"Shubhechha, Mahamahim!"

  The Diwaan of Udayapur stood up and folded his palms in respect. His lips curved in a genial smile.

  "Shubhechha, Raja Saheb. Aamhi aaplya yenyachi vat paahat hoto."

  "Mi tujhi maafi maagato, mahamahim. Mi koutumbik babimmadhye vyast hoto."

  (Greetings, Sire!)

  (Greetings, King. We were awaiting your arrival.)

  (I seek your forgiveness. I was preoccupied with family matters.)

  "It is completely understandable, honourable King. The family does come first," said the diwaan, giving a slight nod of understanding.

  "Sire, what brings you here?"

  One of the guards surrounding the diwaan walked towards the King and presented him a parchment carrying the seal of the Peshwa. The King waved his hand in approval, prompting the guard to pronounce the document:

  "Having obtained the permission of His Highness Chhatrapati Rajaram Dūsrā, Nanasaheb Peshwa proposes the drawing of a pact of mutual military and logistical cooperation between the Hindavi Samrajya and the Kingdom of Bhopal. This pact, if ratified, would enable both signatories to exchange military advisors, partake in military exercises, share intelligence, and protect each other under the possibility of an invasion."

  The King seemed uneasy at the pronouncement of the proposed pact. The diwaan, noticing the hesitation, asked, "What perturbs you, Your Excellency? Are you perhaps sceptical of our military prowess?"

  "No; not at all! I―"

  "Then what is it, Raja Saheb? Do you distrust us? Perhaps you're under the impression that we will not abide by the terms of the treaty?"

  "No, Sire. I do not impugn your righteousness."

  "Then?"

  "Sire, I am curious as to why the Peshwa believes that this pact is necessary. Why this suddenness?"

  "Why, the Peshwa believes in national unity. We all are the children of Mother India. We must protect our brethren."

  "I can say easily that this is certainly not the reason."

  The Diwaan smiled. "You're a clever man, Ashutosh Sahib."

  "I'm simply being pragmatic, Sire. Two things bug me."

  "One of them is the fact that my kingdom is under the tutelage of the Emperor of Aryavarta, and as you may be already knowing, not permitted to enter into any defence treaties without the prior approval of the Crown. Given that your burgeoning empire is a formidable power, why do you think the Emperor will risk jeopardizing his position by allowing me to enter into this alliance?"

  The diwaan twisted his fingers and spoke.

  "Raja saheb, I'm afraid to say that you haven't been able to comprehend the essence of our proposal."

  The King shot a confused look at the diwaan.

  "Pardon?"

  "Nowhere have we ever mentioned that the permission of the Emperor needs to be obtained."

  "What are you insinuating?"

  The diwan smirked and put his arm lazily over the armrest. Mitigating his tense posture, he began speaking plainly.

  "Let me be completely honest with you, Raja Saheb. We seek a military alliance with your kingdom, independent of the Empire with which you are affiliated. Given the pathetic state of the Empire's defence forces,evident in repeated failures to contain internal rebellions and to repel invaders along the north-western frontiers, it will not be long before it crumbles. Are you not aware of the mutinies in the garrisons of Kanpur and Allahabad?"

  The king nodded slowly. The provincial administrators near the frontiers of Oudh had reported that hordes of mutineers—armed with muskets, swords, and spears—had stormed into their barracks, burned the stables, killed their officers, and imprisoned the local military governors. There was widespread lawlessness, indiscipline, and recklessness among the sepoys. The administrators even wrote that there were chants of "Dilli Chalo."

  "And there are rumours insinuating a possible coup d'etat,"

  He received a nod in response, again.

  "Then what makes you feel that a man whose house is rapidly crumbling can keep yours intact?"

  The King's eyes vacillated to and fro, showing that he was struggling to find answers. As if understanding his distress, the diwaan stood up and put his palm gently on the King's.

  "Believe in us. The future is ours."

  The King, however, wasn't convinced. Was the future really theirs? With rebellions erupting every moment, finances dwindling and loyalties swaying as the clocks strike, was it really wise to trust anyone?

  And most importantly, was it moral to go against one's kin?

  "Sire, you shall receive a response as soon as possible. "

  "We shall be avidly awaiting a preferably affirmative response. Presently we take our leave and assure you that when chance wishes so, we shall return your warm hospitality."

  "The pleasure's all mine once again, Diwaan. I shall be graced to pay a visit to the sacred city of Ujjain."

  Saying so, the two potentates shook hands warmly and smiled graciously, the creases along the edges of their lips smoothening out. It was as though this brief meeting had struck a chord of mutual understanding between these two individuals.

  An understanding that divided, they would perish, and united, they would flourish.

  ***

  "Isn't it annoying that uncle's always into meetings and stuff?"

  "He's the King, Kamayani. What else do you expect? Him dancing with the hijras?"

