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"Sarkar, this is not a moment to be emotional. It is obvious that my end is near and I see no point in keeping our conversation formal. As you know I have lived out my life and have no regrets about handing over the baton. It is time for me to repay my debts to my dear friends such as Sambhaji Mokashi, who risked a sea burial for my sake and Balaji Mahadji Bhanu, who was mistaken for me and killed during our Delhi campaign."

"I am grateful to them and many other loyal friends and subordinates without whose assistance my life's mission would not be accomplished. And Sarkar, my life would not have been the same without your invaluable partnership. I trust that you will show the grace to forgive my trespasses and will continue to be at the helm of affairs as you have always been. Now if you don't mind, I wish to speak to Rau alone!" Radhabai was aware that her ailing husband was still in command of his memory and his sharp mind even if his body was febrile and frail. Although she had served him loyally all his life there were nuances of his existence that she did not share as much as Rau did. She complied silently by leaving the room so that her firstborn could be alone with his father.

Rau offered some drinking water to Balaji and he gulped a few sips with tremendous effort. The Peshwa's frame could barely keep up with his strong will. He had to give his heir-apparent some invaluable tips before the fever could addle his mind. He asked his son to use bolsters to prop him up slightly.

"Rau, promise me that you will carry on the mammoth task I had undertaken for the revival of Hindavi Swaraj! You must dedicate every moment of your life for the cause. Don't forget, the nation always comes before self! But it is equally true that to maintain peace and stability you have to take over the reigns of power from me if the Chhatrapati's dream has to be realised."

"He is surrounded by countless ambitious and ruthless men, if they manage to succeed me all will be lost. His Highness is vulnerable to the influence of my enemies, you will have to be constantly vigilant. One blunder and you shall pay dearly." The Peshwa laboured through the minutes as he continued to share tips and ply the young man with priceless advice. 

"Nana, you must be tired, and your fever is persistent. Take rest. We can go over the rest tomorrow!" Rau's affection for his father prevailed making him drop the honorific "Shrimant". Balaji had always been addressed as Nana by his family and close friends.

"I don't have time for that, my son! Now listen carefully!" Balaji ignored his son's warning.

"After me naturally you shall be the head of the family. Always honour and care for your mother and sisters. And keep Chimaji close to you always. Both of you have exemplary qualities and yet he is very different. His idealist views are in contrast to your pragmatic approach. Don't let your differences affect your filial bond."

"There is also another matter that has been weighing me down. No woman likes the idea of having to share her husband's affection. I know your mother is deeply hurt to know about the circumstances of Bhikaji's birth. He may not be my legitimate offspring but his mother has served me diligently and you must promise to take care of her and the boy. Make sure they are well provided for. I cannot possibly entrust the Peshwin with this responsibility." Balaji suffered from a bout of coughing due to his exertion. He had to stop talking to let it tide over.

"Nana, please take rest now! I assure you that everything shall be done as you will, your wish is my command. You really need to get some sleep now! Even mother needs to rest but she refuses to leave your side. I will send her in now. Hope the fever eases during the night." Rau placed a cold compress on his father's fevered brow. As the Peshwin walked in she asked Rau to leave and get some rest while she continued to care for her husband through the night.

"You look exhausted, let me get some warm milk to revive you!" Kashi was worried to see her husband's crestfallen expression. She had not seen him the entire day, he had been occupied with official work in his father's absence and later he spent hours by his ailing father's bedside. 

"Never mind the milk, just stay close to me and see if you can massage my forehead." He held his wife's delicate palm to his brow and she used her fingertips to help ease his stress gently. She knew Rau was under duress. The work was especially demanding and the Peshwa's health showed no sign of improvement. She sensed that Rau had fallen asleep and she covered him with a sheet, blew off the lamp and lay down besides him. She could sense that her life had changed. She was no longer the carefree bride she had been a few months ago. She saw her husband only sporadically now as he was always busy assisting his father in battle campaigns.

When the heavens have ordained otherwise mortals are left with no choice but to accept what they dole out. The Peshwa family did not celebrate the Gudhi Padwa of 1720. Balaji Vishwanath passed away in the early hours of the morning just as the family was getting up. Word was sent to the Purandare mansion. Dispatch riders rushed with the message in all directions. The King had to be informed urgently along with other dignitaries, family and friends.

Family members and close friends gathered at the Peshwa's mansion to pay their last respects to the departed. The obsequies were rather solemn and the grief characteristically understated as was appropriate to the Peshwa's high office. Rau and Chimaji led the pall bearers as the funeral procession made it's way to the banks of the Karha river to a spot that had been earmarked, close to the Purandare's black mansion. The rites were performed by Rau and the late Peshwa's mortal remains were consigned to the flames on the river bank across from the ancient Sangameshwar shrine.

The appropriate Hindu rituals pertaining to the demise were carried out over the next ten days. Chhatrapati Shahu announced a three day state mourning. To Kashi's eyes no ritual could be more painful than that of the bestowing of widowhood upon her bereaved mother-in-law. Radhabai's jewellery was stripped off a piece at a time until she was rid of every ornament on her person. Her green glass bangles depicting her marital status were shattered over a stone. Her wedding necklace called the mangalsutra, her pearl nose ring called nath, her silver toe rings- all obligatory marks of her matrimonial bond with her husband, could never be worn again along with the rest of her jewellery, now that her husband had passed on.

The vermilion mark in the centre of her forehead was wiped off symbolically. In a cruel practice known as Kesh Vapan (tonsuring) the Peshwin's long tresses were shaved off using a barber's razor. From now on she would have to drape a drab maroon saree as was customary among Brahmin widows (widows from other community dressed in white). The long end of the saree was to be wrapped tightly around oneself in order to cover the bald head and body for modesty's sake as no other garment was permitted to be worn, not even a blouse. 

The renunciation of the widow was not restricted to just attire, she had to devote the rest of her days to fasting, prayer and penance. Her palate could never enjoy her favourite spicy or sweet delicacies again, having to adjust to a bland rudimentary diet. The giving up of all pleasures was the price one paid for not having to immolate oneself in the husband's funeral pyre. The practice of Sati was not prevalent among the Brahmins of Maharashtra. That did not mean that the widow's life was any easier. There was simply no question of remarriage or rehabilitation of a widow. A young bride widowed in childhood often lost all desire to survive and wasted away to meet a premature death.

Though Kashi was not unfamiliar with the rigors faced by Hindu widows she balked at the sight of the widowed Radhabai who had always been a powerful figure as the matriarch of the Peswa household. It was difficult even for her children to accept their mother's unadorned appearance in the maroon saree. Please Lord, let me die before having to ever face the indignity of widowhood, Kashi prayed silently. 

She had, however, not failed to notice that Radhabai bore her widow's status with the same unwavering dignity as the head of the household. The many days spent ministering over her ailing husband had helped prepare her mentally for her new role. For Radhabai, an age had passed but another was just beginning. If everything went as planned by the erstwhile Peshwa her part in the new script would remain largely unaltered. And she was ready to take on any challenge that life threw up, tonsured head and all!