Chapter 6 — Annals of Mewar

Uda was the name of the parricide whose unnatural ambition bereft of life the author of his existence. But such is the detestation which marks this unusual crime that his name is left a blank in the annals, nor is he ever referred to except by the epithet hatiaro, " the murderer." Shunned by his kin, he was compelled to look abroad for succour to maintain himself on the throne polluted by his crime. He made the Deora prince independent in Abu, and bestowed Ajmir, Sambur, and adjacent districts on the prince of Jodhpur, as the price of their friendship. But though he bribed them with provinces, he felt that he could neither claim regard from, nor place any dependence upon them. He humbled himself before the king of Delhi, offering him a daughter in marriage to obtain his sanction to his authority; 'but heaven manifested its vengeance to prevent this additional iniquity." He had scarcely quitted the audience chamber on taking leave of the king, when a flash of lightning struck him to the earth, whence he never rose. The hatiaro was not only a parricide but a usurper, for the real heir-apparent was Raemal, who had been exiled by Khumbho for an act of disrespect of which he had, unwittingly, been guilty. Having already defeated the forces of the pretender in a pitched battle, he had now little difficulty in establishing himself on the throne. He sustained the warlike reputation of his predecessors, and carried on interminable strife with Gheas-ud-din of Malwa, defeating him in several encounters, after the last of which the Khilji king sued for peace. Raemal had three sons who, unhappily for their country and their father's repose, discarded fraternal affection for deadly hate. Each aimed at the throne, as did also their uncle Surajmal, and the feuds and dissensions consequent upon their rivalry kept the state in perpetual turmoil. The narration of these feuds, though it might afford a characteristic picture of the mode of life of the Rajputs when their arms were not required against their country's foes, would prove both long and wearisome. In the end, all the rivals were slain except Sanga, the rightful heirapparent, who lived to succeed his father in 1509. So great had the prosperity of Mewar now become that Rana Sanga is described in the annals as the kullus (crown) on the pinnacle of her glory. From him we shall witness this glory on the wane ; and though many rays of splendour illuminate her declining career, they serve but to gild the ruin. The imperial throne, held successively by the dynasties of Ghazni, Ghor, Khilji, and Lodi, was now shivered to pieces, and numerous petty thrones were constructed of its fragments. Mewar little dreaded these imperial puppets, " when Amurath to Amurath succeeded," and when four kings reigned simultaneously between Delhi and Benares. The kings of Malwa, though leagued with those of Gujarat, could make no impression on Mewar when Sanga led her heroes. Eighty thousand horse, seven Rajas of the highest rank, nine Raos, and one hundred and four chieftains bearing the titles of Rawul and Rawut, with five hundred war elephants, followed him to the field. The princes of Marwar and Ambar did him homage, and the Raos of Gwalior, Ajmir, Sikri, Raisen, Chanderi, Bundi, Rampura, and Abu, served him as tributaries, or held of him in fief. In a short time, Sanga entirely allayed the disorders occasioned by the internal feuds of his family. He reorganised his forces, with which he always kept the field; and, were called to contend with the descendants of Timur, he had gained eighteen pitched battles against the kings of Delhi and Malwa. The Pilakhal river became the northern boundary of his territories, which extended to the Sindh river in the east, and to Malwa in the south, while his native hills formed an impregnable barrier in the west. Thus he swayed, directly or by control, the greater part of Rajasthan ; and had not fresh hordes of Tartars and Usbecs from the prolific shores of the Oxus and Jaxartes again poured down on the devoted plains of Hindustan, the crown of the Chacravarta might once more have circled the brow of a Hindu, and the banner of supremacy, transferred from Indraprastha, might have waved from the battlements of Chitor. But Babar arrived to rally the dejected followers of the Koran, and to collect them around his own victorious standard. The Rajput prince had a worthy antagonist in the king of Ferghana. Like Sanga, he had been trained in the school of adversity. In 1494, at the tender age of twelve, he succeeded to a kingdom; ere he was sixteen, he defeated several confederacies and conquered Samarkand, and in two short years, again lost and regained it. His life was a tissue of successes and reverses; at one moment hailed lord of the chief kingdoms of Transoxiana; at another, flying unattended, or putting all to hazard in desperate single combats. Driven from Ferghana, in despair he crossed the Hindu Kush, and in 1509 the Indus. Between the Punjab and Cabul he lingered seven years, ere he advanced to measure swords with Ibrahim of Delhi. Fortune returned to his standard; Ibrahim was slain, his army routed and dispersed, and Delhi and Agra opened their gates to the fugitive king. A year later, he ventured against the most powerful of his new antagonists, the Rana of Chitor. It was in February 1527 that Babar advanced from Agra and Sikri to oppose Sanga who, at the head of almost all the princes of Rajasthan, was marching to attack him. On the nth of the month, according to the chronicles, Sanga encountered the advance guard of the Tartars, amounting to 1,500 men at Biana, and entirely destroyed them. Reinforcements met the same fate, and the news of the disaster, carried to the main body by the few who escaped with their lives, created the utmost dismay. Accustomed to reverses, Babar adopted every precaution that a mind fertile in expedients could suggest to reassure the drooping spirits of his troops. He threw up entrenchments in which he