Shivaji

by Ranjit Desai

  The East India Company, on the other hand, continued to make demands for Shivaji to release their men captured in Rajapur. Shivaji had released Revington earlier due to bad health but he did not survive very long, and three Englishmen had died in captivity. Shivaji decided to release the rest as he believed that the English had learned their lesson.

  That summer, Raje received news that Netaji Palkar was wounded in a clash with Namdar Khan.

  ‘They met near Supe,’ Moropant explained. ‘Netaji fought bravely but it was of no use. He had to retreat while Sarfaraj Khan and Namdar Khan chased him and managed to capture three hundred horses.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He is arriving here in a palanquin.’

  Sounding exasperated, Shivaji exclaimed, ‘What do I do with this man! He has a mad streak of bravado in him and does not think twice before attacking.’

  The physician came in and gave his diagnosis—though he had lost a lot of blood, Netaji would be fine.

  Shivaji went to see Netaji the next day. Seeing Raje, Netaji tried to get up. Shivaji rushed forward and held his arm saying, ‘You are not supposed to move!’

  Netaji had tears in his eyes. Shivaji gently wiped the tears and said, ‘Kaka, you are my Senapati! Tears do not suit you. You lost some horses and had to retreat. Why do you feel so bad? I have said this often: I am not enamoured by victory or defeat. What I admire is the perseverance. You have shown this quality and that’s enough!’

  Even though Shivaji had managed to reassure Netaji he knew that the defeat was difficult to swallow. There was enormous strain on the army. On top of it, the spies got the news that the people at Kondana were likely to stage a revolt. It had been more than three years since Shivaji had managed to rout the Mughals anywhere effectively. And thus, Shivaji’s thirty-third birthday was celebrated amidst such worries.

  A few weeks later, it was Gudi Padwa, the Marathi New Year, and Rajgad was decorated all over with traditional gudis. They shone brightly against the sky, bright cloths fluttering in the wind. Jijabai called Raje for the puja. While sprinkling the traditional rice, he wiped his eyes.

  Jijabai asked, ‘What is the matter, Raje?’

  ‘I was remembering someone.’

  ‘Who were you thinking of?’

  ‘Who else could I be thinking of now? Thanks to my weakness, my subjects are roaming homeless in the forests. I wonder how they would be celebrating Gudi Padwa today.’

  He got up and, without speaking another word, returned to his quarters.

  #

  ‘Maa saheb is talking to someone called Gyanu. She asked you to come meet him as well.’

  Raje had just finished his puja and entered his chamber when Soyarabai came looking for him. He said, ‘Gyanu the gardener? You should have told me sooner!’ He left without waiting for answer, leaving Soyarabai astonished.

  As Raje entered Jijabai’s chamber, Gyanu rushed forward to touch his feet. Shivaji asked, ‘Gyanu, what brings you here today?’

  ‘Maharaj, we can leave only when we are thrown out of our jobs. Otherwise, we are prisoners.’

  ‘Prisoners? What are you saying, Gyanu?’

  ‘I am still a gardener in the Pune palace, but I cannot leave the palace without asking for permission.’

  ‘Then how did you manage to come here?’

  ‘I told them that my child was unwell and I had to see him. I had to meet you. My Raje may have forgotten me but how I can I forget him?’

  Gyanu was an old man, nearly sixty years old, but he stood ramrod straight.

  Shivaji asked, ‘Gyanu, how is your garden?’

  ‘Raje, Khan has despoiled the palace completely. Do you remember the puja room? Khan sits there and eats whatever he wants! He has converted your quarters into his harem. The mogra flowers meant for the Lord are being used to decorate the concubines. In place of shlokas, one hears dancing and songs now. Raje, Pune has lost its glory.’

  Raje was visibly disturbed. He merely said, ‘Each dog has its day, Gyanu.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Raje. All of Pune has been turned into a cantonment. We do not see our own men anymore. Beef is being taken into the palace—right in front of the Ganesha temple! What can a man do when he sees such blasphemous acts? I could not watch it anymore and that’s why I came here. I hope you don’t mind my bluntness.’

  ‘Gyanu, I understand how you feel, and I am sure we will find a way out.’

  ‘My lord, we cannot wait for these things to happen on their own. Rise up and finish off Shaista Khan. He is not an elephant—he is a lazy, fat bull. Catch him by the horns and kill him.’

