The royal quarters that I used to love to visit the most were the row of small royal residences of my stepmothers. It was said that these were also built by Major Maxwell. I vaguely remember the quarters were covered with tiles. The residences were really beautiful. The consorts of Maharaja Churachand lacked nothing and lived very well, growing flowers and cultivating vegetables in their gardens. I did many chores in their royal quarters. I, who never once helped out the maharani, the Lady Nangbam, or ran any of her errands, was a very good little girl who tended the holy basil plants and folded clothes at my stepmothers’ quarters. I remember how I did not want to eat the breakfast cooked lovingly by my nurses in the maharani’s quarter. I would peck at the food and, after wiping my hands on my little sarong, I would run off to my mothers’. My birthmother would say to me, ‘If you have to go there, at least wash your hands properly before you go.’ But interestingly enough, I do not remember being prevented from going even once. This was one gracious practice at the palace. When we were young, we were never made to feel like stepchildren. I realize only now that this life is best lived a little simply, a little plainly.
That is why I always joined my mothers when they sat down to eat their meals. Who had the best food; who ate well but sparingly – I knew it all. I loved to sit around, to be part of sitting in a circle and making a lot of noise eating with my brothers and sisters. I did not like the royal cooks of the maharani’s royal quarter who served the maharani and us with their mouths covered. In those days when we were little, there used to be some employees who lived in the palace with their families. Most of them seem to have been from the households of the jamadars and subedars of the Manipur Police as well as palace orderlies. They lived at the eastern edge of the palace in a colony that stretched all the way to Wangkhei. This colony was our very own neighbourhood. The neighbourhood children often came to play with us as well.
My best friend Juboti and I were very close. She often came to play with my dolls. Her mother used to dress her up and bring her over. I often went to their house. I have not forgotten their hentaak ironba15 leftovers even until now. One day when my birthmother, the maharani the Lady Ngangbam, heard about where I was having my breakfast, she said to Juboti’s mother, ‘Ahanbi, I really should contribute some rice towards my daughter’s breakfasts.’ They laughed together. This was how we spent our days in our sovereign father’s vast household.