The Fugitive
Shivapujan Sahay
Translated by Mangal Murty
[Shivapujan Sahay (1893-1963) wrote this Hindi story in 1923. It is among a group of only
16 stories that he wrote which were first published in 1935 in a collection
named Vibhuti. It also belongs to an interconnected group
of four stories based on historical accounts available in James Tod’s
celebrated Annals & Antiquities of Rajasthan. The time of these stories falls during the decades in the early 14th
century when there were frequent battles between the Mughal rulers in Delhi and
the smaller Kingdoms in Rajputana. The plot of this particular story relates to
the battle between the Mughal Emperor Allauddin Khilji and Hammir Dev, the King
of Chittorgarh in Rajasthan, about 500 miles south-west of Delhi. The romantic
love-story that forms the core of the plot seems to have been based on some
folk tale as narrated by Tod in his Annals.]
The great Pathan
King Allauddin had a passion for hunting. He was so ardent a huntsman that large expanses of forests
were left abandoned in his kingdom specially for this purpose. In his
passionate pursuit of hunting he would camp in these forests with his harem of
begums for months together.
In
India, the Vindhyas are a famous mountain range, sprawling over a wide area, skirting
as it were the charming waist of the land mass, with dense natural forests of
incomparable beauty. Stretches of sleepy green tranquility lie crisscrossed
with dark, fierce swathes of perilous forests. Herds of nimble deer would
prance around bower-kissed pools of pristine water, as also there would be
lairs of wild lions spattered with the gushing blood of their newly killed
prey. There would be numberless trees filled with the music of myriad-coloured
birds, as also hissing pythons curling round them.
Royal
tents dotted one sequestered grove beneath a hill, some of them decorated
with gorgeous Kashmiri shawls, tied with multi-coloured tent-pins and
silken strings. Ornate bedsteads with starry canopies lay languorously around
in these royal tenements. In their centre lay a large circular velvet shamiana surrounded by a flowery garden.
The
golden sun was about to hide its
face behind the hills. Allaudin had been out on a hunt. The begums were amusing
themselves with chess and card games in the central shamiana. Sometime it would be a nine of Hearts seeming to score,
and soon a Jack would try to get the better of a Queen. At another game of
Chess at one time a pawn by its devious moves would become the Queen, or the
King himself would get cornered into a Checkmate. Lilting laughters would then ring
all round the flower-filled gardens. Amidst all those dulcet gigglings, often a
soft serene radiant smile would suddenly light up on a pair of lissome lips
which had enough tipsiness to make the King sozzled.
The
begums decided to go for a swim in a nearby pool, and soon rushed there with
their maids. Armed guards readily surrounded the vacant royal harem tents for
security. A train of maids followed the queens with their royal clothes, but
were soon sent back. The absence of the King had brought a sense of boundless
freedom and joie de vivre. Clad only
in their loosely worn saris, with their arms round their shoulders, the bevy of
beauties walked on their nimble feet into the copse. To savour their unbounded
freedom they had not brought even a single bandi
with them.
They
went chatting, giggling, sprinting ahead, jesting and nudging each other
impishly. They would smilingly chide awhile the thorny bushes in which often their
anchals would get entangled. One or
two would mimic the koels in their cooings, some others would try to chase the
fluttering butterflies flying around, looking like flashes of lightning in the
darkening evening scene.
Once
at the pool they took off their saris
and piled them in a lovely heap nearby. The pristine pool of the forest was
fragrant with the aroma of lotus flowers, open-petalled or half-opened, and all
radiant on the tranquil waters of the pool, teased by the black-bees, as the
water fowl cooed around.
Overjoyed,
the begums looked at each other, breaking into mischief-mixed smiles. In no
time, their happiness and abandon became euphoric and gay. Very soon the
nature-nurtured lotuses bowed their blushing heads, petals closed, before those
golden lotuses that always lolled in the Pathan King’s pool of consciousness.
Dark
clouds filled the horizon. A heavy downpour seemed imminent. But the next moment
the clouds disappeared and the sky broke into a glow. Suddenly there was some
commotion in a nearby bush as if two venomous snakes were fighting each other.
