Hada Queen's Sacrifice

What is folklore? They are history and bravery with a lack of proof, and are often lost in people's storytelling due to a lack of proper documentation. The ones who survive make the heroes and villains immortal. Here I have put forward two very popular Rajasthani folklores in a single representation. I have not read these in the current representative form, but have posted them as stories to make them more interesting and to put forward the spirit of the Kshatranis of Rajputana.

Rao Ratan Singh of Salumber was the 13^th Rawat of Salumber, a province that fell under Mewar’s state in the 1660s. His forefathers were the Chundawats who, once in the time of Mokal and Rana Kumbha, had given up their throne for the Sisodia dynasty and were known to serve them with their blood and soul.

The Rao was married to a Hada Rajputani, also Rawats under the Mewar rule; the Hadas were not only loyal chieftains but popular princesses to be married to the rulers of Mewar, hailing from Bundi and surrounding areas. On his wedding day, Rao Ratan Singh was enjoying a peaceful time with his wife Hada Ranisa when a messenger approached his Haveli in the dead of the night. The knocks made him reach out reluctantly as the Hada Rani overheard the conversation.

“Hukum has called upon you.”

“Why now?” Rao Ratan was clearly displeased at the intruder.

“Ranaji is going to fight Aurangzeb. He needs your army and you.” The messenger exclaimed. “It's urgent.”

“Take my army … I will join in a day or two…”

“Hokum, Ranaji has ordered your presence immediately. This war is to save Ranisa Charumati’s honour!”

“All right, all right, you leave with my army, I am coming.” Rao Ratan was clearly reluctant to leave his new bride.

“Rawatji…” Her voice interrupted him in the hallway.

“Ji?” He stopped, still mesmerised by her beauty.

“I heard what the...”

“Ohh, don’t worry about that, I may have to show myself to the Ranaji at dawn.” He smiled, shrugging.

“But… He said it is important that you…”

“My army is enough.” He pulled her towards him. “Come, my love, this is no time to talk war; my desire doesn’t want me to leave you.”

“But…” Hada Rani was disturbed by her husband’s attitude.

She had heard of the clan’s selfless bravery and sacrifices for Rana Kumbha, Chittorgarh and even Rana Pratap Singh. And here Ranaji had called upon his presence, and her husband was too preoccupied drinking in her beauty. For once in her life, she cursed her beauty; she felt what Ranisa Padmavati must have felt with such cursed beauty that could make men lose their morals.

At dawn, she had stepped out of her chambers to be greeted by the other wives, who were surprised to see her up early.

“Is everything fine?”

“Ranaji’s messenger came last night and…” She narrated the tale to the others.

“That’s strange!” One of the queens exclaimed aloud, “He is still here; usually, he is the first to leave at Ranaji’s beck and call.”

“Her beauty must have stopped him.” Another giggled with a hint of jealousy that made Hada Rani’s heartache some more.

“Let’s read the Veer Gatha now, shall we, Maasa?” the young adopted prince was calling out to the queens.

Rani Hada followed the others into the room where the book of brave hearts was opened.

“Today we talk about the Rajkumarisa of Oodipur. She was one intriguing lady. Once her husband, Rawat Jaswant Singh, was ready to go to war, she, being his chief queen, did his tilak. She was a Chauhan Rajput, one who had the blood of the mighty Chauhans. She told him in a smiling gesture, ‘ Return when you win or don’t return at all.’ He agreed.”

“Then?” Rani Hada asked eagerly, but a little disturbed.

“He left for war and was losing the battle when he managed to escape with a handful of soldiers and returned to his palace. To his surprise, the door to the palace was shut so were the back door and side doors.”

“Why?” Rani Hada asked, surprised as one of the queens giggled, “Patience, Behena.”