placed his artillery, connecting his guns by chains, and, in the more exposed parts, chevaux de frisey united by leather ropes — a precaution continued in every subsequent change of position. Babar was blockaded in his encampment for nearly a fortnight. Everything seemed to aid the Hindu cause. Even the Tartar astrologer asserted that, as Mars was in the west, whoever should engage coming from the opposite quarter was doomed to defeat. At length, unable to endure the state of almost total inactivity in which he was placed, Babar determined to court the favour of heaven by renouncing his besetting sin, and thus, having merited superior aid, to extricate himself from his peril. The naivett of his vow must be given in his own words. " On Monday," he says, "the 23rd of the first Jamadi, I had mounted to survey my posts, and in the course of my ride was seriously struck with the reflexion that I had always resolved, one time or another, to make an effectual repentance, and that some traces of a hankering after the renunciation of forbidden works had ever remained in my heart. I said to myself, ' O my soul, how long wilt thou continue to take pleasure in sin? Repentance is not unpalatable — taste it.' Thereupon, withdrawing myself from such temptation, I vowed never more to drink wine. Having sent for the gold and silver goblets, with all the other utensils used for drinking parties, I directed them to be broken, and renounced the use of wine, purifying my soul. The fragments of the goblets and other utensils, I directed to be divided amongst dervishes and the poor."1 But the destruction of the wine flasks would appear only to have added to the existing consternation. The desperate situation in which this mighty conqueror was placed is best described by himself. " At this time," he writes, ua general consternation and alarm prevailed among great and small. There was not a single person who uttered a manly word, nor an individual who delivered a courageous opinion. The Vazirs, whose duty it was to give good counsel, and the Amirs, who enjoyed the wealth of kingdoms, neither spoke bravely, nor was their counsel or deportment such as became men of firmness. During the whole course of this expedition, Khalifeh conducted himself admirably, and was unremitting and indefatigable in his endeavours to put everything in the best order. At length, observing the universal discouragement of my troops, and their total want of spirit, I formed my plan. I called an assembly of all the Amirs and officers, and addressed them : ' Noblemen and soldiers ! Every man that comes into the world is subject to dissolution. When we are passed away and gone, God only survives, unchangeable. Whoever comes to the feast of life must, before it is over, drink from the cup of death. He who arrives at the inn of mortality, must one day inevitably take his departure from that house of sorrow, the world. How much better it is to die with honour than to live with infamy! "The most high God has been propitious to us, and has now placed us in such a crisis, that, if we fall in the field we die the death of martyrs; if we survive, we rise victorious, the avengers of the cause of God. Let us, then, with one accord, swear on God's holy word, that none of us will even think of turning his face from this warfare, nor desert from the battle and slaughter that ensues till his soul is separated from his body.'" This stirring appeal produced the greatest enthusiasm. " Master and servant," he tells us, "small and great, all with emulation, swore in the form that I had given them. My plan succeeded to admiration, and its effects were instantly visible, far and near, on friend and foe." Why the Rana gave Babar two whole weeks in which to reanimate the courage of his troops will probably never be explained. The delay proved as unfortunate for him as it did advantageous to the Tartar. It gave the latter the opportunity of proposing terms of peace, and this necessitated the presence in his camp of a Rajput prince to conduct the negotiations. The chief of Raisen, by name Sillaidi, was chosen as the medium of communication. It was found impossible to arrange terms, and Sillaidi came back without a treaty, but with treachery in his heart. Babar was not a man to let the iron grow cold. Having stirred his troops to the necessary pitch of enthusiasm, he at once broke up his camp, and marched in order of battle to a position two miles in advance, the Rajputs skirmishing up to his guns. The attack commenced by a furious onset on his centre and right wing, and for several hours the conflict was tremendous. The Tartar artillery made dreadful havoc in the close ranks of the Rajput cavalry, who never fought with more devotion than on that fatal day. So ably were Babar's guns served that his assailants could neither force his slight entrenchments nor reach the infantry which defended them. While the battle was still doubtful, the traitor of Raisen, who led the van, went over to Babar, and Sanga, himself severely wounded and the choicest of his chieftains slain, was obliged to retreat from the field. Babar had gained the day ; but he had suffered so heavily that he was unable to follow up his victory. Triumphal pyramids were raised of the heads of the slain, and on a hillock overlooking the field of battle a tower of skulls was erected. The conqueror assumed the title of Ghdai, which was retained for many generations by his descendants. Sanga retreated towards the hills of Mewat, announcing his fixed determination never to enter Chitor but with victory. Had his life been spared to his country he might have redeemed the pledge ; but the year of his defeat was the last of his existence, and he died at Buswa, on the frontier of Mewat, not without suspicion of poison. Rana Sanga was of the middle stature, but of great muscular strength, fair in complexion, with unusually large eyes, which appear to be peculiar to his descendants. He exhibited at his death but the fragments of a warrior. One