A Gujarat Here, a Gujarat There

by Krishna Sobti

Ma’am laughed in reply, and held up her finger as though admonishing a child.

  ‘Enough, Pandya Sahib, you’d better stop while you’re ahead.’

  ‘You are scolding me. I’m not a child. Open your ears and listen. Do not forget your place, Bai.’

  She began to laugh.

  ‘Pandya ji, you have no more power. You are neither the Divan of Sirohi, nor yet a lawyer. You are an old satchel from Sirohi that Uncle Devi Singh has slung over his shoulder.’

  She took hold of the Maharaja’s hand and led him off to the bedroom. Smoke seemed to billow across the curtains.

  ‘Goodnight, Khamma Maharaj,’ she said.

  Then she requested permission from Jay Singh Sahib to go to her own home for one night. He called the driver and told him to take Bai to her home.

  39

  When she awoke in her old room in her own house, it felt as though she’d never been away. As though no time had passed at all. She slid the curtain across and peeped out. There was no light on in her parents’ bedroom yet. She got up from the bed, went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She pulled an old suit from the wardrobe—how long ago had she left it there? She dusted off her fleets and put them on. By then the light had been switched on in the veranda and the related clangings and bangings of the tea things had begun in the kitchen.

  Gobind and Sukhiya were already busy at their tasks.

  She peered into the kitchen and said, ‘Gobind, I’ll take my tea when I get back from my walk.’

  At the first bend before Feroz Shah Chowk, she turned on to the shimmering asphalt of Curzon Road. She felt as though she had arrived where she was meant to be. Nonetheless, scenes from the last few months in Sirohi began to bubble up unexpectedly with her excited steps:

  A sun-drenched morning at Swaroop Vilas stylishly stretches out into the rooms in all directions, to the windows, battlements and archways. To the Maharaja’s bathing quarters located in a peaceful corner of his residency.

  At bath time, two armed guards could be standing outside the bathing quarters at once. Prabhuda stands at attention by the bath, hanging towels on a shiny stand. Rupada, outside the door, waits alertly with the Maharaja’s clothing on a hanger. Hear the sound of Jay Singh Sahib approaching, and His Highness coming for his bath with Nurse Jacob. The adopted Maharaja of Sirohi, in his loose and comfy nightclothes, is seated on the stool, his childish face bright and naughty. Streams of cold and hot water are poured into the large tub. A small china boat on the floor, a mug, a jug, His Highness splashing in the water: ‘Look, Prabhuda, look at these teeny tiny drops!’

  Nurse Maryam is wiping him off and Jay Singh Sahib is putting on his clothes. Tej Singh doesn’t forget to thank his ADC.

  Amazing.

  Then off he goes to see both Ma ji Sahibs and allows them to behold him. Senior Ma ji Sahib stares at him enchanted. Then she rubs his hands and says, ‘Khamma khamma, Bavasi, please sit down.’

  Tej Singh looks at Junior Ma ji Sahib from the corner of his eye, as though reassuring her, Don’t you worry about a thing, Junior Ma ji Sahib! Senior Ma ji’s turn always comes first.

  His Highness presents himself for breakfast in the morning room. An immense, long table, and alongside it, for Tej Singh’s convenience, another, smaller table. The Maharaja is seated on one side, on a tall, thin chair, and precisely across from him, Guniya, there to taste each item before it is served to him. He tastes everything to make sure there’s no hidden danger in the breakfast. Egg first, then fruit juice, porridge and milk with chocolate or Ovaltine. All done, the Maharaja wipes his face and places his napkin on the table. To his left and right, ADC Sahib and the Governess. The driver, Parji Singh, in his shiny starched turban in the front seat, looks just like a picture. He greets the Maharaja and lifts the handle.

  ‘Please take a seat!’

  A smart salute at the gate.

  Another salute at the gate of the jail.

  Tej Singh remarks to Bai:

  ‘It’s a fine day today . . .’

  ‘Better than yesterday.’

  The car zooms towards the old pond.

  Jay Singh takes out a gun and shows it to Bavasi. ‘This has shot in it,’ he says. ‘You just press the trigger.’

  A Maharaja from earliest childhood, Tej Singh does not hesitate. This is not his first time. He is an adept learner. The tiny finger presses down and the waterfowl on the pond scatter, just from the noise!

