Chapter 3 — Annals of Mewar

Having established the Gehlotes on the throne of Chittor, we must pass over a period of four centuries before we arrive at our next halting-place — the reign of Samarsi at the close of the eleventh century, a time fraught with events of importance not only to the state of Mewar but to the whole Hindu race. Thirty-eight princes intervened between Kanaksen and Samarsi, and of this long dynastic chain, though the extremities are riveted in the truth, we can point to but few links whose genuineness cannot be called in question. Between Bappa and Samarsi we have one such link in the person of Khoman, to whom, for a few moments, we must turn our attention. Khoman ascended the throne in 812, and his deeds are the main theme of the Khoman Rasa, the most ancient of the poetic chronicles of Mewar. His most famous achievement was the repulse of the second Muhammadan attack on Chittor led by Mahmun, the son of the renowned Haroun-al-rashfd. Thirty-eight princes aided Khoman with their arms on this occasion, and thus, at the head of all the chivalry of Rajasthan, he not only defended his capital, but led out his forces, engaged and defeated the enemy in the open plain, and took their leader captive. Khoman is said to have fought twenty-four pitched battles, and his name, like that of Cagsar, became a family distinction. At Udaipiir, if you make a false step, or even sneeze, you may still hear the ejaculation " Khoman aid you." When advanced in years, Khoman, by the advice of the Brahmins, resigned his throne to his son, but again resumed it, slaying his advisers, and execrating the whole Brahmin caste, which he almost exterminated from his dominions. The fifteen princes who came between him and Samarsi may be dismissed with the words in which Gibbon refers to the Guelphs during a similar period of obscurity: "It may be supposed that they were illiterate and valiant; that they plundered in their youth, and raised churches in their old age; that they were fond of arms, horses, and hunting"; and, we may add, that they indulged in bickering with their vassals within when not harassed by an enemy without. When Samarsi ascended the throne of Chittor, violent and implacable feuds were raging in Rajputana. A complete analysis of the political situation would be a weary, if not an impossible, task. It is necessary, however, to understand the main points at issue; for it was the confusion following these feuds which paved the way for the victorious armies of Islam. Every Rajput, no matter to which of the thirty-six royal tribes he may belong, is either of the solar, the lunar, or the agnicular race. In the first case he traces his origin through Rama to the sun, in the second case through Krishna to the moon, and in the third case to Agni, the Fire God. The Gehlotes, as we have already stated, are of the solar race, and, being descended from the elder son of Rama, are universally acknowledged to be the first of the royal tribes. The Rahtors — a tribe of hardly less importance — also claim to be of this race; but the purity of their descent is open to question. Of the lunar race, the most important tribes are the Tuars and the Bhattis; and of the last, the Chohans, the Pramaras, and the Solankis. Until 1164 a Tuar dynasty reigned at Delhi, the most powerful of all the Rajput principalities. Anangpal, the last of the dynasty, is now generally admitted to have been a lineal descendant of Yudhistara, who founded Indraprastha, the ancient Delhi, in B.C. 1030. He therefore presents the extraordinary phenomenon of a prince occupying a throne established by a direct ancestor of his own two thousand two hundred and fifty years before. Anangpal, having no male issue, abdicated in favour of Prithvi Raj, the son of the Chohan prince of Ajmi'r, to whom, in return for service rendered, he had given one of his daughters in marriage. Now, the Rahtor prince of Kanouj had also married a daughter of the Tuar, by whom he had a son, Jaichand; and when Prithvi Raj was proclaimed the chief of Delhi, Jaichand not only refused to acknowledge his supremacy, but at once set forth his own claims to the throne. Thus originated the rivalry between the Chohans and the Rahtors, which ultimately led to the destruction of both. To accomplish the downfall of his rival, Jaichand had recourse to the dangerous expedient of soliciting aid from the Tartar of Ghazni. In this emergency Prithvi Raj sent an embassy to Samarsi, to whom, but a short time before, he had given his sister in marriage, urging him to espouse his cause. Samarsi at once promised his assistance, not only because he was the Tuar's brother-in-law, but because he was disgusted at the course which Jaichand had adopted in making an alliance with the "barbarian." He immediately proceeded to Delhi, and it was decided that Prithvi Raj should give battle to the Rahtor, while Samarsi marched towards Ghazni to intercept the forces of Shahab-ud-din. Samarsi fought several actions, and was at length joined by Prithvi Raj, who had in the meantime subdued the Rahtors. United they fell upon and completely routed the invaders and took their leader captive. Not many years later Samarsi was again called upon to aid Delhi in repelling a Tartar attack, led this time by Shahab-ud-din in person. Foreseeing a long campaign, he appointed his son regent before his departure. His arrival at Delhi was hailed with shouts of joy, Prithvi Raj and his whole court advancing seven miles to meet him. By the bards Samarsi is represented as the Ulysses of the host — cool and skilful in the fight, prudent and eloquent in council, beloved by his own nobles, and reverenced by the vassals of the Chohan. On the line of march no augur could better explain the omens, none in the field better dress the squadrons for battle, none guide his steed or use his lance with more address. His tent is the principal resort of the