A Gujarat Here, a Gujarat There

by Krishna Sobti

‘Bavasi, was your salute like this?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Darling child,’ says the Governess. ‘Your arm hung down like a sleeve. That’s what this morning’s salute looked like. This was not inside, it was outside.’

  Tej Singh was astonished.

  ‘Tell me again, Ma’am, what happened outside? The guard was outside, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Darling, the guard stood in his place on the steps. We were in the car, moving slowly. You wanted to shake hands with the guard. Knowing that we were moving, the guard stood at attention.’

  Now Tej Singh looks like he is gazing at a picture.

  Suddenly he says, ‘Now I understand. The guard was standing and we were in the car. Ma’am, the error could have been his. Not mine.’

  Tej Singh is so intent and alert regarding the morning’s salute that no one laughs or even smiles.

  After this, the Governess is upset. And she keeps quiet. Tej Singh gazes at her frown. He may be a child, but he also possesses the manner of an adult who thinks he is always right.

  The early days are exceptionally difficult for the Governess. The Australian Mrs McFarlane, being non-Indian, must have been able to exercise tight control over Tej Singh. She’d been quite a bit older, and more experienced. All this new governess has is the discipline of her own childhood as an example, and a little bit of training. Among the junior and senior mothers of the court, the Senior Ma ji Sahiba from Bikaner is forever attempting to keep the child under her own control.

  The Governess notes in her diary: His Highness keeps vomiting during our drives.

  For three days straight, Tej Singh had thrown up when they were out on their drives. What could be the reason? He eats breakfast in front of everyone. So how and why is this happening?

  The Maharaja’s Doctor Sahib looks at Bai. This never happened in Mrs McFarlane’s day. Why now? Everyone is present for his breakfast. Why is the Governess being regarded with suspicion?

  The Swaroop Vilas doctor is saying that this has never happened before.

  ‘It’s your responsibility to take care and keep a sharp eye on what His Highness is eating and what he isn’t. If you don’t, you may find yourself in trouble.’

  ‘Yes, Doctor Sahib.’

  Before lunch, the Maharaja and the Governess sit facing one another on the sofa. Between them a Meccano set.

  Suddenly, Tej Singh says, ‘Ma’am, you’re looking outside. Will you play tennis this evening, or rounders with me?’

  Ma’am has made up her mind.

  ‘Darling, I’m not even thinking about that. I’m thinking about how we can stop you from throwing up on our drives.’

  When Tej Singh hears what Ma’am has to say, he becomes busy with the Meccano set once again.

  ‘Look, Ma’am, how did I join the bridge?’

  ‘You joined it properly.’

  That night, before going to sleep, Ma’am is reading aloud a story from a book. The Maharaja is listening, watching Ma’am intently, when suddenly he says, ‘Ma’am, Ma ji Sahib must be just about to come.’

  It seems the child is not finding this story interesting!

  Ma’am checks the time on her watch.

  ‘Yes, she’ll be here in ten minutes.’

  ‘Ma’am, there’s something I have to tell you. Ma ji Sahib forbids me from telling you but I have to tell you.’

  ‘Tej Singh,’ says Ma’am sternly, ‘it’s wrong to go against Ma ji Sahib’s wishes if she has told you not to say something.’

  ‘Ma’am, you probably don’t know this, but everyone will blame you for my throwing up. As though you are making me do it.’

  Ma’am wants to know, but she says, ‘Tej Singh, if Ma ji Sahib has forbidden it, I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Ma’am, in the morning, Ma ji Sahib serves me milk with almond and cardamom. Then when I have Ovaltine at breakfast, I throw up.’

  When the jingling sound of Ma ji Sahib draws near, Tej Singh says, ‘Ma’am, let’s read the next story tomorrow.’

  Ma’am touches his hand.

  ‘Thank you, Baby.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ma’am.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  She goes back to her room and lies down on the divan with a light heart. Amazing! How has Tej Singh grown so wise, realizing that he should tell Ma’am the secret of his vomiting before she gets a warning from the Doctor Sahib? She lies there with a light heart for a long time. It seems ages since something this good has happened. She feels great affection for the boy.

  Before she goes to sleep, she writes a few lines about Tej Singh in her diary, about his tactic of helping his governess after giving no sign at all for three days.

