[19]. So pronounced, but properly written Randhaval, ‘the standard of the field.’
[20]. See note, p. 252.
[21]. His second son, Chandra, obtained an appanage on the Chambal, and his issue, well known as Chandarawats, constituted one of the most powerful vassal clans of Mewar. Rampura (Bhanpura) was their residence, yielding a revenue of nine lakhs (£110,000), held on the tenure of service which, from an original grant in my possession from Rana Jagat Singh to his nephew Madho Singh, afterwards prince of Amber, was three thousand horse and foot (see p. 235), and the fine of investiture was seventy-five thousand rupees. Madho Singh, when prince of Amber, did what was invalid as well as ungrateful; he made over this domain, granted during his misfortunes, to Holkar, the first limb lopped off Mewar. The Chandarawat proprietor continued, however, to possess a portion of the original estate with the fortress of Amad, which it maintained throughout all the troubles of Rajwara till A.D. 1821. It shows the attachment to custom that the young Rao applied and received ‘the sword’ of investiture from his old lord paramount, the Rana, though dependent on Holkar’s forbearance. But a minority is proverbially dangerous in India. Disorder from party plots made Amad troublesome to Holkar’s government, which as his ally and preserver of tranquillity we suppressed by blowing up the walls of the fortress. This is one of many instances of the harsh, uncompromising nature of our power, and the anomalous description of our alliances with the Rajputs. However necessary to repress the disorder arising from the claims of ancient proprietors and the recent rights of Holkar, or the new proprietor, Ghafur Khan, yet surrounding princes, and the general population, who know the history of past times, lament to see a name of five hundred years’ duration thus summarily extinguished, which chiefly benefits an upstart Pathan. Such the vortex of the ambiguous, irregular, and unsystematic policy, which marks many of our alliances, which protect too often but to injure, and gives to our office of general arbitrator and high constable of Rajasthan a harsh and unfeeling character. Much of this arises from ignorance of the past history; much from disregard of the peculiar usages of the people; or from that expediency which too often comes in contact with moral fitness, which will go on until the day predicted by the Nestor of India, when “one sikka (seal) alone will be used in Hindustan.”
CHAPTER 6
Lakhamsi: Lachhman Singh.
Bhīm Singh: Padmini.
The Siege of Chitor.
Mention has already been made of the adjuration,“by the sin of the sack of Chitor.” Of these sacks they enumerate three and a half. This is the ‘half’; for though the city was not stormed, the best and bravest were cut off (sakha). It is described with great animation in the Khuman Raesa. Badal was but a stripling of twelve, but the Rajput expects wonders from this early age. He escaped, though wounded, and a dialogue ensues between him and his uncle’s wife, who desires him to relate how her lord conducted himself ere she joins him. The stripling replies: “He was the reaper of the harvest of battle; I followed his steps as the humble gleaner of his sword. On the gory bed of honour he spread a carpet of the slain; a barbarian prince his pillow, he laid him down, and sleeps surrounded by the foe.” Again she said: "Tell me, Badal, how did my love (piyar) behave?" “Oh! mother, 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,” sprung into the flame.
Alau-d-din, having recruited his strength, returned to his object, Chitor. The annals state this to have been in S. 1346 (A.D. 1290), but Ferishta gives a date thirteen years later.[[4]] They had not yet recovered the loss of so many valiant men who had sacrificed themselves for their prince’s safety, and Ala carried on his attacks more closely, and at length obtained the hill at the southern point, where he entrenched himself. They still pretend to point out his trenches; but so many have been formed by subsequent attacks that we cannot credit the assertion. The poet has found in the disastrous issue of this siege admirable materials for his song. He represents the Rana, after an arduous day, stretched on his pallet, and during a night of watchful anxiety, pondering on the means by which he might preserve from the general destruction one at least of his twelve sons; when a voice [265] broke on his solitude, exclaiming, “Main bhukhi ho”;[[5]] and raising his eyes, he saw, by the dim glare of the chiragh,[[6]] 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; and if twelve who wear the diadem bleed not for Chitor, the land will pass from the line.” This said, she vanished.