The Minister of the State

1

Mr Mehta belonged to the category of those unlucky fellows who could not please their masters. He would do his work sincerely and wished to win appreciation for that. But he did not realize that he was not a servant to his work but to the master who employed him. While his colleagues recorded their presence in the court, he would be busy with his papers and files in his office. The obvious result of this was that the servants of the master got promotions, rewards and enjoyed themselves while Mr Mehta, the servant to his work, was scolded for this or that fault. Since he had gone through such harsh experiences quite often in life, this time when the king of Satiya offered him a good position, he promised himself he would work according to the will of his master and test his good luck by praising him. He lived up to his promise so well that not two years had passed before he was made the secretary to the king. To be the minister of a free state was indeed a big thing! Apart from the handsome salary of five hundred rupees per month, the privileges and prerogatives were many. He could freely manipulate the resources as he pleased to suit his interests with no one to object to or interfere with his actions. Raja Sahib was drowned in the luxuries of life and Mr Mehta took care of the affairs of the state. The workers and the office bearers would supplicate before him, the rich would give gifts, and even the queens would flatter him. Raja Sahib was a man of fiery temperament as is the wont of kings—a lion before the meek and a wet cat before the sturdy. Sometimes, he would admonish Mr Mehta, but he had already decided not to give any explanation in his defence. He listened to everything silently with his head lowered. The fire of the king’s anger extinguished for want of fuel.

It was summer. The Political Agent was on patrol. Preparations for his welcome to the state were in full swing. Raja Sahib called for Mr Mehta and said, ‘I want that Sahib Bahadur should return from my state fully pleased, with my name on his tongue.’

With a bowed head, Mehta said politely, ‘This is what I am trying to do to my level best, my lord!’

‘As for trying—many people try but fail. I want you to say with resolution that it would be the same as I wish it to be.’

‘Everything will be according to your wish.’

‘Don’t worry about the money.’

‘Order me, sir!’

‘There should be no complaint. Otherwise you will be responsible.’

‘Will it be all right if he returns from here thanking you?’

‘Yes, this is what I want.’

‘I will put my life into the effort.’

‘Now I am satisfied.’

While the Political Agent was to visit the state, Jai Krishna, the son of Mr Mehta had come to his parents to spend his summer vacation. He was a university student. Once, in 1932, he had served a sentence for six months for a rabble-rousing speech. When he came home for the first time after his father had been appointed as secretary, the king specially called for him, chatted with him freely and took him along on a hunting trip. The king played tennis with him daily. Jai Krishna was impressed with the communist views of the king. He came to know that Raja Sahib was not only a patriot but also a supporter of revolution. Both had a big debate over the Russian and French revolutions. But this time he noticed something entirely different. Every landlord and farmer of the state had been forced to donate money. The police visited village after village in order to extort money from the people. The amount was fixed by the minister. It was the duty of the police to collect it. There was no place the people could go with their grievances. Sheer unrest prevailed everywhere. Thousands of labourers were busy cleaning and decorating government buildings and repairing roads without pay. Grocers were intimidated into providing free stock to the officers. Jai Krishna was surprised over what was going on. How could there be such a big difference between the views and actions of Raja Sahib? Maybe the king was unaware of all this or in their zeal to carry out his orders, the servants of the state had done this on their own accord. He held himself back for the night. In the morning he asked Mr Mehta, ‘Did you inform the king about the way people are being tortured?’

Mr Mehta himself was feeling guilty about this disorder. He was a kind person by nature but was helpless against the circumstances. He said sadly, ‘This is the order of Raja Sahib. What can anybody do?’

‘Then you should distance yourself from all this. You know, for this disorder and anarchy you are being made the scapegoat and the entire responsibility rests on your head. People blame you for everything.’

‘I can’t help it. I suggested to the officers that as far as possible no force or pressure should be used on the people. But I can’t be at all places at the same time. If I intervene directly, they will complain about it to Raja Sahib. They wait for such occasions. What they require is a pretext to rob people. More than what they deposit in the government treasury, they keep for themselves at home. I can’t do anything.’

An excited Jai Krishna said, ‘Then why don’t you resign?’