  Shivaji, looking at Gyanu as if he had heard some secret, said, ‘Come, Gyanu. Let us go and speak in my quarters.’

  They sat alone together for a long time. When Shivaji left his chambers in the afternoon, he had a strange glint in his eyes. Gyanu the gardener returned to Pune that evening.

  #

  Two months had passed since then. Netaji Palkar had recovered and was able to walk now. Shivaji’s spies sent regular updates from Pune regarding the timings of the change of the guards at Lal Mahal, the number of soldiers deputed on patrol and other such details. While Raje did not discuss his plans, everyone knew that something big was being planned.

  A month before Dussehra, Firangoji came in to make his report.

  ‘Firangoji, what is the news?’ Shivaji asked.

  ‘The day fixed is for ashtami. The daughter of the havaldar of Pune is getting married.’

  ‘Shivba! What is going on? What marriage are you talking about?’ Jijabai asked.

  Shivaji smiled but was silent.

  Turning to Firangoji, Jijabai said, ‘Raje does not answer my questions these days. He is detached and preoccupied, only going around the fort with his men and talking to them for hours. I see the spies coming in every day but Raje does not tell me anything. I am not privy …’

  ‘You are exaggerating, Maa saheb,’ Raje said, smiling. ‘I will tell you the moment I finalize something.’

  ‘What plans?’

  ‘I have decided to attack the Lal Mahal Palace.’

  ‘Lal Mahal?’ Jijabai asked. ‘With the entire city of Pune full of Khan’s men?’

  ‘That might be so,’ Raje said, ‘but we are not going to attack the city. We are going to attack Khan.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘It is possible, Maa saheb, with your blessings. I have realized that Khan sends his sardars out of town on campaigns but does not himself step out of Pune. Even when I routed Mahabat Khan, Shaista Khan did not step out to take revenge. He has rendered scores of our people homeless, who are now forced to roam around in jungles. And other people like Sambhaji Kavji have fallen prey to the lure of riches and have joined forces with him.’

  ‘And so you have decided to go down this route?’

  ‘There is no other choice! I defeated Kahar Talab Khan and Namdar Khan with no effect on Khan. Each passing day is adding to our losses, and it won’t be long before we lose Konkan.’

  After a pause, he continued, ‘Khan would never dream of entering Lal Mahal. If I kill Khan, his troops will run for their lives, and we will get back what we lost.’

  Jijabai was lost in thought.

  Shivaji said, pleading for her approval, ‘Maa saheb, do you not agree?’

  ‘Raje, I am not against the idea, but the thought of you entering the palace, amidst all the soldiers, is very disturbing.’

  ‘Why do you think I will be alone? I will have Tanaji, Firangoji, Sarjerao and my guards.’

  Jijabai smiled. ‘Raje, don’t try to pacify me. With more than a lakh soldiers in the Pune cantonment, the idea of storming the palace to kill Khan sounds ludicrous.’

  Firangoji said, ‘Maa saheb, we are willing to take the risk but Raje is not convinced. He wants to lead the attack himself.’

  ‘Maa saheb,’ Shivaji said, continuing his argument, ‘no one knows Lal Mahal better than me. No one else can do this job. I was blessed by th
e Devi in my dreams and I have no doubt that I will return victorious.’

  Jijabai took a deep breath and said, ‘Raje, I am convinced that you will accomplish whatever you have put your mind to, but the mother in me is always afraid. I won’t stand in your way but remember—I will be waiting for you.’

  Raje said, his voice choked with emotion, ‘Maa saheb, I understand how you feel—a mother always grabs a child in fear instinctively. But very rarely does one have the good fortune of having a mother who supports her child, despite the dangers in fulfilling one’s duty. I am blessed to have been born to you.’

  Taking a pause, Shivaji continued with renewed confidence, ‘I will enter Pune on ashtami, after a brief halt at Kondana.’

  ‘But what about Ram Navami?’

  ‘I will celebrate the victory at Kondana that day. Maa saheb, the month of Ramadan is also beginning. The fasting soldiers will be tired and sleepy in the night after their dinner. The guards will be relaxed.’

  Firangoji exclaimed, ‘Raje, we never thought of this!’