leaders after the march or during the intervals of battle. In the bloody encounter which ensued the deeds of prowess which the brave Gehlote performed are still sung by the bards of Mewar. The jealous and revengeful nature of Jaichand rendered him an indifferent spectator of a contest that was fraught with disaster for himself and his country. Gehlotes and Chohans fought as only Rajputs could fight. But all was in vain. On the last of three days desperate fighting Samarsi was slain, together with 1,300 of his household troops. His beloved wife, Pritha, was awaiting the issue at Delhi. On hearing the fatal intelligence — her husband killed, her brother a captive, and all the chivalry of Delhi and Chitor "asleep on the banks of the Caggar," — she performed, like a true Rajputni, the great atonement, and joined her lord through the flame. Shahab-ud-din marched on Delhi, which he carried by storm. Kanouj fell not long after, and the traitor to his nation met his fate in the waters of the Ganges. Scenes of devastation, plunder, and massacre followed. Every road in Rajasthan ran with the blood of the spoiled and the spoiler. Whole tribes were swept away, and their names are the only memento of their former existence and celebrity. Kurna succeeded Samarsi. His reign presents few features of interest, and the same may be said of the ten princes who followed him. Of these, Rahup alone is worthy of mention. He it was who, shortly after his accession in 1201, conquered the Rana of Mandor, and annexed both his territory and his title. He also built the town of Sesoda, which gave rise to the appellation "Sesodia," by which from this time forward the Rajputs of Mewar are known. He reigned for nearly forty years, and did much to restore the fallen fortunes of the state. Of the remaining nine, six fell on the field of battle in chivalrous attempts to redeem the sacred Gya from pollution at the hands of the "barbarian," while confusion and strife within and without characterised the reigns of each one of them. The dust of the centuries lies thick upon them; let us leave it undisturbed, and pass on to the next great event in the annals of the state — an event which partakes more of the character of romance than history, though the facts are undoubted. Of all the events described in the annals of Mewar, none are more memorable than those which fell in the reign of Lakumsi, when Chftor, the repository of all that was precious of the arts of India, was stormed, sacked, and desecrated with remorseless barbarity by the Pathan emperor Allah-ud-din. Lakumsi was a minor when he ascended the gadi in 1274, and Bhimsi, his uncle, acted as regent and protector. Bhimsi had married a Chohan princess, by name Pudmani, who was of surpassing beauty. Indeed, if her charms were inferior to those of the heroine of Troy, they were not less fatal in their consequences ; for, according to the bard chroniclers, it was the desire to possess this peerless princess, rather than the acquisition of military fame, which prompted Allah-ud-din to attack Chftor. The city was strongly fortified and bravely defended, and after a long and fruitless siege, Allah-ud-din, who made no attempt to disguise the object of his attack, offered to withdraw his forces if his demand for the surrender of Pudmani were satisfied. At length, when negotiations and force had alike proved unavailing, the cunning Pathan restricted his demands to a mere sight of this extraordinary beauty, and even acceded to the proposal that he should see her through the medium of mirrors. Relying on the faith of the Rajput, he entered Chftor unguarded, and, having gratified his wish, took his departure. Bhimsi, not to be outdone in confidence, accompanied the king to the foot of the fortress. This was the opportunity on which Allah-ud-din had calculated, and for which he had risked his own safety. His ambush was ready. Bhimsi was made a prisoner, hurried away to the Tartar camp, and the surrender of Pudmani was announced as the price of his liberty. Dismay reigned in Chftor when this fatal mishap became known. Pudmani, armed with the means of securing herself against dishonour, was about to proceed to the Tartar camp, when her uncle Gorah and his nephew Badal suggested a plan for the liberation of Bhimsi by which neither her life nor her fair name would be endangered. A message was sent to Allah-ud-din that, on the day that he withdrew from his trenches, the princess would be sent to his tents; but in a manner befitting her high station, and accompanied by her female relations and handmaids, while stringent orders were to be issued by the emperor for the preservation of their privacy. The conditions were accepted; and, on the day appointed, no less than seven hundred litters proceeded to the royal camp. Each litter was occupied by one of the bravest warriors of Chitor, and was borne by six armed soldiers disguised as bearers. Allah-ud-din had no suspicion of the ruse, and none cried "equo ne credite." The Emperor's tents were surrounded by high canvas screens, and when the litters had been deposited within the enclosure, half an hour was granted for a parting interview between Bhimsi and his bride. The time had all but expired, and Allah-ud-din was about to give orders for the termination of the interview, when the Rajputs threw off their disguise. In the confusion which ensued, Bhimsi made his escape from the enclosure, and, mounting a horse which had been placed in readiness for him, made for the fortress. His gallant rescuers covered his retreat until they perished to a man. For a moment only their devotion checked the pursuit. But it was enough; and Bhimsi galloped into Chitor with the Tartar host at his very heels. In the assault which followed, the Rajputs, headed by Gorah and Badal, displayed the utmost bravery. Gorah was slain, and with him nearly every warrior of note in Chitor. But so terrible