Mehta said shamefully, ‘Of course! That would be the most suitable thing to do. But life has tossed me around so many times that I cannot afford to do that. I have made up my mind that in a job I cannot keep myself clean. I have wandered much entangled in the notion of what is religious and what is not, what selfless service is and what conscience is. I have seen that the world belongs to those who adopt the ways of the world—those who act as per time and occasion. This is not a place for idealists.’

Jai Ram said in disgust, ‘Should I go to Raja Sahib?’

‘Do you think Raja Sahib is unaware of all this?’

‘Maybe he will feel pity listening to the stories of people’s woes.’

There was no way Mr Mehta could object to this. He wished to unburden himself of this injustice done to the people, but also had a fear if the eagerness of Jai Krishna may not prove harmful and lead to the loss of his power and prestige. He said, ‘Make sure that you do not say anything to displease the king.’

Jai Krishna promised that he would not do any such thing. He was not a fool. But how could he know that Raja Sahib was no longer the person he used to be a year before. Or maybe it was possible that after the departure of the Political Agent, he would revert to his previous self. He did not know that for the king the talk about revolution and terror was a piece of entertainment, as were the incidents of murder and rape or the tantalizing news from the flesh market.

Having reached the threshold of Raja Sahib, when he sent word of his arrival, he was told that the king was not well. As he was about to return, the king called for him. Perhaps he wanted to get the latest updates from him on the world of cinema. After he saluted Raja Sahib, he said, ‘It is really good that you have come. Did you watch the MCC match? I was so caught up with these affairs of the state that I did not get time. Just pray that somehow the Political Agent goes from our place happy and content. I have got a speech written. Just have a look at it. I have lampooned these national protests and also criticized this mission for the emancipation of the poor.’

Controlling his anger, Jai Krishna said, ‘You castigated national protests—so far so good—but as far as the emancipation of the poor is concerned, it has got the approval of the government. That is why they released Gandhi, and even when he was in jail, they allowed him to study and also meet people in connection with this revolution.’

With a natural smile on his lips, Raja Sahib said, ‘You do not know. All this is a mere show. The government well understands it as a political revolution and analyses it closely. As long as you are loyal to the government, the agitations and protests, even if they cross the boundary of relevance, are things to be amused about just like the sentimental outpourings of poets please us even if they are ridiculous. We can take such a poet as a flatterer and a fool but cannot be upset with him. The higher he raises us, the loftier he becomes in our eyes.’

Raja Sahib took out a copy of the speech from the drawer and put it before Jai Ram, but it no longer attracted him. If he were a man of flattery, he would have looked at it—even if apparently—with attention, praised the diction and the beauty of its emotionally charged appeal and would have compared it with the speeches of the king of Bikaner and the king of Patiala. But he was ignorant of the ways of the world. What he thought was good he openly said it was good and what he considered bad he boldly called it just that. He had not yet learnt to alter bad for good or vice versa. Casting a cursory glance at the speech, he put it on the table and blowing the bugle of straightforwardness said, ‘I am not familiar with the intrigues of politics, but in my opinion these descendants of Chanakya understand these tricks very well. They won’t be hoodwinked and taken over by false emotional warmth. Rather, it will cause one to lose one’s dignity and reputation. If the Political Agent comes to know of the atrocities and tortures to which the people have been subjected to in order to contribute to the arrangements for his welcome, perhaps he will return from our state unhappily. As for me, I look at the whole issue from the people’s point of view. The happiness of the Agent would be fruitful for you, but it will cause only harm to the people.’

Raja Sahib could not tolerate criticism. His anger would show itself slightly through cross-questioning, then transform into arguments and finally boil over in the throes of a raging quake which caused his dull body, the chair, table, walls and the roof to shake and shiver wildly. Looking from the corner of his eyes, he said, ‘Let me know how it harms the people, by the way.’

Jai Ram realized that the machine gun of ire was in motion and could explode any moment. Cautiously, he said, ‘You understand it better than me.’

‘No, I am not that sharp-witted.’

‘You will be offended.’

‘Do you take me for a heap of gun powder?’

‘It is advisable you don’t ask me.’

‘You will have to explain.’ He clenched his fists unconsciously and added, ‘You will have to tell me right at this moment.’

Why would Jai Ram accept this overbearing attitude? He threw his weight around princes in the stadium during cricket matches, took liberties and gibed at officers of high ranks. He said, ‘As of now, you have some fear of the Political Agent, but you can’t freely oppress people. When he will bend under the weight of your gifts and favours, you will have no one stopping you and there will be none to pay heed to the grievances and complaints of the people.’

