The Autobiography of an Indian Princess

by Maharani of Cooch Behar Sunity Devee

My day was always much occupied. After my morning tea, the children often brought me flowers from the garden and I used to make sketches of them, and this was the pleasure and pride of my life. After my bath I put on a silk sari, which is supposed to be sacred, and arranged the prayer-room. I loved the effect of the masses of roses, jessamine, and the bright-hued flowers against the white marble of the altar and floor. The open windows admitted the sweet air, fresh from the river close by.

I prepared the fruits and sweets for the household, and have often prepared enough vegetables for fifty people. My readers may perhaps smile at the idea of a Maharani cutting vegetables! I used to sit on the floor surrounded by the brass bowls in which the vegetables were washed, and the maids constantly changed the water for me. I always cut enough vegetables to fill several large plates, for we generally had eighteen curries for each meal. I also used to slice betel-nut, which has to be cut very fine, and sometimes filled several big jars at one time. Often I made sweets, as both my husband and the children were fond of sweets. I also prepared pickles of mangoes, and potatoes, and other vegetables; all this I had learned to do from my dear mother.

Sometimes I used to make up betel leaves into tiny odd-shaped packets filled with half a dozen different spices, and pinned together with cloves. Perhaps most English readers do not know what a valuable digestive the betel leaf is. It strengthens the gums, and completely neutralises the bad effects of indigestible delicacies.

Sometimes the Maharajah came in while I was cutting the vegetables, and he would sit and watch me, occasionally saying: “Take care, you’ll cut yourself,” just as though I were a little girl who did not know how to peel a potato. Now and again I would get up tableaux and plays to amuse my relations-in-law, the officers’ wives, and others, and these they seemed to enjoy greatly. I was very fond of painting, and often spent hours ornamenting the mantelpieces and the glass panes in the doors. We made a miniature garden which the children loved. In this garden we had a tank filled with clear water, in which one day my second son, the present Maharajah, then a little boy, wanted to have a bath. We tried to dissuade him, but he insisted on having his own way, so we undressed him and put him in the tank. He felt the cold but pretended he was quite warm, and he looked like a picture with only his face and curly head showing above the water in the little tank surrounded by flowers.

From the day of his accession to the throne the Maharajah devoted all the earnestness of his nature and his great powers of organisation to plans for the comfort, well-being, and education of his subjects. New roads were made; the systematic development of the resources of the State was undertaken, and hospitals, schools, and public buildings were erected. Some of these are very fine; the Masonic Lodge in Cooch Behar is one of the largest in Bengal. The Maharajah took a keen interest in questions of education and founded a college of which he was very proud. At a distribution of prizes at this college on one occasion he said: “If I find any boys guilty of disloyalty they shall be turned out of the State in twenty-four hours.”

Hindu princes are allowed to marry as many wives as they wish, but the Maharanis are part of the State, and there is a vast difference between their position and that of the other palace ladies. The ruler’s wives are brought to the palace as little girls, there to be married and afterwards educated, solely, I am obliged to admit, with the idea of attracting their husband, who, more often than not, never sees half of them. Nevertheless the pretty ones learn to sing, dance, and cook to perfection, for in many palaces the Maharajah’s food is never touched by paid cooks. Some keep accounts. All are busy with their work and, my mother-in-law told me, they are quite happy. Some of my readers may have heard that any girl may become a Rajah’s wife. This is absolutely untrue; the Maharanis must be young girls of good family, and always are. The Rajah’s wives are not allowed to go out to other houses. It may be my weakness or my strength, but I have altered my position in this respect a little; I do see people if urged, but I have often been asked by my husband’s relations to remember who I am, and not to speak to any and everybody, and lower my position.

My mother-in-law was a well-built woman, rather short but wonderfully strong. She was bright and always full of fun. Her kind help made my life a happy one, and her wise counsel often guided me in hours of difficulty when I first went to Cooch Behar, after my marriage. She died of cholera at Woodlands; Rajey, a cousin of mine, and I nursed her through her last illness.

The Maharajah had a step-brother and sister, both very handsome; they were very devoted to my dear husband, especially the sister.

There is a custom in the palace that no one shall have a meal before the Maharajah. For a few years I kept up this custom strictly; but sometimes, when I was in indifferent health, I found it difficult to wait until one or two o’clock in the afternoon for my breakfast. The Maharajah came to know of this and asked me why I did not have my breakfast earlier. When he heard of the custom he said to his mother, “The Maharani cannot possibly wait so long. She is to have her meals before me, if I am delayed.” His mother did not like this at all, but as it was a command she had to obey.

We do not have many meals in India. Formerly we had breakfast, fruit and milk every afternoon, and dinner. Now we have quite a late breakfast in the English way, and afternoon tea. Until I left India I had never tasted meat. Our delicious fruits would convert the most ardent meat-lover into a fruitarian.