The entire population had assembled outside the village, awaiting the arrival of the maharaja’s officials. The old men with creased brows, each line depicting the pain and misery of centuries, young men and women in rags. The women trying hard to cover their bodies, a little flesh revealed through a hole in the garment here and some through a gash there, some with emaciated infants clinging to their dry and shrunken breasts; the children, the urchins with white fungus on their heads playing in the dust. This assembly of starving, half naked humanity was led by a flowing pheraned and immaculately turbaned Peer sahib and the equally well-groomed nambardar of the village.
The petty officials in the maharaja’s service were there for the annual grain collection. This year, the villagers seemed to be fortunate as the officials had arrived on time. Last year, the entire produce of the village had remained stacked and had perished during the winter. The officials were to collect the maharaja’s share (the lion’s share) and if they so pleased, would leave a few bushels for the villagers. That was the procedure; they were, after all, at best tillers. All rights of ownership were vested in the person of maharaja whose forefathers had purchased this country for a sum of Rs 70 lacs. The deed implied that all lands, mountains, forests, waters, skies, wild game, the fish in the pond, the chicken in the coup, the lamb in the pen, the cow in the herd and men, women and children were the personal property of “His Highness, the Maharaja Bahadur.” He was a kind man because in spite of the deed, he did allow a few morsels of rice to his subjects and regularly dispatched his men to every village to collect his share.
The riders could be seen from a distance. Yes, here they were. A sudden silence fell on the assembly of wretched souls. Shrieking infants too smelt the approaching authority and stopped shrieking. The playing children suddenly froze. The entire assembly huddled closer. Children clung to their parents; women took refuge behind their men. By and by the riders came closer, and finally reached the place. The Peer sahib and nambardar took a few steps, held the reins of the horses and helped the riders dismount. The officials announced that they were tired and hungry and the nambardar immediately announced that the grains were not to be divided today. The sahibs would rest. The gloomy faced men and women slowly departed from the place. The officials had already left for the nambardar’s house, led by the Peer sahib in his royal best.
Raja Inder Sen, son of Raja Sunder Sen, sat on his throne. The ministers, nobles and knights of the kingdom were in attendance, attired in their best, nestled into their seats. Scantily covered damsels appeared on the scene carrying wine and began gracefully to serve those present. The courtiers talked amongst themselves in subdued tones. Presently, a bevy of beauties appeared in the center of the court and bowed before the king. They were all court dancers, beautifully decorated from head to foot. The raja took notice and with a wave of his hand gave his permission to perform. No sooner had the raja brought his hand down, the feet of the dancers began to move to the accompaniment of the drumbeat and dozens of drums produced a deep rhythmic sound. As the full orchestra came to life, the dance, the music and the wine seemed to invade the senses of all those present. Every part of the gyrating, twisting, moving flesh seemed to issue a passionate call that no one could resist. Taking a cue from the raja, every courtier began to pull the approaching dancer to his lap and plant a kiss on her even as she tried to free herself and dance away. This seemed to continue endlessly till suddenly a roaring voice emerged from the throne. With a raised hand, the raja ordered attention. The moving bodies became still, the fingers on the strings suddenly froze and the melody remained suspended in mid-air. The raja looked towards his minister who dutifully stood up. “Yes, my Lord?” he asked. “Begin the business, minister, the court’s business.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Present the report, minister.”
“Yes, my lord. The entire Kashmir kingdom continues to thrive on your bounty and your mercy. My lord, the air, water and the land are all free. There is peace everywhere. No controls. People, free and happy, enjoy my lord.”
“Good, minister! Good! But what about…him?”
“My lord? Oh him, the heretic? Yes, my lord, Nand Gupt roams about in the kingdom, trying to spread his vile thoughts. But no one lends an ear to him. Says he, ‘Do not drink.’ Women throw all filth on his head. Says he, ‘Do not fornicate.’ Men stone him for that. People are happy with their wine, women and mirth, but my lord, the rural folk are hard to change. We have ordered correctives here and there.”
As the minister concluded his report, a couple of soldiers holding a man in chains appeared at the court’s door. Bowing in the customary style, they entered the court. The raja enquired as to why they were here and whom they had brought in. The captain explained that the man was found roaming in the vicinity of the palace and when confronted, expressed his wish to speak to the king. “We have for the sake of security brought him inside in chains to your court.”
The king asked the man, “What have you to say?”
The man, with a miserable look on his face, spoke thus. “My lord! I am an ordinary citizen of your kingdom. All was well with my life. I lived with my loving wife, two children and my oId parents. Only a few months ago, my mother died. My father, taking the benefit of the new regulations promulgated by our lord, entered my wife, and this has ruined my own life and the whole household.”
Hearing this the raja broke into a wild laughter. All the courtiers and soldiers followed. They laughed and laughed till the raja suddenly stopped. All the courtiers and soldiers also stopped and the raja in a vile tone thus decreed: “He is jealous of his father. Put him to death before dawn.”
To be continued
An excerpt from Ayaz Rasool Nazki’s book SATISAR, THE VALLEY OF DEMONS published by Vitasta Publishing and the book is available on www.vitastapublishing.com