Looking at him with fiery eyes, Raja Sahib said, ‘I am not a slave to the Agent that I should fear him. There is no reason at all, not a single reason in fact that I should get intimidated. I welcome him and offer my hospitality simply because he is the representative of His Majesty. I am on good terms with His Majesty and share a rapport with him. The Agent is no more than his ambassador. I am just following the protocol. If I happen to go to Britain, His Majesty will receive me with no less warmth and welcome. And what fear should I have? I am a free and independent king of my state. I can pass the death sentence on anyone. Who can frighten me? Those who fear are impotent and lack guts. I do not even fear God! I have never known what fear is. I am not a blurter—a college student like you who keeps harping on revolution and freedom. You do not have any idea what revolution is. You have merely heard its name and not seen its horrifying scenes bathed in red. You will shake at the sound of gunfire. What do you want? Should I say to the Agent, “People are already going through the worst of times and you need not come.” I cannot be inhospitable to that extent. I am not blind, nor am I a fool. I know more about the condition of the people than you. You look at them from outside but mine is an insider’s view. You cannot misguide my people with the dream of revolution. You will not be allowed to sow the seeds of unrest and rebellion in my state. You will have to lock your tongue. Mind it that you cannot say a word against me. Not even heave a breath of disapproval!’

The rays of the setting sun as they reflected through the coloured glass of the living room with arches showed the angry face of the king all the more reddened. His hair turned blue, eyes yellow, face red and the body green. He looked like a monster from the world of demons. Jai Rama’s impudence evaporated. He had never seen Raja Sahib in such rage. But at the same time his dignity and self-respect was eager to meet this challenge. As politeness is answered by politeness, anger is the reply to anger when it flows out—beyond terror, fear, respect, and discipline.

He also filled his eyes with fire and said, ‘I cannot sit silently and see this atrocity perpetrated before my eyes.’

Furious, Raja Sahib stood up and said, ‘You don’t have the right to wag your damn tongue.’

‘Every man of feeling and discretion has a right to raise his voice against injustice. You cannot take away this right from me.’

‘I can do anything.’

‘You can do nothing.’

‘I can send you to prison right now.’

‘You cannot harm a single hair on my head.’

Just then Mr Mehta came into the room, and looking at Jai Krishna with wrathful eyes, said, ‘Just get lost, just be out of my sight and beware! Never again show me your face. I do not want to look at the face of a black sheep like you. You make a hole in the pot you eat from. Such an ill-mannered guy! You say a word and I will drink your blood.’

Jai Krishna looked at his father with disgust, stood up straight with all pride and dignity, and exited the living room.

Raja Sahib said, reclining on his couch, ‘He is a rogue, a scoundrel of the first order. I would not like such a dangerous man to stay for a moment in my state. You go and ask him to go from here at once to avoid unpleasant consequences. I put up with him only because of you otherwise he would have been taught a lesson immediately. It is for your sake that I restrained myself. If you want to remain a councillor, ask him to leave my state at once and tell him never to step into my kingdom. Or if you value the love for your son more, leave my state today itself. You cannot take anything with you—not even a trifle. Everything is the property of the state. Do you agree to this?’

Driven by anger, Mr Mehta had scolded his son but he did not expect the matter to have developed this far. For a second, he was awestruck and started pondering over the situation with his head held low. The king could have crushed him to dust. He was utterly helpless with no friends and no one to listen to him. The king would not stop till he reduced him to the status of a beggar. He shivered to think of the humiliation that awaited him and his expulsion from the state. He had no lack of enemies. They would all rejoice and beat drums. Those who stand before him as wet cats would then growl like lions. Moreover, who would offer him a job now that he was old? Would he have to spread his hands and beg from this cruel world? No, the better option was to stick to where one was. He said in a wavering tone, ‘I will drive him out of the house today itself, my lord!’

‘Not today—right now.’

‘Yes, right now.’

‘Drive him out forever.’

‘Yes, forever.’

‘Well, then go, and inform me within half an hour.’