was the havoc they made in the ranks of the enemy, that Allah-ud-din was forced to retire, and to abandon, though only for a time, his cherished enterprise. The Khomdn Rasa contains a vivid description of the manner in which the wife of Gorah received the intelligence of her husband's death. The details are, doubtless, imaginary ; but that they are consistent with the truth we can well believe. Summoning Badal, who, though but a stripling, had been severely wounded in the fight, she desired him to relate how her lord had conducted himself. "He was the reaper," the youth replied, "of the harvest of battle. On the gory bed of honour, he spread a carpet of the slain. A barbarian prince his pillow he laid him down, and he sleeps surrounded by the foe." Again, she said: "Tell me, Badal, how did my love behave?" "O mother," said the lad, "how further describe his deeds, when he left no foe to dread or admire him?" She smiled farewell to the boy, and adding, "my lord will chide my delay," sprang into the flames. Several years elapsed, and Lakumsi had assumed the control of the state, before Allah-ud-din found himself strong enough to renew his attack on Chitor. The history of this second siege is copiously interwoven with legends. The latter, however, do not obscure the facts, but merely fill up gaps, or account for circumstances for which history offers no explanation. From the outset, there seems to have been little chance of saving the city. Allah-ud-din had an overwhelming force at his disposal, and every day the vigour of his assaults increased. One night, when the Rana lay stretched on his pallet, pondering as to how he might preserve at least one of his twelve sons from the destruction which he knew to be inevitable, he heard a voice saying, "main bhukha hun" (I am hungry), and raising his eyes he saw, by the dim glare of the lamp, advancing between the granite columns, the majestic form of the guardian goddess of Chitor. Not satiated," exclaimed the Rana, "though eight thousand of my kin were late an offering to thee?" "I must have regal victims," was the inexorable reply, "and if twelve who wear the diadem bleed not for Chitor, the land will pass from the line." On the morn he convened a council of his chiefs, to whom he revealed the vision of the night, which they treated as the dream of a disordered fancy. He commanded their attendance at midnight, when again the form appeared, and repeated the terms on which alone she would remain amongst them. "Though thousands of barbarians strew the earth, what are they to me? On each day enthrone a prince. Let the kirnia, the chhatra, and the chamara proclaim his sovereignty, and for three days let his decrees be supreme: on the fourth let him meet the foe and his fate." Whether we have merely the fiction of the poet, or whether the scene was got up to animate the spirit of resistance, matters little; it is consistent with the belief of the tribe; and the gage, whether it originated with the goddess or with the Rana, was fully accepted, and fully redeemed. On the conditions being known, a generous contention arose amongst the brave brothers as to who should be the first victim to avert the denunciation. Arsi urged his priority of birth ; he was proclaimed, the umbrella waved over his head, and on the fourth day he surrendered his short-lived honours and his life. Ajaisi, the next in birth, demanded to follow; but he was the favourite son of his father, and at the latter's request he consented to let his brothers precede him. Eleven victims had fallen in turn, and a contest then arose between the Rana and his surviving son. But the father prevailed, and Ajaisi, in obedience to his commands, with a small band of followers, passed safely through the enemy's lines, and took refuge in Kailwara. The Rana, satisfied that his line was not extinct, prepared to follow his brave sons. But another awful sacrifice, the terrible johur, was to precede this last act of self-devotion. The funeral pyre was lighted in the "great subterranean retreat," in chambers impervious to the light of day, and thither the defenders of Chftor watched their wives and daughters pass in procession, to the number of several thousands. The fair Pudmani closed the throng, and when all had entered the cavern, the doors were shut upon them, and they were left to find security from dishonour in the devouring element. Then the Rana ordered the gates of Chitor to be thrown open, and, calling his clans around him, descended to the plain, where he, and every man with him, hurled himself against the foe, and slew until he was himself slain. After the Tartar irruption, Rajputana resembled a country swept by a tornado, her citadels and temples in ruins, her villages abandoned, her fields devastated. Of the dynasties that were overthrown, some, like Chitor, Jaisalmir, and Bundi, were destined to raise their heads again. Others perished utterly. The Rahtors of Marwar, and the Cutchwahas of Ambar were yet in a state of insignificance. But the Pramaras, the Solankis, indeed every branch of the Agnicular race, ceased from that time to have any political existence. Allah-ud-dfn remained some days in Chitor, admiring the greatness of his conquest; and having committed every act of barbarity and vandalism which a bigoted zeal could suggest, he handed over the city in charge to Maldeo, the Hindu chief of Jhalawar, whom he had conquered and enrolled among his vassals. This was the first saca of Chitor. Altogether the annals reckon three and a half, the assault after the escape of Bhimsi being counted as the half; for though the city was not captured, the best and bravest were cut off (saca). Amongst the Rajputs, all grand battles attended with great slaughter were termed saca. By the sin of the sack of Chitor, "Chitor ka saca ka pap", is the most solemn form of adjuration a Rajput can make use of.

Chapter 3 — Tartar Invasions