'But soon we must rise, O my heart, we must wander again
Into the war of the world and the strife of the throng;
Let us rise, O my heart, let us gather the dreams that remain,
We will conquer the sorrow of life with the sorrow of song.'

- Sarojini Naidu
***

1844, London,
Great Britain;

For the uninitiated, this particular evening at Berkeley residence seemed uncharacteristically merry.

The dining table was laden with the most savoury dishes, including a dish of chocolate pudding, a casserole full of freshly-baked bread, lamb and a platter of roasted duck, put aside a bowl of gravy. A delicious scent of herbed tea and biscuits wafted from the kitchen.

However, the given occasion warranted nothing less. For, just that day, Lieutenant-Colonel Albert Berkeley had returned home after taking an early retirement from his service under the British Army of Madras Province. The entire household was jolly with delight.

A chatter of voices arose from the parlour where Albert himself sat with his family. He had a look of pure contentment as he gazed at the faces of his precious children.

His darling Cathy, now a demure woman of almost seventeen, was busy playing the pianoforte; whereas his son- Geoffrey, sat on a carpet near the hearth, busy tinkering with a metal contraption.

This was heaven!
Much better than the sham of civilisation he had just escaped.

He had chosen the perfect timing too; Cathy's betrothal with the vicar's son had happened in his absence. But he intended to be present at his own daughter's wedding.

"Papa, will you leave again?"

His son's inquiry caused Albert to wince inadvertently.

"No, son. I won't."

Geoffrey's face lit up with relief. He returned to his task, only to pause and turn back.

"Is it because of what they say?"

Albert leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees.

"What do you mean?"

Geoffrey crossed his legs and looked up with an earnest expression.

"Wes and Harry, papa. They say that it is a very frightening place; that there are wild beasts, and witches, and beggars roaming about the streets. And that the people are savages. Is it true?"

Albert sighed and went on to light his pipe; taking a long whisk of the smoke before replying,

"I am afraid that most of it is indeed true."

His son's eyes widened with horror. Cathy too paused between her note, listening with fascination.

"Then why did you go there in the first place?"

Albert smiled wryly, alternating his gaze between his two children.

"Because that is what God asked of us. You won't understand now. But soon- you will. We are the superior race, my son. We are the most civilised of all people. And with such an accomplishment comes the responsibility of helping others.
Those people need our help and guidance. They don't know about the finer things in life. They are like wild beasts. We need to tame them and make them see reason...all for their own benefit, of course."

Geoffrey's brows furrowed with confusion,

"But, papa, what if they do not want us to do that?"

Albert let out a rich chuckle.

"They do not know what is good for them, my boy. They are just a bunch of people scattered about a vast land- a land filled with filth and poverty. Their skin is the colour of baked bricks.
It really is a pity. The more refined people wouldn't even consider them humans. They burn their own women, slaughter their children and animals in the name of sacrifice-"

"Come now, Albert. He is just a little boy. There is no need to tell him about such horrendous details."

Geoffrey's mother, holding a large tray, entered with a disapproving frown.

"Nonsense, Elise! He is a young man of thirteen now. He should have the heart to hear these things if he is to grow into a courageous soldier- defending the crown and our nation. He is from the family of great men, after all."

Albert accepted the teacup that his wife handed him, all the while keeping a determined expression on his face.

Geoffrey puffed his chest at his father's words,

"Yes, ma! I am a big boy now!"

Elise gave a resigned shake of her head, bending at the centre table to place the tray.

"Now, my boy...where were we? Ah! Right. The people... You wouldn't believe how simple minded they are. Show them something shiny- a single coin perhaps, and they are ready to turn their backs on each other. Their race is infused with greed and disloyalty. They speak gibberish. Each place you go to, you will find a different people. Some of them don't even have the decency to cover their own skin. You should see them- savages, I tell you!
They live in the forests; surviving like beasts. They eat their own peers. They are pagans. Their religion- if you can call it that- is just blasphemy!
A bunch of idols that they go around worshiping... mystic muddle. They practice black magic, charm snakes like they are playthings and fakirs go about with dancing monkeys. It's an absolute mayhem!"

From the other end of the room, Elise shuddered with revulsion.

"God Almighty!"

Albert nodded solemnly, pleased with the effect of his words.

