Through this award-winning novel, the author has attempted to illuminate a lesser-known chapter of Meerabai’s life

Meera

By Debasree Chakraborti

Place: Chittorgarh Fort

The next morning, at dawn, the women of the fort gathered near Suraj Kund. Everyone was speaking of one thing: last night, Kunwar Banbir killed Uday Singh. All were searching for Pannabai, for she had raised Kunwar Sa with her own hands. How was she now?

One woman said, “Pannabai is fine. She has taken shelter in Mira’s palace with her son Chandan and Udabai.”

Another said, “No, haven’t you heard? Mirabai has removed all guards from her palace. Now no one is allowed to enter her quarters.”

Another added, “That’s not true. A few trusted women of Rani Jhali are managing the affairs of Mira’s palace. Even Mira’s own attendants are not being allowed inside.”

Another asked, “But why is she doing this? I cannot understand.”

Someone replied, “She is doing it for her own safety, don’t you see?”

Mira’s palace was close to the kund. Just then, a girl came running and said, “A little while ago Banbir was seen outside Mira’s palace. And through the jharokha, my friend Sunaina, who is a maid, saw Banbir bowing to Mira, while Mira offered him flowers and the Lord’s prasad. After that, Mira wrote a letter and handed it to him with a smile.”

One woman exclaimed, “Last night our little Kunwar Sa was murdered, and Mira is joining hands with the killer? Shame, shame! Rana-ji and Rani Karmetabai loved Mira so dearly, and now she betrays them like this?”

The girl who had brought the news said, “Soon Mira’s letter and the flowers of prasad will be carried by Banbir’s men towards Merta. This means Merta’s support is now with them. But one thing troubles me greatly — even Banbir is not being allowed inside Mira’s palace. What secret is Mira hiding within her chambers?”

While the women of the fort were gossiping among themselves, just then Mirabai appeared She appeared by the banks of Suraj Kund.

At the sight of Mira, all hatred and suspicion melted away from people’s hearts. The white silk sari she wore seemed to blend with her complexion, radiating an otherworldly glow. A cascade of black hair framed her face, her two eyes deep and dark like bumblebees, her lips like the slices of an orange — altogether, she seemed like a divine image descended from heaven. Mira’s feet were as soft and pure as white lotus petals, and as she stepped slowly down the stairs toward the Suraj Kund, everyone stopped gossiping and stood transfixed, gazing at her in awe. Then, bowing in reverence, they moved aside.

Soon after, Gadadhar-ji, the priest of the Kumbh Shyam temple, arrived at the Suraj Kund. Mira had brought this Gadadhar-ji from Merta for the worship of her beloved Shyam-ji. He handed flowers to Mira and had her recite the sacred mantras. Mira then cast the flowers into the waters of the kund. At once, there was a faint, muffled sound — as if something heavy had fallen into the water.

Then, chanting mantras, Gadadhar Pandit slowly descended into the waters of the kund and disappeared beneath the surface. From afar, the people thought that he had merely dived and resurfaced elsewhere, assuming he had left. They were too busy whispering and gossiping amongst themselves as they watched the scene. For when people are lost in gossip, the subtlest details of their surroundings remain hidden from them. Thus, they failed to notice that Gadadhar Pandit never returned from the waters of the Suraj Kund. Nor did they know that within the kund lay a secret passage connected to the Gambhir River — a passage that led far outside the fort, into freedom.

One week later, the blast of a war trumpet was heard outside the fort. The people of Chittor, overwhelmed with joy, cried out, “The Rana has returned! Now we have nothing to fear.”

It was Mirabai who had sent the signal of danger to Rana Sanga. Receiving it, he had signed a most humiliating treaty with the Sultan of Gujarat. According to the terms of this treaty, Kunwar Vikramjit was sent to the Sultan of Gujarat under house arrest. But there had been no other choice.

Maldav had planned not to allow Rana Sanga into the fort of Mewar at all. His scheme was to keep the fort under siege for a long time while the combined forces of Jodhpur and Gujarat attacked the Rana and killed him. Then, taking advantage of the situation, Ratan Singh would be proclaimed as the new Rana. But in all this, Banbir would gain nothing Banbir did not allow that to happen. He told Maldev that if such a plan were carried out, Ratan Singh would be branded a traitor, and many kingdoms including Bikaner would unite against them. The outcome would not be favorable.

Returning to Chittor, Rana convened a council. In this assembly he said, “Now all of us must remain united. For Babur is preparing to invade Hindustan. If we are not united, Hindustan may be struck at any moment. And you think that I intend to deprive Ratan and make Vikram the Rana. That is a false notion. Today in this very council, I declare: my son Ratan Singh shall be the Rana of Mewar after me.”

This news spread like wildfire across all of Mewar and Rajputana. A storm of criticism arose on everyone’s lips. The common people expressed their disgust toward Rana Sanga, saying, “Shame, shame! What kind of father is this? He feels no grief at the death of his younger son. Little Uday Singh had to become the victim of a vile political conspiracy, and instead of expressing sorrow — far from it — the Rana has legitimized those responsible for such a heinous act!”

That day, the people of Mewar did not accept Ratan Singh as their prince. Toward him, they bore only bitter hatred. But politics is far more complex than ordinary minds can grasp. Often, we see only the flow of events before us and think the actors alone are responsible. Yet behind many such events stands a particular hidden figure, pulling the strings from the shadows. At that time, within the ruins of Rana Kumbha’s dark palace, it was a devout Vaishnavi — Mirabai herself — who guided the politics of Chittor and all of Rajasthan. History has always had difficulty in granting recognition to a woman, and so her contributions have been veiled in shadow, while for centuries she has been portrayed merely as a helpless, tragic woman.

