A Gujarat Here, a Gujarat There

by Krishna Sobti

  ‘Hukum, for that we would have to get permission from Queen Mother Sahiba first. There’s no time now. We will some other time.’

  ‘Then when?’

  ‘Bavasi, your uncle—your Mama Sahib—Devi Singh ji, and Pandya Sahib are coming for a visit tomorrow, right? Let them come first . . .’

  ‘Why is Pandya Sahib coming with Mama Sahib?’ His Highness asked in the style of a sage old man.

  ‘Bavasi,’ said Colonel Sahib, ‘Pandya Sahib is the former divan of Sirohi. If he comes, it will be very good indeed.’

  Tej Singh asked Ma’am obstinately, ‘We won’t see Prema Bhai Patel at Nakki Lake?’

  ‘No, we won’t, Tej Singh. We’re not going to see him.’

  As they walked down the stairs, Tej Singh took hold of Ma’am’s hand. ‘Why is Pandya Sahib coming with Mama Sahib, Ma’am?’ he asked softly, as they walked towards the entryway.

  Before Ma’am could respond, ADC Sahib alerted His Highness: ‘Hukum, please salute.’

  Questions about Pandya Sahib’s visit lingered on the child’s face for some time.

  The Governess thought, Senior Ma ji Sahib has told Tej Singh something that has made him ponder that name.

  She opened the mail—a letter from her former room-mate, Svarn Seth:

  Krishna, I have got engaged, and the wedding will be very soon. I’ll tell you the date in the next letter. You’ll be very pleased to know that my fiancé, DCS Captain Pratap, is in the army and he has been assigned to Rashtrapati Bhavan. Do apply for a holiday—you must definitely come to the wedding!

  This news about the army captain and his Rashtrapati Bhavan appointment was thrilling to her. She applied for leave, and thought she would have to give an extra-special gift to an army bride.

  After some thought, she made up her mind to give them the Sword of Sirohi. She called for Munna Lal, who took down all the information.

  ‘Will the handle be silver or gold?’ he asked.

  ‘If I put in an order for gold, can I make the payment in two parts?’

  ‘That’s fine, Bai ji,’ said Munna Lal, ‘but it will cost a bit more.’

  ‘Fine, you put in the order. The packing will be done properly, will it?’

  ‘Bai ji, you’ll have to get a licence to take it outside of Sirohi.’

  ‘Munna Lal ji, whatever needs to be done for this, I’ll do it. I have my heart set on this gift.’

  The Sword of Sirohi was packed in a long wooden box, and she also got permission to take the car to the station.

  31

  Bai, seated in the train from Delhi to Rampur, began to run backwards in her thoughts towards Sirohi instead of forwards towards her destination. Here she was travelling to Svarn Seth’s wedding to a military groom with a sword packed in a wooden box. Munna Lal had even had the licence made for it. After much thought, she had only bought herself a new orhni to wear to the wedding. She’d abandoned the notion of having a new suit stitched for the occasion. She’d only made brief preparations when an express letter had come from her father. The next day a telegram had arrived as well.

  Your elder sister Raj and her husband are leaving for Bombay tonight and also taking the children with them. They are insisting on taking Jagdish and Sushi as well. After much thought, your mother and I have decided to send them along.

  Sushi has been out of sorts for a few days now. Her class teacher also sent us a note that said: ‘Sushma keeps staring out the window, unmindful of class. Is there something bothering her?’ Kishan, dear, we were informed in a letter that Sushi won first place in the Hindustan Times–New York Herald Tribune ‘The World We Want’ contest. She came in first and won a trip abroad. We began to get her ready. When two weeks had gone by and we inquired about the plans for the trip, we received a response from Hemranjani Sahib of the Education Ministry, who apologized and told us that the ministry had decided a boy would be sent on the trip instead of a girl. Sushi was silently very angry at this. She couldn’t understand how they could make a boy first who had come in second or third. Were they going to put her marks on his essay? Or would they put his name on her essay? So now the plan is that on their way back from Bombay, they will all stay with you for two days. They’ll be happy to see you and will also get to visit Sirohi.

  With love . . .

