The Arsonist: Poet, Weaver, Seer, Blasphmer by Kiran Nagarkar

The Arsonist: Poet, Weaver, Seer, Blasphemer by Kiran Nagarkar
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The author has reimagined a hash of Kabir's time and the present times (circa 2014 onwards) and has presented on how Kabir would have acted or spoken if these were happenings in his time. Every chapter ends with an inimitable doha of Kabir and its simple translation.

The book is full of what some may call blasphemy, but that is what Kabir was full of.

In the first chapter he is asked whom will you prefer "A beautiful woman or God, A sunset or God or a song and God" and each time he says he prefers the former as God would always wait but the former would pass on.

The chapter ends with the doha.

Kabir yeh ghar prem ka,
Khaala ka ghar naahi,
Sheesh utaare bhuin dharey,
Tab paithe ghar maahi.

Kabir, this is the dwelling of love,
Not the home of your aunt,
Bend you head (ego) low, all the way to the floor,
Only then can you enter it.

Kabir talks of his wanderings in the Himalayas after running away from his family. He says he performed severe austere rites and subjected his body to rigours which few could endure like not using blankets even in severe winter, not eating for days together etc. He was being hailed as a Maharishi for his forbearance. He says a blacksmith's wife came with her son who was not good at learning and was being thrashed by this father every week. This boy tries to give Kabir blanket to cover himself which he refuses, then he tries to him food. Kabir refuses both. He says he had given up his family who were precious to him, now he is forsaking the blanket and food which are precious to him now so that he can reach the Almighty. What is left unsaid is that, this is his ego that was speaking. The blacksmith's son tells him "Then you should let go of the Almighty too?". The import of the meaning does not strike Kabir then, but as he mulls over he gets the real meaning of what the blacksmith's son said and makes him his guru.
Ja ghat prem na sancharey
So ghat jaan masaan,
Jaise khaal lohar ki,
Saan let bin praan.

That pot which is not filled with love,
Beware, it is as barren as the burial grounds,
Just like the blacksmith's bellows,
It breathes bereft of life.

Kabir runs a weaving factory producing cloth for the king of the land and many are enrolled in his classes cum factory. The high class members protest against the freedom of the low caste people working in the factory. Kabir sushes them by saying that God allows all humans to enter heaven irrespective of their class. If at all, he tells the upper caste people, he will ask the so called lower caste people to throw people like you who use the caste system to suppress a whole set of people.

Kabir kaun ek hai,
Panihaari anek,
Bartan sab ke nyare nyare,
Paani sab mein ek.

Kabir there is but one well,
but many draw water from it.
The pots come in all shapes and sizes,
But all contains the same water.

Once when a weaver in the factory asks him are you Hindu or a Muslim. He says that he is confused about his religious belief. He says God himself must be confused as to if he is a Hindu, or a Muslim, or a Christian or any of the other numerous religions that humans have created. So who is he to say that he clearly understand what his religion is.

Man ke mate na chaliye,
Man ke mate anek,
Jo man par aswaar ho,
So sadhu koi ek.

Don't let your mind lead you,
It is pulled in every direction by desires
The one who rides his mind
Now that is a rare saint.

He says the problem with a guru is that often one cannot see beyond the guru. The guru is a vision and a blinker at the same time. It is easy to forget one is not searching for the guru but for God. Once one has found a guru and have understood this teachings it is time to think of leaving him and making one's own way.

Boond samaani samand mein,
Jaanat hai har koi,
Samand samaana boond mein,
Jaanat birla koi.

The drop becomes one with the ocean,
Everyone knows this,
It is the rare soul who grasps,
That the ocean fits into the drop.

Once when his assistants started arguing as to if only Muslims will go to heaven and all others will go to heaven Kabir douses their heated battle with a vat of dye being used in the factory and tells them Shias will not allow Sunnis in their heaven and vice versa. He says the heavens are infinite and have space for every one. And he adds saying that the fights of us earthlings will come to and end as we being mortals will die and the fight will end, but those in heavens are immortal and there will be a permanent world war there.

Pathhar puje hari miley,
Toh main puju pahad,
Taase toh chaaki bhali,
Pees khaaye sansar.

