300 Brave Men: Shivaji Trilogy Book I

PROLOGUE

The western state of Maharashtra is the homeland of the Marathi speaking people of India. This region of the sub-continent has a long and rich history, stretching from the ancient Vedic period through to modern times. Despite the seat of power in the subcontinent having almost always been located in northern India, Maharashtra has nevertheless played a key role in every era of Indian history.

This region was ruled by native Hindu rulers through the first thirteen hundred years CE. In the 13th century, the Yadav Kings ruled here. Maharashtra (though not recognized as a state then as it is now), was at the time a prosperous region under the Yadav Kings. The people led fruitful lives, food was aplenty, while arts and crafts flourished. The region experienced peace like never before. At the end of the 13th century, however, Alla-ud-din Khilji, nephew of Jalal-ud-din, the Khilji Sultan of Delhi, descended on the Yadav kingdom and defeated the ruling monarch, Ramdev Raya. The Yadavs were forced to become vassals of the the Sultan. By CE 1318, the Yadavs were completely wiped out and their kingdom attached to the imperial territory. For the next three centuries the Marathi homeland was ruled by Muslim Sultans.

In the early 17th century, four major Islamic powers ruled the subcontinent. The most powerful were, of course, the mighty Mughal, who ruled the entire northern subcontinent, comprising present day India, Pakistan and Afghanistan. South of the Narmada river, however, the greater part of peninsular India was ruled by three smaller Islamic powers. The Nizamshah with his capital at Ahmednagar, ruled much of western, coastal and northern Maharashtra. The Adilshah, with his capital at Bijapur, ruled much of southern Maharashtra as well as the Karnatak region. The Qutubshah, with his capital at Golconda, ruled territories east of Adilshahi, stretching up to the eastern Indian shore. South of these Sultanates were a consortium of Hindu ruled states, amongst them the remnants of the once wealthy Vijaynagar Empire.

By the third decade of the 17th century, Nizamshahi was in its death throes. Constant in-fighting and indiscipline among the court nobles, factionalism and defections perpetuated by poor leadership, had brought the Sultanate to its knees. Both the Mughal Emperor as well as the Adilshah were keen to finish off the Nizamshah and attach his territories. Earlier, the Mughals under Akbar had taken Ahmednagar from the Nizamshah, following which the capital of this Sultanate was shifted to Daulatabad. For nearly two decades, Nizamshahi was kept alive by the ingenuity and military competence of its Vizier, Malik Amber, an Abyssinian by birth. A young Maratha captain had served under Malik Amber’s command and made a name for himself through a display of skilful military tactics and leadership. This Maratha was Shahaji Bhosale.

In 1624, a great battle was fought between the Nizamshahi forces, led by Malik Amber, and the combined forces of the Mughals and the Adilshah. The Nizamshahi forces inflicted a crushing defeat on the combined forces that had hoped to end the Sultanate. Shahaji and his brother Sharifji, fought valiantly in this battle. While Sharifji was killed, Shahaji was later elevated to the status of a noble. But, following Malik Amber’s death in 1626, the situation in Nizamshahi worsened. Shahaji was at severe variance with the new Vizier and consequently left Nizamshahi service and joined Adilshahi. He was greatly patronized by the then ruling monarch, Ibrahim Adilshah, who died in 1627. Shahaji, feeling increasingly marginalized by the new ruler, Muhammad, left Adilshahi and joined Mughal service for a brief period.

The entire region fell into great political turmoil, with nobles defecting and switching loyalties, and wars being fought incessantly. While the Islamic rulers did what was their wont, the soldiers who fought and died on the battlefields were mostly Marathas, sons of the soil. The ultimate price was paid by the local Marathi populace as villages and crops were repeatedly razed by invading armies, men were killed in battle and at home, and women abducted. What was once a prosperous land inhabited by contented people and ruled by competent native rulers, was reduced almost to a wasteland. While the coffers of Bijapur, Ahmednagar and Delhi swelled with loot, the Maratha homeland became poorer and poorer.

It was in this period of turmoil that Shivaji was born to Shahaji and his first wife Jijabai, at Shivneri fort, which lies some sixty miles north of Pune. His birth date, once widely debated, is now accepted by historians as 19th February 1630. Shahaji was in Mughal service at the time of Shivaji’s birth. Just the previous year, Shahaji’s Pune jagir had been razed to ash and dust by an invading Bijapuri army, in retaliation for his defection from their service.

Two years later, in 1632, Shahaji rebelled against the Mughal and left their service as well, having decided to establish his rule not only over his own jagir (originally awarded him by the Nizamshah), but also over as much territory as he could usurp in Maharashtra. The Mughals had by then taken the Nizamshahi capital of Daulatabad, nearly exterminating the Sultanate. Nearly…but not completely. Shahaji found a very young survivor of the Nizamshahi royal family, a mere boy, named Murtaza. He established a new capital at the citadel of Pemgiri and placed the boy on the throne, ruling as Regent. Now both the Adilshah and the Mughal Emperor became sworn foes.

He ruled thus for three years, doing his utmost to preserve his independence. Ultimately, however, the imperialists proved too strong for him. In 1636, a combined offensive by the Mughals under Shah Jahan and Bijapuri troops under Muhammad Adilshah, finished his tiny state, destroying his dreams. Shahaji was forced to flee with his family, from Pemgiri to the fortress of Mahuli. Shah Jahan and Adilshah followed and invested the fortress. Shahaji did what he could, but the very people he was defending, schemed against him, compelling him to surrender both himself and Murtaza, to Shah Jahan.

In this way the Nizamshahi was finally and officially finished, its territories divided between Shah Jahan and Adilshah. Though the latter wished to execute Shahaji, the Emperor spared his life, compelling Adilshah, against his own wishes, to accept Shahaji into his service.