eye was lost in a broil with his brother, an arm in an action with the Lodi king of Delhi, while he was a cripple owing to a limb having been broken by a cannon ball. From the sword or lance he counted eighty wounds on various parts of his body. He was celebrated for energetic enterprise, of which his successful storm of the almost impregnable Rinthambur, though ably defended by the imperial general, Ali, is a celebrated instance. A cenotaph long marked the spot where the fire consumed his remains. He left seven sons, of whom the two elder died in nonage, and the third, Ratna, succeeded him. Ratna possessed all the arrogance and martial valour of his race. He, too, determined to make the field his capital ; and had he been spared to temper by experience the impetuosity of youth, would, doubtless have well seconded his father's resolution. But he was not destined to pass the age always dangerous to the turbulent and impatient Rajput, ever courting strife if it would not find him. Before the death of his elder brother made him heir to Chitor, he had married by stealth, and by proxy, the daughter of Prithvi Raj of Ambar, being represented at the nuptial ceremony by his double-edged sword. Unfortunately the affair was kept too secret ; for the Hara prince of Biindi, in ignorance of what had taken place, demanded and obtained her to wife, and carried her to his capital. The bards of Bundi record this event with some pride, as evincing the power of their prince, who dared to solicit and obtain the hand of the bride of Chitor. The princes of Biindi had long been attached to the Sesodia house ; and from the period when their common ancestors fought together on the banks of the Caggar against Shahab-ud-din they had silently grown to power under the wing of Mewar, and had often proved a strong plume in her pinion. When Ratna delayed to redeem his pledge, the maiden of Ambar saw no reason for disclosing her secret or of refusing the brave Hara, of whom fame spoke loudly. The unintentional offence sank deep into the heart of Ratna. He swore to be avenged ; and in the accomplishment of his vow sacrificed his own life as well as that of his rival. The encounter which took place reflects little credit on the Sesodia prince ; but it is worthy of narration as showing how in the Rajput breast the desire for revenge could stifle every other feeling, even that of honour. On the festival of the Ahairia the Rana invited himself to a hunt in the preserves of Bundi, and he took with him as his attendant the son of a Purbfa chieftain whose father had met his death at the hands of the Hara prince. The scene chosen for the sport was on the heights of Nandta, not far from the western bank of the Chambal, in whose glades every species of game, from the lordly lion to the timid hare, abounded. The troops were formed into line, and advanced through the jungle with the customary clamour, driving before them a promiscuous herd of the tenants of the forest. The princes had convenient stations assigned to them where they could spear the game as it passed. When the excitement was at its height the Rana whispered to his companion, "Now is the moment to slay the boar," and instantly an arrow sped from the bow of the Purbia at the lord of' Bundi. With an eagle's eye the Rao saw it coming, and turned it aside with his bow. This might very well have been an accident, but a second arrow from the same source convinced him there was treachery. Almost at the same moment the Rana darted at him on horseback, and cut him down with his khanda. The Rao fell, but, recovering, took his shawl and tightly bound up the wound, and as his foe was making off he cried aloud, " Escape you may, but you have sunk Mewar." The Purbfa, who followed his prince, when he saw the Hara bind up his wound, said, " The work is but half done"; and, like a coward, Ratna once more charged his wounded foe. As his arm was raised to finish the deed of shame, the Hara, with the strength of a wounded tiger, made a dying effort, and, catching his assailant by the robe, dragged him from his horse. Together they came to the ground, the Rana underneath. The Rao knelt upon his victim's chest, searching for his dagger with one hand, while with the other he held his victim by the throat. What a moment for revenge ! He had strength enough left to raise his weapon and plunge it into the Rana's heart, and then, his vengeance satisfied, he sank lifeless on the body of his foe. The Ahairia, to which allusion has just been made, and which proved fatal to more than one Rana of Mewar, merits some description. The word ahairia signifies a hunter, and is used to designate the festival of the spring hunt, which takes place in the month of Phalgan. The preceding day the Rana distributes to his chiefs and retainers dresses of a green colour, in which all appear habited on the morrow; and at the hour fixed by the astrologer they sally forth to slay a boar to Gouri, the Ceres of the Rajputs. As success on this occasion portends future good fortune, no means are neglected to secure it, either by scouts previously discovering the lair, or by the desperate efforts of the hunters to slay the boar when roused. The prince and his sons, mounted on their best steeds, join in the chase, each animated by the desire to surpass his comrades in dexterity and courage. When the boar is started each cavalier urges forward his steed, and with lance or sword, regardless of rock, ravine, or tree, presses on the bristly quarry, whose knowledge of the country is of no avail when thus circumvented; and the ground soon reeks with gore, in which not unfrequently is mixed that of horse and rider. The royal kitchen moves out on this occasion, and in some chosen spot the repast is prepared, of which all partake, for the flesh of the hog is highly relished by the Rajput. Having feasted and thrice slain their victim, they return in merry mood to the capital, whither the fame of their exploits has already preceded them.

Chapter 6 — Rana Sanga