Mr Mehta started for home but his legs shook because of the anger that raged within him. His whole body was on fire. Because of this boy, he had to face such humiliation. He was a donkey to bray about communism. Now he will realize how much one has to pay for not reining in one’s tongue. ‘Why should I disgrace myself for his sake? Yes, I love my position and prestige. And why should I not? I have toiled relentlessly for years together, shedding both my sweat and blood. I don’t like injustice. But this is not the only thing I disapprove of. There are thousand other things I equally dislike. When there is no solution to be had, why should I spoil my life over this matter?’

Having reached home, he called out, ‘Jai Krishna!’

Sunita said, ‘Jai Krishna went to Raja Sahib even before you. He has not returned yet.’

‘Not yet come? He set out before me.’

He went outside and started inquiring with the servants. Still there was no news of him. Was he hiding somewhere out of apprehension? But the king had ordered him to revert to him within half an hour! God knows what this boy is up to. He will ruin himself and drown me as well.

Suddenly a constable came and handed him a piece of paper. ‘Oh, this is Jai Krishna’s handwriting. What does he say—“After this disgrace, I cannot stay a moment in the state. I know you keep your position and prestige above your soul, so you are free to enjoy them. I will not come back to give you pains. Give my regards to Mother.”’

Mehta showed the letter to Sunita and complained in an irritated tone, ‘God knows when this boy will grow up. But this turn of events is good for him. Now the pampered one will realize what it takes to live in this world. Without jerks and twists, the eyes don’t open to realities. I have been a participant in many foolish games and don’t want to spoil the rest of my life running after absurdities.’ He went straight to inform the king.

2

In a flash, the news travelled throughout the state. Jai Krishna was popular among the people for his gentle nature. People started talking about this on the streets and at the crossroads. ‘Let me say he was not a man but an incarnation of God. He went to the maharaj and boldly said, “Stop this forced labour, otherwise people will take to the road and protest.” He made Raja Sahib speechless. Raja Sahib started looking sideways. Man! He is a lion—a real lion. Look at his tender age but such a daredevil he is. And take it from me, he could have put an end to this forced labour forever. Raja Sahib could have hardly escaped. I have heard that he started whining. Meanwhile, Divan Sahib came and ordered his son to leave the state. At this, his eyes turned blood red with anger but he did not insult his father.’

‘Such a father should be shot dead. More of an enemy than a father!’

‘Whatever, but he is a father after all.’

Sunita sat crying the whole day. She felt as if someone was piercing her heart with spears. God knows where the poor creature went. He had not even eaten his breakfast. She would have thrown such comfort and luxury in to the hearth fire for the sake of her son. The flood of emotions in her heart was so intense that she felt like leaving her husband and the state then and there. It was a kingdom ruled by demons. If her husband loves to be a minister, let him possess the position forever and be content with it. She was ready to fast with her son as long as he was before her eyes.

She decided to meet the queen. She thought of pleading with her. Maharani is also blessed with children. Will she not feel pity at a self-respecting mother? She has already visited her many times before. Her despair-laden heart was filled with hope.

But when she reached the residence of the Rani, she found the latter’s demeanour altered. As soon as she saw her, she said, ‘Your son is very uncouth. Doesn’t know manners at all! He has not learnt how to address people. What has he studied at the university? Today he misbehaved with the maharaja. He asked him to stop forced labour in the state and not to make preparations for the welcome of the Agent Sahib. He doesn’t understand that a king cannot continue to sit on the throne for many hours this way. The Agent may not be a very big officer but he is the representative of His Majesty. It is our duty to respect him. Does it suit a good man to incite people to rebel? To make holes in the plate you eat from! The maharaja respects Divan Sahib or else he would have got your son imprisoned. He is not a child. He is a fully grown man with the length of five hands. He can see things and understand them well. If we offend our masters, how long can we get along? And he faces no harm. He can easily get a job for a fifty or a hundred rupees. But in our case it would be a loss of estates worth millions.’

Widening her eyes, Sunita said, ‘You are right, Maharani, but please forgive his crime. The poor fellow has not come home out of fear and shame. I wonder where he is gone. He is the only support of our life. If we lose him, we will cry ourselves to death. I spread my aanchal before you and beg you to forgive him. Who can understand the feelings of a mother’s heart more than you? Please request the king on your behalf.’

The maharani looked at Sunita with her big eyes, as if she was saying something very strange. Then placing her bejewelled fingers on her red lips, she said, ‘What do you say, Sunita? Should I plead for a man who is bent on ruining us? Should I nourish a snake up my sleeves? You have the nerve to ask for such a thing! And what will the maharaja think of me. No, I am not going to intervene. What he has sown, he shall reap. Had I such an unworthy son, I would never want to see his face again. And here you plead for such a son!’