The period between 1630 and 1636 was challenging for Shahaji’s family as well. Jijabai and Shivaji lived in constant danger of being captured, taken hostage and even killed by Bijapuri and Mughal troops seeking Shahaji. While they once lived in Shivneri Fort, they probably did not remain there. Their places of residence are not definitely known; kept secret for their own safety.

After 1636, the Bhosales achieved relative peace and stability. Shahaji was sent south by Adilshah and banned from returning to Maharashtra. His original jagir in Maharashtra, comprising the districts of Pune, Supe, Indapur and Chakan, was returned to him. Unable to live there himself, he appointed a trusted Brahman administrator named Dadaji Konddev, as caretaker and sent Jijabai and Shivaji to Pune with him. Thereafter, Shivaji spent most of his childhood in Pune. In 1641-42, he was said to have visited his father in Bengalur, where Shahaji was then stationed. 300 Brave Men, the story, begins at that point of time...

1

BENGALUR

SUMMER, 1641

Summer had well and truly begun. The mid-afternoon sun blazed overhead. The caravan of fifteen bullock carts, along with an escort of three hundred armed and mounted soldiers, slowly trudged along the desolate path. They had been travelling for the past month on the two hundred and sixty kos journey to Bengalur. They were now two days ride from the city gates. Bengalur...where he would meet his father! Though his father had visited them in Maharashtra when he was an infant, and again when he was a boy of six, he remembered nothing of those visits.

Under his simple cotton clothes and turban, young Shivaji’s body was soaked in perspiration; he longed for a break from the heat. As soon as they found a shade spot, they would stop and rest for the afternoon. Shivaji rode alongside the covered bullock cart that carried his mother, Jijabai, and his wife, Saee. Another cart carried the grand old man, Dadaji Konddev, his father’s Manager, in charge of administering their estates in Maharashtra. The two carts were placed in the centre of the line of other carts carrying the family servants. Behind these were the carts which carried the provisions, tents, clothing, bedding and other wares. In addition, there were twenty camels carrying provisions. A hundred soldiers rode in front of the procession, forming the vanguard while another hundred rode behind, forming the rear guard. The remainder rode alongside in a protective formation around the carts. So many soldiers seemed unnecessary to the fearless Shivaji, but his father had sent the strong contingent from Bengalur to escort them. One could never be too careful on such a long and arduous journey.

Shivaji’s mother had tried to persuade him to travel in one of the covered carts but the boy would have none of it. He wished to ride and take in all the sights along the way; he wanted to feel the countryside. Thus far he had never travelled outside his father’s estates and this was a godsent opportunity for him to learn about these new lands. Ever since they had entered the territory of the Bijapur’s Sultan, he had noticed a change in the language spoken by some of the people. While some still spoke his own mother tongue Marathi, the majority spoke in a langauge they called Kanadi or Kannada. Some of his father’s men, despite being Marathas, spoke this language as well and Shivaji used them as interpreters to communicate with the local population.

As he rode along, Shivaji could see the gradual change in the topography of the land as well. The Karnatak region stretched for kos on kos of flat plain, interspersed with a few small elevations and dotted here and there with trees. Habitation was mostly in the form of few and far between villages. It was a far more arid landscape than he was used to in Maharashtra.

As they neared Bengalur, Shivaji observed a change in the locals’ behaviour towards him. His father, Shahaji Bhosale, was well known in these parts as the jagirdar of Bengalur. His efficient administration and reformed revenue system had brought peace and prosperity to the people of his southern estate. Shahaji was a respected man here and when Shivaji was introduced as Shahaji’s son, the people bowed to him and offered obeisance. With so many locals eager to help and a strong armed escort, the journey had been uneventful.

Shivaji was eleven years old, short of stature but strongly built, with broad shoulders. His arms were long and sinewy, his fingers reaching below his knees, rather like those of Arjuna, the great Pandav warrior of the epic Mahabharat. With large bold eyes, ever alert for danger, brow wrinkled as if in constant thought, cheeks burnt from exposure to the elements, thin compressed resolute lips and a nose resembling a falcon’s beak, Shivaji’s face clearly spoke of troubles borne and dangers surmounted through childhood. He wore a simple white cotton angarkha with a dushela tied tightly around the waist and a cloth turban on his head. With his sword tucked into his waistband, Shivaji was a picture of confidence as he surveyed the surroundings.

He had been thinking about the imminent meeting with his father. Would his father even recognize him? How would he behave? He knew his father had taken a second wife, Tukabai, some years ago, and they had a son named Vyankoji…his half-brother. Shivaji’s elder brother, Jijabai’s elder son Sambhaji, lived with Shahaji as well. However, the only family Shivaji himself had known thus far was his mother. Dadaji had been the only father figure in his life. He often felt jealous of his brothers, knowing their father was a part of their lives, while he himself had grown up fatherless. But his mother had given him such love and care that he had rarely felt his father’s absence.

Now, as he rode along, Shivaji’s mind wandered back to the tumultuous years of his childhood. As a little boy, he remembered being secretly taken from one place to another to avoid detection and capture by Mughal soldiers roaming in search for him and his mother. The Mughals had been hot on his father’s trail, to punish his defection from their service. But Shahaji had managed to cleverly avoid capture. The thwarted Mughals had then hit upon the idea of capturing Shahaji’s family and holding them as hostages in order to force Shahaji to surrender. It had been solely due to Jijabai’s steely resolve and sharp intelligence, along with the loyalty of their men (some were Shahaji’s men while the rest belonged to Jijabai’s father), that had saved them from the Mughals.

When he was six years old, his mother had told him the danger had passed. He later learnt that Shahaji had lost his final battle against the combined Mughal and Bijapuri forces and had surrendered. A treaty had been signed, according to which the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and Bijapur’s Sultan Muhammad Adilshah, had divided the territories of the fallen Nizamshahi Empire. Shahaji was taken into service at the court of the Sultan of Bijapur. His estates in Maharashtra remained in his possession but he was barred from going there. The treaty required Shahaji to remain in the south as Shah Jahan considered it too much of a risk to have him close to the southern borders of his empire. The Mughal Emperor did not trust the Maratha. Shahaji had then sent Dadaji Konddev to Pune to manage his estates and take care of his family.