If one found God by worshipping a stone,
Then I would worship a mountain,
By that measure a grinding stone is far better,
The whole world consumes what it grinds.

He argues how men philander but expect their women to be chaste and behind their burqa or veils. His wife argues that she is free to do with her body as she pleases, just as he does with his body and none has the authority to stop her from doing what she wants. As the argument gets heated Kabir pronounces the three times the dreaded word "Talaaq, Talaaq, Talaaq". Instead of being mortified with anger his wife rejoices saying that she is happy that she is now free from his fetters. She throws him out of her house where they had been living after Kabir had gambled away his own house. When he begs to be allowed to stay on so that he does not become a laughing stock in the town his wife offers him her burqa so that he can wear it and walk the streets without anyone recognizing him.
Soon his wife starts missing his humour. She says "Humour is not just fun and laughter, it is a call to sanity. It exposes all our inanities, platitudes and solemnities, our insufferable egotism, our endless self-regard and hubris. The curious thing is that it is as much a mirror to the follies of others as it is a dressing down of oneself. The moment is is infected with sentimentality it turns squelchy. Even stark poverty and starvation can then be romanticized and made to look desirable. It also comes handy when you want to pass the buck to someone else or disown responsibility. On the contrary, when it is clear eyed, it can see through all kinds of sham and chicanery. It may be harsh, but it is also healing."

Kankar pathar jod key,
Masjid liye banaaye,
Taa chad mulla bang de,
Kyaa behra hua khudaaye?

Putting stones and rocks together,
You build a mosque,
Then climbing to the top the mullah sings the azam,
Does he think God is deaf?

Have you noticed something else? Something bizzare? Satan, I mean Lucifer, has all the time in the world, and I mean quality time, for all of us. He is always available. Not just that, he takes the initiative, he is patient, he is persevering and, most of all he never gives up on us. He is always there, even when we do not want him. In fact especially when we do not want him.

Why does God get all the credit for good and why is all even attribute to Satan? If God is the creator, the can handle both. You must decide who is in charge here, my friends. Only then will you understand that all polarities and divisions are sacrilege. God, if I may use one of these newfangled academic terms, is the unified theory of the universe. Good and evil, warmonger and pacifist, Hindu, Muslim, Jew, Christian, Buddhist, materialist and preacher, atheist and believer are all encompassed in Him. He is large enough and wise enough to accommodate all contradictions.

Karni kare toh kyun dare,
Aur kari kyun pachhtaaye
Tune boya ped babul ka,
To aam kahan se khaaye.

Having committed the deed,
Why would you be afraid, and then repent,
First you sow the thorny babul,
Then how come you expect to eat mangoes.

During holi Kabir was dancing and enjoying with the general public in their revelry. The mullah sees him and tells him for this he go to hell. Kabir replies "Thank you for your generous offer to find accommodation for me in hell, mullah. But perhaps you can enlighten me about a rather delicate matter. Who gave some of us the incredible benediction of a singing voice? The boon of dancing feet? And the gift of transcribing the sky, the Himalayan peaks, or the sheer extravagance of the flowers in the Kashmir valley or the intimacy between a man and woman? The miracle that conjoins speech with language and thus allows us to communicate with each other and tell marvellous stories? Certainly not you but our Maker. And now you have the gall, Shahi Imam, to place yourself about God himself and pass fiats and dikats in His name. You claim obeisance to the Almighty but in fact are shamelessly usurping his role. What is the make of the fact that you and your brothers in the priesthood insist that all women and men cover their heads? If God had disliked mankind's hair so much, he would have made no just women but all of us men also as bald. After all as you never stop repeating, He is the Creator and He knows the best".

Jab main thaa tab Hari nahi,
Ab Hari hain main nahi,
Prem gali ati saankari,
Taa me do na samaayi,

When I was the Almighty was not,
Now that He is, I am not,
The path of love is very narrow,
Two cannot fit in it.

When the fatality numbers rise to hundreds, thousands and hundreds of thousands, what you get is a pestilence like the plague, cholera or the pox as in small pox. Murder, however is a different kettle of fish. The top honcho on earth, none other than man himself, is the agent of perdition here.

