The dull, dry and hot summers of Marwaar
sometimes have the silence of death. In fact the word ‘Marwaar’ itself comes
from the Sanskrit word ‘Maruvat’ which means the land of death. This silence of
death is most visible and felt in the hot months of May and June. It is
sometimes broken by the music of scorching loo winds in the desert. It is the
time of the year when the Baolis, Beris, Tankas and Nads go mostly dry and
desolate, except that one can occasionally see emaciated cattle, a hopeless
bird or a big-turbaned Raika with his Nagra shoes and
upturned mustache, on their banks. In one such summer, my father was asked by
the Chief Minister of the state Mr. Joshi to take charge as the Deputy
Superintendent of Police, of a small town called Bali.
Reluctantly, my father, who was till then
serving in district near to his hometown, joined as the Deputy Superintendent
of Bali. He was received by his official driver, Mehtab Singh on the railway
station. Mehtab singh, originally from Jaisalmer had all the required physical
features to plan a successful raid in Pakistan as a Bhati dacoit of Jaisalmer Riyasat.
Unfortunately Jaisalmer Riyasat, the only state officially taxing dacoits and
thieves had become a feudal relic and a wonderland, in the stories of
grandmothers, with its tales of chivalry. And Pakistan had become a separate
Jurassic Park so for Bhatis, dacoity as a career, and expression of valor was
not a feasible option anymore. However, Mehtab Singh chose to become another
variety of dacoit i.e. the dacoit with a uniform and a danda. With his
mountain-like chest, three inches wide fingers as if they were about to drop
some cow ghee on squeezing, snake-like dense and upturned mustaches and amber
like big, fiery eyes, Mehtab Singh seemed none less than Ravana, to me as a child.
Marwaar of 80s was neck-deep in feudal order
of society. For one serving in the police department, it was more or less the
same as it used to be in the British time or state time. The officers in police
department were like mai-baaps for common people. It was not unusual to have a
retinue of 30 to 40 attendants at the sarkari residence which was referred to
as ‘bangla’ in a very colonial style. The town was a sleepy, lazy and
uneventful. For a police officer, the occasional robberies by dacoits and
kanjars, honor-killings, family feuds, and elopement of girls were the main
crime in that sleepy town. For an outsider there were not many options to make
his evenings beautiful. Except for a few boring government officers, there were
not many people to mingle around with.
However, this was the exterior. If one
ventured beyond his ‘sarkari’ existence, then he would found true and classic
stories in that town, stories of love, lust, art and renunciation. The stories
which were 1000s of years old, and if one could peel off the layers he could
even get the glimpse of the continuity from the era of Buddha, Mahavira and
Mauryas. In the hot and draught-stricken summer months one could readily spot
Jain sravakas and Chullakas. Jaina monks would often frequent that area and
spend their rainy season. Their chants seemed ordinary to the local people and
the Marwari merchants who were mostly Jainas, but to the one passionate about
ancient Indian history, those chants, chullakas and sravikas were like a joy
ride into history. It was a sight of sheer joy, surprise, mystery and awe at
the fact that how a tradition could be continued in its purest from since the
age of Mahavira. My father would often wonder whether the earliest Jaina disciples
of lord Mahavira and Jain sangha of 600 B.C. were similar to what those people
did now. The people of 600 B.C., the way they behaved, the way they looked and dressed,
their relations and politics was in anyway different from the present Jainas,
or these present ones are the most authentic peep into the dark and unexplored
alleys of history. Many other stories of saints with supernatural powers,
ghosts, Mamajis(local deities), kings and queens could be explored in that town
and its surroundings. Those stories will continue to form a part of my writings
forever.
In this story, I am going to tell about a
man, who seemed like coming straight from world of surrealist painters, magical
realist writers and the folklores. But at the same time, his close
companionship made one feel that he came from your own, nearest and closest
world. One could even feel that he came from one’s own heart or one might think
that he wanted to or felt like that men at least once in his life time.
Shiladitya Singh Rathore was landlord of a
small principality of Ratangarh. Shiladitya was the eldest son of Thakore
Bhanupratap Singh. Shiladitya’s mother was from the royal family of Mangarh in
Madhya Pradesh. Shiladitya grew up just like other young boys of princely families.
He grew up hunting, pig-sticking, riding and playing cricket. He lost his
father’s care and attention when Jennifer, a British theatre artist entered his
father’s carnal world. He was then sent to Mayo high school in Ajmer, where he
befriended Adhiraj Singh, who hailed from a royal household in Madhya Pradesh.