Shivaji remembered his days in Shivapur, a hamlet set up by Dadaji, south of Pune, and named after him. Dadaji had cajoled the local people to come and inhabit this hamlet and begin cultivation. He had, from the revenue of the jagir, planted mango and other fruit orchards. Shivaji loved Shivapur. He had lived there in a small simple house, with his mother, for two years, while a new residence was built in Pune. The new house, Lal Mahal, was far more spacious, as befitted the family of a jagirdar. They had moved to Pune three years ago and lived in relative peace since then.

A few months earlier, Shahaji had written to Dadaji, asking him to bring his family to Bengalur. His mother had been eager to go, for reasons he did not understand fully, but had something to do with the ownership of his father’s jagir. To Shivaji it mattered little what the reason was; he waited in anticipation to meet his father and brother. The preparations for the long journey had taken time. In the meantime a few of Shahaji’s trusted men had arrived in Pune with a large armed escort to accompany them to Bengalur.

Shivba…. Shivaji’s thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s voice. Jijabai’s head emerged from behind the purdah covering the rear of the bullock cart. I think we should stop for some time. It is getting too hot and Saee is feeling unwell.

Our scouts have gone ahead to look for a suitable place to halt. They should be back soon, Shivaji replied.

Due to the intensity of the summer heat, they had made it a practice to travel in the cooler hours of the first two prahars, waiting out the hot afternoons in some shaded area. They would resume travelling in the evening, in the fourth prahar, before camping for the night.

Seeing the scouts approaching from a distance, Shivaji dismounted. They were Shahaji’s men, familiar with the route. They rode up to Shivaji, along with his trusted Captain, Godaji Jagtap.

My Lord, the scouts tell us there is a small hamlet not too far from here, Godaji said. We can halt there.

Good! Shivaji replied. That’s where we will halt.

He parted the purdah of the bullock cart and looked in. Saee lay sleeping with her head in Jijabai’s lap. Her face looked pale. Saee was two years younger than he. They had been married in Pune barely a year ago. Since then they had become playmates. Shivaji loved spending time with her. They would play hide-and-seek with their other mates in Lal Mahal. But Saee always stayed away when they enacted battles or practiced sword play. She was a delicate girl and physical excesses certainly did not suit her. The long and tiring journey had been hard on her.

Shivaji looked at his mother. There is a hamlet not too far away; we will halt there. His mother nodded. How is she doing? he asked.

Not well. Thank the Goddess Bhavani this journey is almost done.

Two days later, their caravan halted at a small village on the outskirts of Bengalur. The third prahar of the day had just begun and the sun was right overhead. Shivaji felt grateful for the shade and the drink of cool water from a well adjacent to the village Headman’s house. The arrival of Shahaji’s family had created quite a stir in the little settlement and most of its inhabitants had turned up on some pretext or the other to catch a glimpse of their jagirdar’s wife and son. The Headman had been running around ever since Shivaji’s vanguard had announced their arrival, making arrangements for their short stay. Shivaji, Jijabai, Saee and Dadaji, had been accommodated in the Headman’s house. Though meager, it was nevertheless the biggest in the small place. They had a simple meal of rice, lentil soup and vegetables while the Headman and his wife stood by in attendance.

Shivaji was dozing after the meal when the Headman gently woke him saying, My Lord, your Captain wishes to speak to you.

Shivaji rose, rubbing his eyes. He walked into the courtyard of the house, where Dadaji was already talking with Godaji.

Your brother is coming here to meet you! Dadaji announced, smiling broadly.

Shivaji took in the information. In the course of their long journey he had been mentally preparing for the first meeting with his father and brother. How should he address them? What should he say? They were his own blood, yet complete strangers to him. He had expected to meet them only after they had reached Bengalur, and had hoped to practice his first words as he rode the last few kos. His brother coming here took him by surprise.

How far away is he now? Shivaji asked Godaji.

"The scout they sent ahead said they are about a kos from here. They should be here shortly."

I must inform mother. Shivaji hurried inside. Standing outside the women’s room, he called to Jijabai. Mother…

It was a while before his mother replied, What is it Shivba?

Dada is riding to meet us and should arrive soon.

Shambhu? Shivaji could hear his mother get up, walk to the door and open it. Shambhu is coming here? Shivaji could see the delight on his mother’s face. The Goddess be praised! I will come immediately.

Shivaji walked to the washing area, drew some water from an earthen pitcher and splashed it on his face. Refreshed, he went to his room to dress appropriately. He tied the dushela tightly around his waist and stuck his sheathed sword into it. On his head he neatly placed his turban. Feeling more confident now, he walked back into the courtyard, ready to face his brother.

He paced the courtyard as Dadaji watched, rather amused. He’s your brother, not a demon! he teased.

He’s my elder brother, but I hardly know him!

You will. There’s plenty of time for that. After all, we will be in Bengalur for a while.

As Dadaji finished speaking, a servant arrived, bowed and announced the arrival of riders from south of the village. ‘He’s here,’ Shivaji thought, stiffening involuntarily.

They heard the cantering of horses and the riders appeared and halted outside the Headman’s house. The riders quickly dismounted. Shivaji caught sight of Godaji, leading the way. He had ridden out earlier to meet the eldest Bhosale Prince and accompany him back to the village.

Godaji entered the courtyard and announced, "My Lord, your elder brother, Sambhaji Bhosale, son of His Highness, Shahaji Raje Bhosale, has arrived."

