The Kala Wada (Black Mansion), the official residence of the Peshwa in Saswad was witness to mixed emotions during the festival of Holi. It was the month of March in 1720 and the lady of the house Radhabai was happy that her husband Balaji Vishwanath was home for the spring festival of colour. Sadly this time the presence of the Peshwa was more a cause for concern than for festivities.

The Peshwa was rarely home on such occasions but his last battle against Sambhaji II of Kolhapur, King Shahu's rival, had left him exhausted and his health suffered. He came down with fever and retired to his mansion in Saswad to rest and recuperate. His illness had dampened the family's enthusiasm to celebrate Holi.

The year that went by had taken it's toll on the Peshwa. He had returned triumphant from Delhi, having forced the Mughals to acknowledge the supremacy of King Shahu in the Deccan and had liberated Shahu's immediate family who were languishing in Mughal captivity for several years. 

Radhabai devoted herself to looking after her ailing husband. His tired frame had endured over five decades, endless campaigns, political intrigue and diplomacy. He had many firsts to his credit, being the first Chitpawan Brahmin Peshwa among the Deshastha predecessors. Having being the king's general first his role as a Peshwa combined his military responsibilities with his administrative ones. 

In a decade of service to Shahu he had risen to the highest position in the Satara court and had bulldozed through a maze of political rivals and adversaries to make himself indispensable to the ruler. His mission to Delhi had already set the pace for the Maratha expansionist ambition.

Kashi occupied herself in overseeing the household as her mother-in-law tried to restore the Peshwa's health. The vaidya, a professional healer, visited the mansion daily, to examine the patient and prescribe herbal medication. The sombre expression of the vaidya made Radhabai apprehensive though she kept her thoughts to herself, trying to appear cheerful and energetic in the presence of her husband. Godubai, the wife of the Peshwa's older brother, who lived under the same roof, was perceptive enough to gauge her co-sister's turmoil.

Godubai knew that Radhabai had a lion's share in the Peshwa's mighty achievements. When he was invariably away from home Radha had brought up her children single-handedly and made sure that her sons Baji and Chimaji were well-trained to follow their father in the service of the Maratha Empire. Godubai was also privy to the personal heartache Radha had suffered to discover that her husband had secretly taken a mistress who had borne him an illegitimate son called Bhikaji. That Bhikaji had grown to resemble Baji (though he was a shade darker) was a constant reminder to Radha of her husband's infidelity.

All Kashi wanted was to celebrate Holi with Rau. She had been dreaming of the day when Rau would douse her with rose coloured gulal  and she would try to run from his advances, hoping that he would chase her till she was captive in his arms. Instead she had to contend with spending time with Godubai. To Kashi's disappointment Rau had spent the entire morning with the Peshwa's loyal subordinates discussing strategy as well as reaffirming their fraternal bonds by splashing colour over each other.

"As if spending time with that Ranoji Shinde is more exciting than playing Holi with one's legitimate wife!" Kashi whined to herself wondering when Rau would remember to meet her. 

"Just between the two of us, life can be so unfair! No matter how the husband treats his wife,  society expects her to serve him devotedly. Poor Radha, she has struggled to bring up her children so that Bhaoji was at liberty to rise meteorically in his career. One would think the man would care to honour his wife for the kind of sacrifices she made! Who knew even the wife of the man holding the highest office in the Satara court would have to share her husband with some other woman!"

" Do you see her caring for him like nothing ever happened? As if we are born to endure and accept everything as our fate! Do you see any man reciprocate his wife's loyalty in equal measure? It was on the occasion of Rang Panchami that the innocent Jija, the little  daughter of Lakhoji Jadhav innocently splashed coloured water on her future husband Shahaji. How many people know the truth about what a tempestuous marriage the two entered into years later?"

"Lakhoji never saw his son-in-law as his equal in status and this rankled Shahaji so much that he snubbed Jijabai by taking another wife called Tukabai and chose to spend the rest of his days with her. The proud Jijabai then made it her life's mission to bring up her son Shivaji single handedly and to inspire him to establish Hindavi Swaraj! Radha's story may be slightly different but there are nuances of the defiant and determined Jijabai in her!" Godubai's advancing age had made her unpretentiously scornful of the consequences of her verbal volleys because she was a woman who always told the truth, no matter how unpalatable it was!

