In the streets of Bhopal

  "Why has the carriage stopped?"

  "I don't know, Alka!"

  "Shush" hissed Alka as she peeked outside the carriage through a small wooden window. She was alarmed to see a host of peasants armed with clubs, hammers, and sickles, girdling the train of carriages and hurling all sorts of disgusting abuses at its occupants.

  "Look! Look how they frolic in the sun with no care or concern for the world! These nobles do nothing and yet have everything at their disposal. We hapless peasants toil unceasingly day and night and yet do not know whether we will eat two meals a day!"

  "The gods above have abandoned us. Whatever we do, whosoever we sacrifice, their thirst never quenches. We have not seen rain in weeks," said a half-naked peasant, clutching his termite-infested plough as though it were his long-lost beloved.

  Another peasant, a burly,old man, bawled, "These sons of bitches have stones where their hearts are supposed to be ! Despite knowing very well that this season's harvest was considerably low, they had the audacity to increase taxes! Tell me, brothers! What will I eat if the collectors snatch the only bag of rice my field has produced?!"

  "Why would they care? They do not consume rice; they consume gold! They do not lament the loss of a cow or a mule; they lament the loss of silverware!"

  Kamayani looked at Alka's eyes. Although they remained as cold and expressionless as before, beads of perspiration had begun to form along her eyelids. They smeared the pitch-black, conspicuous kajal Kamayani had made her cousin wear despite the latter's vehement protests.

  "They are not wrong," muttered Alka.

  "Sister?"

  "They're not wrong, Kamayani," she repeated, wiping the sweat from her eyes with her right hand. The prominent kajal, having smudged and spread thoroughly, gave her broad eyelids a smoky, daunting look.

  If I were a woman, I would have already fallen for her, said Kamayani to herself.

  "Are you even listening?!"

  "Yes, yes! Why do you feel they're not wrong?"

  Outside, the crowd continued to swell. It was becoming difficult for the guards assigned to the carriage to restrain them. They continued to shout at the top of their lungs and stomped their boots to hold the crowd back, but it was unyielding.

  The driver cleared his throat and began, "Move away-"

  "WE CAN'T EVEN SPARE A PENNY AND AND THESE PEOPLE TRAVEL IN HORSE-DRAWN CARRIAGES!"

  "MAARO! MAARO!"

  About twenty men, armed with clubs, hammers and large stones, sprinted towards the carriage. The driver began again, this time in a deeper voice, "BACK OFF-"

  CLINK!

  Kamayani was thrown into Alka's bosom as the carriage juddered violently. Not knowing how to react, she clutched her cousin's empty right palm tightly. With her other hand, she groped for Alka's other palm, only to realise she had touched something cold.

  And metallic.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an old, rusted khukri fastened to her peshwaaz.

  Before she could muster the courage to speak, another sudden jolt tossed her to the side.

  The carriage sped toward the palace, the horses neighing loudly as the driver snapped the reins.

  "Why did you bring a knife with you, Alka?"

  Startled, Alka hurriedly hid the knife inside her peshwaaz.

  "For situations such as these, cousin."

  There was a slight chuckle from the other side.

  "W.. what's so funny, Kammu?"

  "Do you seriously think you could have handled those men alone?"

  "A..atleast I could have tried! I am not some damsel in distress. I don't need a man to protect me!"

  The carriage came to an abrupt halt. Alka lurched forward and slammed her head against the wooden wall.

  "Unnnh..,"she groaned, rubbing the spot that had hit the wall.

  As the door of the carriage was opened, Kamayani looked towards her cousin and quipped, "It seems you despite your female form."

  ***

  Office of Envoys, Bhojtal, Bhopal.

  To,

  The Governor of Jhansi,

  Rameswar Bundela

  From,

  Avinashgupta,

  His Majesty the Emperor.

  I know that I have not treated you with the dignity that befits your station. You are the sword of the Guptas, and as much as my pride would want to believe otherwise, there is as much difference between you and I as the heavens and earth-

  "Bundela Sahib, it is time."

  "Yes. Prepare the carriage, Laxman. Remember, you must not look distressed."

  Laxman smirked.

  "I believe Bundela Sahib knows that his apprentices have nothing to feel distressed about."