Shiladitya and Adhiraj Singh had a very
strange relationship. They were best of friends but somewhere inside there was
hatred, rivalry and jealousy. Adhiraj Singh was like an alter-ego of
Shiladitya. Shiladitya in his personal life was a man of few words and umpteen
numbers of books. He lived in his idealistic world where Rajput virtues like
truth, honesty, chivalry and loyalty held a supreme place. Adhiraj Singh lived
in his own deceitful world where Rajput vices like drinking, gambling, women,
lust and treachery reigned supreme. Adhiraj Singh was a master of words and a
playful wizard who could mesmerize anyone with his flamboyance, boastful words
and style whereas Shiladitya in his first impression always came up as an
unusual, philosophical, artistic and a bit strange fellow. Because of this
exterior impression, many could not understand his intense, innocent and a
loyal soul.
After high school, Shiladitya came back to
Ratangarh. In the sandy, dry state most of his time was spent in intense
reading. He immersed himself into the world of Kafka, Nietzsche, Kant and Wittgenstein.
Kantian stories of space and time became more intense and mind-boggling when
they were transported from the philosophical debates of German universities to
sandy, silent, cold and ancient nights of Marwaar. Shiladitya found himself
more in the realm which lied in the zone of conjunction of metaphysics and
spirituality. He found himself turning against feudal practices and regime.
Bhanupratap Singh found his revolutionary instincts a cause of worry so he was
sent to Cambridge for his higher studies.
The world of Cambridge was waiting for
Shiladitya with three possibilities; first of exploring the wonders of metaphysics
and linguistics, second; exploring the valley of bliss, death and passion,
which opened through the eyes and curves of Rajyashri, and third; possibility
of being or not-being the alter-ego Adhiraj Singh. The choice had already been
made, but foolishly like you, me and all of us Shiladitya thought that he was
the true agent.
Cambridge was a new world to explore.
Shiladitya was miles away from the feudal winds and old sand dunes of
Rajasthan. His day began with f morning stroll in the foggy mornings of
Cambridge. Often, on those foggy mornings, he would befriend strange people
from less known countries in that pre-globalized world. He would befriend
professors, research scholars and at times beautiful women. After that he
became a part of honorable Cambridge tradition through its high table British
breakfasts, 11 o clock English teas, discourses on linguistics, bridge, golf
and rowing. Within a year he had become a pukka sahib who did not want to go
back to his hometown. He has made a kind of comfort zone in the intellectual
circle of Cambridge, its philosophical society meetings, ballroom dancing and
dramatic society. He thought he would become a professor in Cambridge.
Then one day, in this happy and eventful life
he met Rajya Shri and Adhiraj Singh. Adhiraj had joined Cambridge an year after
Shiladitya. He was a family friend of
Rajya Shri since both of them came from the same state of Madhya Pradesh in
India. Adhiraj Singh formally introduced Rajya Shri to Shiladitya Singh. Rajya
Shri, though came from a royal family, but was a complete anti-thesis to the life-style
of a Rajput princess. She never observed purdah. She rode motor bikes,
drove the fastest cars and drank crazy. She tamed wildest of horses in the
ground, and hunted the proudest men in the bed. She was free, wild and like a
rage. Her passion for love, lust and cannabis knew no bounds.
Shiladitya could not protect himself from her
intoxicating eyes for long. It began with ballroom dancing, flourished in
hunting stories and poetry, and peaked in the carnal pleasures of foggy nights.
However, the things were not as simple as they seemed. Rajya Shri was in love
with Shiladitya, in ephemeral and abstract realms. But, she still found her
human self wildly indulgent in the carnal pleasures with Adhiraj Singh. One
half of her mind dreamt of a maddening grip of Adhiraj on her thighs and navel,
the tickles on her back and craved for getting lost into the jungles of that
wild, smelly male chest, whereas the other half of her mind discovered herself
in the poetry of Shiladitya.
Soon she declared this elitist existential
dilemma to Shiladitya: “I am mentally in love with you and physically in lust
with Adhiraj”. For Rajya Shri, this dilemma was not an occasion for remorse,
but a state of supreme enlightenment which comes rarely in this physical form.
She was right, it was a rare phenomenon; unimaginably rare for Shiladitya,
lovingly rare for Adhiraj Singh and ‘not-so-rare’ for Rajya Shri.