Mala toh kaar mein phire,
Jeebh phire mukh mahin,
Manwa toh chahun dish phire,
Yeh toh simran nahi.

The beads move between the fingers,
The tongue rolls in the mouth,
If the mind wanders everywhere,
that surely isn't meditation.

Pothi padh padh kar jag mua,
Pandit bhayo na koye,
Dhai aakhar prem ke,
Jo padhe so pandit hoye.

Reading holy texts time and again,
Didn't ever produce a great scholar,
The one who lives by the four letters of the word love,
He alone will become a pandit.

The latter half of the book is fully about riots due to religious differences in the kingdom and about a gang massacring elephants for their tusks and how the king's men chase them down and catch them.

Bura jo dekhan main chala,
Toh bura na miliya koi,
Jo man khoja aapna,
Toh mujsey bura na koyi.

In my quest to spot the evil ones,
I found none who were evil,
On delving deep into myself,
I found none more evil than me.



Dukh mein sumiran sab karey,
Sukh mein kare na koye,
Jo sukh mein sumiran karey,
To dukh kahe ko hoye.

We invariably remember Him when we are disconsolate,
No one, however, thinks of Him when one is happy,
But if you remember Him when the times are good,
Why would bad times bother you?

Never forget, God, whichever creed He belongs to, is an extremely competitive guy. He has to be one up on all the other impostors who claim to be Him. So your guess is as good as mine when it comes to picking the right God.

Bada hua toh kya hua,
Jaisi par khajur,
Panthi ki chaaya nahin,
Phal lagey ati door.

Granted you are tall, so what is the big deal?
The date palm is tall,
But it offers no shade to the traveller,
And its fruits are beyond reach.

Pani keraa budbudda,
Us maanas ki jaath,
Dekhat hi chhip jaayega,
Jyon taara parbaat.

Human life is as short,
As a water bubble
It vanishes the moment you see it,
Like stars at dawn.

Kaal chakra chakki chaley,
Bahut diwas aur raat,
Agun sagun doi paatlaa,
Ja mey jeev pisaath.

The grinding stone of death,
Carries on day and night.
The form and formless are its two grinding wheels,
Every one of us is being ground in between.

Kal karey so aaj kar,
Aaj karey so ab.
Pal mein pralaya hoyegi,
Bahuri karogey kab.

What was scheduled for tomorrow, do it today,
What you planned for today do it now.
Who knows there may be a deluge the next minute,
Delay a moment and all may be lost.

Dheerey dheery re mana,
Dheerey sab khuchh hoye,
Maali seenchey so ghara,
Ritu aaye phal hoye.

Slow and steady, oh mind,
Everything will come about in good time,
The gardener may pour lots of water,
But the fruit will only arrive in its own season.

"Can you imagine", God asked in a towering dudgeon, "the gall of trying to bribe the Almighty? The animal kingdom, the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky and all the big and small creatures roaming the earth leave me alone and demand nothing of me. They do their thing and I do mine. But when it comes to men, women and children, what can one say? A pox on them, their demands are endless and they are never ever satisfied."

Jasey til mein tel hai,
Jyon chakamak mein aag.
Tera sai tujh mein hai,
Tu jaag sakey to jaag.

Just as the sesame seed contains oil,
As spark is present in flintstone.
The divine is within you,
Comprehend this if possible.

Sayee itna deejiye,
Ja main kutumb samaye.
Main bhi bhooka na rahoon,
Sadhu na bhookha jaye.

Give me only so much, God,
It ensures that my family is fed,
I should not starve,
Nor should the holy man go hungry.

Where does the evil in us come from? Why is it that when all our needs are satisfied, we still cannot control our inexhaustible greed? Why is it that the less fortunate amongst us, the starving millions, the helpless children, the refugees fleeing their homes under the thread of death do not find succour in our hearts? We know the difference between justice and injustice, between right and wrong, good and evil, and yet when a Hitler turns up we are more than happy to benumb our consciences and let him indulge in holocausts. How come we will not stand up and force our feckless leaders to take stand?
I keep wondering what will happen when finally mankind achieves extinction. How many millions of years will have to pass before the next creatures turn up on earth? What will they look like? will they be far more advanced than us? Will they survive unlike us on carbon dioxide and plastic? And will they too ultimately ensure their own annihilation?