Before he could finish, a handsome, strongly built young man strode in. He was of average height but had the same broad shoulders and strong arms Shivaji did. Dressed in a cream coloured cotton angarkha that flaunted extravagant jari borders, with a bejewelled sword hilt sticking out of a gold-embroidered dushela, pearl strings around his neck and gold rings on the fingers of both hands, he looked every bit the son of a rich jagirdar of the Adilshahi Empire. Sambhaji Bhosale surveyed the people in the courtyard and acknowledged Dadaji, who bowed in obeisance. His eyes then fixed on Shivaji and he smiled broadly.

Shivaji walked up and in true Indian tradition, bowed to touch his elder brother’s feet.

Holding his shoulders, Sambhaji quickly pulled him up and embraced him exclaiming, "Shivba…this is how to greet your brother!"

For a few moments the two brothers held each other, as if trying to fill the years of separation. Unseen by them, Jijabai had arrived in the courtyard. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched her sons hug each other. Sambhaji had been younger than Shivaji was now, about seven years old, when Shahaji had taken him away. Since then, Sambhaji had lived with his father. Jijabai had met her eldest son just once after that, many years ago, during Shahaji’s brief visit to Shivneri Fort, after Shivaji’s birth. ‘Shambhu’ as she fondly called him, was now a young man of eighteen. He reminded her so much of his father…

As the brothers separated from their embrace, Shivaji smiled. His brother seemed warm enough; he was probably going to like him after all. Sambhaji’s eyes fell upon his mother. It was now his turn to stiffen. He had been taken from her years ago. Just as Shivaji had grown up fatherless, he had grown up motherless for the greater part of his childhood. His mother seemed so much older than he remembered her.

Jijabai hurried towards him crying, Shambhu…Shambhu, my child…

Sambhaji stepped forward and bent to touch her feet. As he did so, Jijabai placed her trembling hand on his head and murmured, "Ayushyaman Bhava..... Sambhaji straightened up. Sobbing, Jijabai threw her arms around him and embraced him. For a brief moment Sambhaji put his arms around her and held her. Feeling uncomfortable, he delicately extricated himself and said smiling, Welcome to Bengalur, mother. Father is waiting impatiently for you both."

Jijabai smiled and she lowered her eyes at the mention of her husband.

How was the journey, mother? Was it hard on you?

Jijabai’s lips quirked down in amusement. Your mother is a warrior, Shambhu. It will take much more than a journey to break her! I’m fine. Can’t say the same about your little sister-in-law though.

Sambhaji smiled at the mention of Shivaji’s bride but his brother looked down at the ground, feeling embarrassed. Looks like my kid brother isn’t taking care of his wife! Sambhaji teased.

I advised her to remain in Pune. I knew she wouldn’t be able to tolerate this long journey. But she wouldn’t listen. She said she would not let me enjoy the trip by myself! Shivaji offered in explanation.

Everyone laughed just as Saee came running out of the house. She stopped before setting foot in the courtyard and looked around. Seeing that all eyes were on her, she ran to Jijabai and hid behind her.

Jijabai put an arm around her daughter-in-law and pulled her forward. "Come, my dear! Meet your husband’s elder brother. And what is this? Cover your head with your padar, girl! Haven’t your parents taught you any manners at all? Is this how you present yourself to your elders?" Jijabai snapped, faking anger. In reality she could never really be angry with Saee – she was such a sweet girl. In a short time Jijabai had grown very fond of Saee.

Saee bit her lip, realizing her mistake. Quickly pulling the end of her saree over her head, she pulled it low over her forehead. Then, like a good and obedient Hindu daughter-in-law, she bent and touched the floor in front of Sambhaji’s feet, offering respect to an elder. That done, she promptly hid behind Jijabai again. Still smiling, Sambhaji threw a glance over his shoulder at his brother. Thoroughly embarrassed now, Shivaji refused to raise his eyes from his feet.

Dadaji, who had stood back all this while, now moved forward and addressed Sambhaji. "Greetings, Master Sambhaji Raje! How is His Highness? I trust he is in good health?"

"He is, Dadaji Punt. He sends his greetings to you."

"Dada, how far are we from Bengalur?" Shivaji asked.

"About three kos from the city gates, Sambhaji replied. If we leave soon, we can be there by nightfall."

In that case we should make preparations to depart if you agree Your Highness, Dadaji said, turning to Jijabai.

"I agree, Dadaji Punt. The sooner this journey is over, the better."

It was dark, well into the fifth prahar of the day, when their caravan reached the gates of Bengalur. Shivaji and Sambhaji rode in the vanguard, at the head of the procession, beside their respective Captains. The vanguard was followed by the carts and then the palanquins. Jijabai had chosen to travel this last stretch in the royal, ornately decorated palanquin, fitted with embroidered purdahs, which Shahaji had sent with Sambhaji to add to the splendour of their entry into Bengalur. Saee travelled in a separate palanquin behind Jijabai. Shivaji watched bemused as the massive gates and ramparts of the city loomed in front of him. In the flickering light of the torches placed at regular intervals, it looked almost eerie. The gate was manned by a battalion of heavily armed guards. As Shivaji scanned the ramparts he could see more soldiers in readiness with bows, arrows and muskets.

The Captain of the Guard approached them and halted, bowing in obeisance. Salutations Your Highnesses, he said. Welcome to Bengalur, Master Shivaji.

The massive gates were thrown open for the family of the King of Bengalur. As they entered, the sounds of kettle drums announced their arrival. Two men blew shingas, stationed on on top of the gates, one to each side. A troupe of drummers and musicians, waiting in readiness inside the gates, now began walking before them, playing instruments. In this way, to the sound of drums and horns, the procession slowly snaked its way through the streets of Bengalur towards Shahaji’s palace. People peered from windows and came running out of their houses to catch a glimpse of the family. Sambhaji, on his beautiful white horse, acknowledged the salutations as they rode along. He was clearly used to this kind of pomp and show. But for Shivaji it was a first. He had never been in a regal procession before. Life in Bengalur was going to be different indeed from life back home in Pune.

