Raja Sahib was scared. ‘Have they decided to assassinate him?’
‘No. Their desires will not be fulfilled if the emperor is assassinated. They will walk the emperor through the thoroughfare of the market and take him towards the Gomti. There, a troop of British soldiers will stand in readiness. They will immediately take charge of the emperor and transport him to the residency in a car. There, the Resident will compel the emperor to abdicate. He will be made to sign up the papers right there and then sent to Calcutta immediately.’
‘What a calamity! There’s very little time. His Excellency the emperor must be out by now.’
‘Why are you calling it a calamity? Who was happy under his rule? The government that follows, however bad it may be, will be better than his.’
‘The English will take over?’
‘The English will run a far better government than him.’
Raja Sahib said plaintively, ‘Captain! For God’s sake, don’t utter such words. Why didn’t you tell me all this a little earlier?’
‘But the emperor has not treated you well!’
‘How he has treated me is irrelevant. The value of a state is much more than that of a single individual or a family. Can you release me from my shackles?’
‘In the whole state of Awadh, you won’t find a single person who would bless the emperor from his heart. Everybody is weary of his oppressive regime.’
‘I prefer the oppression of my own people to the slavery of others. The emperor has been reduced to this state because he trusted the strangers. He didn’t care for anyone else because he was sure that the English would help him. I have observed closely the ways of these firangs. They have spoilt the emperor. They have achieved what they desired. The emperor has lost his honour in the eyes of his subjects and he has lost their love. Today, the entire country is up in arms. These people were waiting for such an opportunity. They know that no one will shed tears over the emperor’s dethronement. But let me tell you this, if you do not save the emperor from his enemies now, you will always remain imprisoned in the shackles of slavery in your own country. If you feel that you will achieve peace by expressing allegiance to a conquering power, it won’t be peace but death. They will simply trample over you. The dream that our country will have rule of law will always remain just a dream. No, there’s still some love left in my heart for my own country. I haven’t yet become so insensitive. I will not allow the kingdom to slip through our hands so easily. I will not sell myself so cheaply to strangers. I won’t see my country face dishonour, even if I have to lay down my life for it. If I can’t do anything else, I can at least give my life. Please remove my shackles.’
‘I’m your servant but I am incapable of doing it.’
Raja Sahib said impetuously, ‘This is not the time for such words. Each moment is taking us to certain destruction. Please open the chains. If a house catches fire, we don’t pray to God but run towards the pond.’
‘You are my friend. I can’t but obey your orders. But—’
‘Hurry up, hurry up. Give your sword to me. This is not the time to stand on ceremony.’
The captain was speechless. A sincere effort is always infectious. Although Raja Sahib’s moralistic utterances did not convince him, he called in the jail inspector and said, ‘The emperor has ordered that Raja Sahib be released immediately. If you delay for even a moment, you will have to face the consequences.’
The inspector knew that the captain and the emperor were good friends. If Captain Sahib became angry, then no effort of Raushanuddaulah’s would be able to protect him. He took off Raja Sahib’s shackles.
Raja Sahib left the prison, sword in hand. His heart was welling up with his devotion for the emperor. Just then, the watchtower struck eleven.3
It was midnight. But the narrow lanes of Lucknow were animated. It seemed as though it was just late evening. The jewellery market was busy. But the surprising thing was that there were no jewels in the shops. Only crowds of people could be seen walking the streets. Everyone was armed, their moustaches were erect and they walked with their chests thrust forward. Even the ordinary shopkeepers kept their weapons close at hand.
Suddenly a man appeared before a jewellery shop. He had a heavy turban on his head, his cloak descended below his knees and there was a sash tied around his waist. It looked as though he was a trader from Iran. In those days a lot of Iranian traders visited Lucknow. The appearance of one in the street was not an uncommon spectacle. The name of the shop owner was Madhav Das. He said to the trader, ‘Tell me, Mir Sahib, shall I show you something?’
The trader asked, ‘What’s the rate of gold?’
Madhav replied in an undertone, ‘Don’t ask me about the rates. For a month now, the market has been in a mess. The goods are not coming in. People are keeping them hidden. They don’t bring them to the market out of fear. If you require a large quantity, you will have to come to my humble abode. You will have enough of a choice. Be assured that the rates will be reasonable.’
‘Why is the market in a mess nowadays?’
‘Have you arrived in the city recently?’
‘Yes, I arrived today. The market does not seem to be as lively as before. The cloth market was also dull. I was looking for a length of Dacca muslin, but couldn’t find it.’
‘There’s a reason for it. Something has gone wrong.’
‘I hope you don’t mean that the traders are afraid of