  Tej Singh fixes his eyes on the pond, then asks, ‘Ma’am, why are they so fearful? The moment they hear the noise, why do they flutter about and fall down?’

  ‘Darling, they’re birds, not tigers.’

  She gazed at the fountains at India Gate, overflowing with moist coolness. Perhaps they touched her soul. She stood a while. Then glanced at her watch and turned towards home.

  Tea was set up outside. Father was enjoying his morning cup with the paper. She greeted him and sat down. He handed her the Hindustan Times he was holding and pulled out the Statesman from under the teapoy.

  ‘You must have enjoyed your morning stroll. How far did you go?’

  ‘All the way to Nizam House.’

  ‘What’s your plan for the day?’

  ‘Today I’ll just stay home.’

  Then, after a pause, she added, ‘Father, I’ve decided to quit. I’m not going back to Sirohi.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Yes and no. I’ll tell you in detail tonight.’

  ‘I hope there’s nothing terribly wrong.’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘You’re not leaving because of some conflict or bitterness, are you? It would be best to leave in an orderly fashion.’

  ‘Of course! I will go see them tonight at Leela Ram’s. I’ve given them some fabric there to be stitched for Tej Singh.’

  Father turned back to the paper.

  She finished her tea. Then she looked over at the flower bed. She picked up the garden hose and began watering the pots.

  40

  When she went out that evening to Connaught Place and walked through the open air of Atul Grove, she felt as though she’d never even left.

  She reached Janki Das via Pyarelal and Sons. She looked at her watch and saw there was still some time, so she slowed her pace and gazed in at the new showroom decorations as she ambled along, arriving at Leela Ram’s at exactly six o’clock.

  Leela Ram stood at the counter, his impressive Rajasthani turban announcing his regal power. Maharaja Tej Singh was seated on a chair, and his ADC was standing behind him.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Ma’am.’

  Tej Singh seemed pleased.

  She was greeted by Colonel Sahib and ADC Sahib.

  The tailor stood with the child’s clothing in his hand.

  ‘Please come.’

  She walked towards the dressing room with Tej Singh and Jay Singh. As she opened the mirrored door, Tej Singh said, ‘First, only Ma’am will see. Everyone else stay out here.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Jay Singh Sahib and the tailor stood outside to wait for His Highness.

  As soon as he had put on the navy suit, Tej Singh asked Bai quietly, ‘Ma’am, what does the word oust mean?’

  ‘Tej Singh, where did you hear that word?’

  ‘Pandya Sahib was saying it to my uncle. He said if the new government ousts Tej Singh, then . . .’

  There was a light knock on the panel of the dressing room door and the tailor and ADC Sahib appeared.

  The Governess touched the collar and said in an emotional tone, ‘This is a very elegant suit and the collar should be kept just like this. The cut and the tailoring will make it last a long time. What do you think, Jay Singh Sahib? When Tej Singh grows up, he will specialize in whichever of these three military uniforms he likes best.’

  Tej Singh was still glowering hard at that word stuck in his mind as he watched Ma’am.

  Jay Singh Sahib seemed to balk at the intense scrutiny to which the Maharaja and th
e Governess were subjecting the uniforms.

  After trying on all three outfits, Tej Singh said to his ADC, ‘You go outside, please, Ma’am will fix me up.’

  ‘Ma’am . . .’ Tej Singh looked at her questioningly, still demanding to know the meaning of oust.

  The Governess stroked the child’s hand. She touched his hair, looked at him meaningfully, then said, ‘Never believe in such things. Not ever, Tej Singh.’

  Tej Singh nodded his head, ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  Jay Singh Sahib and Tailor Master Sahib knocked on the door again and came inside.

  She and Jay Singh each took one of the Maharaja’s hands and led him to the car. After Tej Singh and Colonel Sahib had sat down in the car, Bai kept hold of His Highness’s hand, though she still stood outside the car.

  ‘Ma’am, please come.’

  ‘Darling!’ she said affectionately. ‘I will stay at home tonight because my father told me to.’

  ‘But then you’ll come tomorrow, won’t you?’

  She smiled and shook her head.

  ‘Bye, baby boy.’

  She and Tej Singh waved to each other.

  The car started. She stepped back and the car moved forward.

  For a moment, she felt as though the verandas of Connaught Place had disappeared. She crossed the street and walked beyond Leela Ram’s block.

