One day both friends were playing chess. Mirza had the upper hand and Mir was being checked again and again. Suddenly, the soldiers of the East India Company were seen approaching. The Company had decided to mount a raid on Lucknow. It wanted to gobble up the kingdom on the pretext of the unpaid loan. It was the same capitalist ploy that had put fetters on all weak nations.
Mir said, ‘Here comes the British army!’
Mirza retorted, ‘Let them come! Save your pawns. Checkmate.’
‘We must take a peek, hiding behind a wall. Just see how youthful and mighty they look! The mere sight makes one tremble in fear.’
‘You can see them later. What’s the rush! Check again!’
‘They have artillery too. There must be around five thousand soldiers! Red faces just like monkeys!’
‘Don’t make excuses, sir. Here’s check!’
‘We’ll think about it when the time comes. Here, you’re checkmated.’
The army went past them. The friends got ready for a second round of the game. Mirza said, ‘What’re we going to do about our meal today?’
Mir replied, ‘Today is a day of fasting. Are you feeling hungrier than usual?’
‘I wonder what’s happening in the city!’
‘People must be taking a nap after having their meals. His Highness the Nawab Sahib also must be taking rest. Or there might be a round of drinking going on.’
By the time the two friends set down to play, it was three. This time Mirza was losing. At that moment the army of returning soldiers was heard. Nawab Wajid Ali had been dethroned and the army was taking him away as a prisoner. There was no turmoil in the city. No brave soldier of his spilled even a single drop of blood. The nawab bade a tearful goodbye to his people, just like a bride does at the moment of parting from her parents. The begums wept, the nawab wept, the maids wept, and that was all! A kingdom came to an end. In human history, no independent ruler of a country could have been overthrown so peacefully and quietly. It was not the kind of non-violence which delights angels. It was the kind of cowardice and impotence at which gods shed tears. The nawab of the vast state of Awadh had been imprisoned and Lucknow was lost in a sensual slumber. This was the last stage of political decadence.
Mirza said, ‘Those tyrants have captured His Excellency the Nawab Sahib!’
Mir parried, ‘Quite right. You aren’t a judge! Look here, check!’
‘Just a moment, sir. I can’t concentrate on the game right now. His Highness must be shedding tears of blood! The lamp that had lit up Lucknow has gone out. The nawab must be crying his heart out.’
‘Cry he must! Where will he find this luxury in the white man’s prison? Again check!’
‘Time doesn’t stay the same for anyone. What a great catastrophe!’ Mirza sounded philosophical.
‘Yes, that’s true. Here again, check! That’s it, you’ll be checkmated in the second move. No one can save you!’
‘Wallah! You’re so heartless! Don’t you feel any grief at such a catastrophe! The chief patron of arts, His Excellency, is no more. Lucknow has become desolate!’
‘First save your king and then you can mourn for Nawab Sahib. Here’s check and mate! Now, play your move!’
The army went by taking the nawab with them. Mirza set up the chess pieces again. The sting of defeat is bitter. Mir said, ‘Come now, let’s write an elegy for Nawab Sahib’s tragic destiny.’ But Mirza’s loyalty and etiquette had vanished with his defeat. He was baying for vengeance.4
Evening took over. Bats began to screech in the ruins. Swallows returned to their nests and were taking rest. But both players continued their game like two bloodthirsty warriors locked in a combat. Mirza had lost three games in a row and the fourth one, too, didn’t look promising. He played each move with great caution with the firm resolve to win, but one move turned out to be so ill-advised that it spoiled the entire game for him. On the other side, Mir was singing ghazals and thumris in ecstasy, occasionally teasing his friend and cracking jokes. He seemed very pleased with himself, as if he had come upon some hidden treasure. This annoyed Mirza no end. He frowned again and again and said in exasperation, ‘Sir, don’t change your moves. What is this— you make a move and then immediately alter it! Think carefully before you make a move. Why is your hand on that piece? Leave it alone! Until you’ve decided the next move in your mind, don’t touch your piece. Sir, you take half an hour for every manoeuvre. This is against the rules! Whoever takes more than five minutes for a move will be declared checkmated. You’ve changed your move again! Why don’t you quietly place it back!’
Mir’s queen was about to be taken. He said, ‘When did I even make my move?’
Mirza replied, ‘You’ve already made the move. Just put the piece right there in the same square.’
‘Why should I put it back in that square? When did I take my hand off the piece?’
‘If you wait till doomsday to make your move, will the game stop? The moment you saw your queen in danger, you started cheating.’
‘You’re the one who cheats! Victory and defeat is decided by fate. Nobody wins by cheating.’
‘Then it’s settled. You’ve lost the game,’ Mirza said in a tone of finality.
‘How have I lost it?’
‘Then you keep the piece back where it was.’
‘Why should I keep it there? I won’t!’
‘You’ll have to!’
‘Never!’
‘I’ll make you do it. What’s your worth, after all?’
The argument worsened. Each stuck to his position, neither one gave an inch. When an argument heats up, irrelevant issues are inevitably brought in to disgrace and humiliate the other party.
Mirza said, ‘If anybody in your family had ever played chess then you’d have been familiar with the rules. But