  She smiles with fondness.

  What to call this? Refinement, or royal wisdom, or a family tradition of understanding and assessing circumstances from an early age. Amazing! All the same, it must be said that Tej Singh is still very young for such things.

  Sirohi’s Maharaja, Tej Singh’s father, was the thikanedar of Bhupal Singh Manadar. According to her status in all matters, the Senior Ma ji Sahib from Bikaner was lower in status compared to the Junior Ma ji Sahib. But the royal son so doted upon Senior Ma ji Sahib that he lit up the moment he saw her. He understood her every signal. And Senior Ma ji Sahib followed him with her eyes. She made him laugh, adored him, incited him to naughtiness. Whenever the two of them were together, waves of laughter and joy spread about the room. Junior Ma ji Sahib watched them like an outsider.

  Tej Singh’s playthings and study materials were now being assembled in the large front room. An auspicious moment had been ascertained. A date had been set for the ceremony. The Governess called the goldsmith to have a gift made to order: a silver pen and ink stand; and wrote away to a Bombay bookshop for books.

  27

  The game of rounders was finished in the cricket field directly across from the palace entryway. Taking the small cricket bat and ball from the tiny hands of His Highness, she handed them to Jaguda and everyone set out for the billiard room. Tej Singh seated himself on the tall chair of the billiard room and Jay Singh Sahib began to shoot the ball deftly to its destination.

  She was secretly amazed—she too must try her hand at this billiard table. You tap the ball and send it to your target. She’d seen a signboard for a billiard room somewhere in Connaught Place. She would never have imagined how liberating the game was if she hadn’t tried it herself. For some reason, she found it thrilling to watch the marksmanship at the billiard table.

  That night, after reading Tej Singh his story, they said goodnight, goodnight, and Ma ji Sahib entered the room. Then she went down the steps to her own room. Her nightclothes were laid out at the foot of the bed. She saw two postal envelopes on her bedside table, picked them up and went and lay down on the sofa. Mishri Bai lay dozing on the floor. First, she opened the envelope from her elder sister Raj, then the one from her friend Tara Suri in Dalhousie:

  Dear Sobti,

  I received your letter and read it several times. I still can’t believe that this country could ever break into pieces. Thank God we’re both still alive to write each other letters.

  My papa is busy morning to night with church activities. I am secretly waiting to hear who is still living. Write whenever you can. I’m also looking for work. One day I took my Pahari sandals and went down to Balun. I only sold two pairs.

  She read her sister Raj’s letter one more time. She felt anxious. If her brother-in-law was transferred to Shahjanpur, who would help Mummy look after the house? The servants, Sukhiya and Gobind, were not enough to look after so many people. She sat for a while and then called out to Mishri Bai.

  ‘Mishri Bai, could you just check the water in the bathroom? I want to wash my face and hands and change my clothes!’

  Mishri Bai picked up the clothes from the bed and climbed the few steps to the bathroom. Whenever she entered the bathroom, she felt happy. One simply couldn’t imagine a bathroom nicer than this. It had a clean design—al
l marble, with a lovely washbasin and shining mirrors on the walls. She splashed water on her face and washed it thoroughly. She had picked up a towel when she thought she heard a slight sound.

  She motioned to Mishri Bai, ‘Go look at the stairs! The doors to the stairs are closed, aren’t they?’

  Mishri Bai went and stood by the door.

  ‘Yes, Bai Sahiba,’ she said.

  She put on her night suit and went and stood by the bed.

  ‘Open the mosquito net.’

  When Mishri Bai spread open the mosquito net, she frowned.

  ‘I had said no to a coloured mosquito net. Did the farash set it up in front of you?’

  ‘Yes, Bai Sahiba.’

  ‘I forbade this in front of you and said I wanted only white.’

  ‘Yes, Bai Sahiba.’

  She picked up two or three books from the table, turned down the sheet and began flipping through Usha Devi Mitra’s novel Vachan ka Mol.

  Mishri Bai continued to stand where she was, her eyes fixed on the bed.

  ‘I’ll go ask the farash for a white mosquito net,’ she said.

  ‘No, there’s no need to go there at this time,’ she said sternly. ‘Today I’ll just go without.’