  "Certainly not! Are you out of your mind?"

  "Why? What's wrong with dancing with the hijras, may I ask? Didn't you know that Lord Rama had blessed them with mysterious powers and granted them the authority to bless auspicious occasions?"

  "I certainly didn't say anything against the eunuchs, Alka! There's nothing inherently wrong with socialising with them, but isn't a King not supposed to become indulgent and pleasure-loving?"

  "Does that not answer your question?"

  "But didi, isn't he a human? Does he not need rest? Why, I often see your sisters dozing off carefreely!"

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Before Alaknanda could gather words to answer the princess's question, she quipped, "Being a man must be so hard, right?"

  "Huh?"

  "Can't you see what we two are doing? Lazily lounging about our mattresses and still complaining about our lives"

  "The more womenfolk, the more leisure. Fancy being born as a woman with no responsibilities! No getting involved in petty politics! No killing or getting killed in wars! Pleasure, pure pleasure!"

  "Don't you find it rather unfair that we women are identified with indolence, pleasure, flamboyance and superficiality? It's as though a woman by default has nothing to do besides dressing up, putting makeup, attending parties, falling in love with handsome men, deferring to elders and suffocating to death in the ghoonghat."

  "There you go again! Say, what's wrong with dreaming about handsome men?"

  "Is that your only purpose in life, Kamayani? Do you not aspire for something more fulfilling than handsome princes and marriage?"

  "Um, yes."

  "What is it?"

  "Sleep."

  Alka rolled her eyes and resumed sharpening her sword.

  ***

  Inside the Rambagh Palace, Jaipur

  "Maharana, our ambassador has arrived. Shall he be brought to the court?"

  The court, or the diwan-i-khaas, was bustling with restive and fumbling people. Some had been blabbering amongst themselves, some were discussing intricate plans with their subordinates, some sipping the hookah while resting languidly on the kingsized sofas; only a few, mostly potentates of the confederacy, were attending to the Maharana. They were seated on a circular teakwood table, surrounded by two swordsmen each and a page who held trays on which sumptuous delicacies and beverages such as tea and grape-liquor were placed. So enormous was the alacrity that not even the immobile soldiers in front of him twitched their ears.

  Receiving no response, the announcer cleared his throat and screamed at the top of his lungs:

  "THE AMBASSADOR TO THE COURT OF THE GUPTAS IS BEING BROUGHT TO THE COURT!"

  Startled, everybody looked up and stared at the announcer's face.

  Embarrassed, he twitched his nose, and taking a quick bow, scurried away, lest he faces the unimaginable ire of the Maharana.

  Moments later, about five soldiers armed with kukris and a gun resembling a pistol of sorts, entered the chamber. They bowed at the dignitaries and split into individuals, revealing that they had brought with themselves a bearded man. His regalia was battered, face emaciated and body malnourished. His eyes had sunken so deep that it was difficult to believe that this was a human that the courtiers put their eyes upon.

  "Haye Ram! What has happened to him?"

  "Did they starve him? Did they flog him?"

  "Gentlemen," said the king, "allow him to take a seat."

  The train seated itself on wooden blocks. One of the soldiers, however, kept standing and said, "Your HIghness, the ambassador is not in the state to attend to questions. He is still recuperating. As such, please allow me to speak for him,"

  "Why have you brought him to the court if he is still convalescent?"

  "We've brought him so that he can bear testimony to the authenticity of what we are about to reveal,"

  The Maharana swiftly glanced at the bearded man and received a slight nod from him.

  "Very well then, you may begin."

  "As you command, Sire."

  ***

  The Red Fort, Delhi

  "What?!"

  "Yes, Your Excellency; 'tis no laughing matter. This concerns the sovereignty of the various kingdoms that constitute the confederacy. Your tughlaqi firman threatens the same and cannot be accepted under any circumstances."

  The Emperor gritted his teeth and smashed the glass of wine that was kept near the armrest of his throne. Shards of broken glass were scattered across the red carpet that draped the balcony in which he was sitting.

  With his blood-laden palm, he screamed at me, "LISTEN YE SCOUNDRELS BORN OF UNSCRUPULOUS WHORES! YOU ARE UNDER MY UNQUESTIONED AUTHORITY AND SUBJECT TO MY WILL AND MY WAYS. IF YOU DO NOT SARISFY MY PALATES, I WILL CRUSH EACH ONE OF YOU LIKE I JUST CRUSHED THIS CUP OF WINE!"

  "You are grossly mistaken, Your Highness. You forget that the Rajputana Confederacy is NOT a province or a semi-autonomous princely state under your empire. We have merely signed a pact of mutual non-aggression and friendship and have agreed to provide your army with manpower. We are under no obligation to be commanded as you please, but we have the liberty to do as we please, and right now, we have agreed that we shall not accept the new ordinances,"

  "How dare you-"

  "If you are adamant on shoving your twisted whims down our throat, then I proclaim that the pact signed between your esteemed father Emperor Avaneesh and our illustrious king Rana Bhanupratap in Vikram Samvat 1790 (1733) stands abrogated,"

  There was silence.