  ‘It is not enough to think of the strength of your troops when attacking an enemy. We need to take into account festivals, traditions and the other nuances of the enemy’s culture. If someone makes the mistake of attacking a Maratha during Dussehra, he should not be surprised if he is repulsed strongly!’

  There was no time to lose now, and Shivaji got busy finalizing the plans for the attack.

  #

  It was Panchami in March, when Raje took Jijabai’s blessings and marched from Rajgad towards Kondana. The sun burnt fiercely and not a leaf stirred. The horses frothed at the mouth, with the exhaustion of the long march adding to their thirst. Raje was accompanied by Netaji, Firangoji, Balaji, Chimnaji and Moropant. The men were not aware of the intricate details of the plan except for the fact that they were on an important mission, and Tanaji and Yesaji waited with their men at Kondana.

  The moment they reached Kondana, each man was given his specific responsibilities and tasks to carry out. Raje opened the discussion with his plans for attacking Khan. Only Firangoji was aware of the plan in advance, and everyone was excited on hearing the plan.

  Tanaji said, ‘Maharaj! It is a wonderful plan! This old man has been getting bored just sitting here!’

  ‘Khan would not even dream that we would plan such a thing,’ Balaji commented.

  ‘I agree, Balaji, and it is not an easy task. Even if one person fails or hesitates, each one of us will die. Tanaji!’

  ‘Ji, Maharaj?’

  ‘You leave tomorrow. Keep your men ready to be part of a marriage procession at Katraj. You have to enter Pune in the afternoon with the requisite pomp and show, and Mahadev will be with you. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Yesaji, you have to enter the city with the carts before nightfall. If you are questioned, you should answer saying you are bringing carts with hay. Vithoji?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Keep a hundred bullocks ready in the valley with torches tied to their horns. The moment you hear the trumpets at midnight, light the torches and move towards the fort.’

  ‘Maharaj, what about you?’ asked Firangoji.

  ‘Moropant and Netaji will wait with their men at the designated place, and Sarjerao Jedhe, Balaji and Chimnaji will accompany me.’

  Balaji and Chimnaji were thrilled on hearing that they would be accompanying Raje.

  ‘Balaji and Chimnaji, you are my childhood friends and we grew up together in Lal Mahal. No one else knows the palace as well as we do. Firangoji, you need to hold fort here, is that understood?’

  Firangoji was upset at not being a part of the action at Lal Mahal. He nodded half-heartedly and replied, ‘Yes, Maharaj.’

  ‘There is no need to be upset, Firangoji. When I return, I expect Khan’s men to be in pursuit. Keep your men ready—along with the cannons, they will be a great help.’

  Raje had meticulously planned the entry of all the men and how they were to introduce themselves if questioned. The excitement among the Marathas was palpable.

  The next day, the marriage procession reached the checkpoint at Katraj. A groom was sitting astride a horse while a hundred-odd men danced to the beat of drums. They had swords at their waists and were enjoying the festivities. The guards, after a cursory glance at the procession, waved them in.

  At the same time, a group of horsemen entered Pune from the other side of the river. The guards challenged them and asked, ‘Who goes there?’

  ‘We are Jadhav’s men. We are returning after some reconnaissance.’

  Jadhav’s camp was on the other side of the town and the horsemen were allowed to enter the city without further questioning. At two o’clock in the afternoon, a few bullock carts arrived at the Katraj checkpoint. The carts were loaded with hay, and a few horsemen escorted the carts. On seeing the guards enquiring, the havaldar shouted from his cabin, ‘Can’t you see they are carrying hay? Let them in and don’t waste your time!’

  The carts entered the gates without any obstacles and the same scene was played out with the guards at the Kota gate. No one suspected anything.

  Shivaji sat in a small hut in the woods close to the Katraj checkpoint. He could see the dense forests spread all over. Shivaji was accompanied by Ibrahim Khan, a Pathan, and his men. They were a part of the plan to raid Shaista Khan. The Pathans, accompanying Raje, were tall and handsome and were a formidable presence. The forest was quiet in the hot sun—the birds too were quiet that afternoon. From afar, the deep call of a Bharadwaj bird pierced the silence.

  Clouds were gathering on the eastern horizon. A light wind started blowing, soon increasing in intensity and the call of the peacocks could be heard. Suddenly, the winds turned cold and flashes of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the ground for a few moments. Without warning, there was a shower of hail stones.