It was a while before the procession halted in front of the huge gate and tall tamparts of Shahaji’s palace. Here, yet another battalion of armed guards stood at attention; their Captain came forth and made obeisance. The palace gates opened as Shivaji and Sambhaji dismounted. Sambhaji led the way, with Shivaji following. Yet more guards bowed and saluted as they passed another gate into the inner courtyard. While the outer courtyard was just an open space between the main ramparts and the inner palace walls, the inner courtyard was a living area with fountains and gardens. Even in the flickering light of the burning torches Shivaji could see it was pleasing to the eye.

The royal palanquins were brought in and put down in the courtyard. Shivaji watched as attendants helped Jijabai and Saee out. He suddenly felt Sambhaji’s elbow dig into his side and turned around. His gaze fell upon the man he had been waiting to meet all these years. Shahaji Bhosale stood in the doorway to the inner palace complex. Dressed in his finest, decked with strings of pearls and precious stones around his neck and waist, and jewelled rings on his fingers; with a silk turban on his head, decorated with more precious stones, and the sparkling hilt of his sword emerging from his dushela, Shahaji looked the epitome of the rich Adilshahi jagirdar that he was. Beside him stood a young and beautiful woman, dressed in a traditional Marathi Paithani saree, heavily ornamented in gold. Shivaji assumed this to be his stepmother. Holding her hand was a small boy.

For a few moments father and son just stood and gazed at each other, neither moving. Shivaji stood spellbound as he looked at his smiling father. How many times he had imagined this moment, when he would come face to face with the one person he had always longed to meet! Yet now, when his father was standing before him, he felt unable to even move. After what seemed an eternity he felt Sambhaji give him a push and whisper, Go forth! Touch his feet! Shivaji came to his senses and moved forward till he stood directly before his father. He knelt and lowered his head till his forehead touched his father’s feet.

Shahaji bent down and gently pulled Shivaji up. For a moment he looked at his son, his eyes full of tears. Shivba… he said, how you have grown! Cradling Shivaji’s face with his hands, he bent to kiss his forehead. Putting his arms around his young son, he embraced him.

Shahaji was so engrossed in the moment that he did not notice Jijabai walk up to him. Instead, Tukabai, Shahaji’s second wife, moved forward to touch Jijabai’s feet and say, Welcome to Bengalur, sister.

Thank you sister, Jijabai replied, politely acknowledging the relationship before speaking the traditional blessing, "Soubhagyavati bhava. She looked at Tukabai, her eyes scrutinizing every facet of the beautiful face. You are even more beautiful than I had heard. No wonder His Highness has forgotten his first wife!" she said wryly.

Shahaji broke away from Shivaji and turned to Jijabai, a broad smile on his face. Jijau! Welcome to Bengalur. Forgive me; I was overcome with emotion on meeting Shivba after all these years.

Jijabai bent and touched her husband’s feet. Placing his hand on her head, Shahaji briefly blessed her saying, "Ayushman bhava ! You have done a fine job of raising our son, Jijau."

With your blessings, My Lord, she replied quietly.

Shahaji smiled again. You are being modest.

Their eyes met and for a long moment everything seemed to come to a standstill. Then, suddenly, as if someone had shaken her, Jijabai came to her senses, breaking the spell. Turning to Tukabai and her son she said, And this must be little Vyankoji; such a handsome boy! Jijabai quickly bent down and planted a kiss on the little boy’s forehead. Vyankoji promptly hid behind his mother.

Shivaji came forward to seek his stepmother’s blessing. Jijabai then introduced Saee to Shahaji and Tukabai. Pleased to see his daughter-in-law, Shahaji spoke a quick blessing for an abundant life as he placed a hand on the young girl’s head.

Dadaji Konddev had chosen to stand at a distance from the family. Noticing his presence, Shahaji nodded to him. Dadaji immediately came forward and bowed, saying, Greetings, Your Highness!

Shahaji returned the greeting before asking, "How is everything in Pune, Dadaji Punt ?"

All is well Your Highness. We have managed to revive Pune from the dead in these past few years. I have brought all the details, accounts and tax collections to date, for your inspection.

Shahaji smiled. Dadaji, ever the loyal servant, meticulous to the core, he thought. He knew he would be hard pressed to find a single error in the accounts. He would review the jagir accounts later. Now, it was time for family. There’s plenty of time for that, Dadaji. You have had a long and exhausting journey; please rest now.

Dadaji bowed and left. The formalities done, it was time to enter the palace. Tukabai led Jijabai and Saee to the women’s chambers. Shivaji had a bedchamber next to Sambhaji, so the brothers could spend more time together. Once everyone had freshened up, the family sat down to the evening meal in the the private dining hall. As per tradition, the men ate first, while the ladies waited on them. Shivaji was seated on his father’s right. He felt conscious of the fact that this was the first meal with his father. Next to him sat little Vyankoji, while Sambhaji sat on Shahaji’s left. The servants brought in the food, then moved aside. As was customary in Maratha households, the senior ladies, Jijabai and Tukabai, served the men. The food was delicious and the men ate heartily. After so many days on the road, Shivaji enjoyed this bit of luxury. There was a great deal of talking, laughing and teasing as Shivaji got to know his father and brothers. After many years the Bhosale family had come together. It was indeed a happy evening.

A couple of days later, as Jijabai sat relaxing in her bedchamber at night, her attendant informed her that His Highness Shahaji Raje was approaching. Jijabai quickly rose and straightened her saree, draping it over her head as was customary. Moments later, Shahaji pushed open the door and entered.

It is surprising Your Highness has found time to come to my chamber, Jijabai said, her dark eyes on his lined face.

Shahaji smiled in amusement. It seemed that Jijabai had not changed. This was the first time since her arrival that they had been alone together. I am truly sorry, Jijau, he said simply. "These past few days have been so busy.