“He called out to her, but no one came. Tired and wounded, he set up camp at the gates when her messenger came to him with a letter. It said, ‘ I told you to win or not return, I am a Chauhan, and no Chauhan accepts an escapist as a husband. You are henceforth not my husband and have lost your right over me, the palace and the land, for your cowardice.’ Jaswant couldn’t believe the high morals she kept, determined to win her back, he waged a war again. He won this time, two months after she had shut the gates for him, and when he returned, he found the gates flung open with celebrations going on, and there she was in her wedding dress waiting to do his Vijay tilak. Such was the persona of the princess that left her husband in awe as he bowed before his lady.”

“Ranisa.” A daasi interrupted. “ Rani Hada ji has been called upon by Raoji.”

“Me?” She saw the smiles around the room as she managed to put up a fake smile and approached his room. Dressed in his armour, he smiled at her, pulling her close.

“I don’t wish to leave you my love, but Ranaji’s order…”

“Let me do your tilak.”

“No, just stay with me some more.” His words made her look at the man with… she closed her eyes.

“Raoji, the horses are ready.” The Sevak stopped at the threshold.

“Tilak?” The Hada queen insisted.

“I will be back as soon as I…”

“Win the war for Ranaji.” Her words made him smile. As he walked out of the room to bid goodbye to the rest, she stood at the threshold to watch him stare back at her again and again before turning the corner.

“I feel he will come back before the war for you, Ranisa” Her Daasi giggled as she stared at her words. A man's desire had taken over his morals and duties.

“Get me a box and a sword.” Her request surprised the Daasi, who did as she was told.

Closing the door behind her, she told the daasi, “Listen carefully, the thing I cut with this sword needs to be delivered to Raoji at the gates before he departs, understand?” She put a note in the empty box.

“But what…. RANISA!” The daasi shrieked in shock as Rani Hada took the sword and cut her own head off in one go. Her lifeless body lay in the pool of blood, her face wore a smile of the new bride’s pride. Trembling, the daasi took her head and placed it in the box.

“Raoji! Raoji!” A messenger arrived near his horse box in his hand. Ratan Singh was busy searching the Jharokhas for his lady love.

“Ranisa Hada Bai sent you this.” He panted, scared.

“What? She misses me already?” A smile curved his lips.

“Hurry, Raoji, we are late.” His minister reminded him.

“No, let me first see what my beloved wife…” Opening the box, he was in shock. His ministers rushed to his side, seeing him tremble as they shrieked at the cut-off head.

“Who dared to…” A minister took out his sword as his eyes fell on the note. Ratan Singh sat numbly as he heard what it said.

“I have heard of the Chundawat Rajputs’ bravery and sacrifices. I have heard they put their motherland and serve their Ranaji over personal pleasure. I had heard the same about you, Raoji, but I think it is my beauty that made you forget your Dharma. What is such beauty but a curse if it makes a Rajputani the reason behind her man’s loss of Dharma? Hence, this is for my self-respect, that I end myself from this cursed beauty. Win and return Raoji.”

Shocked, the soldiers looked at each other as the Rao sat numb. The Ranimahal was filled with shock and fear at Raoji’s numbness. He stood up, surprising the people.

“It’s time to go to war!” He spoke determined and tearful. “It’s time to serve Ranaji and Mewar! Like she wanted me to. I had forgotten my Dharma for her. It made my beloved lose her life. Let’s pay her respect back with blood.”

He turned to his eldest queen and caressed his son’s head.

“I may not return. Make him Salumber’s 14^th Rao.” He made a tearful queen promise.

He rode off towards Kotah to join the triple alliance in a historic battle against Aurangzeb. In the war, he fought valiantly and led his men bravely, upholding his Dharma and died a hero. He had no wish to stay alive and return to the palace where her blood had soaked into his sins. He remained Raj Singh’s most remembered aide in the battle, and his son was acknowledged with his position.

Years later, today, in the lonely, broken haveli of Salumber, his statue with the Hada queen’s head makes their story immortal and still sends a shiver down one’s spine at the spirit and bravery of these women, the ideologies they followed, and the high self-esteem they upheld. Many may term these as emotionally irrational actions, but for a true Rajputani, nothing was more important than the morals she lived by, and thus, the Hada queen’s sacrifice remains immortal in the pages of History and Folklore.

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