For Shiladitya, it was as if Descartes was
coming out of his grave and staging a perfect demonstration of Cartesian
dualism. For a moment, Shiladitya thought that he was suffering from a split
personality and projecting his ontological adventures into the real life.
However, he soon found out that it was- his destiny, and a woman with her
instincts, fluctuating between disloyalty, sensuality, intense physical
‘craving’ and love. It was an ordeal of his lust, mental wildness or
vulnerability. And, there was an alter-ego in the form of Adhiraj, ragingly
after him at every stage of his life to rupture his inner peace and moral
world.
Adhiraj Singh, was just like nightmare which
terrified Great Alexander in his secret moments. One could never find
Shiladitya in that terrified state. Neither would anyone ever believe
Shiladitya if he ever told anyone of such a nightmare because that nightmare
had its existential relevance in nabbing Shiladitya in his most secret moments.
It was a kind of internal and psychological torture which revealed itself to
Shiladitya only. Possibly, it was an outward projection of his internal fears
and failings. For others, Shiladitya was a brave, assertive, well-groomed and
intellectual Rajput prince, but this prince was most scared when he was nearest
to his victories in life, be it sports, books or women. He was scared of an
illusory possibility of Adhiraj coming at that last moment and capturing all
the spoils of his victories.
How much real this fear was; is quite a
complicated phenomenon to explore but yes it was real to Shiladitya. It was
real in his inner world. As a child, Shiladitya was once introduced to a
learned astrologer and tantric from Kamrupa. His name was Dhurjati Narayan
Mishra. It was believed that Dhurjati Narayan Mishra had conquered
Karnapishachini.
Dhurjati Narayan Ji had told Shiladitya that in his Kundali, there was a yuti of two papa grahas i.e. Shani and Mangal and because of that
another papa graha, Rahu in its mahadasha will have a strong impact
on his thoughts and events of life. Rahu as a planet generates inactivity as it
is a tamsika griha. Rahu is supposed to lead
one to confusion and indecisiveness. It keeps one’s mind i.e. buddhi away from
knowledge and wisdom. It drives one towards carnal pleasures. Shiladitya’s Rahu
kaal had started with his promotion into grade 12th in Mayo school
and in his grade 12th he met Adhiraj Singh for the first time. After
that some coincidences occurred which embedded a notion, very strongly in
Shiladitya’s mind; that Adhiraj was a Rahu in human form.
Whenever by chance or deliberate purpose,
Shiladitya met Adhiraj, he would grow suspicious, uneasy and restive. Then,
there was something mesmerizing about the Adhraj Singh. Shiladitya could never
resist himself from getting drawn into ‘Adhiraj’ phenomenon. He always thought
that he would be extremely careful but Adhiraj with his celestial vibes was
always one-step ahead of Shiladitya Singh. ‘Adhiraj phases’ of Shiladitya’s
life always ended with something more confusing, elusive and deluding.
In Cambridge, began a phase of the most
original battle of mankind i.e. the battle for women. The species of advanced
apes had always fought this kind of battle right from proto-historical periods
to Harappa to Mahabharata. 700 years back a brutal, barbaric and lusty Muslim
king Allahudinn khaliji had attacked Chittor to get Padmavati, the beautiful
Rajput queen of Chittor. This time battleground was in Cambridge and as always
the unmoved mover was Rajyashri. In this battle, Darwin’s advanced apes were
the students of refined philosophical thought and sciences, wore Gucci and
channel, but were still fighting the most primitive battle. Surprisingly, this
battle was won by Shiladitya. Rajyashri could navigate through the mind-body
dualism and locate her true love in Shiladitya. However she could do it only
after three years of endless wandering into the jungles of flesh, philosophy
and morality. But, this did not happen without an anti-thesis. It left a deep
wound in Adhiraj’s heart. Shiladitya firmly believed that the reaction would
happen sometime as no action in the cosmic realm goes without a reaction.
Shiladitya married Rajyashri after coming back
from Cambridge. It was a grand princely wedding which was remembered for years.
After marriage, Shiladitya worked as a diplomat in Paris for few years. In
Paris, he was accompanied by his beautiful wife Rajyashri. Shiladitya’s poetry
and art, Rajyashri’s eyes and red wine, and the evenings of Paris made the
perfect combination. Shiladitya often called his Paris years a phase of
romantic surrealism in his life.