Terror-struck, the begums stopped their water-frolics and gigglings, their ears
trained towards the hissing joust in the bush. Mortally afraid, they slowly
came out of the pool one by one. The commotion was getting fiercer. The nearby bushes shook and swayed. They
started running, but a storm had
arisen. They couldn’t even see their way ahead. The wicked storm soon blew
their saris into the bushes. Helter-skelter, the begums, oblivious of their
lost saris, ran for their lives where they could. Velvety skins were rudely
pricked and scratched by thorns, but the fear of the King made them heedless of
their pain.
Seeing
their unclad mistresses trembling in panic and fear, the bandis tried hard to hide their smiles. The price for leaving them
behind had been well-paid! But the bandi of
the favourite begum was very flustered not to find her darling mistress among
the frightened begums. A sudden hush fell all around. All blood froze. Horsemen
were quickly dispatched into all directions in the dense forest. But there was
no trace anywhere of the new begum. The horsemen came back with their heads
bowed in shame. The other begums had their hearts beating dreadfully. The
watchmen began tearing their hair. The favourite queen’s bandi pulled out a dagger to plunge into her heart. But the senior
begum caught her raised hand – “Stop! The horsemen have returned, but their Sardar hasn’t come back yet. That might
augur well!”
The
Sardar was still circling around the
pool, prying closely into every thicket, every shrub and bush, yet to no avail.
Suddenly a strange fragrance filled his nostrils. He was struck with alacrity,
focusing all his senses there. All at once he looked askance as his eyebrows
lowered in shame, and throwing his silken turban, eyes still lowered, he asked
the lissome beauty to wrap it around her nudity. The begum was shivering in cold,
her black tresses loosely strewn around her glowing nude body, like snakes
curled round a sandalwood sapling in a forest. Languidly she had wrapped the
soldier’s turban like a sari around herself. But it had a distinct masculine
odour in it which made the begum restive.
“I am
shivering with cold. Can’t you do something to bring me comfort?” – wailed the
begum.
“Should I light up
some fire here?” said the Sardar.
“And what about the fire
that burns in my heart?”
“ Order me, and I would do as you
say”.
“Hold me in your arms to love
me.”
The shocked Sardar said, “I would
be playing with my life then.”
“ Anyway, you are now caught in
the snare of certain death.”
“But your royal honour is dearer
to me than my life”.
“But you seem to love my honour
more than me.”
“That to me is still more
precious. Otherwise I wouldn’t have dared so far.”
“Then
forget the fear for my life. I can take care of that with a twinkle of my eye. But
you are needlessly endangering your own life now by opting for a poison chalice
and refusing to kiss this cup of nectar hung around your lips. Don’t you know
how I can make the King dance to my tunes?”
“My
gracious lady, I know everything. But the offence is extremely grievous. My
proven integrity, and my diffident soul forbid me to exceed my limits.”
“And
you have no care for the turbulence in my heart. No more of hesitancy now. Your
promotion to the highest position is assured.”
“But I would rather shun such an
act of disloyalty. Please forgive me.”
“You have already hurt a she-snake.
Don’t retreat now.”
“ Great lady, there is a limit
even to the wildest daring.”
“Yeah, then let me start the game
myself.”
The
Sardar was gripped by his qualms. But the begum lost herself in her passionate
frenzy. The soft bed of the silence-filled copse soon overflowed with the wild
intermingling of two streams of unrestrained desire. A lion emerged from a
nearby thicket as the begum reached fulfillment. The Sardar then strung his bow
with a smile and killed the animal with a single arrow. The animal was dead and
alongside the begum, too, lay supine. Passion was requited into satiety. All nimbleness
lapsed into lassitude. All scratches and nicks seemed like the living alphabets
of a lifelong bond of union. And all, all was finally enveloped in an enduring
embrace, firmly sealed with a passionate kiss.
