When the war was finished and the British flag was hoisted over every fortress, Arjun and I were married by Shri Rama, who not only survived the war, but made a new life for himself in the city of Bombay. Since Arjun and I were both rebels, it was impossible to remain near Jhansi. So we moved to the bustling city of Mumbai. It was a city that had been renamed Bombay by the British, reminding us every day that we had lost; that the kingdom of Jhansi was gone. Now, we were part of an empire. We asked my sister and her son to live with us, but she refused. She held me accountable for the fate she had suffered. She believed that my loyalty had never been to my family, but to a queen who had given me both a marriage and jewels. Still, we offered to buy her a house nearby overlooking the Arabian Sea and arranged for her to live a comfortable life as a widow. This she accepted.
It pained me to think of Anu alone in a strange city. We visited her many times, but she would never open her door. We would watch her son playing in the nearby fields—a light-skinned child with eyes the color of the sea. Did she love him, or did she punish him for what he had cost her? I never knew. Arjun counseled me to wait until the boy was older, and establish a relationship with him then. But during his tenth year, he died. Two years later, my sister was dead, too. In her house, I found the diary I had given her as a child, with all of the memories of my mother inside. It had been wrapped in an old muretha. I held it to my nose and inhaled. It still smelled of Barwa Sagar.
I often felt guilty for the happiness Arjun and I found in Bombay. With the rani’s generosity, we bought a house on Malabar Hill, and we had three children—two boys, and a little girl named Raashi. They are all still living in Bombay, married and with numerous children of their own. I don’t know why this didn’t happen for Anu, why her fate was so different from what I had planned. Shri Rama said something very interesting at my wedding, and Arjun would remind me of it constantly: we can help pave the roads of those around us, but we can’t choose their direction. Even trying is against the laws of samsara.
Sill, sometimes I sit on my bed and think of all the faces that have come and gone—the rani, Moti, Jhalkari, Mandar, Sundari, my father, Shivaji. The war stole so many people from us, and still it’s not over. Sometimes, when Raashi is taking me on the train, I’ll catch a glimpse of a young man struggling against the guards who are trying to remove him from the first-class cabin, where only the British are allowed to sit, and that’s how I know the war isn’t finished. The goddess Durga is still here, whispering to her children, “I’ll only be happy when I am free.”
Historical Note
On June 20, 1858, just two days after the rani’s death, the “rebels” across India surrendered. Nearly five months later, the British East India Company was abolished, and Queen Victoria was declared the Empress of India. When you consider the life of Rani Lakshmi and the unbelievable lives of the women in her Durga Dal, it’s not difficult to see why she’s the most famous woman in India’s history. There was almost nothing about her life or the lives of her Durgavasi I needed to embellish. If anything, so many legends have sprung up around her that I needed to be careful to separate what was fact from fiction. For instance, her famous jump from the fortress walls while mounted on her horse and carrying her son certainly never happened. But her Durga Dal, her decision to practice with the Durgavasi (unprecedented for a Hindu queen), her presence in the Durbar Hall while her husband took to the stage, and her subsequent role in the rebellion, are all part of the historical record.
After her death, General Hugh Rose returned in triumph to Gwalior. The Raja of Scindia joined him, and the pair of them entered the city accompanied by fireworks and celebratory parades. Despite his victory, Rose remained so disturbed by the rani’s escape that he ordered Bhandir Gate to be sealed. It remained this way for the next seventy-five years. On his return to England, Queen Victoria made Rose Lord Strathnairn of Jhansi. India’s annexation was complete. The British population was told its conquest was necessary, and they were fed stories of misrule and human rights abuses.
Most of the rani’s Durgavasi were killed in their fight against the British. However, Kashi did escape with Anand, and eventually, the British granted the boy a small pension.
What became of the traitors Gopal and Sadashiv is uncertain, but both men probably met quick ends, like Tatya Tope, who was captured by the British and executed. As for Nana Saheb, who spent days celebrating his own coronation instead of preparing for the advancing British army—it’s likely he escaped British detection by living with one of his wives in Nepal. Unlike Azimullah Khan, who died of an unknown illness before the British could capture him, he probably led a long life.