However, the phase did not last long. After
his father’s death in 1975, Shiladitya had to come back to Ratangarh. He came
with a grand idea of converting his old palaces into hotels. His painter,
writer and artist buddies in Europe had long wanted to explore the mystic music
of sands. He had other ideas too like to start a community-based NGO for water
conservation.
His business was growing by leaps and bounds.
He was a happy and successful man, with a beautiful wife, a handsome son and
lakhs of rupees to splurge on holidays in Europe. Then, one day he visited Dhurjati
Narayan Mishra Ji, who was on his death bed. Dhurjati Narayan ji blessed him
with prosperity and happiness, but before his death he uttered a few words,”
rahu in its last phase becomes the most vicious one…………………………………………………….brings
complete ruination.”
Years of happy life, prosperity, social
prestige and the political influence had brought Shiladitya far away from his
mentally turbulent youth and the ghost of Adhiraj. His relation with Rajya shri
had stabilized and it seemed that he was the happiest man on Earth. But
Dhurjati Ji’s last words, kind of disturbed Shiladitya. He found out that the
spell of Rahu was in its last phase, in his life. Once again the skeletons came
out from the cupboards of his past.
Next morning, in the usual busy office hours, he received a guest. The guest
was visiting Shiladitya after almost a decade. It was Kunwar Adhiraj Singh.
Adhiraj had come with a friend of his. Amaury was a budding painter of Paris.
Adhiraj requested Shiladitya to let Amaury study the murals of his palace.
Amaury wanted to study the old Rajput paintings on Indian seasons. He wanted to
study the painters patronized by the royal courts. Shiladitya was a great
admirer of arts so he gladly accepted the proposal. That evening was the
evening of cool summer breeze, kebabs of teetar (Indian partridge), laal maans
(Rajput delicacy prepared in a traditional style), some good red wine, poetry
and old Cambridge days. Intermittently, the old bitterness tried to surge its
head but it was comfortably sidelined.
After the dinner, Amaury asked Rajya shri to
dance. Rajya shri, was surprised and elated as after almost an era she was made
to feel her real self-i.e. the passionate, sensual and amorous Rajya Shri.
Nothing significant transpired between Adhiraj and Shiladitya. However, while
leaving he told Shiladitya that he had forgiven him for marrying Rajya Shri.
But, Shiladitya felt that Adhiraj was lying. He could still feel the depth of
the wound which he had given to Adiraj by hurting his pride and for someone
like Adhiraj, who had never tasted a defeat; it was not very easy to swallow
the loss of pride and Rajya Shri.
From next day Amaury’s investigation began.
He was meeting the local painters and examining the art works of the old court
painters. In this schedule, he would often go to Shiladitya’s house and enjoyed
a drink with him and Rajya shri. Soon Amaury, found that he was no more
interested in the dead murals of the past. He felt himself being drawn into the
colors and smells of a mural with life.
Rajya shri, with the passage of time had grown
younger and prettier. Now her eyes reflected not only the sensual passion but a
kind of stability and power, a grip which was kind of hypnotizing, and
captivating to the limits of death. When Amaury saw her sipping wine in her
chiffon sarees, her eyes seemed dangerously attractive. He could feel the
colors and aromas of those colors. Those colors and their aromas were maddening
for Amaury. They were the aromas of sin, a strange and irresistible temptation
to immorality. Immorality seemed like a piece of art, the best painting Amaury
could ever dream of. The sketch of sin it was, and his French soul discovered a
new world of creativity defying the conventions. In this new world, creation
was beyond the duality of morality and immorality. He felt depth and intensity
of creation coming from blood of the evil sitting inside him. The drive for this new and wild strain of
creation emanated from the eyes of Rajya Shri. Then, it disappeared into her
glass of wine and then went back into her eyes. Then, in her eyes, invisible it
was, but it had the power to absorb the artist Amaoury into the black hole of
Rajya Shri’s bosoms.
Shilditya was on a business trip to Europe.