Dadaji Punt has kept me busy with the accounts. I am very impressed with the progress you have made. Pune was in ruins when you went there."

"It has been due to your blessings, Highness. Besides, what could I have accomplished without Dadaji Punt? He is extremely efficient, capable and loyal. We are fortunate indeed to have such a person serving us."

"True, but I would not have entrusted him with the responsibility for the jagir and my family if I had not been convinced of his loyalty and efficiency."

Jijabai nodded. "Dadaji Punt deserves the highest praise. Despite his age, he has worked tirelessly to have the Pune pargana repopulated and recultivated. You must visit and see for yourself. It has been completely transformed since you last saw it."

"I am not so fortunate, Jijau. You know that I have been banished from Maharashtra. Banished from my own motherland; forbidden from going back…ever!"

It’s been five years since the treaty. You are well established in Adilshahi now. Could you not request the Sultan for special permission?

That would mean begging for a favour from Muhammad Adilshah. I cannot do that anymore. It is enough that I have to go down on my knees and offer obeisance to him every time I am summoned to the Bijapur court! Shahaji said bitterly. I will have to wait till I am sent to Maharashtra on official business. Then I will be granted permission without having to beg for it.

Jijabai sighed and changed the subject. "Dadaji Punt has ensured Shivba’s education. He is fairly advanced in his training with different weapons."

Shivba…. Shahaji smiled at the mention of his son. He has grown into such a fine young boy! Jijau, you have done a good job raising him.

And you in raising Shambhu. He is a man now. He reminds me of the passage of the years. I still remember him as a child.

Our sons are like Ram and Lakshman. I hope love and brotherhood remains between them forever. After a brief pause he asked, Is Shivba well trained in weaponry?

Jijabai nodded. You should test him some day, she suggested.

An awkward silence followed; neither could think what to say to the other.

And how have you been? Shahaji finally asked. It must have been hard on you… having to face so many challenges single-handedly.

Jijabai smiled ruefully. "I am used to it now. Besides, I am not alone; Shivba is with me. Dadaji Punt and the other officers are always there to help as well."

The door opened and Tukabai walked in. She smiled politely at Jijabai and then turned to their husband saying, "I was waiting for you, Highness, with your kesar milk."

Shahaji nodded. Turning to Jijabai he said, I’ll take your leave now, Jijau, and walked out, leaving his wives alone.

"His Highness loves his kesar milk before retiring to bed, Tukabai said. Jijabai smiled knowingly, but said nothing. Looking around the chamber Tukabai asked, And how have you settled down, sister? I hope I have not left anything undone in welcoming you to my home?"

Jijabai did not miss the possessive emphasis and for a brief instant her eyes flashed, but she chose to reply courteously. You have been kind, Tukabai. But do not concern yourself about me. This trip is about Shivba meeting his father, not about me.

Tukabai inclined her head and then excused herself, leaving Jijabai alone in the empty bedchamber, struggling to hold back her tears.

It had now been over a month since their arrival in Bengalur and Shivaji was engrossed in his new surroundings – a new place, new people…there was so much to explore and learn. He spent most of his time in Sambhaji’s company.

His brother took him around the city, showing him its buildings, temples and gardens. For Shivaji, having lived his entire life in Pune and the wilderness of the Sahyadri mountains, this was an entirely new world. He marvelled at the way the city had been planned. Sambhaji informed him the city had been founded and planned over a century ago, by Kempe Gowda, a feudal lord of Vijaynagar, the great southern empire ruled by by native Kings. Kempe Gowda had also built a mud fort which had a perimeter of half a kos, to the south of the main city. Subsequent rulers had added various structures and gardens. Bengalur remained a part of the Vijaynagar empire till this prosperous kingdom had been razed to the ground by the combined forces of the four Islamic kingdoms of Bijapur, Ahmednagar, Golconda and Bedar, three quarters of a century ago.

Two main streets ran through the city; one east-west, the other north-south. The two intersected at a large square in the city centre. The main streets were neatly paved while the other roads were simple mud paths. The town itself was divided into various peths or market areas, not unlike the peths back home, only much larger and better stocked with goods. There were water tanks at various places for the convenience of the people. Gardens and fountains dotted the landscape, adding to the beauty of the city. There were numerous temples, some a thousand years old. Shivaji could also see the occasional mosque with domes and minarets. The sign of the crescent moon and stars could be seen at the mosque entrances and on the domes. Shivaji would quickly become familiar with the city and its sights in the days ahead. The main city area was several kos across and fortified with ramparts which stood over ten guz high. Four watchtowers stood in the four directions, commanding views all around. A large caravan serai was located in the outskirts of the city, with plenty of open space for carts and animals as well as overnight accommodation for travelling merchants and their entourages.

Every day, Shivaji and Sambhaji would set out on horseback, their respective bodyguards in tow. They would roam the city and its outskirts, visiting new places. One day it was the fort, another day an ancient temple. Sambhaji also took his brother on a tour of the artillery depots and stables. Shivaji spent hours walking the city ramparts and exploring the bastions and watchtowers, learning new things every minute. He learnt about strengthening the fortifications, positioning of mortar cannons, stocking of ammunition and rotation of guard duties. Every day was like schooling for Shivaji’s young mind and every little detail he learnt from his brother and father, he stored in his remarkable brain.

One particular day, the brothers set out to visit an ancient temple consecrated to Lord Shiva and his consort Parvati. It was located in a village about thirty-seven north of Bengalur.

This is one of the oldest temples here, nearly eight hundred years old, Sambhaji explained dismounting.

Who built it? Shivaji asked as they entered through the main doorway. Engrossed in looking around, he heard his brother offer namaskaar to someone. He turned around to see Balnageshwarbhat, the Head Priest, coming forward to welcome them. Shivaji and Sambhaji touched his feet

This ancient temple is said to have been built by the Bana Queen Ratnavali, in the ninth century. Subsequent dynasties added to the structure, Balnageshwarji replied in answer to Shivaji’s question, then leading the princes around the complex which actually housed three temples. The first temple represents Lord Mahadev’s childhood, while the second depicts his youth. The Banas built the basic temple edifice and the Chola Kings constructed the roof in the eleventh century. The Hoysala rulers added the hall in the thirteenth. Much later, the Vijaynagar rulers built the outer walls and other buildings.

