Through this award-winning novel, the author has attempted to illuminate a lesser-known chapter of Meerabai’s life
Meera
By Debasree Chakraborti
Place: Kurki
While researching the life of Meera Bai, Saanjh and Pratap had grown very close to each other. The Rajasthani culture and the lives of its people had deeply influenced her. In the midst of this rugged land of India, Saanjh had discovered the priceless treasure hidden there. In a few days, she and Pratap would set out for Dwarka—the place where Meera spent the final chapter of her life. Before that, however, they would go to Merta.
Today, Saanjh and Pratap were on their way to Merta. The journey by bus took about seven hours. They chose not to hire a private car deliberately. Instead, they preferred to travel by bus with the local people. The scorching desert wind streamed in through the window of the bus. A group of Banjaras had boarded; since they couldn’t find seats, they sat on the floor, singing as they went along. One of them started a song:
“Chhod ke mat jao, ekali re Banjara re, Banjara re ha.
Door desh ra hai mamla.
Ab jago pyara ho.”
Both of them gazed outside at the moving landscape, and within a couple of hours, they would reach Merta.
Pratap said, “Saanjh, before we reach Merta, I want to tell you something. Because unless you know these subtle, intricate events of history, it will not be possible for you to understand the final phase of Meera’s life.”
A little while ago, the Banjaras had stopped singing and were resting. From outside, the hot, dusty wind rushed into the bus, making the atmosphere even more stifling. Saanjh kept her eyes fixed on the landscape outside, listening intently to Pratap’s words.
Pratap continued, “After Ratan Singh, Vikramjit became the Rana of Mewar. But in Vikramjit’s character there was no trace of manliness. His mannerisms…”
Everything about him was like that of a woman. The people of Chittor and even the courtiers looked upon him with disdain. The masculinity that was so evident in Rana Ratan Singh was entirely absent in this Rana. To feel respect for Vikram was out of the question—his very presence provoked laughter. Even Queen Karmetbai spent her days deeply worried about her son. The incident of Vikramjit’s accession to the throne was itself extremely mysterious.
Saanjh said, “But Vikramjit was with the Sultan of Gujarat, wasn’t he?”
Pratap replied, “Exactly. For some mysterious reason, the Sultan showed mercy and released him. With Vikram’s return to Chittor, Karmetbai too came back to the city. After her brother’s death, she had become utterly helpless. She could not bear to stay alone in her palace; she always felt someone was watching her, that she might be killed at any moment. Whenever she was alone in the palace, Karmetbai would rave in delirium, saying that being a sati would have been far better than living this life. Because, had she become a sati, she would at least have earned honor and respect—so much better than this dishonor she now lived with. Now, every morning, Karmetbai went to the temple of Giridharji. After worship, she would sit with Meera and share her joys and sorrows.
One day Karmetbai said to Meera, “I worry deeply about Vikram. I know it is impossible for him to manage affairs of state.”
Then Meera Bai said, “But Ratan Singh was managing it very well. Why then did Surajmal kill him?”
Karmetbai replied, “It was all Banvir’s conspiracy. A message had been sent to Surajmal that while out hunting, Ratan Singh planned to kill him. So, before he himself was attacked, he struck first. Now neither Bundi nor Merta stand beside Chittor. I worry greatly about what will become of Chittor.”
Meera said, “The political condition of India is not good. After the death of Emperor Babur, Humayun set his sights on Rajputana. Besides, the Sultan of Gujarat, Bahadur Shah, also has his eyes on this region. I think Bahadur Shah has made Vikram a pawn, with the intention of eventually seizing Chittor.”
They were talking, while the boy Udai was playing in the Atabagan among the huge stones…
…trying to pile them up in one place to build something. Pointing at Uday, Meera Bai said to Karmetbai, “Uday has all the qualities of a Rana. Looking at him, I’m reminded of Bapu Sa’s childhood. Don’t you think so?”