With tearful eyes, Sunita said, ‘Maharani, such talk does not behove you.’

The maharani sat up on the bolster and said reproachfully, ‘If you thought I would wipe your tears, you are wrong. To have come to us pleading for the one who rebelled against us shows that you consider his offence a childish prank. Had you assessed the grimness of his crime, you would have never come to me. One who has tasted the salt of the state now pats the back of a rebel! He is a traitor. What more can I say?

Now Sunita flared up. The affection for her son came out of the sheath. She said, ‘The duty of a raja is not merely to please his officers. The interest and well-being of his people should be the first on his priority list.’

Right then, the maharaja entered the room. The rani got up and received him, and Sunita stood there numb with bowed head.

With a sarcastic smile on his lips, the raja asked, ‘Who is this woman preaching to you about the duties of a king?’

The rani said, ‘She is the wife of Divan Sahib.’

Raja Sahib frowned. Biting his lips, he said, ‘When the mother is such a sharp knife, there is no reason why the son isn’t poisonous. Lady! I will not take this lesson from you what the obligations of a king are towards his people. I have been receiving this teaching for many generations. You had better learn the duties of a servant towards a master.’

Saying this, the maharaja left the place.

Mr Mehta was leaving for home when the maharaja called him harshly, ‘Listen, Mr Mehta, as for your son, he is declared a rebel but here I have just come to know that your better half is a step ahead of him when it comes to betrayal. Rather, I will say that your son is the mere tape on which the voice of this lady plays. I don’t like that under the nose of the caretaker of the state, traitors to the state should flourish. You can’t absolve yourself of this offence. I will not be unjust if I guess that you have chanted this air of rebellion.’

Mr Mehta could not bear this blame on his loyalty. With a choked throat, he said, ‘How should I bring myself to say that in this regard, sir, the friend of the poor, is being unjust. But let me tell you that I am totally innocent. It really pains me to know that my faithfulness is being questioned.’

‘Mere words don’t prove loyalty.’

‘As I remember, I have already proved it.’

‘New justifications are required for new arguments. The provision for punishment in the case of your son shall be the same for your wife too. I will not accept any excuse in this regard. The order should be immediately carried out.’

‘But, my lord of the poor!’

‘I will not listen to another word.’

‘Will I not be allowed to plead?’

‘Not at all, this is my final order.’

As Mr Mehta walked out, he was feeling very angry with Sunita. God knows what whim carried her over there. As for Jai Krishna, he is a mere boy, not much experienced, but what propelled this old woman to act like this? What things she would have said to the rani. Nobody has sympathy for me. All of them sing to their own tune. No one can understand what a hard phase I am going through. After numerous hardships, I had come to some respite and peace, and now these two have created this new storm. Are we the proprietor of truth and justice? This place witnesses nothing different from the rest of the world. This is nothing new! It is a sin to be born poor and weak. Nobody can escape punishment for this. The eagle never takes pity on the pigeon. To stand with truth and justice is an integral part of man’s politeness and decency. Nobody can deny this fact. But can’t we do the same like the rest of the people, vouchsafe for it by words? And the people you side with should also acknowledge this. Today, if Raja Sahib talks with these free labourers light-heartedly, they will forget all their grievances. Perhaps Sunita went to the Rani and outpoured her sentiments. Such an ass she is to not know that to manage to lead a life of respect is one’s duty. If fate brought glory and fame to me, why would I slave for others? But the problem is, where do I send this woman? There is no one at her parents’ house, nor is there anybody at my place. Hmm . . . But why should I die worrying about this! Let her go where she pleases. She will suffer for what she has done!

Guilty and sad, he reached home, and said to Sunita, ‘So, you were driven by the same madness that gripped the boy. Will you ever grow up? Have we alone taken it as our duty to mend the ways of the whole world? Tell me of a king who does not torture and oppress his people and abduct the progressive leaders from among them. And also, why should the king alone be blamed? Me, you and in fact all of us, in one way or the other are being unjust to many. What entitles you to a retinue of servants and punish them for small offences? Truth and justice are hollow words. Their significance lies in the fact that they help the axe to fall on the neck of fools and allow the wise to win applause. You and your son are among such fools. And you will have to face the punishment. The order of the king requires you to vacate the state within three hours, failing which the police will come and throw you out. I have decided that I will not utter a word against the will of Raja Sahib. I have a bitter experience of siding with justice. It has brought me nothing other than humiliation. The people I took sides with are still the same, rather worse. I make it clear that I am not ready to pay for the impudence that you have committed. I would be providing help secretly. I cannot do any more than this.’