  Shivaji, watching the dance of nature, said, ‘This storm reminds me of the night I was fighting Rustam Zaman at Kolhapur. All you could hear were the rumbling of the cannons, the clanging of the swords, the raining of bullets from the guns and the continuous beat of the horse hooves.’

  After a while, the rains stopped. The thunder continued and the lightning flashed occasionally. Mahadev came in and reported, ‘Everything is going as per plan. No one has been stopped and they all have reached Pune.’

  Within a few minutes of the sunset, the forest was covered in darkness while flashes of lightning continued to illuminate the eastern sky intermittently. Raje put on his chest armour, wearing a long coat over it. He had his head armour on below his head gear. The Bhawani sword looked magnificent hanging on his left side while a small dagger and a knife were tied on to his right side.

  The Pathan sardar Ibrahim Khan displayed a charismatic persona, wearing a bright-red turban crowned with a diamond-studded gold leaf. He wore an embroidered long coat and equally elaborately embellished trousers. A sword and dagger were tied to the side of his waist.

  Raje said, ‘Ibrahim, you are my sardar now, and I am your servant—is that understood?’

  ‘Ji, Huzoor.’

  ‘Come on, let us go.’

  Raje said a prayer to Bhawani Mata and the horses moved in the darkness of the night. As soon as they reached the main road, Raje ordered the torches to be lit. The torches were held in long brass holders and burnt brightly in the wind. The two men holding the torches near Ibrahim Khan led the group. Soon, they reached the checkpoint.

  Ibrahim raised his hand for the troops to stop as soon as he reached the checkpoint and, with his hand on the waist, shouted at the chowkidar, ‘How many of you are here?’

  ‘Nearly fifty men, Huzoor,’ the chowkidar replied, unsure who the man on the horse was. He assumed it must be one of Shaista Khan’s important sardars returning to Pune.

  ‘Be vigilant. Understand?’

  ‘Ji, Huzoor.’

  Ibrahim spurred his horse and the men moved forward. The guards heaved a sigh of relief when the horsemen vanishe
d in the darkness ahead.

  It was late in the night when the group reached Pune. The soft light of the ashtami moon spread across the land. The guards at the gate heard the horses and came out adjusting their guns. One of the guards asked, ‘Who goes there?’

  One of Ibrahim’s men stepped forward and slapped the guard hard, shouting, ‘Badtameez! Don’t you recognize Khan saheb?’

  The other guards hastily bent in mujras and salaams. The road was now clear. Ibrahim moved forward in a casual yet dignified manner as if nothing had happened. There was silence everywhere except for the intermittent warnings of the guards parading the area. Most of the Mughal troops were tired after the day-long Ramadan fast and were fast asleep after a heavy meal.

  Any guard encountering the group would salute and mutter ‘Parwadigaar’ before moving away. The Maratha plan seemed to be working well and finally they reached the town near the Lal Mahal that was surrounded by the guards. Raje dismounted near Gyanu’s cottage and knocked on the door and it was opened immediately.

  There was a total lull in the courtyard of the palace. A few minutes ticked by.

  #

  In the garden, one of the guards asked, ‘Who goes there?’

  ‘It is me, Gyanu the gardener,’ Gyanu replied.

  The guard came forward, unaware of the danger lurking around. Mahadev, standing behind Raje, took out his dagger. There was a slight scraping noise of the dagger cutting across skin, and Gyanu quickly rushed forward to cover the guard’s mouth. There was not a sound as the guard went limp and fell to the ground.

  From the kitchen, the noise of the utensils being washed could be heard. It was the cook, busy preparing the troops’ pre-dawn meal so that they may begin their fast. Raje indicated with his finger, pointing at the kitchen, and five men stealthily entered it. The cooks were dead before they realized what had happened to them and the noise of the utensils stopped within moments.

  Gyanu came back with a ladder and pointing to a window which seemed shut, he said, ‘I have loosened the hinges. Just push it gently.’

  Raje looked at Mahadev, who climbed up the ladder and pushed the window, which opened with a loud, grating noise. Everyone stood rigid, fearing the worst. Mahadev came down and Raje indicated to Balaji and Chimnaji to move forward. They went in first, followed by Raje and the others.