  When she went and stood in front of the showcases of the Pandit Brothers, all at once she felt as though she’d never existed outside of evenings such as these. She crossed Camp and Co. and Radial Road, and walking by Jain Books, she went and stood in front of Dharam Das Dhoomimal. Her stationery shop. She went inside and bought two bird-feather penholders and then continued on to Wenger’s. She bought wrapped fish-shaped chocolates from the confectionery, a loaf of bread and one plain cake, and then turned and began strolling back along the same verandas.

  The last jeweller on Queensway was Shanti Vijay. After walking by the dazzling and costly diamonds and gems, she began to stroll towards Atul Grove Lane, as though this street lined with leafy trees was made only for her. In the brightness of the street light, a weeping willow swung its long, glowing branches, like prickly vines covered with red and scarlet brushes. The sight of the tree filled her heart with a new freshness.

  At the bend in Telegraph Road, she saw Lala Achint Ram ji walking towards her.

  She greeted him with a namaskar.

  ‘May you live long,’ he replied. ‘You are well?’

  The chain hanging around Uncle Achint Ram’s neck hinted at the watch tucked away in his pocket. She took her leave of him and quickened her pace, and wondered, as she walked, how time would now unfold before her, not in Sirohi but in the form of the Help Wanted ads in the Hindustan Times. Time would become an application and would be situated somewhere new. Life would again be Curzon Road, morning walks to India Gate, coming home to the Hindustan Times, then reviewing the wanted ads in the Statesman. This was her goal. Probably this would be where her future lay.

  A neatly written application. A sealed envelope which she herself had gone to post at the Eastern Court.

  She was called for an interview.

  So hard to decide what to wear and how to accessorize: this dupatta too carefree; that one, needlessly fussy. She arrived at the appointed time for the interview, at exactly four o’clock in the afternoon, at the bungalow of a Major Khanolkar.

  First, she took the Kitchener Road bus to Scindia House, and then, after a brief wait, caught the Gwalior transport bus going to Gopinath Bazaar in Delhi Cantonment and got down at Leopard Cinema near the Rajputana Rifles.

  As she walked along the asphalt street in her court shoes, the click of her heels bolstered her confidence. Entering Major General Khanolkar’s bungalow, a new feeling of faith awakened in her. Perhaps because of his name. Our forces! Our pride! Sitting and waiting to be called in for her interview, she began to repeat to herself the information she’d read about the Rajputana Rifles.

  But Rajputana is a part of my work experience.

  Well, you should have something to say then.

  Hindustan Times zindabad! If the interview doesn’t turn out well, it’s back to the Help Wanted ads, filling out new applications, posting them at the Eastern Court.

  A uniformed orderly places a glass of water before her just as the clock strikes inside.

  She takes a sip, then walks towards the closed door.

  Afterword

  The Maharaja Tej Singh Bahadur of Sirohi was born on 3 October 1943 and adopted by the Maharaja Saroop Singh Bahadur of Sirohi on 30 June 1944. Maharaja Saroop Singh (1888–1946) had led a dissipated life mostly away from his throne. His only male heir was the son of his paswan, or concubine, Leelavati. Shortly before his death, he opted to adopt an heir of princely heritage to carry on the throne of Sirohi. On his death it was learned that he had converted to Islam in 1927 in Indore and had been buried instead of cremated. It is said that his remains were then exhumed by his family and cremated in accordance with Hindu rituals. His adoption of Tej Singh was not approved of by many figures attached to the court, including his widow, Maharani Krishna Kunwerba, the Dowager Regent, referred to as the Queen Mother in this book, who preferred to make Abhai Singh of Manadar the heir.

  Tej Singh ascended the gadi, or throne, of Sirohi on 1 July 1946, at the age of two, and would have been nearly four years old at the time of Independence in 1947. On 1 February 1948, the state was transferred to Gujarat, just after Krishna Sobti arrived in Sirohi. On 7 October 1950, Tej Singh was removed from the throne of Sirohi by the Indian government and replaced by Abhai Singh, an event that likely occurred some months, or even a year, after Sobti left her position in Sirohi. Tej Singh was thereafter styled as Maharaj Tej Singhji, of the Bari Panti (senior branch) of Mandar, and died in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, in 2016.

  Krishna Sobti never saw Tej Singh again.

  1 From the essay ‘Dāvat men Shirkat’ (‘Invitation to a Banquet’), in Ham Hashmat 1 (New Delhi: Rajkamal Prakashan, 1977), p. 107.