Akath kahani prem ki,
Kuchh kaha na jaye,
Goongey ker sarkara,
Baithey muskaye.

The story of love seals the lips,
It is akin to the mute.
Who has tasted a marvellous sweet,
But can only register a smile.

Kabira garv na keejiye,
Uncha dekh aavaas.
Kaal pairon punyah letna,
Uper jamsi ghaas.

Kabir don't be so haughty,
Living in your mansion.
Tomorrow you will be lying six feet under,
With grass growing on top.

Chinta aisee dakini,
Kaat kaleja khaaye,
Vaid bichaara kya karey,
Kahan tak dawa lagaaye.

worry is such a pickpocket,
It keeps nibbling non-stop at your heart.
How can the poor doctor help,
When this medicine can't cure this malady?

Guru Narayan roop hai,
Guru gyan ko ghat,
Satguru gyan pratap sey,
Man key mitey uchat.

The guru is but an avatar of God,
The guru's wisdom is like a riverbank.
The Lord's light will eliminate,
The darkness of the mind.

Chah gayee, chinta mitee,
Manvah beparvah.
Jisko kacchu na chahiye,
Vahi Shahenshah.

Desire disappeared, anxiety is gone,
The mind is without anxiety.
The one who wants nothing,
He is the king of kings.

Did God make man or man make God?

Must read for lovers of Kabir and Kiran Nagarkar.

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The Extras by Kiran Nagarkar

The Extras by Kiran Nagarkar
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Started the book with great expectations after reading the Cuckold by the same author. This book is very different from Cuckold and it is good not to carry forth any expectation if one has read Cuckold.

The book is about a person called Ravan (Ravan Pawar had been named Ram, but in a moment of indignation his mother renames him Ravan) and a person called Eddie (or Edward Coutinho). Both live one of the several chawls that sprawl Bombay. By quirk of fate Ravan as a child had jumped from the fourth floor and Edwards father who had been drooling at Ravan's mother catches him safely. In the process Edward's father passes away and the long history of a cold war between the two families begins.

Both grow up in the same locality but shun each other's company. Ravan is love with Edward's sister but is unable to bring himself up to speak to her given her convent education compared to his 10th fail status.

Both are them are laid back and are pushed by their mothers to start working. While Ravan starts off as a taxi driver, Eddie starts off as a waiter in one of the several joints that serve country liquor. Both the mothers are dreaming big for their sons.

One common streak that runs through both of them is that both have musical talent and both wish to become actors in the Bollywood. Fate pushes both of them to join the Extras Union of the Bollywood and both end up as extras in many films. They still continue to ignore one another before fate deems otherwise.

Read the book for more of the story. A decent book. Gives a good insight into the life of the extras in the Bollywood cinema.

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On War in Cuckold by Kiran Nagarkar

In the book Cuckold, at one point the prince is shown thinking the following about war.

"When I look at my peers, friends, colleagues, cousins and brothers, I realize what a dullard I am. They carouse together, they go out whoring, they are lively and full of fun and pranks. I would like to join them once un a while but am rarely invited since I am permaturely serious, and would very likely dampen their high spirits. But I am a plodder in other ways too. Even my elders find me a bore and a little too earnest. War is fun and games for them. They dress up, wax their moustaches, ride their steeds and charge blindly. They kill or get killed. Life is simple and far more exciting that way.

