Chapter - 24
A MONTH EARLIER (Part - 1)
Amar sat on the couch sipping his hot chocolate.
"How long I have to stay here this time, Dajiraj?" he asked his face turned downwards.
A silence met his words.
Footsteps came closer.
The empty side of the couch dipped down as someone sat down.
"Amar."
Amar stared resolutely at the floor.
"Look at me Amar."
There was a hint of steel in the voice and he didn't dare disobey.
He lifted his head and turned to face his father.
Twin pair of eyes stared at each other.
The older pair softened.
"I know it is hard son, but remember I do take such huge steps only to protect you."
"Protect from what Dajiraj?" Amar jumped to his feet. "You always prepare for something. I know it, I have seen it. You, Uncle Som, Uncle Vyeni, Uncle Maan, Auntie Shobha and Uncle Chakrapani making plans, techniques. I once eavesdropped on you all talking about some take-over, some attack, defensive measures." Amar took a deep breathe. "Are we in some kind of war? I want to know Dajiraj...please..tell me why? This secrecy, hiding in the castle, security everywhere and deaths..." his voice broke.
Pratap Songara gave his son a piercing stare. "You want to know?"
Amar stood straight. "Yes."
Pratap nodded. "I will tell you Amar. I will tell you everything. Things harsher even for someone more than you age of six years to bear." He stood up, his tall frame towering over his son. "Come."
Amar felt the brief flicker of uncertainity as he stood still while his father stepped out of his bedroom.
He gathered himself before his courage failed him and followed.
His Dajiraj led him to his study. Amar knew this place but not as well as he would have liked to because this place was off-limits to him and whenever any meeting was held here, he was completely excluded. Something even his polished skills of eavesdropping couldn't beat.
There was only one time he had nearly entered the study. At the age of three, being an annoying little midget he had successfully hung to the coat lapels of Uncle Som who unknowingly had assumed that his unable to walk easily was because of his growing girth. However soon he was discovered. But that was a story for another day.
His father stood in front of the door. It was something that had always confused him as there were no handles on it. Just a plain wooden door.
And then his father beckoned him closer.
"Watch."
His father placed his right palm on the door. A whirring noise met his ears and the door clicked open.
His father pushed the door and he followed.
Amar stepped to what looked like ancient India come to life.
Numerous portraits and painting adorned the walls of the room. He could recognise some of them.
On the right top corner was the portrait of a tall man, strong in body but pleasing countenance, a quill and parchment in his hands. That was Rana Khumba a renowned warrior, builder, writer and a patron of arts.
"Rana Kumbha was a brilliant man Amar. He built Mewar upto a position of assailable military strength building a chain of...?"
"Thirty forts," Amar piped up at once. Pratap gave him a small smile. "And?"
Amar bit his lip, eyes scrunched up in thought. " Umm he rivalled Lorenzo de Medici and made Chittorgarh a dazzling cultural centre."
"Good." Pratap marched to the next visage.
A tall heavyset man stood, staring straight decked in chain-mail. Rana Sanga. Next to him was the portrait of a beautiful woman, long brown hair and startling green eyes, Rani Karnavati.
Meera Bai's portrait stood on the opposite wall, an ethereal woman staring out of it. Dresses in simple clothes of orange or perhaps brown, she looked peaceful and content untouched by the darkness of lives.
Right below her portrait was another vision of a woman completely in opposite contrast with the previous one. The woman was dressed in expensive clothes and heavy gold ornaments and she was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful of all the people Amar had ever seen.
"Rani Padmini."
Amar started. He had become so engrossed in watching the portraits that he had forgotten about his father.
"Who?" Amar asked.
"Rani Padmini. Our ancestor. As beautiful as she is, her strength is even more so. Care for a history lesson?"
Amar nodded mutely engrossed by that portrait.
"Allauddin Khilji, Sultan of Delhi had heard about Rani Padmini's beauty and charm and wanting the proof of this he surrounded Chittor and made a deal with Rana Rattan Singh that he would go back if he is allowed a glimpse of Rani Padmini."
"But Dajiraj, Rani's weren't allowed without ghoonghat before unrelated men. I read about that custom."
Pratap nodded. " One side stood customs and honour of women, and other side stood war and lives of men. And so a compromise was reached. Khilji stood by a lotus pool and Rani Padmini stood over it in the balcony. Her reflection was all he saw."
"And then he went away?" Amar asked.
" Of course he did but that's the starting of the miseries that befell Rani Padmini, for soon Khilji showed his reality by ambushing and capturing Rana Rattan Singh and holding him hostage the ransom was Rani Padmini."
"Then? What happened next Dajiraj?"
"Rani Padmini" Pratap began after a brief pause, "was an excellent strategist. She devised a plan and on the given day went to the Sultan with a hundred maids carried on hundred palanquins each lifted by six workers. They reached the assigned spot where Rattan Singh was held. And then in a blur four soldiers slipped out of the palanquins armed to the teeth. The six workers who carried the palanquins transformed to soldiers and then was a slaughter. It was Rani Padmini's plan and even though seven thousand men lost their lives, the Rana was rescued."
"So Rani Padmini won?"
Pratap gave a sad smile. "Yes and no."
"Wha...?"
"Rani Padmini rescued her husband but Khilji attacked with a vengeance. At last the Rajputs lost and Khilji triumphantly marched to claim his prize but Rani Padmini was ahead by a step for before he could enter she and a thousand other women dressed in fineries and performed Jauhar. She lost and yet she won."
A shiver raced down his spine. Seriously these people were legends. True Mewari's.
Wait... Chittor, Mewar. Dajiraj said that they were ancestors. But the Mewari descendents were called Suryavanshi's not Songara's.
"Dajiraj. We are Songara's right?"
His father gave him a wry smile. "I have told you about our ancestors. Now let us talk about our present family."
"Family?" Amar stared at his father nonplussed. " But Dajiraj we don't have any other family."
"We have."
Amar stood still. "If we have family how come I haven't seen them yet? What are you still not telling me Dajiraj?"
Pratap sighed. "I wanted to keep you away from this Amar. Preserve your innocence for some more time but I guess time decides its own way."
He turned to look at his son. "Do you remember I once told you that we have problems from two sides?"
Amar nodded.
"That's what it is. You are right, we are fighting a war. A war from two sides. One from Mughals and can you guess the other side Amar?"
Amar closed his eyes. Things finally fell to place. "The Suryavanshi's. Our family.
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