’
‘Silence! How dare you compare Mecca with the Tulja of these Kaffirs, these non-believers? Isn’t this the favourite deity of that rat Shivaji?’
‘Yes, sir. I am afraid that our Hindu sardars would be quite upset if you destroy their sacred place.’ Krishnaji tried another tactic.
Khan roared back, ‘Does anyone have the strength to oppose me? I shall behead anyone who does. Krishnaji, I am the Subedar of Wai. I did not touch a single temple there and that was my mistake. This Shivaji has become too big for his boots and all the Kaffirs have joined him. Let them know that Khan is an annihilator of the ungrateful and the treacherous. He is an idol breaker by breed and a killer of killers!’
Afzal Khan had shown his true colours. He was, after all, a follower of Islam, a destroyer of Kaffirs. He pointed towards the temple and shouted, ‘Destroy! Loot the town!’
The troops attacked the town with the shouts of ‘Deen! Deen!’ Within a few hours, the town had been razed to the ground. Khan reached the temple and walked in with slow, deliberate steps. The priests fell at his feet, begging for mercy, but he brushed them off. He was looking at the deity. There were a few statues in the way and he broke them with his sword. He reached the sanctum sanctorum and stared at the Goddess. The Tuljapur Bhawani stood in Her pristine glory with Her eight hands. The Mahishasur lay at feet pierced by a spear from one of Her hands. Khan laughed out loud and his booming voice rang across the silent temple. He shouted, ‘Ei But-e-Kafran! Batao teri karamaat! Batao teri azmaat! Show me your prowess, you Goddess of the natives. Let me see your prowess.’
He raised his hands and in one fell swoop, his sword fell on the deity. The idol broke into pieces and Khan’s laughter could be heard with each blow. The temple was looted and Khan slaughtered a cow in front of the temple. His anger had subsided for the time being. He had managed to destroy Shivaji’s favourite deity. He had but one objective in mind now: Pandharpur!
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Shivaji was camped at the base of Rajgad in a village called Shivapattan that he had created himself. He had sent Saibai, along with Jijabai, to Pratapgad for a change of weather with the hope that it would improve her health. Since there was no change in her health, Shivaji moved her to the haveli in Shivapattan. Sambhaji was growing up fast and constantly ran around the haveli. Saibai was unable to move from her bed due to acute weakness, ever since her illness after the delivery.
Shivaji sat near Sai’s bed. He stood up as Jijabai entered the room followed by two maids. They performed the traditional sign to ward off the evil eye and put a tilak on Sai’s forehead.
Jijabai said, ‘I have got some prasad from Shingnapur. Let us hope that the Lord’s blessings bring back her health.’
Shivaji was silent. Jijabai asked, ‘Any news about Khan?’
‘He has left Bijapur,’ he said.
‘I believe you called for Firangoji?’
‘Has he arrived?’
‘He came in a while ago. You were here in Sai’s room, so I did not send for you.’
Shivaji stepped out to see Firangoji playing with the young Shambhu. Tanaji, Raghunathpant and some others had also come with Firangoji.
Shivaji sat on a chair when Firangoji asked, ‘Raje, you have called us for a special meeting?’
‘It is only during emergencies and crises that we remember our dearest ones, don’t we?’
‘So what is the crisis, Raje?’
‘Afzal Khan has left Bijapur. He is marching here,’ growled Mankoji.
‘What for?’ Firangoji asked.
‘For the wedding invitation you sent!’ taunted Mankoji.
Shivaji smiled and said, ‘Mankoji, Firangoji is a simple man. He does not like such taunts. Firangoji, Afzal Khan is marching to attack us. He has a cavalry of ten thousand and an equal number of foot soldiers.’
Firangoji brushed his bushy moustache with his left wrist and said, ‘Let him know we are waiting. He can do us no harm.’
‘We need to have a plan in place. Let us not get carried away.’
At that moment, a servant announced the arrival of Vishwasrao, the head of intelligence.
