We all followed her gaze to a very large item beneath a blanket in the corner of the room. Saheb stood and unveiled his ambassador’s gift. It was a large metal machine.
“A printing press,” Saheb said. “We will print this despicable memorandum in every language in India. And we’ll distribute it to every village. I am going to march on Delhi. Ten thousand men strong.”
“With what aim?” Arjun asked.
“To restore the Mughal emperor to power. Under his rule, India will return to a land of kingships, just as it was before the British came.”
Imagine the Mughal emperor as the pope and all of the kingdoms in India as Catholic countries under his rule. Saheb was proposing to restore the defeated emperor to power, and in return, the emperor would see to it that all of the kingdoms the British had conquered would return to Indian rule.
“The ten thousand are Saheb’s men,” Arjun said. “What other kingdoms will join you?”
“Any who don’t wish to live under British rule,” Azimullah replied. “Because you’re either with us or against us.” He boldly turned to face the rani, but I could see the conflict on the rani’s face.
“As I’ve told you, if I give aid to the sepoys and the British succeed in defeating them, what will the British do to me? Or, more important, to Jhansi? My situation is difficult. I have to remain neutral.”
“And your conscience lets you do this, even after this memorandum?” he raged. “Suppose you do not aid the sepoys? They will believe you supported the British,” he warned. “What will happen to Jhansi then?”
As soon as the rani dismissed us, I hurried down the stairs to the Durgavas to write Anu a letter. She had to be warned about the memorandum and what the Kutwals were doing. She had to hide if they came to Shivaji’s home. The moment I was finished, I went to Gopal and instructed him to post it for me. Then, as I was returning to the Durbar Hall, I met Arjun on the landing. In the light of the softly swaying oil lamps, his face looked as if it had been carved from stone.
“So what do you think of Azimullah’s with us or against us threat?” I asked.
Arjun looked around. Mandar was standing near us; Moti was talking with Kashi a few steps away. I doubted they were paying us any attention. “The British must be stopped,” he said. “And I have always believed the sepoys might revolt. But I worry about letting Azimullah lead any sort of revolution.”
“Yes. But I understand now why Azimullah is so bitter,” I said.
“Sita, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
We stood together in the flickering light, letting other guardsmen pass us by.
“That last day on the ship . . . why did you walk away from me when I said you were beautiful?”
I couldn’t believe he would even ask such a thing. “After you told Jhalkari you wanted to marry someone else?”
He stared at me, and I could see he was shocked.
“You told her you wanted to marry someone from Jhansi.”
“Yes,” he replied. “You.”
“But I’m not from Jhansi.”
His eyes were wide. “Sita, in . . . from . . . those are just words. Of course I meant you.”
I placed my hand against the wall to keep myself steady. Why would he admit such a thing to me now? We had failed in London; I was never going to be released from the rani. How could he even mention such a wonderful possibility when he knew it was beyond hope? “I’m a Durgavasi, Arjun. I’m twenty-one years old with a father to support. Let’s not ruin the friendship we have with daydreams now.”
I know I sounded bitter. And I know I saw regret in his eyes. But he bowed to indicate he understood, then escorted me into the Durbar Hall.
Inside, I choked down the feelings that threatened to overwhelm me. I would survive this. I’d survived worse things. After all, I was bamboo, and bamboo bends. It doesn’t break.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There are only a handful of times in my life when I can tell you exactly where I was when such and such event occurred. When my mother died, for example. I can still smell the turmeric and cardamom that was in the air, and tell you exactly how the rain sounded as it dripped from the corner of our house into a clay pot outside. When I was told that I had been made a Durgavasi, when I learned of young Damodar’s death, when the rani discovered that Jhansi would no longer be hers . . . These are all times I can recapture in my mind with a photograph’s precision. And when the rebellion arrived in Jhansi? This is a moment forever etched in my memory.