  Mishri Bai clasped her hands together and begged of her: ‘No, Bai ji, I’ll go get it right away.’

  Bai stared at Mishri Bai for a moment, then said:

  ‘No, not today, remind them tomorrow.’

  She began to flip through the pages of the old novel. Mishri Bai lay down on the floor. It looked like she’d gone to sleep.

  Just then, she thought she heard a faint knocking somewhere.

  No—it was just her, turning the pages.

  She asked Mishri Bai for some water.

  She repeated her request a couple of times—it seemed she was in a deep sleep.

  She got up from her bed, picked up the jug from the table, but then accidentally knocked the glass on to the floor.

  ‘Bai ji, is that you?’ asked Mishri Bai.

  ‘Mishri Bai, you were in a deep sleep. Wash the glass and bring it to me.’

  Mishri Bai’s eyes did not look at all sleepy after waking suddenly.

  She started, and looked around and said, ‘I have to go to the bathroom—come with me.’

  Mishri Bai lifted the glass unwillingly and walked up the steps.

  They were both just outside the bathroom when for some reason she looked up towards the door to the roof. The chain was unfastened. That meant the door into the bedroom was open.

  She blinked and motioned to Mishri Bai, Go look at the door to the upper storey.

  Mishri Bai hesitated, then climbed the steps and felt with her hand—the door panels opened smoothly. She quickly shut both panels. She came back down, picked up a shawl from the bed, threw it around her shoulders and, grabbing Mishri Bai’s hand, pushed open the bolt of the door to the outside room. When she reached the doorway, she motioned to the guard—I have to go to Senior Ma ji Sahib—‘Mishri Bai, you stay here.’ There were two soldiers standing guard outside the bedroom of the Maharaja upstairs.

  A knock on the door: Who could this be?

  Miss Sahib has come from downstairs.

  The heavy, imposing door panel opened slightly—Senior Ma ji Sahib appeared. ‘What is it, Bai?’ she asked.

  ‘Please open the door, I have something to tell you. The doors of the two storeys that go up to the roof from our wing are open. Can the Sentry Sahib please take a look at the roof?’

  As soon as the Sentry Sahib came in with them, he opened the partition and held out his hand to the bathroom—the chain was fastened from the outside. In the meantime, Jay Singh Sahib joined them upstairs.

  He listened to her concise account and said in a practised tone:

  ‘Miss Sahib, please go to sleep. The doors have been shut. The roof was cleaned during the day. Jujha Singh came late—that’s why you had to take the trouble of coming here.’ He was clearly lying.

  She said goodnight and went back downstairs to her room with Mishri Bai. She picked up her book and sat staring vacantly at the pages. In the midst of this, she looked over at Mishri Bai—she couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep.

  She had no idea when she fell asleep, and when Mishri Bai did.

  Her eyes opened in the morning when she heard the tea being poured into her cup on the tray.

  ‘Bai ji, get ready quickly today. His Highness is going away somewhere. I’ve packed everything in your suitcase. The cars are ready to go outside.’

  She emptied the cup of tea, put it back on the tray and quickly climbed the stairs to the bathroom. She put back on the same clothes she’d taken off the night before, brushed her hair and came out of the room walking smartly, purse in hand. The Maharaja and the Colonel were seated in the car. Nearby stood Sirohi’s Parsi police chief, Mr Mistri—a tall fellow. As she sat down in the car, Bai said to herself, Looks as if the danger last night was not insignificant. As the cars reached Abu Road and turned towards Mount Abu, it became clear—their destination was Swaroop Vilas, the Maharaja’s residence on Mount Abu.

  28

  One day, they arrived at the Sarneshwarji temple and took charanamrit as prasad in the presence of the Queen Mother. Then the thakurs, jagirdars, thikanedars and nagariks arrived at the summer house of the fort, and in the presence of the Queen Mother presented gifts to His Highness. Clothing and sweets were distributed amongst the children of Sirohi, and when they returned to Swaroop Vilas, Tej Singh made his first official foray into his classroom. The two mothers stood to his right and left, giggling and laughing and kissing the child again and again.

  ‘Look at this, Bavasi!’

  ‘Look at this, all these books and volumes are yours!’

