A Gujarat Here, a Gujarat There

by Krishna Sobti

  Tej Singh was seated between the sofas. To one side was Jay Singh ji, the ADC of the Maharaja, and to the other, his desi Governess Bai. Colonel Sahib sat across from him in full Rajput regalia.

  The Bombay guests again and again pressed their palms together and greeted His Highness with namaskars.

  In response to their greetings, Tej Singh nodded his head slightly in full Maharaja style. He grandly signalled that they might sit.

  K.M. Munshi, giving due respect to the Maharaja, asked him something in Gujarati.

  Tej Singh just stared back, as though he had neither heard nor understood a word.

  K.M. Munshi again repeated in Gujarati, ‘Do you not understand Gujarati? But your Ma ji Sahib is from Gujarat, isn’t she?’

  ‘Colonel Sahib, Sirohi is not in Gujarat,’ Tej Singh spoke as though he were older than Munshi. ‘Abu is in Sirohi, not Gujarat.’

  ‘And Ambaji?’

  ‘Ambaji is also not in Sirohi—when Ma ji Sahib says so, then we will go there.’

  Ameen and Setalvad both looked stunned and smiled slightly.

  But Munshi was not about to accept defeat!

  ‘You must have gone to Ambaji for darshan?’ he asked.

  ‘No, whenever Ma ji Sahib says, then we’ll go.’

  It seemed as though Tej Singh was impishly teasing Munshi ji.

  The starch of K.M. Munshi’s attire started to sag a bit.

  ‘What languages are you teaching the Maharaja?’ he asked the Governess.

  ‘English, Hindi, and, of course, Rajasthani is his mother tongue.’

  ‘Does he speak Gujarati as well? Isn’t his Ma ji Sahib from Gujarat?’

  ‘He does not speak Gujarati. He’s never heard it.’

  ‘Where are you from? Are you a refugee?’

  ‘I am originally from Gujrat, Pakistan—at this time, I’m from Delhi.’

  Then she added, to change the direction of the conversation, ‘I’ve read your novel Verni Vasulat in Hindi translation.’

  Munshi was pleased.

  ‘The heroine’s name is quite beautiful—Tanman.’

  Tej Singh began to laugh as though there were no one else there but him and his governess.

  ‘Ma’am, that’s what I say to Junior Ma ji Sahib when I tickle her. Tanman, tanman.’

  In the midst of this, tea arrived.

  It seemed as though Colonel Sahib had quietly said something to Jay Singh Sahib.

  He looked at his watch and addressed the Governess: ‘It’s time for horseback riding.’

  The Governess held out her hand to Tej Singh. He leapt up like an excited child.

  That historic evening with three legal entities was the stuff of legends. The three of them—Colonel Sahib, Jay Singh Sahib and the refugee Governess Bai from Pakistani Gujrat—could not stop that evening from happening.

  The fate of the adopted heir Maharaja Tej Singh was under siege. That evening quietly pointed towards the future of the princely state.

  38

  After taking darshan from Swami ji, they departed quietly from Abu. All of the preparations were made in complete silence. The cars raced towards Abu Road after emerging from the Swaroop Vilas residency there. There was no curiosity on Tej Singh’s face as to where they were going next. Everyone knew but Bai. Was it Sirohi or Bombay? Arriving at the Abu Road Station, everything became clear.

  The Maharaja was on his way to Delhi. When morning tea came, Phuli Bai had told her softly, ‘Hukum, your luggage has been prepared. Kamdar ji told me last night. Please get ready quickly. The Maharaja is coming down from Abu. The cars must already be parked outside.’

  Bai had bathed and got ready quickly. She arranged her purse and clasped it shut. In the midst of this, she heard a horn honking. Outside, Jay Singh was walking towards the car holding the Maharaja’s hand. She stood on the other side, in front of the car. The police jeep with armed soldiers was parked to one side. Nearby stood SP Mistri of the Bombay cadre, in uniform. Mount Abu was located on the border of Rajasthan: his authority was in Ambaji, and Bombay wanted Ambaji for itself.

  The moment the train left Abu Road, Tej Singh began, ‘Ma’am, what fun it would be if Ma ji Sahib were with us.’

  ‘Yes, it would, Tej Singh.’

  When Erinpura was behind them, Bai took out a new picture book.

  ‘Let’s relax and look at this new picture book for a while.’