  Bai had felt flustered. Where could so many guests stay? She had rushed about and had two suites reserved at the European Guest House. Everything ended up happening conveniently, exactly according to the letter. They had even hired a cab to visit Mount Abu. She had accompanied them on their return to Delhi, and everyone had made it without a hitch. Bai had taken a stroll through Connaught Place in the evening, and then boarded the morning train to Rampur the next day.

  As she gazed out the window, she watched the sights go by: lush greenery, assorted ponds glittering in the sunlight, snug villages with clusters of brightly whitewashed houses. Trees laden with foliage, fields racing alongside the train: these were the same sights that also existed over there, in Pakistan. She mentally knocked on the door of the homeland she’d left behind. Really, what was the difference between this earth and that? Nothing more than the Ganga–Jamuna plain here, and the five rivers of Punjab there. It is all the land over which this train races; India is this land, and that which was left behind, that is now Pakistan.

  A sound echoed in her ears. Loud and noisy—thump thump thump—the smacking of military boots upon the pavement: The Belcha Party marching from the bullion market next to the Sobti haveli in Gujarat, Punjab—clomp clomp clomp clomp—Bai rebuked a voice deep inside her and said, Hush! Now forget about those things from there. You are going to Rampur for Svarn Seth’s wedding.

  She and Svarn Seth had only quarrelled a few times throughout the whole period they’d shared a room. And that was just over storing their things in the wardrobe in the side room, and the sound of high-heeled sandals clacking about at night. She had once snapped at Svarn for her habit of wearing high-heeled sandals at night: ‘Excuse me, yaar, if Queen Mary lived in the hostel, wouldn’t she at least understand that one should never wear high-heeled sandals at night?’

  Svarn had stared at her unblinkingly for a moment. For some reason, their mutual tensions had ended after that day. All Svarn had asked her the next morning was, ‘Sobti, what school did you go to?’

  She had laughed and said, ‘No worries, my school would never match up to yours.’

  She dozed off—a light travel sleep—and when she opened her eyes with a start, found that the train had stopped in Rampur Station. She quickly opened her purse, checked her ticket, freshened up her face in her compact, combed her hair, and scanned the platform. A gentleman approached from the crowd and said politely, ‘Have you come for Seth Sahib’s house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please come.’

  He had her two pieces of luggage carried to the car. In front of the car was another car. In it were seated an Anglo couple and in the back seat, a young man in a smart suit. Perhaps some other guests.

  When they arrived at the bungalow, everything became clear. The Groom Sahib, Captain DCS Pratap, had travelled with his Brigadier and his Memsahib. So that’s who they were. The official welcoming ceremony was to be observed according to the Groom Sahib’s sagun-shastra and everyone was brought into the drawing room.

  An altar had been created on the lawn for the wedding ceremony. The auspicious moment for this would come during the late afternoon, so everyone was eating and drinking in the meantime. The Nawab of Rampur’s daughter, Dawn, stood by Svarn. Bai secretly lauded the good taste of this wedding. The whole day was marked by the superbly stylish din of friends and relations.

  At dinner that night, there was a police band and and other relations in Svarn’s welcoming ceremony. In the morning, the groom, Svarn, Svarn’s little sister, Sudarshan, and she set out for the groom’s village of Lal Garh in the Nawab Sahib’s exceptionally large car. Svarn Seth was upset when she saw the tiny villages popping up here and there.


  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  The army groom, DCS Pratap, laughed in response and said, ‘Svarn, darling, it is my duty to show you what the villages and countryside look like. Later, there will be the capital, Delhi.’

  Sudarshan, to show sympathy with her elder sister, remarked, ‘What a difference, Svarn Didi, between Lal Garh and Lahore. And then between Rampur and Delhi.’

  DCS Pratap replied teasingly, ‘Svarn, darling, in Lal Garh you can’t wear a Rampuri gharara. You must wear a lehenga and choli.’

  ‘Jiju!’ cried Sudarshan. ‘But then tell us what Svarn Didi is to wear in Delhi? The same thing that worked in Lahore?’

  ‘Listen, the smartest girl in Lahore has fallen to my lot. She should wear what she likes—after today no arguments, and no talk of high and low.’

  32

  The new administrator, Mr Prema Bhai Patel, was coming to meet the Maharaja.