  Adjusting the steel-rimmed glasses a British officer has gifted him, he replied rather curtly, "I do."

  ***

  "Father, we were-"

  "SHUT UP! Do not call me father. You are the late Princess's daughter. Not mine," bellowed the King of Bhopal, refusing to even look at Alaknanda as he was speaking.

  Kamayani saw that he was sweating profusely from head to toe; the jamawar he was wearing over his kurta had dampened at several places.

  Moreover, the golden scabbard that always hung from her uncle's cummerbund was nowhere to be found.

  The King never went around anywhere without his beloved sword.

  In trying to meticulously observe her troubled uncle, who had since then scurried away (having been accompanied by about five armed men), Kamayani had forgotten that only two paces to her left stood her precious elder cousin, shaken to the core and trembling uncontrollably.

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  A familiar masculine brought her to her senses.

  "Did he mention Chhoti Ma again?!"

  Kamayani, taken aback, turned to her right. In the imperceptible distance, just beside the palace guards' quarters, stood the Crown Prince of Bhopal.

  As it began raining heavily, Kamayani couldn't see his face properly.

  Alakananda replied, "It doesn't matter."

  "It does! Father should know better."

  "Don't make me repeat myself, bhaiya. After all, I am a lowly concubine's daughter."

  "Alka, no-"

  Concubine?!

  Kamayani could feel her hair rising. What is Alka even saying? Is she so smitten with hate that she insults her own mother by comparing her to a mere concubine?!

  Alka, lowering her voice as she hastily rubbed her lachrymose eyes, continued, "Why is father so disconcerted? Did someone tell him about today's ambush?"

  The Crown Prince sprinted towards the two princesses. This enabled Kamayani to have a better look at his smooth, oval visage.

  Huh, she said to herself. He still keeps his weirdly rectangular moustache.

  "We have visitors, Alka. From Jhansi."

  Jhansi.

  Kamayani shot a glance at the Crown Prince's face.

  "Pardon me, dearest cousin; did you say Jhansi?"

  "Y-Yes,"

  "Then," continued Kamayani, giving Alka a lopsided glance,"I predict that Rameswar Kaka must be in their midst. Am I wrong, cousin?"

  "H..he is, but-"

  Before the man could complete his sentence, Kamayani, without warning, bolted toward Alka. The sudden movement caught the prince off guard, making him stagger. Realising what was in her cousin's mind, Alakananda shoved her brother with all her might, sending him sprawling onto the icy gravel.

  As he writhed in pain, Alka grabbed her cousin's wrist and scurried away.

  "CATCH THEM, FOOLS! DO NOT LET THEM REACH THE DIWAN-E-KHAS!"*

  ***

  "HARK! HERE COMES THE SWORD OF THE GUPTAS, THE PRIDE OF THE BUNDELAS, AND THE JAGIRDāR OF JHANSI, RAMESWAR BUNDELA!"

  The King of Bhopal, tight-lipped and drenched in perspiration, glanced towards the colossal mahogany doors of the Diwan-E-Khas as they began to creak open. Trumpets sounded, and sword-bearing guards ushered a white-haired man into the hall below. He wore the silver tiara of the Bundelas studded with lapis lazuli-a rare spectacle these days.

  Even though it was almost sundown, shafts of orange light streamed through the jharokhas that adorned the walls, scattering off the gems and bathing the chamber in a gloomy bluish hue.

  At his arrival, the nobles along the aisle began to rise, but he gestured for them to remain seated.

  "Now is not the time for formalities," he quipped, smiling at them as they resumed their seats.

  He turned towards the King, took a deep bow, cleared his throat, and began,"Your Highness, greetings from the Sovereign of Bharatavarsha to the Ruler of Bhopal."

  "Greetings, Sipah-i-salar of Jhansi."

  Rameswar coughed. The subtle choice of words to refer to him made him twitch his lips.

  "Rājan, I seek your forgiveness for disturbing you at this untimely hour. I should have informed your ministers of my visit beforehand."

  "You are the representative of the Emperor, Sipah-i-salar. You do not need our permission to visit us."

  Tch. The King of Bhopal still kept referring to him by his military position.

