How I love Cooch Behar with its abundance of birds and flowers! The scenery is glorious, the beautiful lotus covers the rivers, and at some of the old religious festivals the temples are lavishly decorated with the gorgeous pink blossoms. The Cooch Behar climate is splendid; the winters are like those of the South of France, and the spring is heavenly.
I endeavoured from the first to gain the confidence and affection of my husband’s subjects, and I never knowingly ran counter to their prejudices. In Darjeeling and Calcutta I may be considered the Maharani with advanced Western ideas, but in Cooch Behar I was and am the zenana lady who enters into the lives of the people. Many who at first looked upon my marriage with disfavour took me to their hearts when they found that I was just like all their Maharanis, and that I loved them.
Now when I feel that earthly happiness and myself have parted company, I like to picture Rajey as he was in those days. He had large sad eyes, lovely curling hair, and he grew into a straight-limbed slender boy, beautiful as the legendary sons of Siva.
In January, 1884, soon after we lost my father, we went to Simla. There Rajey sickened with typhoid fever and became seriously ill, and the doctors in attendance declared the case to be hopeless. My husband’s distress was terrible, and I shall never forget his anguished words: “If God will only spare Rajey’s life, Sunity, you and I would give our lives for him.”
Our prayers were answered. After six weeks’ fight with death our child was restored to us. Rajey’s nature was always sweetly unselfish, even as a little boy. When I used to tell him stories the sad parts always made him cry.
“How do rulers get their money?” he asked me one day.
“Well, Rajey, by taxing people.”
“Shall I be a ruler?”
“Yes, darling, I hope you will some day.”
“Then,” he announced, his great eyes shining, “I’ll never ask for any taxes until everybody is well off and quite able to pay.”