The
begum rode back on the horse to the royal harem. And the Sardar took the string
of precious pearls as a gift of love, touched it to his heart, and kissed it
smilingly. He only wondered how luck, like a wild storm, had blown his way,
bringing him such a rich bounty.
On
a moonlit night, Allauddin was on a merry boat-trip with his new begum in the Jamuna
river facing his royal palace. The royal boat was surrounded at appropriate
distances by other boats of beautiful female singers. On the dark tranquil
waters of the deep river the rays of the moon seemed to play a game of diamond
dices. It was as if the luminous night-sky was pouring out the milk of a
radiant moonlight.
Softly pressing the delicate chin of his favourite
begum, Allauddin said – “You, breath of my dear life, seeing your resplendent
face, even the moon goes hiding in shame. Look how it is soon about to drown
itself into the river out of sheer shame. The begum bent her neck like one of a
wine-jar to look that way and smiled. Her eyes reflected the glow of her
beauty. The face gleamed with radiance, as her cheeks suddenly flushed rosy.
Allauddin
was by now in a stupor of delight. The wine had already roused his dalliance,
as the passion-filled begum was totally possessed by fervid desire and the
royal boat-ride swayed with the rhythms of love. She was lying embraced in the
sinewy arms of the King who was lost in those luscious kisses of his lovely
partner.
Suddenly
two river-beasts seemed to grapple with each other just there. There was a loud
splash as if the river itself had been shuddered awake. The boat shook
violently for some moments. The embrace got loosened. The kiss lay broken. And
the begum couldn’t help a titter.
“ "What made you laugh so loud, my
love”, asked the King.
“Nothing, my lord; for no
particular reason. Believe me”.
“That can’t be, and you must tell me. I am sure you
are lying this time, and it may not be good for you”, said the exasperated King.
“Howsoever be it, but there was
no reason behind it.”
The
King tensed as he took it as a jibe against his manhood. Feeling chagrined and
skimpy, he fell into deep annoyance. Nothing would hurt a man more than the
derision of his manliness by so beautiful a lover.
“Tell me the truth, or be
ready to die by hanging tomorrow.”
“How regrettable my lord
that you should be so peeved by such a trifle.”
“Enough of your
impertinence now. Go ahead, if you still value your life, and tell me what it’s
all about.”
“If my lord can spare my
life, I will tell you…”
“I give you my word. If you tell me the
truth, here and now, I will hold you in my arms again and love you till the
dawn.”
“If your lordship spares
one more life… I will tell you all.”
“Granted, but go ahead at
once.”
To
cut the long story short, the begum spoke so excitedly about the chivalrous Sardar’s
manliness and prowess that Allauddin’s face flushed red. He would only grind
his teeth, wring his hands and beat his head in extreme rage. The begum then
realized the folly of revealing her deepest secret so naively to the King.
The
very next morning, both the begum and the Sardar were thrown into prison.
Condemned to hunger and thirst, the day of their execution was fixed. Luckily,
the Sardar’s brother was the chief of the jail guards and the brother of the
begum was the police chief. By their daring collusion they helped the condemned
duo to escape from the prison. When the King came to see, he only found a
string of tied clothes hanging across the outer prison wall.
The
fugitive duo went round asking for shelter and protection from the various
powerful kings in the country, but most of the kings and chieftains even in Rajputana
refused to provide refuge to them. Desperate for their safety, they approached King
Hammir in his Court. The Sardar begged in a plaintive voice for security.
Hammir was deeply stirred by the beseeching prayer of the fugitive couple, his
forehead aglow with pride and gallantry. Descending from his throne, he came to
the Sardar, and embracing him, said – “No power on earth can harm you now. So
long as this Rajput King Hammir is alive you shall have all protection here, in
the safe refuge of Rajasthan. Shed all fears henceforth and live with total
security within the precincts of my fort. Whoever seeks refuge here shall have
full protection under these arms of mine. Now be fearless and give me your full
account.”