The temples had exquisite carvings of gods, goddesses and mythical animals. Each of the numerous pillars inside the temples was intricately carved with figures. Shivaji was mesmerized by the beautiful architecture and sculpting; he had never seen such a beautiful temple. The brothers entered the main temple which housed the majestic Shivling. They went down on their knees and touched their foreheads to the ground, offering worship to their family deity and then sat down for religious rituals.

Shivaji and Sambhaji performed an elaborate abhishek and shivpoojan as the priests recited Sanskrit shlokas and mantras. They bathed the Shivling successively with water, milk and panchamrit, as the priests chanted the Gayatri mantra, the Rudra mantra, the Panchakshari mantra and the Shadakshari mantra. As they performed abhishek with holy Ganga water, Balnageshwarji chanted the Mahamrityunjay mantra .

Shivaji performed the entire ritual with tremendous devotion. During the chanting of the Shiv Sahasranam, he almost went into a trance and had to be physically shaken out of it by Sambhaji. After the pooja the princes ate the prasad and once again touched the Head Priest’s feet. They then resumed their tour of the complex.

As they entered the second, slightly smaller temple, Balnageshwarji said, "This temple was built by the Hoysala Kings. It depicts wedding scenes of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati, who, as Maheshwar and Uma, are the presiding deities in the sanctum. Notice how each of the four pillars around the Kalyan Mandap has carvings of the divine couple."

While Shivaji closely observed each pillar, Sambhaji teased, Shivba, it is customary in these parts for newly married couples to come here for the blessings of Shiv-Parvati. Perhaps you should have brought Saee with you. Shivaji made a face at his brother and walked out.

The third temple, continued Balnageshwarji, was built by the Ganga dynasty rulers.

In front of this temple was an idol of Nandi, the bull, carved in black rock. The sanctum housed a unique form of Lord Ganesh. Shivaji closely observed the idol and then said to Balnageshwarji, "I have never seen a Ganesh idol like this. It has the face of a lion and the trunk of an elephant. It reminds me of the Narasimha."

"True; this form of Lord Ganesh is called Simha Ganpati or Ugra Ganpati. It gives devotees the courage to surmount any problem while removing negative thoughts. Your observation is accurate, Prince. Balnageshwarji led them to another part of the complex, where a large pond stood, surrounded by a walkway and steps leading down to the water. As they descended the steps, Sambhaji turned to the Head Priest and asked, What was that legend about the origin of this pond?"

"Legend has it that this pond was created by Nandi, when he sank his horn into the ground to draw water."

Kneeling on the last step, Shivaji and Sambhaji scooped up some water and drank some of it, scattering the rest over their heads. After a simple meal prepared by the temple keepers, they left for the nearby village to stay overnight. They would leave early the next morning. That night, as Shivaji lay on the floor of a hut trying to fall asleep, he kept thinking of the temples he had seen. They were such beautiful structures! Truly blessed were the hands that had sculpted such magnificent buildings, he thought,

"Dada…are there many ancient temples around here?" Shivaji asked, turning to Shambhaji, lying beside him.

A few, but those we saw today are the best preserved. Many others are in a dilapidated condition.

Why is that?

It is said that when the combined forces of Bijapur, Golconda, Ahmednagar and Bedar destroyed the Vijaynagar kindgom, many temples were also destroyed.

Shivaji felt a deep anger burn within him. This had been an old tactic of the Sultans – enslave the local population, destroy their places of worship and force religious conversion upon them. To Shivaji, it seemed a poor way to rule. Religion was a sacred thing, closest to a person’s heart. How could any invading ruler hope to win over the people by destroying what was most sacred to them? Being tolerant of other faiths seemed a much more logical thing for a ruler to do. Over a decade ago, a Bijapuri army had razed Pune to the ground, to punish his father. Every house had been brought down, every field and orchard torched. Many temples had been wrecked. Although he had been too young to remember it, his mother had often recounted the horrors of that time. It was like being in hell, she would say. A Ganpati temple, quite near Lal Mahal, had been ruined in that Bijapuri madness. The caretaker priest of the temple, Vinayakbhat Thakaar, had somehow managed to hide the Lord’s idol before the temple was brought down. Later, Jijabai had rebuilt the temple with her own resources and restarted Ganpati-pooja there. Since it was located in Pune Kasba, it was called Kasba Ganpati .

What are you thinking of little brother?

Sambhaji’s question broke Shivaji’s chain of thought. Why do we continue to serve rulers who cannot even respect our religion? he asked fiercely, staring at the thatched roof of the hut.

Sambhaji turned to look at his brother, somewhat surprised by the question.. What do you mean, Shivba? What else can we do?

Why are we ruled by foreigners? Why did our ancestors, who ruled their own land, allow outsiders to take over?

That was three hundred and fifty years ago, Shivba. Since then the Deccan has been ruled by the Sultans.

Mother told me how Alla-ud-din Khilji defeated the powerful Yadav King, Ramdev Raya of Devgiri. He only had eight thousand cavalry when he marched on Devgiri, yet he made a fool of them and won.

Yes, I have heard that story too, from our father. Allaud-din convinced the Yadav King that a large imperial army was coming to support the invaders, and unless Devgiri surrendered, the imperial army would raze it to the ground. Ramdev Raya submitted without condition.

And since then we have blindly served these Sultans. Shivaji observed.

"Some years ago, our father did try to shake off central rule and establish his own free state. You have seen the result of that attempt for yourself. Father’s entire jagir was destroyed by Bijapur."