  Suddenly, it seemed, she didn’t really belong amongst all this laughter and play. Very much an outsider. For her own protection, she gave herself a stern warning: Now you go in there too. Do not neglect your duty.

  ‘Ma ji Sahib, please do sit on the sofa, I have to give His Highness some instructions.’

  ‘Bai ji, let’s consider today a holiday. You can start your work from tomorrow.’

  ‘No, Ma ji Sahib, it would be most auspicious to begin today.’

  ‘Tej Singh,’ she said, turning to the Maharaja. ‘Please come here. Come to me—you’ll be standing by the door and you’ll ask me, “May I please come in?” And I’ll say, “Yes, you may come in.” And then you will enter.’

  Senior Ma ji Sahib stared and asked, ‘What is this you’re going to do? The Maharaja will ask you for permission to enter?’

  ‘Please understand, I am the Maharaja’s teacher. Please leave the task of teaching him this to me.’

  ‘No, no, Bai, listen to what we have to say.’

  ‘Please do not interfere in this manner!’

  In the midst of this, ADC Sahib and Colonel Sahib entered. Again, offerings were given.

  ‘You also sit please. I am teaching the Maharaja the rules for entering his classroom.’

  Tej Singh was suddenly excited. He stood by the door and asked:

  ‘Ma’am, may I come in, please?’

  ‘Yes, Tej Singh, do come in! Pick up your bag and take your seat.’

  A tiny leather bag.

  ‘Jay Singh Sahib, please open the bag for Tej Singh . . .’

  Jay Singh Sahib opened the bag and presented the Maharaja with his gifts wrapped in shiny red, pink and yellow paper, all tied up in ribbons.

  ‘Wow, a pen! An inkwell! A writing book with a silver cover . . .’

  Tej Singh looked over at Ma’am.

  ‘Ma’am, thank you so much. This is from you, I know it.’

  ‘How did Bavasi know?’ Colonel Sahib asked.

  ‘From the wrapping paper and the ribbons.’

  There was amazing sagacity and refinement in this child. And along with that, an especially astonishing quality of mature discernment. Sometimes he’d get very upset, and sometimes he’d hear some chance remark and become
elated.

  29

  Sunlight streamed through the open east windows, illuminating the entire room. The long row of Brazilian palms standing along the tennis court smiled, their spiky fronds swaying in the breeze.

  After returning from the daily drive, Tej Singh was fussing with his Meccano set as he waited for Ma ji Sahib.

  In the last two weeks, some changes had been made to the Maharaja’s daily schedule. During the daytime, he had been restricted somewhat from playing and chatting near both mothers on various pretexts. Despite the continued opposition of the Senior Ma ji Sahib to her proposal, the Governess had decided that some of His Highness’s time should be spent alone with her.

  As soon as he arrived in the upstairs room after the drive, they heard the jingling of Senior Ma ji Sahib’s anklets.

  Right behind her came Junior Ma ji Sahib.

  ‘Khamma, Bavasi.’

  Senior Ma ji Sahib sat down against the bolster, and Junior Ma ji Sahib sat to her right.

  Senior Ma ji Sahib stared over at Junior Ma ji Sahib angrily.

  ‘How many times have I told you to change that orhni, but you still haven’t done it.’

  Junior Ma ji Sahib got up immediately and left the room.

  His Highness asked impishly, ‘Ma ji Sahib, what was your intention in getting Junior Ma ji Sahib out of here?’

  Senior Ma ji Sahib was shocked, but she patted the Maharaja and said, ‘Bavasi, you don’t care for that colour, do you? That’s why I reminded her that she should change her orhni and come back. Did I do something wrong!’

  ‘No, Ma ji Sahib. Junior Ma ji Sahib must be on her way. After all, how can she put off what you ask of her?’

  ‘Hukum!’ Junior Ma ji Sahib had returned and sat down just as quickly as she’d left.

  His Highness spoke: ‘The colour of your orhni is very pretty, Ma ji Sahib!’

  Junior Ma ji Sahib began to laugh like a child. See the intelligence of our Maharaja!

  ‘Senior Ma ji Sahib, first we’ll hear a bitak from Junior Ma ji. You may doze for a bit.’

  Senior Ma ji Sahib quietly signalled her assent and closed her eyes.