  2 Side note: the district of Punjab written ‘Gujrat’ in English, now in Pakistan, and the state ‘Gujarat’, now in India, are spelled the same way in both Hindi and Urdu. The different spellings in English are most likely due to the jumbled-up transliteration systems of British Raj–era bureaucrats. For the title of this book, we have kept the spelling the same, because the point of the original title (Gujarat Pakistan se Gujarat Hindustan) was that the names were the same, but now the two Gujarats/Gujrats have ended up in two different countries.

  3 ‘ḍaro mat, main tumhārī rakṣhā karūngā’, in Bādlon ke Ghere (New Delhi: Rajkamal Prakashan, 2007).

  Glossary of Selected Historical Figures and Terms

  Krishna Sobti published A Gujarat Here, A Gujarat There at the age of ninety-two. She makes reference to many key historical figures in the novel, often in passing, not realizing that some of these are no longer household names in India. This list is meant to augment the reader’s knowledge and fill in gaps in the text.

  Bhagwati Charan Verma (1903–81): A major Hindi writer, famous for his novel Chitralekha, among many others. Verma lived near the Sobti family in New Delhi.

  Gokul Bhai Bhatt (1898–1986): Bhatt was a Rajasthani freedom fighter and social worker. He was a member of the Constituent Assembly of India, representing Bombay state, and briefly acted as chief minister of the princely state of Sirohi. He co-founded the freedom-fighter group Praja Mandal in Sirohi in 1939. After Independence he opposed the division of Sirohi district and transfer of Mount Abu to Gujarat. Because of his efforts, Mount Abu remained a part of Rajasthan, though other parts of the district were transferred to Gujarat.

  Gulab Kunwerba Sahiba (1910–94): The Maharani of Nawanagar, born Maharajkumari Baiji Raj Shri Kanchan Kunwerba Sahiba, in Sirohi state, daughter of Maharajadhiraj Maharao Shri Sir Sarup Ram Singhji Bahadur of Sirohi.

  Jam Sahib of Nawanagar: ‘Jam Sahib’ is the title for the ruling prince of the princely state of Nawanagar, now kn
own as Jamnagar, in Gujarat. Nawanagar was a powerful princely state located on the Gulf of Kutch. The Jam Sahib in the present volume was Digvijaysinhji Ranjitsinhji Jadeja (1895–1966), known for his distinguished military career and dedication to social causes. The Jam Sahib was married to Maharajkumari Baiji Raj Shri Kanchan Kunwerba Sahiba of Sirohi state, who was known as Deoriji Maharani Shri Gulab Kunwerba Sahiba after becoming the Maharani of Nawanagar (see Gulab Kunwerba Sahiba). Through his marriage, the Jam Sahib was considered the ‘son-in-law of Sirohi’.

  K.M. Munshi (1887–1971): Kanhaiyalal Maneklal Munshi was a barrister, a follower of Gandhi and a politician who wrote prolifically in Gujarati, publishing mostly historical novels, as well as in English.

  Kundan Lal Saigal (1904–47): K.L. Saigal was a famous film star and singer in Hindi cinema, known for his distinctive singing voice.

  Lala Achint Ram (1898–1961): A freedom fighter who spent many years in jail due to his role in the Quit India Movement, Lala Achint Ram was also a member of the Constituent Assembly and the Lok Sabha. Achint Ram lived near the Sobti family in New Delhi, just after Independence.

  Naveen ji (1897–1960): ‘Naveen’ was the nom de plume of Hindi poet, politician and freedom fighter Bal Krishna Sharma. Sharma was a member of the first Lok Sabha, representing Kanpur, and a member of the Rajya Sabha from 1957–60. He was the editor of the Daily Pratap and published numerous collections of poetry in Hindi. Naveen lived near the Sobti family in New Delhi.

  Padmaja (1900–75): Padmaja Naidu was the daughter of freedom fighter and poet Sarojini Naidu. A freedom fighter herself, she was elected to Indian parliament in 1950 and appointed the governor of West Bengal in 1956. Padmaja never married and was known to be romantically involved with Jawaharlal Nehru for many years.

  Shamshad Begum (1919–2013): One of the first playback singers in Indian cinema who, at the time of the novel, apparently still gave concerts at her home, probably in Lahore.