Yes, I experienced that, Shivaji said sadly, falling silent.

Don’t worry your brain about these things, Shivba. You are still too young for that. I am sure father will prepare you for military service when the time is right. Get some sleep now, we must start early tomorrow in order to be back in Bengalur by nightfall.

But sleep eluded Shivaji as he lay in the dark, thinking for a long time. What if his father had succeeded in creating his own free state? They would all be living in Pune, in their own kingdom. That would be something, wouldn’t it? It was so much more honourable to to be free in one’s own land, than to serve a foreign ruler. His mother too, hated the thought of serving the Sultans, she often said so… Shivaji did not know when he drifted into slumber.

When Shivaji was not roaming the city with his brother, he spent time with his father. Shahaji’s palace had been decorated in kingly style. Spread over hundreds of acres, the palace walls enclosed several gardens, fountains and lotus ponds, in addition to the main palace complex. The palace included not just the royal bedchambers for Shahaji’s family, the royal kitchens and dining halls, but also the offices and a large hall that was Shahaji’s designated durbar, where he held daily court, hearings and official meetings. There were also the leisure rooms where Shahaji would listen to the singers and musicians and watch dancers specially employed for his entertainment. Sambhaji had begun visiting the leisure rooms of late but Jijabai had firmly placed them off limits for Shivaji. Adjoining the eastern ramparts of the palace were the stables and arms depots.

Shahaji’s staff included, besides scores of clerks, numerous advisors and diplomats. Each day saw hundreds of people, including official guests and Shahaji’s military Captains and Commanders, throng the palace complex. Shivaji was introduced to everyone, and much to everyone’s surprise, including his father, the young Prince remembered every person he was introduced to. Shivaji enjoyed spending time with his father and liked to attend the durbar and watch his father take important decisions and give judgements. He also attended official meetings with the military Commanders and imperial government officials, imbibing a wealth of knowledge at each meeting. He spent less and less time with boys his age and more and more discussing intricacies of military strategy and governance with Shahaji and his team of officers and diplomats. Shahaji too, enjoyed involving Shivaji in his daily routine. He was at first amused and then amazed, not only by the boy’s intelligence and memory for detail, but also by his minute observations and quick decision-making. Clearly the boy was mature beyond his years.

Shahaji’s day began before sunrise, with elaborate rituals. Shivaji too, rose early to take part in them. On rising, Shahaji would enter the bathing area and a singer would begin the morning raga Bhupali, followed by religious hymns. The royal priest, Vishwanathbhat Dhokekar, would then chant the Gayatri mantra, paying homage to the Sun God, followed by chanting of the many names of Lord Mahadev and Goddess Bhavani, the family dieties of the Bhosale clan. Other priests would then recite Sanskrit shlokas and prayers to begin the day, followed by a recitation from the Vedas.

His ablutions done, Shahaji would enter the private courtyard adjoining his chambers. Here he would first pray to the Sun, to the haunting sound of a conch shell being blown. This was followed by the beating of shingas and kettle drums, announcing to the world that the King of Bengalur was awake. Shahaji would then proceed to the Delhi darwaza, the north gate of the palace, to inspect his troops. Then he would go round to the rear of the palace, to walk under trees which were considered auspicious, such as the Pimpal and the Parijatak. The royal priest would hold forth a conch shell filled with water and Shahaji would dip his fingers into it, touching his eyes with the water. He would then gaze up at the Maratha ensign with its pennons and offer his respects with folded hands.

Thereafter the royal vaidya would come to examine Shahaji’s pulse to ensure he was in good health. That done, a Brahman would bring in two large ornate plates, one of silver and filled with oil, the other of gold, filled with ghee. Shahaji would glance at his reflection in both. He would then sit in the place of worship, much like an indoor temple, and perform an elaborate pooja of Lord Mahadev, while Vishwanathbhat the priest recited Sanskrit shlokas.

Finally Shahaji would enter the durbar hall, where ministers, officers and diplomats would be awaiting him, to begin the day’s proceedings. These consisted of matters of state and judicial hearings. There were also meetings with emissaries of of the imperial government. Shivaji often attended these durbar sessions, adding immensely to his knowledge of governance, diplomacy and revenue management. Shahaji oftened asked one or other of his sons for their opinion in some matter, and was always amazed by Shivaji’s responses.

One day, a particularly difficult matter came up in court. The family of the Headman of a village in Shahaji’s jagir had approached him for justice. The Headman, Gopalkrishna Desai, had died a few months previously and was survived by his wife Gangadevi, and their two sons. The position of Headman being hereditary, should have passed to the elder son, Gundappa. However, Gopalkrishna’s brother Gangadhar had seized the opportunity to sideline Gopalkrishna’s family. He reasoned that Gundappa, being a minor, was not suited to take over the Headman’s job. Being the eldest male in the family, he had declared himself the Headman, occupied Gopalkrishna’s house and forced Gangadevi and her sons out. Gangadevi had demanded a hearing in front of Shahaji Bhosale and she now stood before him with her sons. Gangadhar was also present, standing to one side.

Shahaji’s minister for civil matters briefed the durbar. Shahaji then gave Gangadevi a chance to speak for herself, saying, Speak, lady. What is it that you ask for?

Highness, Gangadevi said, looking directly at Shahaji without embarrassment, the appointment of village Headman is a hereditary appointment. It passed by right to my husband, who was his father’s eldest son. Upon my husband’s death, it should pass to our eldest son, Gundappa.

Shahaji addressed Gangadhar. What do you have to say?

Gangadhar bowed low. Highness, being the second son, I too, am in line to receive the hereditary post. I am no outsider. Gundappa is but a boy, a minor. How can he shoulder the responsibility of being Headman? I am more suitable for the job. The post should rightfully be mine.

There was a pause while all eyes turned to Shahaji. I have heard both sides, he said. Both have valid points. Please wait outside while I discuss the matter with my Council.

The