  The time of the meeting had been fixed: immediately following his drive.

  As they walked towards the formal meeting, Tej Singh asked, ‘Ma’am, why at this time? Today is story day, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, but . . .’ Bai said, ‘ADC Sahib, please cancel this meeting.’

  ‘Khamma, Bavasi, he’s probably already arrived downstairs. Oh, look, here he comes.’

  Tej Singh calmly sat down on the sofa.

  Prema Bhai Sahib entered the room.

  ‘Namaskar.’

  ‘Please be seated.’

  Jay Singh Sahib and Ma’am motioned towards the facing sofa.

  Prema Bhai Sahib came and sat near the Maharaja.

  ‘How are you?’

  Tej Singh remained silent.

  ‘I’m asking how you are! What is your name?’

  Ma’am nodded. ‘Tej Singh, something is being asked of you.’

  Tej Singh was just about to say something to Ma’am, but then he turned towards Prema Bhai.

  ‘You have come to meet us and you don’t know our name.’

  In response to this, Prema Bhai lit a cigarette, looked towards His Highness and said, ‘Forget these old princely ways! Yes, Bai, do teach him something new! That’s why you were sent here.’

  Out of nowhere, an expression appeared on Tej Singh’s face: of the hauteur of the old princely states.

  ‘Ma’am, I have to go see Ma ji Sahib, so this meeting is concluded.’

  Prema Bhai Sahib stood up and said to Ma’am in a threatening tone:

  ‘Come to my office tomorrow morning at eleven. You are not teaching the Maharaja properly at all. The country has become independent, but over here it’s the same old story. Colonel Sahib, tomorrow you come with Bai ji as well!’

  Colonel Sahib, so like a character from ancient history, said in his classically courtly tone, ‘If Bai ji won’t be here, I will be unable to leave the Maharaja alone. Is that not right, Jay Singh?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  It would be difficult to forget the expression on Tej Singh’s face. He gazed upon these two courtiers in his role of Maharaja—a slight wrinkle forming on his forehead—and rising from the sofa, he walked off towards Ma ji Sahib’s room. Ma’am accompanied him.

  Seated in the throne room, the Colonel Sahib and the Maharaja’s ADC looked as though they belonged in some ancient procession.

  The Administrator Sahib was left standing alone by the sofa.

  Tej Singh hugged Ma ji Sahib and said in the proper manner, ‘Ma ji Sahib, we knew you’d be waiting for us.’

  Tej Singh’s behaviour was so interesting: at times it was aggravating, or even enraging. And at times, one would be amazed that such a small child could speak so intelligently. In his role of maharaja his comportment was just exactly what it should be in the context of a court. Sometimes, Bai would quietly praise Mrs McFarlane. From the theatrical simplicity with which the child took in the environment around him, it was clear that he had absorbed all the etiquette of the palace.

  Administrator Sahib began mentally to write a complaint on Bai’s file about being left standing alone. On the tea tray the next morning, there were two envelopes for the Governess. The word memorandum flashed in her mind when she saw them.

  In one, she was given an eleven o’clock appointment two days hence; she opened the second envelope and gave it a cursory glance—the Governess was being blamed for the Maharaja’s failings, and it was stated that there was no connection between the new dispensation and these ancient ways. It was necessary to make many improvements in the customs of the palace with regard to the education of the Maharaja, and the Governess would have to be trained in new approaches.

  The Governess placed the two envelopes on her table. Both were inscribed with the word ‘urgent’. She thought for a moment: Should I answer quickly, and is there time? Then, suddenly, after looking at the next day’s schedule, she changed her mind: the day after tomorrow would be fine!

  She would also have to review her daily diary about her pupil before formulating a response. There is no way of knowing the reasons for tardiness! And anyway, one shouldn’t feel too put out by one more reminder from Prema Bhai.

  33

  The next day was full of commotion. Chief Agent Officer Ala (Ahalkar) Bhaskar Rao was coming from Delhi. Maharaja Tej Singh had been invited to the Residency at eleven o’clock. Colonel Sahib seemed a bit ill at ease.

  ‘There’s no counting on the Delhiites!’ said Jay Singh Sahib. ‘They should have first made an appearance at the residence of the Maharaja.’