"So, my boy, we are doing what we can. We are trying to tell them that their way of living is inherently flawed. They need masters like us, so that they can know how to behave like humans. Do you get it now?"

Geoffrey nodded his head in slow motion.

"Good, now I hope we could have a quiet dinner."

His mother's words caused him to snap out of the daze that his father's words had suffused him in.

Geoffrey soon sprang up to his feet, eager to have a bite of the treats that he had seen his mother prepare.

The family followed to the dining table, with Albert's boisterous laughter echoing around them.
__________________________________

1844, Bhaddaiyan Raj,
India;

Saya giggled as the tip of the twig tickled her palm.

"Stay still, Saya."

Ruqsana's chiding tone caused her to bite her lip.
She nodded her head and sat stiff as her friend applied the henna.

Ruqsana kept her focus solely on the task; a part of her tongue stuck out of her plump mouth as she concentrated to keep the circle even.

After what seemed like the longest few minutes of Saya's life, Ruqsana straightened with a pleased smile.

"It is done!"

She faced Saya's palm to her, allowing her to admire her workmanship.

"It is beautiful, Ruqsana! Where did you learn this?"

Ruqsana raised her chin haughtily.

"I have seen ammi applying this."

Saya's gaze was transfixed at the mehandi on her palm.
She could not wait for the paste to dry, so that she could see the colour for itself. Bringing her hand close to her face, she deeply inhaled the scent of henna.

They sat at the southern end of the terrace, overlooking the street beyond the Palace boundary.

Above them, the overhangs of the boundary archways provided some reprieve against the blistering summer sun.

There was no breeze today. The leaves atop the trees remained deathly still and the stone walls burnt to touch.

"There you are! I have been searching everywhere for you."

Both the girls snapped their gaze towards the voice, surprised at the intrusion.

Saya's expression turned sheepish when she saw Uma making her way to them.

"We...we just..."

She struggled to find a proper excuse for their little rendezvous. She knew she would have to present a decent reason for slipping away from the central courtyard, where the rest of the ladies of the palace were busy celebrating the pre-wedding rituals.

To make matters worse, she had also dragged Ruqsana with her.

Uma raised a challenging brow, waiting for her to continue.

Saya and Ruqsana exchanged furtive glances, each urging the other to come up with something.

Uma beat them to it however, when she whisked out the bowl of henna paste that they had so craftily managed to hide behind one of the pots.

"So, this is the reason. I suppose that this came here by mistake?"

Saya bit her lip nervously, carefully hiding her hands in the confines of her ghagra.

Uma directed the brunt of her intimidation on Ruqsana.
It did not take long for her to cave in.

"We just wanted to decorate our hands."

Saya nodded her head and guiltily brought forth both her hands- palms up.

Uma's face softened as she gently held her hands.

"This is beautiful."

Saya's face perked up with immediate delight, pleased with the woman's observation.

"Isn't it? Ruqsana made this."

"Then she is very talented indeed."

Ruqsana blushed at her praise, opting to look at the hem of her sleeve instead.

"But why does this seem smudged?"

Uma frowned, squinting at the design.

Saya gasped as she realised her mistake. She swung her gaze to the back of her ghagra, whining upon discovering the henna smeared on the fabric.

"Well, you should have waited for your turn. You know Hamida Bibi would gladly have designed one for you."

Uma's words were met with a sulking pout from the eight-year-old.

"But ammi was busy with the other ladies!"

Ruqsana's emphatic objection caused Uma to sigh with defeat. There was no chance of winning this argument.

"Alright. But now you both need to come with me.
Maharani has been looking for you, Rajkumari. And Hamida Bibi is going mad with worry for you, Ruqsana."

Both the girls concurred that obeying Uma would be the wisest action on their part and proceeded to follow her with an air of martyrdom, waiting for the imminent reprimand.
__________________________________

"Higher, Uma!"

Saya shouted at the top of her lungs.

Uma grunted with the effort it took for her to get the plucking pole near the top branch.

Saya clapped her hands with excitement when she saw the pole touch a ripe mango.

With another tug, the fruit fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Saya ran towards it with the motivation of a trained fruit picker. However, her glorious prize was snatched before her eyes, by none other than her own brother.

"Bhaiya! That was my mango!"

Rajvir smirked at his sister's annoyed expression.

Saya watched with a horrified look as he rubbed the fruit against his kurta before sinking his teeth into its delicious flesh.