Jijabai entered the room with Vishwasrao. She asked, ‘Vishwasrao, do you have any good news?’
He did not reply and kept looking at the floor.
Shivaji asked, ‘What happened?’
‘Maharaj, Khan took a circuitous route and reached Tuljapur.’
‘Tuljapur?’ exclaimed Maa saheb.
‘Yes. He looted the town and destroyed the Bhawani temple.’
Jijabai had tears in her eyes. A shiver went through Shivaji’s body. His eyes were red with anger and he said, ‘Vishwasrao, Khan has destroyed our family deity. We shall not spare him.’
Vishwasrao said, ‘Maharaj, he has turned towards Pandharpur now.’
Jijabai muttered, ‘He doesn’t seem to have completed his quota of sins yet.’
‘We cannot have any dialogue with a person who destroyed our family deity,’ Firangoji said.
‘Well said, Firangoji. We shall find a way to tackle this Khan.’ Turning towards Vishwasrao he said, ‘Keep us posted about his movements. I am sure he will camp at Wai—he is the Subedar of Wai. Place your sanyasis, fakirs, beggars and other spies all along the route. If he is on a recruitment drive, then put your men in his ranks. I want to know of each and every step he takes.’
Vishwasrao saluted and left. Jijabai had a worried look on her face.
Shivaji said, ‘It is our good fortune that he is coming at a wrong time for us.’
Everyone looked askance at Shivaji’s comment.
He clarified, ‘Nature will help us this time. He will camp at Wai just as it starts raining. It will give us enough time to prepare and by the time the monsoon ends, we shall be ready. Firangoji, I want you to ensure that the Chakan Fort is well prepared. I want to ensure that all our forts are ready for attack.’
The next day, Shivaji moved from Shivapattan to Rajgad. He was receiving regular news about Khan’s movements and soon, within a month, he got the news he feared the most—Khan had destroyed the temple at Pandharpur.
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There was a general sense of disquiet everywhere and Shivaji’s sardars were busy gathering their troops at their forts and the forts themselves were being fortified.
One afternoon, Kanhoji Jedhe reached the fort with his five sons. Shivaji wondered why he had arrived with all his sons. Shivaji asked, ‘You must be drenched and uncomfortable in the rains.’
‘When the mind is uncomfortable, who cares for clothes, Raje?’
‘Why, what happened?’
Jedhe stretched his hand holding a royal farman. He said, ‘I have received the Shahi farman. That is why I had to come here.’
Raje said, looking at the farman, ‘Read it out aloud.’
The farman read, ‘After the death of Sultan Muhammad Badshah, Ali Adil Shah is now the Badshah of Bijapur. This farman has been written for Kanhoji Jedhe and his family.
‘Shivaji has captured many forts and tortured the Muslim citizens under the patronage of Bijapur. We have thus commanded the Subedar of Wai, Afzal Khan, to teach him a lesson. You are ordered to join forces with Afzal Khan. You are hereby asked not to extend any support or patronage to Shivaji’s forces. You are asked to destroy Shivaji. You will be rewarded well for your efforts and will be suitably honoured. Please treat this as an order and implement it with immediate effect.’
The silence in the courtyard was complete. No one said anything.
Shivaji said, ‘Kanhoji, it is a nicely worded order. One does not hear such eloquent farmans these days.’
‘Raje, I am worried sick and you are praising the wording of the farman?’ Kanhoji said.
Shivaji said, looking at Jijabai, ‘Isn’t it clear from the farman that I have no future? One cannot be expected to jump on to a leaking boat, no?’
‘Raje,’ Firangoji appealed. ‘Does that mean we should join Khan’s forces?’
‘I cannot ask you to jump into the valley of death with me. Saving one’s life is not a crime.’
‘Raje, what are you saying?’
‘I am not saying anything new. Your neighbours Khandoji Khopade, Deshmukhs like Jadgale Deshmukh, as well as Utravalikar have done the same.’