What happened that day was this: Banbir’s men departed for Merta carrying a document signed by Mirabai. But Banbir had no idea how far-reaching Mira’s power truly was. The family that had designed the plan of the Suraj Kund still lived in a village within the Chittor fort in Mira’s time. Mira had close ties with the women of these villages.

Once, while there was a discussion about sati, a girl said that before committing sati, one must bathe in the waters of the Suraj Kund. Many years ago, a woman, before becoming a sati once, a woman who went to bathe in the Suraj Kund before becoming sati supposedly dived in and never returned — because she had been afraid of the ritual. But her body was never found. At that time, an old woman revealed that her husband’s forefathers had designed the plan of the Suraj Kund. She said that in her house the original blueprint was still preserved, and in it was marked the secret passage. That passage had been made so that during times of war, messengers could travel safely in and out through the Suraj Kund.

When Mira learned of this passage from the old woman, it was as though she had received the moon in her hands. She told the old woman, “I want to see that blueprint once, if you could show it to me.” The old woman replied that the blueprint was in her custody, and that she had hidden it in a very secret place.

One night, the old woman brought that blueprint in great secrecy to Rana Kumbha’s ancient palace and handed it over to Mirabai. On that night, the priest of the Kumbh Shyam temple, Pandit Gadadhar, was also present, for he had come to conduct Mira’s worship of her Giridhar-ji. After handing the plan to Mira, the old woman sat like a vigilant guardian in a shadowy corner of the palace. For this heritage belonged to her husband’s ancestors, and it was her duty to protect it. She vowed that as long as she lived, she would not give it into anyone else’s hands.

Resting her elbows on her knees and chewing betel leaves, her long shadow stretched across the floor. Upon the floor lay the blueprint, illuminated by the light of an oil lamp. Both Gadadhar Pandit and Mira kept their eyes fixed on it. The priest’s gaze was sharp as a blade, his fingers tracing the parchment as if deciphering an invisible code.

In that very moment, it seemed as though the waters of the Suraj Kund roared and filled the scene before their eyes. Gadadhar Pandit, moving through the underwater tunnel, pressed forward. If his assumption proved true, in a short while he would emerge into the waters of the river. If false, then certain death awaited him.

But the tunnel was not completely submerged. Raising his head above the water, he took breaths as he continued forward. After some distance, a faint glow of daylight began to filter through. Gadadhar Pandit realized his assumption had not been wrong — he was indeed on the right path. The sunlight, reflected against the tunnel walls, revealed to him the presence of several torches. He understood then that along this vast passageway, torches had been placed to light the way for spies who traveled through it.

Gradually, Gadadhar Pandit reached the mouth of the tunnel and emerged into the waters of the Gambhir River. On both banks stretched barren plains. Scattered across the far reaches of these plains lay He was already familiar with the small villages scattered across the region. Taking shelter among the villagers, he managed to deliver Mira’s message to them without difficulty. And thus, from the banks of that river began Gadadhar Pandit’s strange journey. This time he sought no permanent refuge. Disguised as a nomadic traveler, riding a camel with the help of local people, he eventually reached the camp of Rana Sanga.

There too, Gadadhar Pandit’s own agents were present, and through them he sent word of his arrival to the Rana. In the midst of the ongoing war, his sudden presence stirred unease in Rana Sanga’s heart. After a long day of battle, just as the Rana had returned to his tent for rest, Gadadhar Pandit arrived. Under the cover of night, the two held a secret discussion. And then, as mysteriously as he had come, Gadadhar Pandit vanished again into the darkness.

After his departure, it was as though Rana Sanga found himself engaged in battle with another enemy altogether. Even though victory seemed to be within his grasp, he was now faced with the bitter necessity of abandoning the battlefield. He knew well that such a decision would force him into signing a humiliating treaty. Once, he had captured the Sultan of Delhi, Ibrahim Lodi, and brought him to the court of Chittor, releasing him only after imposing harsh terms of peace. But now, he himself would have to endure the shame of such a treaty, for no other option remained. At times, for the sake of greater interests, one must accept small defeats. Yet Rana Sanga resolved that this was not the end. He would one day restore Chittor to its former honor and glory.

Meanwhile, Gadadhar Pandit had already learned that Banbir’s messenger was on his way to Merta. He immediately sent his men to alert the people of every village along that route. Then, under the cover of night, the messenger was intercepted in a deserted place. Gadadhar’s men had been lying in wait. They had strewn poisonous thorns from wild plants along the road, so that the messenger’s horse became wounded, writhing in agony, stumbling in madness. At that moment, the assassins surrounded him, dragged him from his saddle, and pulled him behind the thickets, where they cut him down mercilessly.

And so it was that on that day, unknown to all, Mewar was saved from a great conspiracy through the secret workings of Gadadhar Pandit and Mirabai. From this moment, another crucial chapter in history began to unfold. (Continues)

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Debasree Chakraborti is a renowned novel writer of Bengali language. Based in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, she has done Master’s in Modern History from the Kolkata University, and authored some thirty books, mostly the novels, with historical perspective and themes. Her novel is ‘Maharaja Dahir’ that covers the history of Sindh from 662, the year of first attack on Sindh by the Arab armies till date, was published last year and translated by Nasir Aijaz into Sindhi language.