  That night, before going to sleep, His Highness asked Bai in an adult tone, ‘Ma’am, did you meet with Ram Singh Sahib at the Rajputana Hotel?’

  Colonel Sahib, reclining on the seat across from them, lifted his head from the headrest to listen—what was His Highness asking Bai?

  Bai stared at the child in surprise. Tej Singh was waiting for her answer.

  ‘Tej Singh, the day I went to Barucha’s, I stopped at the Rajputana Hotel on my way back to get cartoons for you. That’s where I ran into Ram Singh ji.’

  Ma’am felt very proud of her ward. She patted his head affectionately and said, ‘Go to sleep now. Good night. Tomorrow you’ll wake up in Delhi.’

  When they arrived at the Delhi Station, two cars awaited them from Alwar House on Aurangzeb Road. The next day passed in relaxation, after which they set out for Dehra Dun via the night train.

  The following morning, when she saw the child dozing in the car racing towards Mussoorie, Bai worried he might get nauseous. To distract him, she said:

  ‘Our mountain is rocky. It’s got huge rocky cliffs.

  ‘And this mountain, Ma’am?’

  ‘Its colour is a bit different.’

  ‘Ma’am, will there also be a Nakki Lake there?’

  ‘No, Tej Singh, there’s no Nakki Lake there. But there is a Bhatta Falls. It’s a waterfall. The water falls fast from high up in the mountain.’

  ‘Ma’am, why is it called Bhatta Falls? Have you seen it?’

  ‘Yes, Tej Singh, when I was small, I went there. We walked all around.’

  After a long journey they were nicely situated at Hakman’s Hotel. His Highness’s lawyer had arrived in Mussoorie from Bombay two days before.

  On their return to Delhi from Dehra Dun, Mussoorie was still on their minds. The Maharaja of Alwar’s Studebaker and jeep were waiting at the station. Under the fluttering grandeur of the flag, they began to race again towards Alwar House on Aurangzeb Road.

  ‘What a beautiful view there is at night from Hakman’s. The lights in the valley twinkle as though the sky had descended to earth. Lush greenery covering the slopes all around.’

  ‘Truly astounding.’

  ‘But Ma’am, there is no Nakki Lake in Mussoorie as there is in Abu. In Mussoorie, there is Hakman’s; in Abu there is the Rajputana Hotel.’

  Colonel Sahib said, ‘Bavasi, did you watch the programme at the hotel at night?’

  ‘Colonel Sahib, the jokers made me laugh so hard. What were those pink things on their noses? They wore caps and hopped about, or stuck out their teeth and giggled and made people laugh . . .’

  ‘Khamma, that’s why hotels keep jokers.’

  ‘Ma’am, as soon as the jokers appeared, the band became quiet and the jokers began to giggle loudly. They pinched their own cheeks and called, “Hey! Hey! You crazies! What are you doing? But today we have the Maharaja of Sirohi amongst us.”’

  When he’d heard this, the Maharaja had laughed so hard, his charming face radiating sunshine.

  ‘Ma’am, when the joker called you Princess of the thikana, why did you stare at him? Why did you scold him?’

  Ma’am smiled.

  ‘Darling, I am neither from any thikana nor am I a princess. I am the governess of the Maharaja Tej Singh of Sirohi.’

  ‘Please tell me something, Bai Sa,’ said Colonel Sahib, ‘how did you get this way? Where does your personality come from?’

  ‘Colonel Sahib, I don’t understand your question.’

  ‘I mean, what caste are you from? Are you a Baniya? Or a Brahmin?’

  ‘No, indeed, and how would t
his have anything to do with my nature?’

  ‘All the same, do tell, Bai, what is your caste?’

  ‘Colonel Sahib, really! What would be the use in knowing that?’

  Tej Singh began to look at Ma’am as though her curiosity might get her into trouble.

  ‘Colonel Sahib, these divisions won’t work any more in a free country. But I will say that I am from a Kshatriya-Satrap Sobti lineage.’

  ‘And?’

  Ma’am began to laugh, ‘You will be surprised, Colonel Sahib. We consider ourselves of the highest rank among Kshatriyas. Our ancestors ruled over Punjab. And when Guru Gobind Sahib invited his followers to sacrifice their lives, among the first of his Five Beloveds who rose to sacrifice their lives was one from the line of Dayaram Sobti.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that, Bai.’

  ‘The part of Punjab Alexander the Great conquered, he put under the charge of Greece’s Sardar Kshatrap. From there our line has flowed.’

