Rāo Sūrajmall, c. A.D. 1533.
The alliance with Chitor was again cemented by intermarriage. Suja Bai, sister to Surajmall, was espoused by Rana Ratna, who bestowed his own sister on the Rao. Rao Suja, like his father, was too partial to his amal. One day, at Chitor, he had fallen asleep in the Presence, when a Purbia chief felt an irresistible inclination to disturb him, and “tickled the Hara’s ear with a straw.” He might as well have jested with a tiger: a back stroke with his khanda stretched the insulter on the carpet. The son of the Purbia treasured up the feud, and waited for revenge, which he effected by making the Rana believe the Rao had other objects in view, besides visiting his sister Suja Bai, at the Rawala. The train thus laid, the slightest incident inflamed it. The fair Suja had prepared a repast, to which she invited both her brother and her husband: she had not only attended the culinary process herself, but waited on these objects of her love to drive the flies from the food. Though the wedded fair of Rajputana clings to the husband, yet she is ever more solicitous for [468] the honour of the house from whence she sprung, than that into which she has been admitted; which feeling has engendered numerous quarrels. Unhappily, Suja remarked, on removing the dishes, that “her brother had devoured his share like a tiger, while her husband had played with his like a child (balak).” The expression, added to other insults which he fancied were put upon him, cost the Rao his life, and sent the fair Suja an untimely victim to Indraloka.[[19]] The dictates of hospitality prevented the Rana from noticing the remark at the moment, and in fact it was more accordant with the general tenor of his character to revenge the affront with greater security than even the isolated situation of the brave Hara afforded him. On the latter taking leave, the Rana invited himself to hunt on the next spring festival in the ramnas or preserves of Bundi. The merry month of Phalgun arrived; the Rana and his court prepared their suits of amaua (green), and ascended the Patar on the road to Bundi, in spite of the anathema of the prophetic Sati, who, as she ascended the pyre at Bumbaoda, pronounced that whenever Rao and Rana met to hunt together at the Aheria, such meeting, which had blasted all her hopes, would always be fatal. But centuries had rolled between the denunciation of the daughter of Alu Hara and Suja Bai of Bundi; and the prophecy, though in every mouth, served merely to amuse the leisure hour; the moral being forgotten it was only looked upon as ‘a tale that was past.’
Murder of Rāo Sūrajmall.
It was amidst the confusion of such a scene that the dastard Rana determined to gratify his malice. The princes had convenient stations assigned them, where they could securely assail the game as it passed, each having but one or two confidential attendants. With the Rana was the Iago of his revenge, the son of the Purbia, whom the Hara prince had slain. “Now is the moment,” said the Rana to his companion, “to slay the boar,” and instantly an arrow from the bow of the Purbia was [469] sped at the Rao. “With an eagle’s eye he saw it coming, and turned it off with his bow.” This might have been chance, but another from the foster-brother of the Rana convinced him there was treachery. Scarcely had he warded off the second, when 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 called aloud, “Escape you may, but you have sunk Mewar.” The Purbia, who followed his prince, when he saw the Rao bind up his wound, said, “The work is but half done”; and like a coward, Ratna once more charged the wounded Rao. As his arm was raised to finish the deed of shame, like a wounded tiger the Hara made a dying effort, caught the assassin by the robe, and dragged him from his steed. Together they came to the ground, the Rana underneath. The Rao knelt upon his breast, while, with preternatural strength, with one hand he grasped his victim by the throat, with the other he searched for his dagger. What a moment for revenge! He plunged the weapon into his assassin’s heart, and saw him expire at his feet. The Rao was satisfied; there was no more life left him than sufficed for revenge, and he dropped a corpse upon the dead body of his foeman.
The tidings flew to Bundi, to the mother of the Rao, that her son was slain in the Aheria. “Slain!” exclaimed this noble dame, “but did he fall alone? Never could a son, who has drunk at this breast, depart unaccompanied”; and as she spoke, “maternal feeling caused the milk to issue from the fount with such force, that it rent the slab on which it fell.”
The Satis.
Rāo Surthān, c. A.D. 1534.
Rāo Arjun.
“Seated on a fragment of the rock, disparted by the explosion of the mine, Arjun drew his sword, and the world beheld his departure with amazement.”[[24]]
Surjan, the eldest of the four sons[[25]] of Arjun, succeeded in S. 1589 (A.D. 1533) [471].