Amaoury’s meetings with Rajya Shri became frequent and they started going for
picnics in the silent sands of Marwaar. Those picnics and the immoral strokes
of Amaury revitalized the yearning for enlightenment, and the delusions of
mind-body disconnect again in Rajya Shri. She felt a release of a wild energy
pent-up for almost a decade. Amaury was portraying this wild energy on the
canvass in myriad ways. It was expressed as naked Rayashri on a horse back. It
was drawn as Rajya Shri naked from tip to toe barring her face clad with a
translucent chunari; falling with an inviting reluctance on her bosoms, and
Rajya shri partially closing her sinful eyes in the smoke of half-burnt bidi. It was portrayed as nude
Rajya Shri lying intoxicated, with half-closed eyes, on her bare breasts, in
the lap of Shiva, the eternal Yogi. Her hair falling carelessly on her back and
Shiva’s thighs like an erotic elephant burning in the fire of sensual craving-
it was Rajyashri, her wild and unending desire for freedom and loss of her ego,
and the colors of sin. The sin was at the peak of its beauty, and in realm
where the border between indulgence and transcendence become obscure. The best
was yet to come.
Amaury made a big canvas in his studio and
invited Rajya shri to see his depiction of her wild energies. He told Rajyashri
that he was now going to paint his masterpiece of sin, a dangerous world of colors
and strokes which might deprive him of his rationality forever, and make him a
lunatic. Rajya shri was thrilled with the idea and felt as if she was divinely
ordained to be the part of this journey of her enlightenment beyond the
masterpiece of sin. Amaury and Rajya shri finished two bottles of wine. Then,
they lied on the sand to listen to its song of death. Then they soaked themselves in the colors of
sin. Those two nude souls of sin soaked in the red, purple, blue, magenta and green
of ‘sin’, rubbed against each other. They made love on the canvas. On the
canvas, they played, felt the sin, and the color of sin. While making love,
there were two active bodies and the two witnessing souls. The two witnessing
souls were the moral conscience of Rajyashri and Amaury. Thus there were not
two but four entities on the canvas. The artful and playful gymnastics and the
sensual postures of an emotional artist and a passionate yogini soaked in
colors, made the most enigmatic collage of colors on the canvas-the colors of
lust, sin, sensuality, art, guilt, morals, conscience, and yearning for
enlightenment.
But still there was something left i.e. the
color of revenge. Human life is incomplete without this color as it has formed
a fulcrum of the evolution of human consciousness and history. It has been the
fundamental principle in the development of history, politics and the science
of human behavior. The silence of sin was ruptured in a flash of a second. Red
and hot blood sped like a jet and drained the canvas in a second. Thick and
merciless splashes of blood completed the picture. The revenge had come and its
color was red.
Next three years were spent in the court
cases and hushing up the fairy-tale of a disloyal queen. Shiladitya singh had to
spend millions on lawyers. Since he had social and political influence he could
not be proved guilty in the court of law.When my father joined as Deputy Superintendent
of Bali, Shiladitya was a prominent political leader and enjoyed the love and support
of his people. Soon my father became close friends with Shiladitya. He fondly remembers
him as a man of integrity and high personal morals. He would often narrate the
instances when Shiladitya generously opened the doors of his family treasury,
when no help arrived from the government for drought relief.
Often, in his evenings with his close friends
he used to narrate the story of Shiladitya. At times, I used to overhear the
stories. He would often remember Shiladitya as a man of high intellectual caliber,
connoisseur of wines and literature, a knowledgeable historian and a great
friend. Shiladitya, though coming from a royal family performed a marvelous
work for restoring the dignity of people form lower castes. After the unfortunate
masterpiece of sin, he had devoted his life completely to people.
My father often used to go for hunting with
Shiladitya Singh. Many a times he would spend his evenings with my father and
the Munsif Magistrate Gulaam Muhammad Khan. At times Shiladitya used to narrate
the story of his life and would break into tears. He often felt the guilt of
murdering his wife. That guilt was becoming intense. It was taking deep roots
and Shiladitya Singh brimmed with the intense feeling of remorse. He started losing
interest in his life, son, social affairs and friends. By the end of 1986, he mostly
stayed alone. But, still his evenings with my father continued. On one such evening
he gifted his favorite Beretta 38 special revolver to my father. He spent the
rest of that evening in utter silence. My father saw the tears flowing down a
mountain of honesty, friendship, integrity and principles.
At 3:30 in the night, Mehtab Singh knocked
the doors of Deputy Superintendent’s residence. After a few minutes of silence,
Mehtab Singh was sobbing. Thakore Sahib had shot himself dead.
Next morning, when my father went to Thakore
Sahib’s bedroom for a formal investigation, he discovered three things: the
masterpiece of sin with its colors of lust, love, revenge and the wild passion
of Rajya shri, brittle, yellow pages of Shiladitya’s Kundli made by Dhurjati
Narayan Ji, and the telephone number of Adhiraj Singh.
