The Burning Lotus

5.The Distant Drums of War

Chittorgarh

Ratan Singh wore a mask of displeasure as he sat in council with his ministers. “Are you sure?” asked the Maharana.

The man nodded. “Quite sure, my King. Maharana Hamir Dev was slain by the foreigner’s own sword. His wives and children gave their lives to the flames. Ranthambore is now under the reign of Khilji.”

“I heard that twenty four thousand civilians were killed. No one was spared. Not a single woman, child or grandfather.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone turned to look at the quiet little man who had spoken. The atmosphere seemed to grow heavier. This foreigner seemed to have no honour. Who kills harmless villagers, women and children? Maybe it was not surprising after all. Khilji sat on a throne drenched in blood.

“Do we know what lead to his defeat?”

“The sources vary.  Internal feuds played a large role and Khilji claimed that Hamir Dev was harbouring a fugitive. Hamir Dev had promised Muhammad Shah, the man whose head Khilji was after, his protection. He kept his word, even though Shah himself counselled him to give him up.”

Ratan Singh nodded. It had been the right thing to do. A king did not break his promise, not even if it put the entire kingdom at risk. He glanced down at the map with its newly drawn boundaries in front of him.

“He has already taken Gujarat.”

The men nodded. One said, “The first kingdom to fall. Rai Karan has fled to the court of the Yadavs at Devgiri with his daughter. They say a match is planned for her with one of the young princes. His wife has been sent to Khilji’s harem. They say she is being held captive there as Khilji is fond of her attentions.”

The scowl on the Maharana’s face lengthened. “There seems to be no stopping this devil.”

The council paused, not daring to say anything for fear that it may come true.

“It will only be a matter of time before he knocks on our doors. How well prepared are we to withstand a siege?” The Maharana only put into words what was weighing on everybody’s minds.

The generals Gora and Badal shared a glance. “He outnumbers us almost ten to one. But our soldiers are brave and strong and will do as you command.”

Ratan Sing nodded. “And our food and water reserves?”

 The Prime Minister shook his head slightly. “Mother Nature has not been kind. Two consecutive years of drought means that our food reserves our low, although our water levels are slightly better.”

“How long?”

“On strict rations? We calculate three, maybe four, months, not more.”

The Maharana nodded grimly. “Chittorgarh is yet to fall. Gods willingly, we’ll survive this. Or better yet, he will just ignore us.”

Everyone knew that was a distant possibility. Mewar was the most powerful of Rajput kingdoms, if it fell, most of the smaller ones would sue for peace.

Just then, the doors burst open and a man came running in. He threw himself on the floor of the council, panting with exertion. The surprised Maharana barely recognised his Master Spy.

“My lords, Alauddin Khilji is marching towards Chittorgarh.”

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Padmini heard the tramp of marching soldiers passing by for the thousandth time. War was coming. She didn’t have to be told.

The servants whispered about it and the bazaar overflowed with anticipation. The people were confident that Chittorgarh would never fall. After all, no one had been able to breach its mighty walls since Bhim the Pandav had started constructing it. Mewar was the mightiest of all the Rajput kingdoms. Her king was good and kind and just. So what if a large horde of barbarians were marching towards them? The gods would not abandon them. The gods could not abandon them. The enemy would be repulsed!

Padmini thought differently. Little whispers overheard in corridors, or teased out of servants, spoke of how Gujarat had already fallen, its ruler in hiding and its once proud queen now reduced to a kept woman of the man on the throne of Delhi. The fall of Ranthambhor was closer to home and more worrying.

Their guard had been doubled and Chittorgarh’s heir was observed with eagle eyes. The boy was but three and Nagmati rarely ever let him out of her sight these days. The older queen was worried and distracted. On the outside she maintained a cool and calm exterior as befitted a queen, but there were sparks of uneasiness in her eyes.

Her royal husband rarely came to visit them now. If ever he did, it was only for a moment or two to set eyes on his son and heir before his attention was diverted by some task or the other. Inspections of various battalions, records of the coffers, the amount of grain in the granaries, the volume of water in the tanks, a whirlwind of problems surrounded him, precursors of an approaching storm. His face was often drawn and tired when Padmini saw him. When he left their quarters, however, she was sure that he wore a mask of grim determination.

Padmini herself could not set the butterflies in her stomach to rest. There was something sinister coming; she could feel it in her bones. She strove to wear a mask like her husband and Nagmati did, but sometimes she wasn’t sure whether or not it was in place. Where there leaks through which her true emotions were seeping slowly through?

“It’ll be alright, my lady, you’ll see. Chittorgarh has never fallen yet. We will surely last through the siege.”

Padmini’s reverie was broken by the sound of her attendant’s voice. She simply nodded.

Her head and heart told her that it would be difficult.

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Shortish chapter! Hope you like it though! Please vote and comment if you did!

Glossary:

 ‘foreigner’ : This is a reference to Khilji’s Turkish roots and the fact that he was born and brought up in present day Afghanistan.

Bhim: An important character in Indian myth, he features in the ‘Mahabharat’, one of India’s great epics. It details the story of five brothers, the Pandavas, and their bid to win the throne of India.