‘I wanted to see whether there was some self-respect left in you. That is why I called you into my court. I didn’t want to violate your honour. I am not so depraved yet. If I were, I would be grazing flocks of sheep. If I had surrendered myself to sensual pleasures, I would have been in Persia, listening to the sitar and the sarod, which I love more than Hindustani music. I simply wanted to test you. I feel truly sad that you’ve lost all sense of self-esteem. Was it impossible for you to tread upon my command? When all of you arrived here I gave you another opportunity. I pretended that I had gone to sleep. Wasn’t it possible for any of you to pick up the dagger and shove it into my heart? I swear by the holy word of God, I would have been delighted to see any of you laying a hand on the dagger. I would have bowed my head before those delicate hands. What a pity that in the entire Timurid family, there’s not a single woman ready to raise her hand against indignity. This kingdom cannot survive now. Its days are numbered. Soon its traces will vanish from the face of the earth. You may go now. Try and save the kingdom even now. If not, you will leave this world as prisoners of sensual pleasure.’
Translated from the Hindi by M. Asaduddin
A Loyal Subject1
It was evening. Nasiruddin, the emperor of Lucknow, was taking a walk in his garden with his courtiers and flatterers. He was wearing an English hat in place of the jewel-studded royal crown and was also dressed in English style.
There were five Englishmen in his entourage. The emperor had placed his head on the shoulders of one of the Englishmen. There were three or four Indians too. One of them was Raja Bakhtaavar Singh. He was the commander of the imperial army whom everyone addressed as ‘General’. A middle-aged man with a well-preserved physique, he looked regal in his Lucknowi outfit. His face exuded wisdom. The second Indian was Raushanuddaulah, who was the prime minister of the state. He was stocky and sported a big moustache. To keep it erect, he walked with his chest puffed. Vanity dripped from his eyes. The others comprised the chief of police and the emperor’s two bodyguards. Although it was the beginning of the nineteenth century, the emperor had accepted the British way of life. He ate an English breakfast. He had great faith in the English and spoke in their favour. No one, be they a big raja or an official, dared to compete with an Englishman.
If anyone had the courage to do so, it was Raja Bakhtaavar Singh. He could not bear to see the East India Company increasing its influence. The number of Company soldiers employed to protect the state of Awadh was increasing day by day, and consequently, the cost of their upkeep was also on the rise. The state could not pay those expenses and was deep in the Company’s debt. The condition of the imperial army was getting worse. They did not have the strength or the organizational capacity. The soldiers did not get their salaries for years. The weaponry had become outdated, the uniforms tattered. There was no one to impose discipline. If Raja Bakhtaavar Singh made any proposal to increase the soldiers’ salaries or improve their weapons, the Company resident opposed it tooth and nail and accused him of encouraging rebellious forces in the state. Chastised by the English, the emperor unleashed his anger on Raja Sahib.
The emperor’s English courtiers always tried to undermine Raja Sahib’s authority and influence. However, despite being sandwiched between the emperor’s indifference on the one hand and the stiff opposition of the English on the other, Raja Sahib was steadfast in doing his duty. The irony lay in the fact that even the soldiers were not happy with him. Many of them were either ruffians or addicted to the licentious life of Lucknow. When Raja Sahib wanted to replace them by recruiting upright youths, it created an uproar. People spread the rumour that he was trying to increase his stranglehold on the administration by recruiting Rajput youths into the army. This rumour had deeply affected the Muslims. Raja Sahib often felt so annoyed that he wanted to give up his job and leave the state. But the fear that the British would turn the emperor into a puppet the moment the general left, leading to the destruction of the state of Awadh, made him stay. Another problem was that Raushanuddaulah too was opposed to Raja Sahib. He suspected that the general was trying to tie up with the Marathas to destroy Awadh. That is why he got in the way whenever Raja Sahib wanted to do anything. He still believed that the Muslim state of Awadh could stay intact only with the protection of the British. Otherwise it would be gobbled up by the swelling Hindu forces.
In reality, Bakhtaavar Singh’s condition was precarious. His cleverness would see him through many of his activities. He was stubborn by temperament and would take recourse to persuasion, courtesy and humility to get his work done. This added affectation and artificiality to his behaviour, which made him a suspect in the eyes of his enemies.
The emperor told one of his English flatterers, ‘Perhaps you don’t realize how much I value your presence here. In my entire kingdom, nobody would dare look at you with eyes of disfavour.’
The Englishman bowed and said, ‘We can never pay enough thanks to His Excellency for this favour.’
The emperor declared, ‘I swear by Imam Hussain, if anyone creates the slightest difficulty for you, I’ll have him stand against the wall and shot dead.’
It was a habit with the emperor to hold his hat in his hand and twirl it on his fingers. This daily habit made a dent in the hat.