  "If this is the case, I shall not mince my words. The Emperor demands your assistance in suppressing the rebels. A lot has happened in the last forty days."

  "Rebels?"

  "Do not feign ignorance, Your Highness. You are well aware of the situation at hand. The Governor of Bengal has defied imperial authority and besieged our fortifications in the East. From what I have heard, his forces have captured Pataliputra and Buxar without significant effort. Only four weeks ago, he had besieged the holy city of Benares, going to the extent of poisoning the canals that transported water from the Holy Ganges to the city."

  "Did Benares fall too?"

  "Within a week, Your Highness. A small force sent by the Kashi Naresh was decimated by the Governor's British allies near Sarnath."

  "B.. British?"

  "Yes, King. The British are colluding with the Governor. Needless to say, with their superior flintlock musket, long-ranged, portable artillery, and disciplined platoons, the Governor has an edge over the Empire."

  "I...see."

  "And," began Bundela, "I presume you are already well acquainted with the situation in Awadh?"

  Presume? The King thought to himself. That's exactly why I signed a defensive pact with the Marathas!

  "Yes, Sipah-i-salar. I am well aware of the situation."

  "Then, O King, you also must be well-acquainted with the very nature of the relationship you share with the Empire."

  Rameswar could, despite the distance, observe the lips of the monarch twitching and twisting. Perhaps even his eyes were touring the entire Diwan-i-Khas in search of answers, for none were forthcoming.

  The King cleared his throat and signalled to the sentry standing beside him to fetch a glass of water. As the latter sped away, he glanced at the intimidating curvy moustache of the Bundela general.

  His expressionless eyes, none of which possessed eyebrows, seemed to stare into his soul.

  "I don't quite get you, Sipah-"

  "You do. You get me very well, Rājan. I told you beforehand, Your Majesty, that we should pay no heed to formalities during this meeting."

  "W-what do you mean?"

  "I mean exactly what you think I mean, King Ashutosh!"

  The courtiers gasped in horror and instinctively grabbed the hilt of their swords. The utterance of the personal name of any monarch in diplomatic overtures was unprecedented. Rameswar Bundela had ignited a powder keg.

  Unable to bear this breach of protocol, the Minister of War, seated immediately beneath the Monarch, shouted, "HOW DARE YOU USE OUR KING'S NAME?! DO YOU FORGET WHOM YOU'RE TALKING TO?!"

  Others joined in unison.

  "Who the hell do you think you are? He is the King of Bhopal!"

  "Did the Emperor send you to insult our King?!"

  Rameswar was unbothered. He looked at the King and quipped, "Since when did the Empire entertain traitors, Ashutosh Mish-"

  "WHORESON!"

  Rameswar gripped the hilt of his sword as the courtiers brandished their scimitars, closing in on him. Laxman, who had been standing beside him all this while, raised his sword in his lord's defense, grasping the handle with both fists and pointing it toward the Minister of War, who was approaching them with a minacious expression, his lower lip quivering with fury.

  "WHORESON! Vermin! Tainted with a candāli's* blood! Was your father's lust not enough to pollute your bloodline, that you had to insult the sovereign of the land?!"

  "Says he who beds a new prostitute every night," quipped Laxman.

  "WHY YOU BASTARD!"

  The minister lunged at him, aiming for his chest, but Laxman parried the blow by holding his sword at an acute angle. Without wasting a moment, Lakshmana pushed against the minister, causing him to lose balance. As he struggled to maintain his burly posture, Laxman kicked him in the abdomen at full tilt.

  His sword slipped off his arm and dropped on the ground, making eerie metallic noises before coming to rest.

  "ASHUTOSH MISHRA!" bellowed Rameswar, staring into the King's distressed visage.

  "For insulting and attempting to harm a representative of Emperor Avinash, your overlord; for, without express authorisation of the Empire, signing treaties with the Marathas and hence, by its very virtue, colluding with enemy powers, I, Rameswar Jagannāth Bundela, Jagirdar of Jhansi, hereby declare you a traitor and an enemy of the Empire!"

  "F-FATHER?!"

  Startled, Lakshmana glanced at the entrance.

  He saw two women—no, two princesses-drenched in sweat and out of breath, espying the pandemonium that was transpiring before them.