  The Emperor, a fuming and grumbling mess, bellowed, "TO HELL WITH YOUR INSOLENCE! YOU DAMNED, CURRISH, BASTARDISED LOT! LOOK HOW YOU THREATEN ME! Do you even know whom you're addressing?"

  "Emperor!"

  "Keep your calm, Sire. He is an ambassador. This is not how a man of your calibre ought to address him."

  "SHUT UP! Listen, old man, I'm at the helm of things and I shall decide where the tide turns. Whosoever attempts to disrupt this natural order shall be subjugated, repressed, crushed and pulverised!"

  My blood began boiling and despite my gracious breeding I couldn't resist saying that one could expect nothing more than that from such an uncultured man; kings derive power from love, not fear.

  "Seven decades ago, Aurangzeb was dethroned, imprisoned and executed brutally for his crimes. He was the Emperor of an empire stretching from the Hindu Kush mountains to the Nilgiris, boasted of over one crore soldiers and a tremendous treasury. What came of it? He was vanquished, his wealth scattered, his legacy forgotten. The whereabouts of his descendants are unknown."

  "And I assume you do not wish to tread upon the very same path of oblivion, Raja Saheb."

  Saying thus, I left the hall in dignified silence. I could hear his courtiers attempting to placate him and reason with him, but to me, it seemed as though he had lent deaf ears to sound counsel.

  Later in the evening, as I was sipping tea on my chamber's verandah, I noticed a company of armed soldiers marching towards my direction. Unnerved, I hurried down the stairs to the superintendent of my chambers and demanded of him the reasons for deploying more soldiers at my residence.

  He hesitated and refused to give a clear answer. When I asserted myself, he feebly said that they were arriving to put me under surveillance.

  I was enraged and implored the superintendent to refuse them admittance. He looked at me with a sweating face and confessed that he was a mere servant and could do nothing to stop them.

  When the soldiers arrived, I was informed that I was put under round-the-clock surveillance. My mail would be regularly checked by the authorities and even censored if it contained questionable content. Furthermore, at all times, twenty soldiers would guard the chambers outside and twenty soldiers would guard me personally.

  Such an arrangement was outrageous and naturally, I protested, refusing to provide access to my correspondence, not allowing soldiers to investigate the cabins, and declining to be accompanied by armed personnel. Firstly, this was a violation of my diplomatic immunity and secondly, it was impossible to fraternise with such unruly and crude men.

  During those four days, I was harassed by the officers and threatened with bodily harm, which eventually transpired on the fifth day, when about ten burly men broke into my bed-chamber and pushed me around with pikes and butts of their rifles. I was tossed into some carriage and transported to a distant, dark compartment. When my eyelids parted, all I could see were crumbling walls and iron rods.

  From the look of it, I had been hurled into a decaying cell of the dungeons.

  Later that day, I came to know that several other diplomats had been detained too.

  I was fed rancid bread and butter in the day or the night, for I had absolutely no clue of the time in that tenebrous cell. Sometimes they would refuse to feed me altogether, sometimes they would throw my food or scatter it across the cell, sometimes they would taunt me and feed the dogs; I was sworn at and manhandled.

  I swear upon the Almighty that such a dishonour had I never undergone, and such hopelessness I had never faced.

  "You may conclude, soldier,"

  "UNFORGIVABLE!"

  "OUTRAGEOUS!"

  "CRUEL!"

  "Maharana..." mumbled the ambassador.

  "Yes?"

  "W-when I was kept under captivity, I often overheard my jailers discussing some kind of retributive invasion-"

  "A pre-emptive strike, you mean?"

  "So so..."

  One of the dignitaries spoke, "One cannot ignore this statement. Do you not remember the last time such an invasion had taken place? We were totally ill-prepared and suffered heavy losses in cash and kind. He has the motive: subjugating a formidable hostile power and amassing its wealth and defences. He has the means too: several fortifications around the borders and a permanent fortress in Alwar."

  "This diplomatic incident gives him the excuse he needs to invade us."

  "What shall be done, then?"

  "A pre-emptive strike at the frontier fortifications and the Fort of Alwar,"

  "But mobilisation will take time, whereas in his case, he could easily launch attacks from Agra and Alwar, Harish Sahib"

  "Ever since the firmans were issued, unbeknownst to Your Excellency, we have been covertly mobilising infantry and cavalry in view of a possible invasion. Several artillery batteries have also been constructed,"

  "What we need is a green signal to our operations against military strongholds."

  "Additionally, we should suspend all trade and seize all collectors' offices. This paralyses the economy and the ensuing confusion gives us ample time to mobilise."

  "So shall it be."