Shivaji clarified, ‘You may not know but let me tell you; they too received such Shahi farmans and they have joined forces with Khan.’
‘Raje, just because they are disloyal does not mean I will follow suit. There is a God up there, watching us.’
‘Who is afraid of the Lord?’ Raje said in an anguished tone, ‘Our deity Bhawani at Tuljapur has been destroyed and now Khan has despoiled Vithoba at Pandharpur. But has that stopped anyone from joining him? Look at Baji Ghorpade, Pandhare Naik, Kalyanji Yadav, Zunzarrao Ghatge, Prataprao More and my own step-uncle, Mambajirao Bhosale! Aren’t they our own family? But they have not bothered to support our religion. I suggest you save your life. You can save your province too.’
Shivaji’s words pierced Jedhe’s heart. He said, ‘Raje, I have served under the elder Maharaj. I can never be disloyal to him.’
‘Jedhe, I am young and many call my dream childish. I do not wish that you join this game.’
‘Raje, this Maratha cares nothing for his life. When I received the farman, I told my sons that we need to go and meet you. I have not bothered about my province or any other thing—I don’t care if I don’t have it anymore.’
He bent down to touch Shivaji’s feet. Shivaji hugged him tightly and said, ‘Jedhe, I am blessed to have a friend like you. I was hoping that you would come to my aid but did not want to put you in an awkward position.’
‘Raje, what is your command?’
‘I am going to give you a big task. I want you to gather all the Deshmukhs together. But ensure that they understand the real situation.’
‘Consider it done. I will leave right away.’
Maa saheb said, ‘Wait! You h
ave come with your sons. Why don’t you stay back for a night?’
‘Maa saheb, I consider this my own house, but right now I have a job to do. Please allow me to start right away.’
He saluted and took his leave from Shivaji and Jijabai.
Soon, the spies brought the news that Bajaji Nimbalkar had been captured by Afzal Khan. Bajaji had not done any wrong except that he had reconverted to the Hindu religion. Khan had threatened to crush Bajaji under an elephant’s feet. Shivaji’s daughter Sakhubai was married to Bajaji’s son.
Saibai was worried sick hearing the news and her health deteriorated again. She said, ‘I cannot ask you to do anything more for my brother. You have already done so much.’
‘Sai, you don’t have to say this. Bajaji is your brother and our Sakhu is now a part of their family. I promise you, I will take care of him.’
‘Will you really?’ Sai asked.
‘Yes, but on one condition—you have to stop crying.’
She immediately wiped her tears and Shivaji paced the room, wondering how he would fulfil his promise.
Soon, he sent a message to Pandhare Naik, a loyal sardar of Shahaji, who managed to convince Khan to release Bajaji in exchange for sixty thousand coins. Bajaji narrowly escaped a horrible death and Shivaji was relieved that he had managed to keep his promise to Saibai.
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Rajgad was filling with different sardars who arrived every day. The work progressed in earnest, the pouring rains notwithstanding. Baji Prabhu Deshpande presented himself to Shivaji who asked him, ‘Baji, is Mohangad ready?’
When the news of Khan leaving Bijapur had reached Shivaji, he had given orders to fortify Mohangad and the task was being handled under the supervision of Baji.
Baji Prabhu said, ‘It is ready, Raje. You need not worry.’
The rains stopped for a while and Shivaji took the opportunity to place a cannon at Sanjivini Point at Rajgad. It was a strategic point and a cannon there would ensure that the enemy would be truly repulsed. Shivaji was personally supervising the work when one of the wheels of the cart carrying the cannon got stuck in the mud. The cart did not move an inch despite much pushing and pulling. Baji Prabhu, Tanaji, Sambhaji Kavji and some others were watching from a distance. Sambhaji, rolling up his sleeves, advanced towards the cart when Yesaji said, ‘What are you up to, Sambhaji?’