"Now it is in my stomach."

Saya's eyes brimmed with angry tears.
Behind her, Uma struggled to contain her displeasure at the prince's act. But she knew that her words were not warranted. Instead, she spoke in a tentative tone,

"Rajkumari, do not worry. I will get you another one."

Saya shook her head.

"No. This was the best one, Uma. I will tell Bade-Pitaji about this!"

Rajvir scoffed with his mouth full.

"Go ahead. He will not be scolding me anymore, dear behena. I am not a child anymore. I am fifteen.
Have you forgotten? I am going to get married by the end of the week. And my bride is none other than the only daughter of the King of Bharatgarh."

Saya felt herself fuming at his words. She knew he was right. Ever since his betrothal, the entire palace had been treating him differently.
They were much more cautious of his needs and likes.

He himself had changed for the worse. She missed the days he would play around with her and pluck fruits for her. He had turned boisterous and teased her mercilessly.

But even now, Saya was positive of the fact that her Bade-Pitaji wouldn't bat an eyelash in taking her side.

However, before she could voice her conviction, they heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching procession.

All of them turned towards the voices, some of which were just cries of lamentation and grief.

Rajvir and Saya rushed towards the edge of the bageecha, ignoring Uma's protestations.

Saya stopped abruptly, upon witnessing the massive convoy on the trail at the opposite end.

The people were all dressed in white. Some of them were crying while the others moved with morose faces.

As the procession advanced, she saw a palanquin carried by four young men. Sitting inside it, wearing a traditional bridal attire, was a girl not more than her brother's age.
Beside her lay a shrouded corpse of a man.

Before Saya could process the sight, the palanquin had moved forward.

"Ram! Ram! You are not supposed to look at it, Rajkumari! And you too, Yuvraj... This is a bad omen for your wedding."

Uma twisted Saya towards the opposite direction.

"But what is that, Uma?"

Saya's voice trembled as she spoke.

Uma hesitated, avoiding the little girl's eyes.

"That is a sati convoy."

Rajvir's voice was tense.
He gulped, trying to soothe the chill that had run through his arms.

The footsteps had all but quietened when Saya turned her head to her brother.

"What is that? Why was the girl dressed like that, when all the men were dressed in white clothes?"

Uma sighed before speaking in a cautious tone,

"She was dressed like that because her husband had died, Rajkumari. And now she is going to join him in his death."

Saya scrunched her brows, trying to understand the meaning behind Uma's words.

"But why? Would she not miss her family?"

Uma smiled soberly.

"She has no place in this world now. After a girl's marriage, her husband is supposed to be her world. If he is not there, she has no purpose to live anymore. She has to fulfil her vows of sacred matrimony.
That girl is going to perform her ultimate penance. By doing this, she is going to achieve moksha- the highest form of salvation. She will be revered as the most devoted wife."

Saya nodded her head absently, struggling to understand Uma's words.

"Now, do not dwell on it anymore. Let us go back to the palace."

Uma held her hand and pulled her gently towards the opposite side.

Saya gave one last glance at the now-empty road and the dust that still hung in the air.

"What are you looking at? Did you not hear what she said? I do not want to attract any ill luck before my wedding. Let us leave."

Rajvir's stern eyes blocked her view and she turned back with a huff.
Maybe she would get her answers some other time...
__________________________________

Glossary:

*All the dialogues in italics are spoken in hindi *
*Ghagra- A form of skirt worn by women and girls as daily wear.
*Bhaiya- Big brother
*Maharani- Queen
*Bade-pitaji- uncle (father's elder brother)
*Rajkumar- Prince
*Rajkumari- Princess
*Mehandi- henna
*Behena- Sister

*Uma is Saya's personal maid.

Author's Note-

Hello to all my wonderful readers!
This is the prologue for the book. Saya and Geoffrey are still children.

What did you think of it?

We see how people were brainwashed and prejudiced about the customs and mere existence of others.

The colonisers usually carried the mindset of Albert. They really thought they were 'helping' the people of the colonies, not realising that in doing so, they were stripping them of their freedom, self respect, individuality and lot more.

What is your take on colonialism?

P.S. I'll be uploading one chapter per week. (preferably every Sunday).

I just wanted to give you a glimpse at the story through the prologue.
I hope you like it.

Till the next time 👋