Manipur came under foreign rule in 1891. After the British took over Manipur, Kangla – the seat of the kings of Manipur – became the property of a foreign nation6. Though the British, after much deliberation, proclaimed Churachand the king of Manipur at the age of eight, the child king Churachand never got to reside in the Kangla. A new palace was constructed at the old Rajbari, a vast stretch of land at Nongmeibung. It is said that Lord Govinda7 was installed in the new palace and, as required by tradition, a proper palace was built with royal offices and the like. The king’s entire family lived here. All alliances and marriages of the queens took place here as did the births of most of the princes and princesses.
At our first glimmer of awareness, my sovereign father was at the height of splendour, reigning in the new grand palace we know today that was built at Gurulampak8. It is said that the palace was constructed by Major Maxwell9, an engineer who had been appointed after the annexation of Manipur. Six of Maharaja Churachand’s children – I was one of the six – were born in the new palace. We were Princess Wangol, Prince Joy, Prince Kheda, Princess Radha, Princess Sanatombi and Prince Maipak. Prince Maipak was the youngest child of my father. He was too young to know anything when our father passed away.
When I was growing up, plays had begun to be staged in Manipur. As I later heard, The Killing of King Kangsa10 was performed on a stage built in the performance hall at the Lord Govinda temple the day I was born. When my sovereign father heard of the impending delivery, he ran to the royal delivery room. But the Lady Ngangbam was heartbroken, the king was heartbroken: I was their fifth daughter.
In those times, plays were performed very regularly at my sovereign father’s palace as he was also a patron of theatre. I remember sitting in my uncle Nathasana’s lap (he was advocate Manisana’s father), watching the palace performance of Narasingh, though I did not watch it all. I fell asleep. But this I do remember, that the strapping and handsome man who played Narasingh was Khomdram Dhanachandra. The part of Gambhirsingh was played by a man called Chingakham Angoubi, known as Member Mayurdhwaja. I came to know this later. It is said that my cousin Irabot11 also took part in this play. Interestingly enough, the men who took the main roles were all cousins, married to the daughters of the older brothers of my sovereign father. The play Narasingh was written by Lairenmayum Ibungohal. Oja12 Lairenmayum Ibungohal was a pundit and also the aide-de-camp to my father. He was my teacher and he told me a lot of stories from history and of the palace.
I also saw my cousin Irabot in a play. To this day, people tell the story of the time when he appeared in a play and he rushed around madly in the role of a delinquent, crying, ‘Two hundred rupees! Two hundred rupees!’ and of Maharaja Churachand saying, ‘Here, here is your two hundred rupees!’ and flinging it at him. But what is disappointing is that there is no road named after him, nothing that honours the name of the artist Irabot. So be it. My narrative seems to be becoming one about my discontents. Yet, I have set out to write about some of the achievements of the royal reign of Maharaja Churachand. I wonder, will I be able to do it? The more I search, the further the horizons seem to recede.
We grew up in a large and exceptional family. It was a household where the traditional and modern elements of Anglo- Manipur came together. We were never taken out without chandan marks13 on our faces, but the clothes we were dressed in were those of English children: shoes, socks and woollen clothes imported from England. At the time two English ladies, Miss Wood and Mrs. E.M. Jolly, were employed as companions to my mother, the Lady Ngangbam, in order to instruct her in British etiquette. Although my eldest sisters Tamphasana and Tombiyaima14 did not go to school, they were highly educated – they knew the poems of Wordsworth and other poets. It is said that even the officers of the palace went to my sisters when they ran into difficulties with the English language. My sister Tombiyaima in particular became a very well educated woman for her time. She started collecting books to start a library. My sovereign father gave the money for it. And so, though my sovereign father sent his sons to England for their studies, it cannot be said that he neglected his daughters. We were given lessons in horse riding. We were taught how to shoot. My sister Angousana learned to play tennis very well. I witnessed my father teaming up with her to play doubles occasionally. She went along on hunting shikars, dressed in men’s clothes. These were then the daughters of Maharaja Churachand.
Truth to tell, our lives as children were very happy. We went to all the royal offices and looked around the rooms. We went to the infirmary and picked up little bottles. The empty grounds and gardens guarded by Lord Govinda were our playground. We haunted the royal quarters of our mothers all the time. But we were not usually allowed to go into the rooms of our elder sisters. Perhaps because we were likely to touch things. But we huddled in the doorway, hoping we might be called in.