The Ravi Lancers (7 page)

His grandfather stirred, ‘Now, boy, what is it that you have to tell me?’

Krishna realized with a start that the music had ended. Great drops of rain were falling on the square and the crowd was thinning. Thunder grumbled close around the city. He shook himself out of the glade, where Arjun was marrying Krishna’s sister, and the banished brothers were wandering through the forest, and said, ‘Can we talk in private, grandfather?’

The rajah struggled to his feet, helped by his attendants. ‘An affair of state, is it?’

Krishna nodded and the old man said, ‘We will go to the temple, then. The Rawal will be there and I won’t have to explain it all to him again, afterwards.’

Krishna said, ‘Very well, grandfather.’ Inwardly, he groaned. Why did the old man have to consult the Brahmin on everything? What did Brahmins know more than anyone else, at least from the mere fact of being born to Brahmin parents? It wasn’t as though a man could make himself a Brahmin by educating himself. The rajah was old-fashioned, but there was no way of changing him now.

Krishna followed him out into the rain, along the palace wall and into the shelter of the temple. The Rawal, the chief Brahmin of the temple, came forward to meet them, palms joined, under the whitewashed entrance. Inside, dim oil wicks burned in shallow earthenware dishes, casting a yellow light on the paintings of demons and the daubs of bright colour where offerings of spices lay in front of carved stone figures of gods and demi-gods. The shadows of many-headed, many-armed dancers flickered on the ceiling among the blackened patches made by centuries of smoke from lamps set in the niches among the heavy-lidded gods and the heavy-breasted Apsarases.

The rajah led the way to a dim lit room, where a stone phallus of black stone rose out of a quoit of the same stone. Orange turmeric dusted the knob of the phallus and garlands of broken flowers lay on it and around its base. The three men squatted. There was no door to the low opening behind them, but Krishna knew that no one would come and no one would listen. His grandfather looked at him and he began to speak, using words he had carefully rehearsed on the long drive from Lahore.

‘Grandfather! Rawal! As you know, England declared war on Germany yesterday ...’

‘We know,’ the rajah said. ‘The Agent to the Governor General sent me a telegram.’

Krishna said, ‘The Viceroy is declaring war on behalf of India. An Indian Expeditionary Force is to be sent to France. Part of that force is to be the Hindustan Division.’

‘They’ll leave enough troops in the country,’ the rajah said. ‘Or bring more in before anyone could organize properly.’

Krishna shook his head, shaking off his grandfather’s ridiculous idea. He continued. ‘Every infantry division contains one regiment of cavalry. The divisional cavalry of the Hindustan Division is the 44th Bengal Lancers. Last night, I learned in Lahore that the 44th Lancers have discovered anthrax in two squadrons. They will not be able to go.’

His grandfather said, ‘The better fortune for them. War in Europe is a cold, bloody, brutal business.’

Krishna said, ‘I don’t know for certain, but the British officers I talked to seemed to think that there was no other regiment available. Every cavalry regiment in the country, British and Indian, is committed to some important role and cannot be taken off it.’ The Rawal, sitting tall and thin and dark, all dressed in white, said, ‘My lord Krishna, are you suggesting that . . . ?’

‘Yes! ‘ Krishna cut in. ‘Let us offer the King-Emperor our Lancers for imperial service! It is the best regiment in all the States Forces. The Military Adviser said so after last cold-weather inspection, didn’t he? He said it was better trained than some regiments of the Indian Army. He said to me, privately, that there were only three regiments among all the armies of all the princes of India fit to be ranked with the regulars, and our Lancers were the best of those three.’

The rajah said gloomily, ‘When I employed that old English colonel, I thought I would just be convincing the British that we would do nothing against them ... You are mad, boy! Why should I send my people off to be killed in a British war thousands of miles away? I don’t even know or care where France is ... or Germany. Our problem is not the French or the Germans, but the British.’

‘Grandfather,’ Krishna said earnestly, leaning forward, and realizing suddenly how strange and out of place his trousers and tie and jacket looked against the Rawal’s dhoti and kurtha and the rajah’s white robes, with the grains of rice sticking to the painted stripes on both men’s foreheads, ‘we have trained our Lancers to be the equal of the Indian Army. India is threatened, and we ought to be fighting beside the British. We are soldiers, after all. How can we truly compare with the Indian Army if we sit at home, filling our bellies, while they are fighting a real war?’