  ‘Hearsay!’ said Colonel Sahib.

  ‘No, Colonel Sahib, history. There are extant coins printed with the face of Sophytes on one side with the words “Satrap Sophytes” written in Greek, and on the other side, carved in Devanagari, is “Satrap Sobti”.’

  The car had arrived in front of Alwar House. The gate opened. Alwar House: a mere bungalow.

  ‘What a contrast between Alwar Palace on Mount Abu and this Delhi bungalow,’ remarked Colonel Sahib.

  ‘Ma’am, now what will happen? Will our lawyer Ameen Sahib come too?’

  Amazing intelligence in this child. Ma’am was stunned. The adults gathered round.

  Right on time, Jay Singh Sahib appeared. He prepared Tej Singh in a military suit.

  Then he asked Ma’am, ‘Will it take time for you to prepare as well?’

  ‘Not at all. I am ready.’

  Outside the car honked.

  Tej Singh reached the drawing room holding Ma’am’s hand. All three persons rose.

  Pandya Sahib looked over at Ma’am. Then he said to her in a commanding tone, ‘You may stay here, you need not come with us.’

  As soon as Pandya Sahib had spoken, all the confusion Bai was facing became clear.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, and let go of Tej Singh’s hand.

  When he heard this, Tej Singh seemed to become a perfect maharaja and commanded, ‘Ma’am will go with us, but I don’t care if you go or not, Pandya ji . . .’

  When they reached the ministry, they waited, but there was no meeting in the end. As they returned, everyone was subdued. Silence enveloped them all. There was only one thing on everyone’s minds: If the Minister had been busy in some other meeting, they could have been given another meeting time after waiting. Everyone felt lost in a dense darkness as they sat in the car not speaking to one another.

  Tej Singh jumping about the lodge. Sometimes on the rug, sometimes on the sofa. ‘Ma’am, why do tongas run in Delhi? There was a line of tongas at the station. Ma’am, how many colours of horses were there?’

  ‘Try and remember.’

  ‘Some brown, some black, some white, some grey. Ma’am, why are they not all one colour, like tigers?’

  ‘We people are also not all one colour. Senior Ma ji Sahib, Junior Ma ji Sahib, Colonel Sahib, Jay Singh Sahib and me—we’re all different—some are fair, some are wheat-coloured, some are even darker than that . . .’

  ‘Ma’am, the horses that Maharaja Alwar gave me are both the same colour.’

  ‘Maharaja Alwar must have carefully selected two that matched. There are many types of horses, Tej Singh, some are Arabic, some are Kathiawari, some Pahari. And they’re all different colours too. When a horse has white on its forehead, that’s called a star. The marking is not considered auspicious for the rider of the horse. A horse with black hair is called Siyahkam. A horse with soft eyes is considered a good horse.’

  ‘And Ma’am, my horses have white marks on their legs and foreheads . . .’

  ‘That is considered the very best for a rider.’

  ‘And Ma’am, camels . . .’

  ‘We will have to ask Colonel Sahib about camels. Remember? He was telling us about them the other day. When people buy camels at a fair, they open their mouths and look at the teeth. If a camel is missing any teeth, it won’t open its mouth.’

  Tej Singh was now considering herds of deer.

  ‘Ma’am, in yesterday’s story, why did the herd of deer run in the direction of the hidden soldiers?’

  ‘You tell me—you’ve heard so many jungle stories.’

  ‘Ma’am, the deer must have run when they knew the soldiers were following them. A tiger would not do that. He stays sleeping in his lair. To catch it, a hunter cuts off the ear of a goat and sprinkles it with salt. When he screams and wails, then the tiger hears his voice and comes out.’

  ‘Yes, Tej Singh, if the hunter is weak, then the tiger attacks, and if the hunter is good then the tiger is killed.’

  The phone rang.

  ‘Bai Sa, it is for you.’

  Bai went pale. It was Pandya Sahib and Naveen ji on the phone. Tej Singh’s uncle Devi Singh was also there.

  ‘We’ve got a time for His Highness—at 4.30. It would be good if we could arrive five to ten minutes early.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’

  She had no idea why Pandya Sahib retorted sharply: ‘Is it fine? What makes you think it’s so fine?’

  ‘Naveen ji said it would be good if we arrived ten minutes early and also when we are done, to please come to Windsor Place.’

  ‘Everyone knows what will happen there. You people are all ganging up and scheming against His Highness . . .’