Karmetbai replied, “It’s Uday I worry about the most. Once you were able to protect him—but who will protect him now?”
Meera Bai asked, “Why? Has something happened?”
Karmetbai said, “Uday was learning swordsmanship from Chandra Singh. Within just a few days he had become very skilled. But Banvir forbade Chandra Singh from training him further. I cannot understand one thing—what does he gain by putting Mewar in danger?”
Meera replied, “If Mewar falls into danger, it is Banvir who gains. Because in that situation, he will seize the chance to become Rana.”
Karmetbai let out a deep sigh and said, “One night at midnight, news came that a messenger had arrived with a child. I was in a southern chamber of the fort. The messenger entered with the child, and in the dim light of night, I felt I had regained my lost life’s treasure. Meera, you’ll be astonished to hear this—even after so long away from me, Uday had not forgotten me. The night you spirited him away from Chittor, he could not even speak yet. But his memory was so sharp that the moment I took him in my arms, he clung to my neck. Later, when I heard that Vikramjit was returning to Chittor, I thought God was giving me back everything I had lost. What grief could I have left? But the moment I saw Vikram, I realized my ruin was complete. It would have been better if he had been killed rather than brought back this way.”
All this while, sitting on the steps of Giridharji’s temple, Udabai had been listening intently to her mother and Baisa’s conversation. Suddenly, she stood up and began walking toward the palace. Seeing Uda rise and leave, Meera asked, “Uda, what happened? Where are you going?”
Udabai turned back and cast a sharp glance at Meera, then snapped, “I am the only sister of the Rana of Mewar. Speak to me with respect, Baisa. It seems you must learn this much courtesy from a girl of my own age.”
Watching Uda walk away, Karmetbai said, “These days Uda spends most of her time…”
…at Banvir’s palace. Meera, these days I worry a lot about my Uda as well. The other day a maid came with news that Banvir had given Uda thirty gold coins.
Meera said, “What? That’s truly troubling. He gave so much gold to such a young girl? And what is Uda doing with it all?”
Karmetbai replied, “Yes, it is very worrying, Meera. I asked her, ‘Why do you go to Banvir’s palace?’
Do you know what Uda said? She said that Banvir is the only one in this palace who treats her with great respect. That is why she will not hear a single bad word spoken against him.”
Meera Bai asked, “What exactly did the maid see that day?”
Karmetbai said, “That day Uda was going of her own accord to meet Vikramjit. She had been away from Chittor for many years. On returning, she was overjoyed, and when she heard that Vikramjit had become Rana, she thought now our honor in Chittor would be firmly reestablished. While she was immersed in these happy thoughts, near Vikramjit’s palace she encountered Banvir. That maid happened to be working at Vikramjit’s palace then. She told me that on seeing Uda, Banvir said, ‘Udabai, do you recognize me?’
Uda apparently could not recognize him. Then Banvir told her that he was, in fact, her elder brother, and that it was he who had gone against everyone else to make Vikramjit the Rana. You know that among her brothers, Uda loved Vikramjit the most. Since it was by Banvir’s effort that Vikramjit became Rana, Uda began to regard Banvir as equal to God himself.”
Meera Bai said, “In truth, Banvir is very clever. He understands the psychology of every person very well. He exploited Uda’s weakness for Vikramjit. And then what happened?”
Karmetbai said, “Then Banvir, noticing Uda’s clothing, expressed sorrow, saying he could not bear to see the royal princess of Chittor in such a pitiable state. He promised to provide her with fine clothes and ornaments, and to give her some gold coins every month. In return, he asked Uda to work on his behalf…”
“…will happen. The truth is, Meera, what should I hide from you—my daughter has always been very greedy. That is why she is in this condition.”
Meera Bai let out a deep sigh and said, “That means Uda too has been turned into a pawn.”
