I watched her face. It was bad news. “Kashi, will you take the boy to my chamber?” After they’d left, she said, “They’re giving me three months to pack.”
She saw the confusion on our faces, so she handed me the letter and asked me to read it aloud. As I did, I felt the world shift beneath my feet, as if the hand of Brahma was actually pushing the earth out from under me. The rani had three months to move from the Panch Mahal into a smaller palace at the bottom of the hill. The Company was euphemistically calling it the Rani Mahal, and they promised to give her a yearly pension large enough to run it with a “suitably sized household.”
“And what will happen to our people?” the rani asked. There were tears in her eyes, but they lingered at the edge and refused to fall. She pressed her lips together, and I followed the direction of her gaze to the flag of Jhansi, a kettledrum and whisk on a field of red. “Tomorrow, it will be a British flag,” she whispered. She stood. “I am going to appeal the governor-general of India himself.” He was the man elected by Company officials to oversee the Company, and his election was subject to the British queen’s approval.
I had never felt so angry or afraid. What gave these foreigners the right to destroy our kingdom? Our people lived here for five thousand years—now a company would be deciding our fate.
“We should encourage the sepoys to rebel,” her father said. “It is time.”
“Not if there is a chance that the British East India Company will listen to reason.”
That night, I lay awake in my bed, thinking about how the Durgavas would belong to the British. The walls, the carpets, the beds where we slept, even the small tables where we made our pujas to Durga. I tried to imagine what the rani was feeling, lying in the room where she’d spent every night from the time she was fourteen, knowing that soon, a foreigner would make it his home. All because she’d had the misfortune to lose her husband and son.
When the sun rose the next morning, I didn’t wait to hear the soldiers blowing conch shells in the courtyard to rise. As soon as the sun pushed its way through the windows, I dressed myself in my warmest shawl.
“Where are you going?” Jhalkari said.
“I want to see it for myself.” A few other women were dressing as well. Mandar, Heera, even Rajasi. Jhalkari sat up, and I took her folded angarkha from her chest. “Come,” I said, handing it to her.
We went outside, and a small group of the queen’s guardsmen followed us down the avenue. Arjun was among them. He was dressed in his usual outfit, only this morning, his long hair wasn’t tied back by a muretha. The way it framed his face made him seem younger. We walked to where we could see the south tower, and there, snapping in the crisp morning breeze, was the Union Jack. Tears rolled down several of the men’s faces.
Rajasi said, “There wasn’t even a fight.”
“Exactly how the British like it,” one of the guardsmen said bitterly.
Thousands of people attempted to reach the Durbar Hall. They crowded the halls of the palace, and the soldiers had to keep order as soon as the British officers began to arrive. Inside the hall, only the rani’s advisers and Jhansi’s most important officials had been given seats. We led the rani through the angry press of citizens, and when she took her throne, silence—as heavy and still as water—filled the room. We stood behind her, with our hands on our pistols in case there should be violence. Behind us, her guardsmen were ready as well.
“My people,” she began formally. “Main Jhansi nahin doongi!”
A cheer rose up in the audience and the British officers exchanged nervous looks.
“I will never leave you!” the rani vowed. “But today, I humbly surrender the government of Jhansi to the British. Major Ellis”—she indicated who he was—“will be speaking on behalf of the British East India Company. Major Ellis, please relay for us the information you received from the governor-general of India, Lord Dalhousie.”
Major Ellis rose from his chair. “Subjects of Jhansi,” he began, and immediately, men began to shout. The rani held up her hand, and there was silence.
“Lord Dalhousie, under the command of the British East India Company, has declared the kingdom of Jhansi to be British territory.” There was silence in the room. “The Rani of Jhansi shall take up residence in the Rani Mahal, where she will continue to be a source of inspiration for the people of Jhansi.”
They were reducing our capable rani to a figurehead. The rani would keep the Durga Dal and her personal guards, but the army of Jhansi no longer existed.
“A pension will be provided to the rani on a yearly basis, and her adopted son shall receive an inheritance that is as yet to be determined.” He lowered the paper.
“And when do the British plan to tell the rani what this pension will be?” the rani’s adviser Shri Bhakti demanded.