  She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Pandya Sahib!’

  After his afternoon nap, Tej Singh was ready to go to Windsor Place. When the Governess and Jay Singh arrived in the drawing room, Colonel Sahib, Maharaja Tej Singh’s uncle Devi Singh and Sirohi Raj’s former divan Pandya Sahib, all stood and greeted the Maharaja with palms pressed together.

  Tej Singh asked, startled, ‘Uncle, when did you and Pandya Sahib get here?’

  ‘Khamma, when you were resting. Our train was late.’

  Both cars were already parked in the porch. They’d just reached the veranda when Pandya Sahib said in his experienced, authoritative style, ‘There’s no need to take the Governess there.’

  Bai turned and stared in the presence of Pandya ji’s seniority, but Jay Singh Sahib rushed over to the drawing room and whispered something to him and Devi Singh, before swiftly returning to the porch.

  ‘Ma’am, you and Maharaja come along,’ he said to the Governess. ‘Pandya ji is under some misapprehension.’

  After the two of them sat down in the car, the imposing person of Colonel Sahib seated himself beside them, and ADC Jay Singh Sahib sat in the front with the driver.

  In the car to the rear sat the Maharaja’s uncle Devi Singh Sahib and Pandya Sahib, wise in the ways of princely politics. Through the window they watched the running, leaping greenery of the passing streets and the washed-clean plants and clusters of leaves fluttering in the breeze. When she silently cast a glance at Tej Singh, she was filled with a deep-seated worry that all those gathered round His Highness might appear weak and helpless. Tej Singh seemed alone. She kept hearing people say that he was only a minor. Who were his supporters? Who would help him protect his throne? Only the Maharaja of Alwar. And the son-in-law of Sirohi, Jam Sahib Nawanagar, and his paternal aunt Gulab Kunwerba Sahiba; would they continue to protect the rights of the adopted son of Maharaja Saroop Singh? The one who is not of age has arrayed against him Abhai Singh, who is like a strong pillar of the kingdom of Sirohi, on the one hand, and on the other, Saroop Singh’s paswan, Leelavati, her feet encased in gold, whose offspring fall outside the Sirohi line, but who glitter at the entryway of the palace both within and without.

  The cars of the Maharaja drove into 5, Windsor Place. His Highness entered. The remains of the princely state of Sirohi adorned the drawing room. The Rajput t
urbans of Colonel Sahib and ADC Sahib clashed with the electric lighting.

  ‘Welcome. Please take a seat.’

  Standing before them, pale Naveen ji and Gokul Bhai Bhatt, the new Chief Minister of Sirohi, a Gandhi cap adorning his head.

  Naveen ji came to stand by His Highness, ‘Namaste, Maharaja ji.’

  ‘Namaskar,’ replied Tej Singh. ‘How are you?’

  Naveen ji touched his hand affectionately and said with a smile, ‘How are you, Your Highness! I am delighted to see you. And look, Gokul Bhai is also present and at your service.’

  Gokul Bhai bowed his head in the simple style of the princely states and pressed his palms together in greeting to the Maharaja.

  Colonel Sahib rose slightly and asked the Chief Minister, ‘We’ve got a time for tomorrow, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, you will have to come tomorrow morning at 11.30.’

  Gokul Bhai, according to princely etiquette, bowed his head before the Maharaja and said, ‘Please remain calm. So long as no decision comes from the government, Maharaja Tej Singh is the only Maharaja of Sirohi.’ Saying this, he seemed to be signalling something to Tej Singh’s staff.

  The cars were about to emerge from the gate of 5, Windsor Place when Padmaja Naidu Sahiba’s car entered.

  Naveen ji carefully escorted Padmaja inside.

  After they sat down in the drawing room upon reaching Alwar House, the tea arrived right away.

  The Governess picked up the kettle and asked, ‘Tea for you?’

  ‘No.’

  She poured out tea for herself and picked up her cup when suddenly Pandya ji remarked sharply, ‘Look, Devi Singh ji, I’ve said from the start, keep an eye on what this Bai does. This girl has met with our enemies before. Where will she lead us?’

  Tej Singh glanced at Ma’am out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at the curtains that hung in the windows.

  Pandya ji continued, ‘How right my suspicion was. You met with that farash in the palace, and you yourself concocted the lie that the door on the stairs was open—then went and stood in the Maharaja’s room to conceal what you’d done.’