Return to Bhanupur , livre ebook

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd - Giles Tillotson

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

66 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

‘It is the first duty of kingship to be as the people wish to see me.’This fictional account of events in the court of the princely state of Bhanupur, a hundred years ago, is a tale of intrigue, politics and image-building. What was going through the mind of Maharaja Amar Singh II in the key moments of his reign? How much did he rely on the advice of his clever prime minister Chatterjee, the wily Bengali? How did he solve sensitive issues like undertaking a voyage across the seas to attend the coronation ceremony of the British king, without polluting his caste? And what were his relations with the British—especially with Dr Constable and the architect Colonel Talbot, employed by his court? As the narrative moves towards its tragic conclusion, the characters’ innermost convictions are laid bare

Sujets

Historical fiction

History

Informations

Publié par	Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd
Date de parution	01 mars 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9788184756289
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0374€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

GILES TILLOTSON
Return to Bhanupur
A Novel

PENGUIN BOOKS
Contents
About the Author
Foreword
Prologue
1887
1902
1922
Copyright Page
PENGUIN BOOKS
RETURN TO BHANUPUR
Giles Tillotson is well known as a writer and lecturer on Indian history and architecture. He taught at the University of London from 1990 to 2004, since when he has been living in Gurgaon, near Delhi. His earlier books include Mughal India , Jaipur Nama and Taj Mahal , all published by Penguin. This is his first work of fiction.
Foreword
This is a work of fiction. Although it draws on some suggestive historical incidents, all the characters along with their thoughts and conversations are imaginary. The narrative does not present a portrait of any actual person, living or dead. My aim is to tell a story while capturing something of the spirit of an Indian court at the turn of the last century.
Despite this disclaimer, I have some anxiety that a few readers might consider my depiction of the maharaja inadequately respectful. To them I would point out that my fictional character is a more dedicated and complex individual than posterity believes many real-life maharajas to have been. Indeed, it is likely that more readers will regard my portrayal as too sympathetic. Maharajas have not always had a good press in modern times. In the popular mind, the stock caricature maharaja was servile towards the British, neglectful of his duties, and given to self-indulgence and vice. I consider this conventional view to be both partial and severe, and I have attempted in this novel to depict some of the challenges that confronted such rulers and their aides and employees. The story is offered as a tribute to those individuals who devoted their energy and talents to India s former princely states.
Prologue
On the September morning when Maharaja Sir Amar Singh II died in his sleep, a sigh of relief was heard to issue from the British Residency. The Resident received the news in a brief handwritten note delivered to his desk along with his customary pre-lunch glass of gin and bitters. Having absorbed its content, he took a moment to notice the meticulous hand of the Maharaja s prime minister, still unhurried and formal even when imparting such an important message, and then grunted his approval.
Excellent. Perhaps there is a divine providence after all.
Reginald Slater rang for his private secretary, and when the young man presented himself in a posture of something like attention on the far side of his desk, handed him the note with the comment, Some good news, at last.
The pale round face that looked up from the paper registered an evident uncertainty about how best to respond.
Really, sir? I know he s generally thought a pretty obstinate sort of fellow. Was thought, I should say. But one has to admit he was magnificently regal. Bhanupur will be a poorer place without him.
Sometimes I wonder at reports of your intelligence, Simpson. You re alleged to have a first from Oxford, for Christ s sake! Regal? I admit nothing of the sort. Our great, now late, Maharaja was nothing but a buffoon and an obstacle to any hope of progress. Having him out of the way-and with his successor a minor for the best part of the next ten years-gives us a chance to get our hands in and have a thorough clean-up. But his expression of determination folded as he added distractedly, Mind you, it will be a Herculean task. Cleaning the Augean stables will have nothing on this.
If the Resident had troubled to examine his private secretary s expression at this moment he might have noticed that he was still struggling with regret.
Is it known what he died of, sir? The prime minister s note doesn t say.
Sexual exhaustion, I shouldn t wonder. Too many evenings spent in his private brothel up in Vijaygarh Fort. Come to think of it, we d do well to start our clean-up exercise there, by turfing out his stable of painted ladies.
But where will they go? The hint of concern in the young man s voice was met by a bewildered stare.
What the deuce does it matter where they go? Having them where they are is a disgrace to the state, as my predecessors have been telling the Maharaja for the last forty years.