‘You mean that afterwards we will be able to take on the British on level terms?’ the rajah said, ruminating. He shook his old head angrily. ‘You are being ridiculous, grandson! I have seen my father and my cousins bayoneted to death by British soldiers, on that square outside the palace! There is no more sense in fighting them than in fighting the smallpox. The way to survive is to stay away, keep quiet, out of sight. They will pass, like all plagues, in the wisdom of Brahma.’

‘I do not think we should ever fight the British,’ Krishna said. ‘I think we should learn from them. Why is it that they can rule India with 800 officials? And the British soldiers outnumbered two to one by Indian soldiers? It is because they have a superior civilization. We are backward and ignorant. We will always remain in subjection, and will deserve to, unless we learn from them, and improve ourselves. But if we don’t fight beside them, they will continue to look down on us. If we do, they cannot refuse to give us what we then will have earned--greater freedom to rule ourselves.’

‘One cries war, another peace,’ the Rawal said, ‘it is like the Mahabharata.’ He began to chant:

Ponder well ye gracious monarchs, with a just and righteous mind,
Help Yudisthir with your counsel, with your grace and blessings kind,
Should the noble sons of Pandu seek his right by open war,
Seek the aid of righteous monarchs and of chieftains near and far,
Should he smite his ancient foemen, skilled in each deceitful art,
Unforgiving in their vengeance, unrelenting in their heart?
Should he rather send a message to the proud unbending foe,
And Duryodhan’s haughty purpose seek by messenger to know?

The chanted Sanskrit died away and the rajah lowered his palms, which he had joined together to listen respectfully.

Krishna said, ‘Yes, but Rawal, when Krishna went to Hastina, there was no war. Now there is. The choice has already been made. It is only a question of whether we act nobly or ignobly, whether we stand by the British, or let them suspect that we are not really their friends after all.’

‘I don’t see why we should pretend to be their friends,’ the rajah said. ‘Their vassals, yes. Perhaps they are better overlords than the Germans would be. Certainly better than the Muslims were. But friends? No, no!’

‘Highness! ‘ Krishna said. ‘I am your grandson. The Lancers are my regiment. I want to take them to war. I will not be able to hold up my head if I do not. Grant me what I ask, I pray.’

‘Ah,’ the old man said slowly, ‘the young warrior wants to win his spurs. And what if you are killed?’

‘I have brothers.’

The old man cracked his swollen knuckles and winced. He stared, unfocused, at the darkly looming phallus. ‘And my people ... some, many will die. For what? So that their young rajah can prove himself? That is a worthy object. But, to help one lot of barbarians conquer another in a cold land across the forbidden Black Water? No, no!’

‘It will only last a couple of months,’ Krishna said. ‘The officers in Lahore all say it will be over by Christmas. If we don’t go at once we’ll be too late ...
We have eaten their salt!
’ He leaned forward urgently. He knew that would tell, for trueness--not to the spoken or written word, but to hosts, to guests--was a cardinal principle of his grandfather’s view of life. Thunder crashed close, shaking the temple and making the dancing shadows waver on the curved ceiling.

‘I suppose so,’ the rajah said heavily. ‘When the Agent set me on the
gaddi
out there, on the very spot where I had seen my father killed, he looked into my face, and, as clear as any message written on parchment, I saw what he did not say, for it was written in his cold blue eyes,
If you forswear this allegiance, the bayonets are ready for you, too.
’

‘The rajah is a man of peace,’ the Rawal said.

The rajah shook his head. ‘I am not. I am a man of fear. That is different. I am terrified of the British, as a man is terrified of rabies, more than of the rabid dog. They are to be feared for what they carry in their hearts and minds. What all Europe carries, I think. Blood. Hate. Something infectious, and fatal. It is not the war that I fear, but the exposure of my people to that fatal disease ... Rawal, what advice do you give us in this matter?’

The Rawal said, ‘The speech I quoted just now was made in Virata, when Yudisthir and his brothers were deciding whether to fight or to negotiate for the return of the kingdom which Duryodhan had usurped from them.’