Karmetbai said, “At times I feel such pain. My father married me off to an aged Rana for political reasons, and when I was at the age of playing with dolls, I came here as the junior queen of Chittor. From the very moment of my arrival, the family politics began. I hold no grievances against any of these people—my grievance is only against my father. He never thought of me as anything more than his property. Had he considered me a living being, he would have valued my emotions and feelings—but he never did. Only my brother Sa understood me. But now even he is no longer at my side, and because of me, he had to meet death at such a young age.”
Hearing this, Meera said, “Your brother Sa was by your side—but think about me. From the moment of my birth, I have had to fight my battles alone. I feel like Kunti of the Mahabharata. In her childhood, Kunti was given in adoption by her father to Kuntibhoja. Her own father never tried to understand her feelings and emotions. A little girl, in whose heart love for her parents and family naturally grew, was given away to another as a daughter. Imagine her condition—she was forced to accept a new family and foster parents as her own. Kunti once said to my Giridharji that she could not blame herself, nor could she even blame Duryodhana. She believed all the fault lay with her father: ‘pitaram eva garheyam nātmānam na suyodhanam.’
I too, though I never say it aloud, have never been able to forgive my father. Even before my birth, my father had surrendered me to Grandfather Sa’s will. Before dedicating me for a special purpose, they too thought of me as nothing more than their property. Yours, mine, all our conditions are like that of Kunti in the Mahabharata—there has been no change for us. For thousands upon thousands of…”
Even after thousands of years, the condition of women has not changed. After my mother’s death, I was sent away to Grandfather Sa, and from then on my father hardly maintained any connection with me. From my birth, my parents had never once kept me away from them. Because of that, I had developed a deep love for them—they were my everything. After my mother’s death, I could have remained with my father—what harm would there have been in that? But my father did not ask for my opinion even once; keeping me almost in the dark, he sent me away to Grandfather Sa for a lifetime. I can never forget those childhood days in Kurki. I truly feel that Ramabai was far more devoted to me than my own father. That is why she remained unmarried her whole life, practicing Kumari Dharma, just to stay by my side. When we left Kurki and came to Merta, she too came along with me.
That is why, in the Mahabharata, Kunti once said to Shri Krishna, “Just as wealthy men spend money freely in charity to gain fame, my father too gave me in adoption to his friend in order to earn renown. He gave me away as though I were a bag of coins—dhanam vṛttair ivārpitā.” But she also said, *“Just as a wealthy man donates wealth without hesitation to gain fame as a benefactor, so too my father, without hesitation, gave me in adoption to his friend—vṛttair vadānyatvena khyātair yathā akleśena arpyate, tadvat evāham arpitā.”
My father, out of greed for religious merit, offered me at the feet of Giridharji. I know that both my father and Grandfather Sa had a noble purpose behind this, but in the process my life became a sacrificial altar. I ceased to be an ordinary woman. Like ordinary women, I lost all desires for small pleasures and indulgences. My family sacrificed me for the welfare of the nation and its people. And so, I was deprived of living life like any other woman.
Queen Karmetbai said, “Meera, such words do not suit your lips. Everyone honors you as if you are a goddess from heaven. How many are blessed with such fortune? Just looking at you gives us all strength of heart—yet you speak such words of despair?”
Tears rolled from Meera’s eyes as she said, “I had truly forgotten that I have no right to express my own emotions, no right to sit for even a moment and speak my heart. You see, even the women of the great epics were human—they too had joys and sorrows, faults and virtues, just like ordinary women. None of them were beyond these things.”
Meera realized she had stepped out from behind her veil, so in time she withdrew back into her shell and said, “From now on, we must pay some attention to Uda. I can already see storm clouds gathering in Uda’s sky.”
Hearing this, Queen Karmetbai’s face suddenly turned pale. (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8, Part-9, Part-10, Part-11, Part-12, Part-13, Part-14, Part-15, Part-16, Part-17, Part-18, Part-19, Part-20, Part-21, Part-22, Part-23, Part-24, Part-25, Part-26, Part-27, Part-28, Part-29, Part-30, Part-31, Part-32,
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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.