Sunita said with a sense of pride, ‘I don’t want your help. If the secret is disclosed, your friend of the poor will strike you with the thunderbolt of his wrath. You love your position and prestige. Enjoy them freely. If my son could do no big things, he can earn enough to arrange for a meal at least. Even I will see how long your loyalty to your master serves you and for how long you keep killing your soul.’

Vexed, Mr Mehta said, ‘Do you want me to wander from place to place again?’

Sunita rubbed salt into his wounds, ‘No, never. Till now I thought you loved failures. There was something more precious than position and privilege that you had with you and in order to safeguard it, you did not mind even wandering from place to place. Now I have come to know that you prefer your position to your soul. Then why would you be a loser? But I hope you will occasionally send the news of your well-being or will you have to seek permission from Raja Sahib even for this?’

‘Is Raja Sahib so bereft of a sense of justice that he should interfere with my correspondence?’

‘Oh! Can Raja Sahib display that much humility? I can hardly believe this!’

‘You are still not ashamed of your action.’

‘I am not at fault. Rather I pray to God to provide me with such occasions to repeat my act again and again.’

Mr Mehta said with disinterest, ‘Where have you decided to go?’

‘To hell.’

‘You commit an offence and unleash your anger on me.’

‘I never thought you to be so shameless.’

‘I can use the same word for you.’

‘Yes. You can say it from your tongue, but not from your heart.’

Mr Mehta was ashamed.

3

When the time came for Sunita’s departure, the gathered men and women wept bitterly. But in a way, Sunita accepted her mistake. The truth was that in these days of unemployment, whatever Mr Mehta did seemed appropriate. The poor man—where would he have wandered without work!

The Political Agent paid his visit and enjoyed feasting and hunting to his fill for many days. Raja Sahib praised him and, in turn, he praised Raja Sahib. Raja Sahib convinced him of his loyalty and he called the state of Satiya an ideal state, and described Raja Sahib as an incarnation of justice and service to the people. He left after three days with the state incurring an expenditure of two and a half lakh rupees.

Mr Mehta was flying in the sky. Everybody praised the way he had managed things. The Agent Sahib was highly pleased with his deftness. He was conferred the title of ‘Rai Sahib’ and his privileges were raised. He had put his soul somewhere in a corner. His devotedness to the cause that the maharaja and the Agent Sahib both be pleased with him had shown a fruitful result. There was no servant more faithful in the state.

Raja Sahib had no worries at least for three years. As long as the Agent was happy, he had none to fear. The wave of lust, licentiousness and many immoral activities gathered momentum. In order to spy on beautiful ladies, a secret service agency was started which was directly under the control of Raja Sahib. A wicked and cunning old man was made the president of this agency who was an expert in beguiling the beauties from the Himalayas and exploiting them to dupe the kings. For his dexterity in this art, he drew special attention in courts. New birds began visiting the court. Fear, greed and regard, every weapon was used for hunting down the target.

But on one occasion the team work as well as efforts at a personal level failed in this regard. The agency decided that the desired girl should be picked up. The charge of this special duty was given to Mr Mehta who was the most dutiful and loyal servant of the state. The Maharaja had full faith in him. When it came to others, he was not sure if they may exploit the girl for money or enjoy the gift themselves. In case of Mr Mehta, these doubts were out of the question. Raja Sahib called for him at nine in the night.

When Mr Mehta reached the threshold, he found Raja Sahib taking a walk in the garden. As their eyes met, he said, ‘Welcome, Mr Mehta. I need to consult you regarding a very special matter. Some people in the court have suggested that your statue be erected before the Lion Gate so that you are remembered forever. I hope you do not have any objection to it. And even if you have any, I am going to act against your will in this regard. There is no way one can reward you for the unparalleled service that you have rendered to the state, but the veneration that people have for you will manifest itself in one form or the other.’