  ‘There’s pressure from the other side,’ interjected Colonel Sahib, feeling it necessary to say that it wasn’t proper to bring this up right now. Rao was coming on behalf of the Government of India.

  When he heard this, Tej Singh pricked up his ears. He said nothing, but watched Colonel Sahib for a few moments. Colonel Sahib said, ‘The Delhiites are doing as they please.’

  Jay Singh watched with deep satisfaction as His Highness was outfitted in military attire.

  The letter from the Residency had indicated formal dress.

  Colonel Sahib looked approvingly at Tej Singh, then began staring out the window.

  ‘It will be warm in the morning, Jay Singh, please give him a light achkan to wear. He’ll feel a bit more comfortable. That pink silk one,’ suggested the Governess.

  Tej Singh was excited.

  Jay Singh Sahib, without saying anything, continued to watch His Highness changing his clothes again. It had probably never before happened that His Highness had had to change his clothes after already being dressed. But his attire had to be ceremonial.

  The pink achkan really was becoming on the child. He looked exactly like a princely portrait.

  Bhaskar Rao was present to receive them at the Residency. Tej Singh got out of the car. He waited for Bhaskar Rao to hold out his hand to him. Then he shook it.

  ‘How are you, Your Highness?’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘Thank you!’

  The splendid decor of the Residency. Walking along the red carpet as though the shadows of ancient bygone days accompanied them.

  ‘Please take a seat.’

  Tej Singh enthroned himself upon the sofa.

  He made a brief gesture with his hand, as elders do: ‘Please be seated.’

  Bhaskar Rao, imbued with the power of the Delhi Ministry, smiled and asked:

  ‘Your Highness, when did you first visit the Residency?’

  ‘I was here very recently, on Sharad Purnima! Isn’t that right, Colonel Sahib?’

  ‘Yes, Khamma.’

  ‘The view from here is lovely.’

  ‘Do see it in evening—Raghunathji’s temple glitters on Nakki Lake.’

  Bhaskar Rao cast a glance at the Governess.

  ‘Your ward is very sharp,’ he said. ‘Your Highness, do you also go rock climbing?’

  ‘Only once. We walked all the way to Trevor’s Tank.’

  ‘Miss, listening to your ward’s eloquence is a delight. Prope
r harmony in both conversation and comportment! Is this an expression of the child’s innate style, or is it thanks to you?’

  ‘Some nurture, some nature.’

  ‘Whatever the case, he has the local etiquette and thoughts, and the capability to convey these to other people.’

  ‘Bhaskar Sahib, Tej Singh was quite delighted to climb all the way to Trevor’s Tank!’

  The Governess turned towards her pupil.

  ‘Tell Rao Sahib about our picnic that day!’

  At this point, Colonel Sahib raised his eyebrows.

  ‘We had great fun climbing up the rocky cliffs. Ma’am had to take off her shoes down below.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘No! I did no such thing. Jay Singh and I quickly reached the top before Ma’am.’

  There was a faint smile on Bhaskar Rao’s face.

  Had Colonel Sahib guessed the reason for this!

  Perhaps . . .

  When the topic had been exhausted, Colonel Sahib announced:

  ‘Khamma, now it is time to go.’

  Everyone stood up at once. Bhaskar Rao was all smiles as he shook His Highness’s hand.

  ‘Your Highness, I’m delighted to have had the chance to meet you.’

  Tej Singh, every inch a Maharaja, nodded his head slightly—thank you—and said with the gravity of an elder, ‘Do visit Dilwara, it is the pride of our kingdom!’

  How pleased Bhaskar Rao was, one couldn’t say—but he bowed and took the tiny hand in his own and patted it warmly.

  ‘On your suggestion, I will most certainly visit Dilwara. And I will tell you how I liked it.’

  Then he turned to the Governess and said, ‘Thank you, you are looking after the Maharaja most delightfully.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  At the gate to the Residency, the guard saluted and the cars began to race towards Swaroop Vilas Palace.

  Everyone was silent.

  Tej Singh seemed to be reading this silence carefully on everyone’s faces.

  Suddenly she wondered—Is it truly thus, or am I just imagining it?