The
astonishing tale of the Sardar cast a spell on the entire Court of King Hammir,
and a thousand swords came unsheathed when it ended. The Sardar now became
fully assured of his security as he lived within the lofty walls of the royal
fort. The begum also was deeply touched by the grace and beneficence of the
Rajput ladies of the palace as she lived
under full security among them.
Allauddin’s
spies carried all this news to their King who sent a clear threat of total
annihilation to the Rajput King. But Hammir declared from the highest tower of
his fort – “I don’t care a fig for such hollow threats from a coward King.” And
the surrounding hills resonated with the Rajput King’s solemn averment. Even
the high walls of the fort echoed back the Rajput’s proclamation – “ Each here
shall lay down his life for the honour-bound protection promised to our
shelter-seeker.”
In
no time, the raging winds carried this grandiloquent message to the ramparts of
the Delhi fort. For a moment, Allauddin’s heart shuddered in dread. But the
Prime Minister was immediately summoned and an instant proclamation was issued
for a devastating attack on Chittorgarh. An army of the elite 50,000 soldiers
immediately marched towards Chittorgarh.
On
this side, Hammir invested the Sardar with the rank of his Army Chief by tying
the designated turban on his head with his own hands. Many of his Rajput
courtiers tried to dissuade their King from doing so, but Hammir reposed full
faith in the daring and gallantry of a war-hardened fighter.
Fully
arrayed in battle dress when Hammir went to seek his mother’s blessings, she
kissed his forehead saying – “ Victory in the battle may honour you, my son. I
am sure you will prove worthy of my milk and the ideals of Rajput valour with
which you were brought up.” But she was startled when Hammir, for a moment, put
aside the bow and arrows and his mighty sword and stood rather pensive before
her.
“Why
this untimely sorrow, my son?”
Hammir
then said that this was a special
day when he wouldn’t be satisfied merely with the traditional blessing; he
would rather have a blessing filling him with the invincible ferocity of a lion.
“Today,
dear Mother,” said he, “I need your special blessing which will enable me to
annihilate the enemy totally or sacrifice my proud head at the feet of goddess
Durga in the battle.”
“So
be it, my son!”, said the proud Rajput queen Mother, as her breasts seeped with
milk oozing out of a mother’s love.
The
battle went on for weeks. The Rajput army showed its gallantry in ample measure.
Allauddin was totally flabbergasted by the valour of his enemy forces. All his
arrogance was totally shattered.
In
the battle Hammir always kept himself around the Sardar to ensure him full
protection. But when the final day arrived, the Sardar found himself completely
surrounded in one corner of the battlefield by the Pathan army. He amazed the
Pathans by his fierce fighting, killing scores among his enemies, but couldn’t
emerge out of the siege. Rushing like a storm Hammir arrived there, leaving the
crucial bloody battle that was taking place at the fort’s main entrance. He cut
through the enemy siege with his lightning sword and freed the besieged Sardar
from the deadly orbit.
But
soon both the fugitive and his protector were overwhelmed by a fresh rushing
squad of the Pathan army. The battlefield appeared to be flooded by streams of
blood. Death itself stood before the two brave heroes to welcome them. It was
the Sardar first who seemed to implore Death to take him into its fold before it
welcomed his protector. But Hammir himself appeared insistent for Death to take
him first into its lap so that the valiant Sardar could follow him into the
gates of Heaven. Both the heroes seemed to vie with each other as they prepared
for their last journey, but Hammir was able to win precedence. Meanwhile, the Sardar
had already brutally slain Hammir’s attacker.
Finally
both the Sardar and his protector King lay gasping in the lap of Death who
laughingly said to them – “O Maharana, and O Muslim Sardar! Both of you are
truly blessed! If both Hindus and Muslims learn from your noble example to live
together in harmony and good faith, then this great land which belongs to you
both, shall be free from all hatred and violence, bringing some respite to me
as well. I feel truly blessed today to have both of you in my lap – one a
chivalrous and daring Muslim Sardar, and the other a lion-hearted protector of
his shelter-seeker. I don’t know when again I shall have such a good fortune
when the likes of you shall adorn this lap of mine.”
*
* * * *
