Meanwhile, even the servants began to spin yarns. So far, they had been accustomed to idling around and doing nothing. They were not bothered about who came into the house or who left it. They were simply required to go to the market a couple of times. Now they had to constantly be on their toes. They were ordered to serve paan, water or ice at frequent intervals. And the hookah burned at all hours like a lover’s heart. They went to their Begum Sahiba and voiced their complaints: ‘The master’s love for chess has become a great problem for us. Our feet have developed blisters from running errands. What kind of a game goes on from morning till evening? A diversion for an hour or two—that’s enough for any game. Of course, we aren’t complaining. We are the master’s slaves. We will carry out whatever orders are given to us, but this is an inauspicious game. Whoever plays this game never prospers. Some disaster will befall this household. Neighbourhood after neighbourhood has gone to ruin because of this game. The people of the mohalla taunt us about it and we feel embarrassed.’
Begum Sahiba replied, ‘I detest the wretched game myself. But what can I do? What power do I have?’
There were a few old and wise people in the locality who began to have all kinds of misgivings. ‘Now, we’re done for! When our nobles are like this then God help the land! This kingdom will be ruined by this addiction of chess. The signs are bad.’
The entire kingdom was in disarray. People were getting robbed in broad daylight. There was no one to hear their grievances. All the wealth of the countryside was drawn into Lucknow to be squandered on prostitutes, clowns and pimps. Courtesans were reigning supreme. Gold coins rained down in wine shops. The princes would fling around gold coins with abandon. While the nobility went about spending recklessly, the debts owed to the East India Company were mounting with every passing day. No one was bothered about paying it back. It came to such a pass that even the annual taxes were no longer collected. The resident sent repeated reminders and warnings, but nobody paid these any heed because people were lost in their indulgences.
Nevertheless, the chess game continued in Mir’s drawing room for several months. New plans were thought out, defences erected and demolished. Sometimes they had squabbles which were aggravated for a time but were then brought under control. Sometimes Mirza was so incensed that he left the game in a huff and returned home, while Mir folded the chess cloth, retired to his own chamber and resolved on oath not to go near the game again. But come morning the friends were seen together again. A good night’s sleep removed all bitterness.
One day both the friends were in the thick of a chess battle when an officer of the king’s army came riding on a horse, asking for Mir. Mir lost his wits. What calamity was this? He shut the doors of the house, and instructed the servants, ‘Tell them I’m not home.’
The rider demanded, ‘Where is he if not at home?’
The servant replied, ‘I don’t know. What do you want?’
‘Why should I tell you? He has been summoned by the king. Perhaps soldiers are being conscripted for the army. It’s not a joke being a master of a rent-free estate.’
‘Very well, you may go. We’ll convey the message.’
‘Simply conveying the message isn’t enough. I’ll come tomorrow and take him along.’
When the rider left, Mir was still in a panic. He was shaking with terror. He said to Mirza, ‘What’s going to happen now?’
‘What a bolt from the blue! What if I’m summoned too?’ Mirza panicked.
‘The bastard said he’d come again tomorrow.’
‘It’s such a misfortune! If we have to join the army we’ll die before our time. I get a temperature at the very name of battle.’
‘I won’t be able to eat or drink from today.’
‘Listen, there’s just one way out. Let’s disappear, he won’t find us even if he combs the entire city. Starting tomorrow, let’s have our session at some deserted place on the banks of the Gomti. Who can find us there? When that fellow comes for me, he’ll have to go back empty-handed.’
‘That’s right, what a splendid idea! From tomorrow, we’ll meet on the banks of the Gomti.’
In the meantime, Mir’s begum was saying to the horseman, ‘You disguised yourself perfectly!’
He answered, ‘I’m accustomed to making such jackasses dance to my tune. Chess has robbed them of all their common sense and courage. Now you’ll see they won’t stay at home even by mistake. They’ll leave early morning and return by midnight.’3
From the next day both friends would leave home at the crack of dawn. They carried with them a small mat and a paan box. Crossing the Gomti they reached an old, deserted mosque which was perhaps a relic of the Mughal period. On the way they picked up tobacco, pipe and wine. After reaching the mosque they spread the mat, filled their pipe and sat down to play their game. Then they were without a care in the world. Apart from a few words like ‘move’, ‘check’ and ‘checkmate’ no other word came out of their mouth. No mystic could have been more deeply rapt in his meditation. In the afternoon when they felt hungry they went through narrow streets to a baker’s shop, ate something, smoked tobacco and then got absorbed in the game again. At times, they forgot about eating altogether.
Meanwhile, the political condition of the country was getting more complicated. The forces of the East India Company were moving rapidly towards Lucknow. There was commotion in the city and people were fleeing to the countryside with their families. But our two chess players carried on unperturbed. They would step out of their homes through the bylanes, escaping