  ***

  Jaunpur, the same day

  SHAHI QILA

  "Where is he, Kiledār?"

  "He will be here any moment, Governor."

  "I have-"

  "HARK! HERE COMES THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMED FORCES OF HINDUSTAN! MAKE WAY! HARK!"

  "There he is, Governor. Let us greet him."

  "Very well, Kiledār."

  ***

  "W-what is the meaning of this, Rameswar Kaka?"

  "Alaknanda, child, I-"

  "ALAKNANDA! YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! SENTRIES!"

  As the guards closed in on the two women, the doors of the Diwan-i-Khas flung open once again. Three armed palace guards rushed into the hall, visibly hyperventilating. They were followed by the Crown Prince himself, upon whose entry the guards stationed inside made a deep bow.

  "Alka!" he said. "Where do you think you-W-what is happening here?!

  "

  Rameswar, with at least half a dozen swords pointing at him, espied the Crown Prince gasping as he placed his hands on his knees. A sneer formed on his lips. Adjusting his steel-rimmed spectacles, he quipped, "Misprision of treason, Rajkumar!"

  "Treason, Rameswar Kaka?"

  "Yes, my Crown Prince-treason."

  "If it is so," muttered Kamayani, "what do you have to say about the crime your Emperor has perpetrated against his very own daughter?"

  Rameswar, caught off-guard, eyed the princess. To his utter surprise, her demeanour was unlike its defining timidity-slightly parted lips; stony, inscrutable eyes; head, somewhat tilted to the left.

  "Princess, I-"

  Kamayani looked at the Bundela. When did his hair turn white? How long has it been?

  "Answer my question, Jagirdar of Jhansi."

  "Kamayani! What are you-"

  "SHUSH, Bhopāl Naresh. Do not forget that you are speaking to a princess of the Empire-the Empire my grandfather, Avaneesh, founded."

  The King was dumbfounded.

  Kamayani looked at the Bundela again. "I am waiting for a reply, Rameswar Kaka."

  "Princess, he-"

  The Crown Prince interrupted, "Let's-um-let's settle down first."

  Rameswar slowly lowered his guard, while his eyes scanned his surroundings. The various courtiers who had their swords pointed toward him soon followed suit; after a while, all swords had returned to their hilts, with only a few sentries still clinging to theirs.

  Kamayani, unruffled, continued, "I have not yet received a reply, Rameswar Kaka. Perhaps my Marathi was not up to par?"

  Alka stared at her cousin, her eyes widening. What had gotten into this girl?!

  "My princess, I would prefer a more private location to discuss matters such as these."

  Kamayani muttered to herself, "Enta siggulēni manishi."*

  "I-I believe," uttered the King, "we should continue our conversation in my private chamber under less hostile circumstances. Y-you will be allowed to carry your weapons."

  "Very well, O King. Laxman?"

  "Yes, my lord?"

  "Meet me at the King's chambers."

  Laxman bowed and replied, "As you command, Sahib."

  As Laxman scurried away, the King focused his eyes upon the countenance of his only daughter. His lips pursed as he heaved a sigh of disappointment.

  "Alaknanda, leave immediately."

  "Why, Father?"

  "Do not rankle me further, Alka. I am already exasperated enough, as you can see."

  "āme ekkadikī vellada? lēdu."*

  "Huh?"

  "Na maata meeda nenu nilabadtha. āme ekkadikī vellada? lēdu."*

  "Kamayani, mondiga undaku;neeku kavalsina vishyam kaadu."*

  "Very well, then," said Kamayani—shifting to Marathi. "I too shall see how the monarch of a tributary state dares to stop the daughter of the Emperor from visiting whichever place she wishes to. It is not the politics that concerns me, uncle—although it is not the case that I am not aware of what has been transpiring around me. Alaknanda isn't the only woman in the kingdom interested in matters unsuitable to her sex, you know.

  "I am far more interested in my father."

  Having said this, Kamayani took hold of Alaknanda's hand and stormed outside

  Diwan-i-Khas: a special place designated for meeting foreign dignitaries

  Candali A woman belonging to the candala caste, the lowermost of all castes in the Hindu caste system. This could be the worst possible insult you could give to nobility.