Feeling snubbed, the secretary moved the conversation to a topic on which he knew he commanded his superior s confidence. I suppose, at least, this will be an opportunity to sort out the matter of the state revenue, sir.
It will indeed, Simpson. It will indeed. The whole treasury has got into a frightful mess through the interventions of Madam Nargis, or whatever she calls herself. Ghastly female. Slater sipped his gin, wiped his moustache with his forefinger, and added ruminatively, By the way, touching on the revenue, what do you make of Pandit Achal?
The new member of the Maharaja s privy council, sir? From the few dealings I ve had with him so far, he seems to me very able indeed. Sound judgement and an open and straightforward manner. Why do you ask?
Because I think he s one that we might draft into the regency government that we ll have to set up. Your feelings confirm my own. I think he ll make an excellent minister of finance.
Isn t it a little early to be thinking of all that, sir? I mean, surely there will be a period of mourning before we can do anything officially?
Listen, Simpson. For your own benefit, I advise you to listen carefully. One day you might find yourself in a position like mine, as Resident in a Princely State. That is assuming that you don t make a complete balls-up of your part of the job that now lies ahead of us. And if you ever are so fortunate, remember this. There is nothing better that can befall a Resident than to have his Maharaja die on him. Especially if the heir is a minor. You spend most of a normal term of office hanging about gaudy functions, giving advice that no one pays any attention to and writing reports for the Viceroy s council that nobody reads. You get a decent house, of course, and a few other perks that make life tolerable. But from a professional point of view, it s nothing but frustration. A regency government is your only chance for some real work, a chance to make a mark on the place. If that chance comes your way, you have to move decisively in the time available. You can t dilly-dally because of sensitivities at court.
Thank you for your insight, sir, I ll certainly bear it in mind. If, as you say, I should ever be so fortunate. But tell me, sir Simpson hesitated, wondering whether it was prudent to air the thought that had come to his mind; but seeing the Resident s quizzical eyebrows, realized that he had committed himself to finishing. When you speak of making a mark, I presume you mean for the benefit of the ordinary populace, the state s subjects.
Naturally. Who else would it be for?
Well, sir, Simpson pursued cautiously, a little anxious now but still eager to know the Resident s mind, you may think me cynical but when you said that a regency is professionally fulfilling, it occurred to me that it might also have its rewards from um a career point of view as well.
Slater eyed his secretary narrowly. He was sometimes unsure whether Simpson was being uppity or artless. He certainly never thought of him as cynical.
Performing a difficult task well never hurt anyone s prospects, young man. It gets one noticed. But since you are so bold as to ask whether I see any personal advantage in this situation, I don t mind telling you frankly that I do. For one thing, the Hyderabad post should fall vacant in three years. My wife s uncle, Sir John Biddulph, you know, led the regency government in Gwalior back in the nineties and left with a knighthood.
Ah, Sir Reginald?
Sound incredible to you, Simpson?
Not at all, sir. Devoutly to be wished for.
It will take more than wishing. It will take a great deal of hard graft to get the job done thoroughly. And we must get on with it without delay. You could make a start, Simpson, by drawing up a list of all those responsible citizens, including Pandit Achal, who you think we might call on for posts in the governing council. Men we can depend on to see things our way.
Certainly, I ll see to it immediately. Oh, will the council include the Yuvraj? I should say the new Maharaja.
Why?
Because if he is to be in it, then it would be wise, might it not, to include someone who is close to him personally, whose judgement he trusts. To help guide his decisions.
No, I meant, why should the council include the new Maharaja?
Well, that would be normal, sir, wouldn t it?
Certainly not. He s a child of ten. No question of including him.
But it could be awkward, couldn t it? I mean, if he s around but not in the council, it might create resentment, even a possible rival power base.
But he won t be around, Simpson. I repeat, he s a child of ten. The first thing we will do is pack him off to boarding school. Mayo College, probably. That should be enough to anticipate any interference of the sort you seem to fear. Now off you go and bring me that list. We can discuss it after lunch.
The Resident watched his secretary withdraw, and was dismayed to see him pause at the door and turn wearing a contemplative expression.
I wonder how history will judge him.
Judge who?
The Maharaja. I mean, what will his legacy be?
Maharajas don t leave legacies except to their bastard offspring. All eyes now will be on the future, which is where yours should be, Simpson.
But he did complete the city s museum, which is still very popular and his visit to London for the coronation. Many people in Bhanupur regard those as great achievements.
More fool them. Those were the only times he did what he was told. Something you should learn to do. Slater glared at his secretary, forcing him to nod and finally retreat.
Picking up the remains of his gin, the Resident carried it out through the veranda onto the grass terrace at the back of the Residency. He paced its le