Lightning lit up the outer room and glistened for a moment on the silent phallus. Krishna looked at the ceiling, trying to contain his patience. Why did Indians spend such time going circuitously round and round the point, bringing in old fables and legends that had no more truth than the Odyssey and the Iliad, and no more relevance to the questions which had to be answered, the decisions which had to be made?

The Rawal said, ‘They decided to send an envoy to Hastina, to the court of Duryodhan, to find out his intentions. Peace, or war. Destruction, or preservation.’

The nipples of an Apsaras seemed to move on the wall and Krishna’s young loins stirred.

‘That is our situation, lord rajah. The war that has been declared is not our war, and we have no need to take part in it. But there is a deeper struggle, between Christian, European ideals which have been imposed on us by force, and our own ancient ways and beliefs.’

‘Some of us do not need to be forced to accept the foreign way,’ the old Rajah said, with a half-smiling glance at Krishna.

‘True, sire,’ the Rawal said, ‘in any case, four methods are prescribed for us to follow in any such struggle or dispute. The first is
sam
, that is, dialogue, negotiation, discussion. We cannot hold the discussions necessary for
sam
here in India, for we are in a subordinate position and they are not their true selves. Let us therefore send an envoy to them. As the kings sent an envoy from Virata to Hastina, let us send an envoy to Europe. An envoy of the same name--Krishna.’

Krishna said, ‘You mean, you agree? That we should offer our Lancers for the Indian Expeditionary Force?’

After a pause and a suppressed sigh the Rawal said, ‘Yes, Highness ... but our motive will not be to help the British defeat the Germans, but to aid India in this other struggle I was talking about ... a struggle which is taking place inside you, particularly, Highness, every moment of every day.’ He turned back to the Rajah: ‘Sire, as I was saying, the first method tried should be
sam
. Let the Yuvraj, as India’s envoy, live among the Christians in the heart of their civilization, asking, seeing, observing, discussing, loving ... if he can. At the same time we will be carrying out the second method laid down in our philosophy, the method of
dan
, for surely the act of sending him and so many men to France, as hostages, is a gift, an appeasement.’

The rajah shifted comfortably, while Krishna tried hard to contain his impatience. The rajah said, ‘Very good. What of
bhed
?’

The Rawal said, ‘
Bhed
... creating a rift in the enemy camp, so weakening him and thus making it difficult for him to win by force. Again, I think that the sending of the Yuvraj, and the regiment’s loyal service in the war, will create this rift. They will ask themselves--Can Hindus really be inferior, as we have believed for so long? Is it not only justice, our own justice, to let them go their own way? How can we hold down and despise those who have volunteered to stand up at our side? Can their civilization, which has its own values but is also able to live and fight by ours, really be dismissed or suppressed? ... Questions such as these, asked in the Christian camp, will carry out the method of
bhed
.’

‘And
dand
?’ Krishna said with sarcasm, ‘am I to start killing Englishmen if
sam
,
dan
, and
bhed
fail?’

‘It may come to that, Highness,’ the Rawal said equably. ‘As you know
, dand
--physical force--is only the last resort. Your love of and admiration for European ways will ensure that you, at least, will not resort to physical conflict unless you feel that you have no other recourse ... though I cannot promise the same of all the men who will be accompanying you.’

‘I can’t imagine that situation coming to pass,’ Krishna said shortly.

‘I can,’ his grandfather said grimly. ‘You are young. There are matters beyond your present imagining. I fear that this war will show them to you in a terrible guise. That is the worst thing about your embassy. You will leave here a young man, happy, unscarred ... and come back old, older than I ... So be it, then.’

Krishna said, ‘Will you please send the telegram at once, grandfather? There isn’t a moment to be lost.’

The old man said, ‘We’ll have to think of terms--pay, pensions of men killed or wounded, compensation ..

Krishna said, ‘I suggest that we ask for exactly the same terms as the Indian Army. It will save much time.’

‘Very well,’ the rajah said. ‘Help me up, boy ...’ He embraced his grandson suddenly, and Krishna was surprised to find the old body shaken by a silent sobbing. ‘Vishnu preserve you,’ the rajah muttered. ‘May Vishnu bring wisdom and truth to your soul ... Your mother told me she wanted to see you as soon as you came back.’