Kashi did not know how to react. She owed it to her in-laws to show solidarity towards them yet there was an unmistakable aura of candour in Godubai's words. This only served to make the young Peshwa bride uncomfortable. "No, my Lord can never betray my trust!" She told herself firmly in order to convince herself to ignore Godubai's thinly veiled warning. Godubai would often make explosive revelations that acted as moments of epiphany, These were unlikely to happen with Radhabai who had honed her skills of diplomacy and statecraft by perceptively observing the Peshwa's Machiavellian professional manoeuvres. 

Kashi looked at the untouched coloured powders on her salver gloomily. She no longer felt cheerful as she had been when the Holi bonfire had been set alight to commemorate the burning of the Holika (Holika was an ogress in Hindu mythology who had tried to harm her virtuous nephew Prahlad). Kashi felt guilty about trying to fantasize about romancing with her husband when his father lay on the sickbed. "There will be a Shimga next year too!" She consoled herself by reaffirming that the festival of colour was sure to return the next year. 

Even the sweetness of the nutmeg scented sweet stuffed lentil bread puran poli, with the scrumptious drizzle of melted butter on it, failed to entice the forlorn Kashi. Nobody found her behaviour unusual as there was a pall of gloom in the women's quarters due to the Peshwa's recent illness. As expected the men and women of the family had their festive repast in separate dining rooms and after the meal they retired to the privacy of their chambers for the much needed siesta.

Kashi used the opportunity to retreat into her own chamber and made some spiced betel leaf parcels as she waited patiently for her elusive husband to appear. The sound of footsteps approaching the door filled her heart with excitement. Bajirao walked in as he always did, with the energy of a hurricane and the calculated pace of a tiger on the prowl.

"We thought you would spend the rest of the day in the phad planning battles with Sardar Shinde." Kashi spoke as docilely as was humanly possible when she actually wanted to yell at Rau out of sheer frustration. Rau smiled as he sensed her disguised insolence. 

"If Ranoji was a beautiful and sensuous woman your apprehension would be understandable! Don't forget that he has been our childhood playmate and a loyal companion in battle, someone who would willingly stare death in the face as long as he is fighting for our cause." Rau clarified.

"Maybe we don't understand much about your warfare and diplomacy but has Swami forgotten that it is Shimga today?" Kashi had her back to Rau, unwilling to meet his eyes lest they admonish her for defying him.

Kashi felt what resembled a shell explode on her back and in the very next moment she was bathed in a pink cloud of rose scented gulal. 

"You mean you missed playing Rang Panchami with us?" Rau stood grinning before her as she turned to examine the source of the colourful assault. As much as she tried to look she saw no obvious container bearing colours in her husband's vicinity. 

"My Lord, what is happening? We don't see your fingers covered with any coloured powder. Then where did this gulal come from?" She asked, wanting the secret demystified. 

"From this!" Bajirao shouted out a fair warning before reaching into his pocket and hurling what seemed as fragile as an egg shell at his wife. The moment the object hit her it exploded in a riot of scented powder colour. 

"This is called a gulal gota, a handcrafted lac shell that is stuffed with gulal!" He explained, laughing at her expression.

"But we've never seen one before!" Kashi remarked. This was probably a foreign invention, she thought.

"It is not made by the Firangis if that is what you were imagining! These are a speciality of Rajputana, and are made by Muslim craftsmen. Would you like one?" He offered her a couple of shells and invited her to use them. Without a moment's hesitation Kashi hurled one at Rau and it strew his shirtfront with a splash of gulal.

"Now you cannot complain that we only celebrated Shimga with men like Ranoj! Laadubai, looks like you may need a bath urgently and we may be of some assistance!" Rau continued to grin widely as he lifted his unsuspecting wife off her feet and made his way to the bathing area, wondering how much fun it would be to soap her back and to have her return the favour. Maybe they would do something more exciting than bathing too, while they were at it!