With profound politeness, Mehta said, ‘This is the kindness of my lord, otherwise I am a petty servant. What I have always tried to do is to prove myself worth my salt for the favours I have received from you. But I don’t deserve this honour.’

With a gentle laughter, Raja Sahib said, ‘You are not the one to decide whether you deserve this honour or not. The power of a councillor will not work here. In fact, this is not an honour that I am giving you, but it is an attempt to showcase my devotion for you. Not far is the day when both you and I will cease to exist. At that particular moment, this statue with its unmoving lips would declare that the past generations knew how to honour and respect their benefactors. I have asked people to collect donations. The latest letter of the Agent Sahib has a special mention of your name.’

Kneeling to the ground, Mr Mehta said, ‘That is his kindness. As I am your servant, so am I a servant to him.’

For many a minute, Raja Sahib looked at flowers in blossom. Then he said, as if recollecting something, ‘There is a village called Laganpur under Tahsil Khas. Have you ever been there?’

‘Yes, my lord. Once I have been there. I stayed at a rich moneylender’s place. He offered me his living rom. A nice gentleman!’

‘Yes, apparently a good man but a real monster from inside. Perhaps you don’t know that for the last some days, the maharani has been in broken health and her condition has worsened. I am thinking of sending her to some sanatorium. There she may live peacefully away from all worries and anxieties of the court. But there needs to be a queen in the Queen Residency. The officers visit us along with their maids and there are many English friends who come here as guests accompanied by their girls. Sometimes kings also pay a visit with their queens. Without a queen, who will entertain the ladies? For me this is a political issue, not a personal one, and I believe you will agree with me on this. Therefore, I have decided to remarry. The moneylender you talked about has a daughter. She has been studying for some time in Ajmer. Once, while passing through that village, I spotted her standing on the roof of her house. Instantly a thought crossed my mind that the queen’s palace will dazzle if this jewel is brought there. With the consent of the queen, I sent a message regarding this to the moneylender, but my opponents cunningly dissuaded him from accepting it. He says that the girl has already been married off. I sent back word that it mattered little to me and I was ready to pay for that. But the rude man repeatedly says no to it. You know love is incurable. You may also have experienced it. To put it in straight terms, life has lost every taste. I have forgotten sleep and rest and also lost my appetite. If this continues, it may endanger my life. During the day or in my sleep, the same figure appears before my eyes. Having failed to convince and calm my heart, finally I have decided to resolve the issue strategically. All is fair in love and war. I would like you to go there with some respectable men and bring that jewel to our court. I don’t care whether she comes willingly or by force. I am the ultimate authority in my state. Others don’t have the social and moral right to possess a thing that I mark for my desire. Please understand, you can save my life. There is no one else who can discharge this business efficiently. You have done big things for the state. This would be the final sacrifice and you would be eternally considered the majestic God of this royal dynasty.’

The sense of dignity that lay dormant in Mr Mehta suddenly gained consciousness. The blood, which had long lost its flow in his veins, erupted violently. With his eyebrows raised, he said, ‘Why don’t you simply say I should kidnap her?’

As Raja Sahib controlled his temper, he tried to throw water on the fire, and said, ‘No, Mr Mehta, not at all. You are not being fair to me by saying so. I am sending you as my representative. To finish the job successfully, you can take recourse to any means possible. You have every right.’

Even more excitedly, Mr Mehta said, ‘Such idiocy is beyond me.’

‘To obey one’s master is an act of idiocy?’

‘To carry out an order against religion and nature is an act of foolishness.’

‘To propose a woman for marriage is against religion and nature?’

‘By calling it marriage, you blaspheme the very word. This is “rape”.’

‘Are you in your senses?’

‘Yes, very much in my senses.’

‘I can ruin you.’

‘Then you will also lose your throne.’

‘This is how you pay me back for my favours? You are unworthy of your salt.’

‘Now you are crossing the limits of decency, Raja Sahib! So far I have killed my soul and carried out your orders—whether right or wrong. But there is a limit to serving one’s selfish ends, and no essentially good man can go beyond that. This is a heinous crime that you are planning and one who assists you in this deserves to be hanged. May a curse befall such a job! I quit!’

Having said that, he came back home, gathered his belongings, although it was night, and moved out of the state. But before he went away, he wrote out the whole account of what had happened and posted it to the Agent.

Translated from the Hindi by Sarfaraz Nawaz