War is not my favourite pastime. I would resort to it only under exceptional provocation or if, after thorough planning, I was going for the big kill. The fact is, in the long run, most wars lead nowhere but back to where you started. If I am to fight, I want to make major and if possible, lasting changes in our political geography and fortunes. Otherwise I would rather sit at home and be at peace with my neighbours. I like to prepare myself before a confrontation. I need to do my homework. I want to know every single detail and fact I can lay my hands on about the enemy; the monarch, his generals and his army. I want to learn their likes and dislikes, peccadilloes and predilections; their mental make-up, their previous campaigns, what they eat, their notions of hardship, their sleeping habits and any other trivia you can think of. Most of all, I am interested in finding out how they think. What about contenders and pretenders to the throne? Why fight if you can help along a civil war and get someone else to do all the fighting for you? If internal jealousies and power equations are germane to the final outcome of any war and need to be exploited, it is just as relevant to know the state of mind of the ordinary citizenary. Are the common people tired of conflict or supportive? What was the harvest like, in the current year and in the previous three? Nor just the state of the economy, trade, too has an indirect but very substantial bearing on the enemy's - or for that matter our own - capacity to fight a long war. None of these propositions are very original but I am perplexed by how reluctant most strategists and military commanders are are to follow even the most basic principles of preparing for war. I will grant you this, collecting information, more precisely reliable information, is laborious, time-consuming and a bore. Besides it is effective only if it is done in a sustained manner. Imagine studying the enemy's economic, political and military abilities for months, sometimes years when all that the decisive battle itself will take is three, five or seven hours at most."

Cuckold by Kiran Nagarkar

Cuckold by Kiran Nagarkar
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The author keeps you engrossed in political happenings in the Mewar kingdom, based out of Chittor, from cover to cover. Sprinkled with political intrigue and Machiavellian machinations the book is unputdownable.
The Rajputs of Rajasthan are famous for their bravery which sometimes borders on bravado as they rarely adopt the axiom of "Think before you leap." Thinking before leaping amounts to being a coward and brings shame to any Rajput. Rana Sangha, who very early in his life was left with only one eye, one hand and one leg thanks to his feud with his own blood brothers and his enemies around him. The book is based close to the end of his reign and the sons of his various queens are vying for his throne. Amongst them are sons of of the two foremost queens with contrasting sons.
The crown prince is considered a coward as he adopts the axiom of "Discretion is better part of valour" and is not shy of running away from a battle when he finds that the tide is not in his favour. He does not marry the second time when he finds that his wife is wedded spiritually to Lord Krishna and does not wish to do much to favour him with her wifely duties beyond a point. She is more interested in singing and dancing to Lord Krishna. This leads to her being labeled a courtesan and the town starts making fun of the crown prince and calls him a Cuckold.
The other, disgruntled son Vikramaditya, is a philanderer to say the least and at worst a sadist who will not think twice sleeping with anybody including the eunuchs in the palace. If somebody refuses to sleep with him, it drives him mad enough to adopt any means to secure them. As the author comments about this prince "Self indulgence is bad enough, but combine it with power and your appetite for brutality and evil becomes boundless. Your pleasure is the only law and in its pursuit you may ruin strangers as readily as your close companions."
Rana Sangha is fighting the battle against the Sultan of Gujarat, over the territory of his son-in-law, while the crown prince is managing the affairs at Chittor. One of the various misdemeanors of Vikramaditya forces the Crown Price to imprison him much irritation of Vikramaditya's mother.
The second son, Shehzada Bahadur, of the Sultan of Gujarat runs away from home and seeks asylum in Chittor. The crown prince gives him not only asylum but also treats him as a close friend and accords him with all honour befitting a prince. On a hunting trip Shehzada is mauled by a lion. Everybody had given up hopes on his survival and he is taken care of only by the dai who had breastfed and crown prince.
The crown prince calls upon the vaidya from the kingdom of the Bhils. The Bhils lived in the jungles their king was a close friend of the crown prince. This vaidya cures Shehzada and the Shehdaza becomes indebted to the crown prince.
On one occasion a famous singer is called upon to entertain the royal family including their guests by the crown prince's cousin who is rankling from a defeat in which about 3000 rajputs had been massacred by the Sultan's forces. The crown prince's cousin has arranged for a dance by a set of dancers of whom one happens to be the daughter of a Kazi who had been captured when the rajputs had defeated the Sultan in one of the various battles that they had fought. The Shehzada is enamoured by this girl and keeps asking who she is. The crown prince's cousin takes his opportunity to remind Shehzada about the defeat they had inflicted on his father and struts the girl as a prize catch. This enrages Shehzada enough to murder the cousin in front of everybody. The crown prince saves the life of Shehzada for the second time by carting him away to safety.
In the meantime Vikramaditya's mother being the favourite queen pestered Rana Sangha and the Rana calls the crown prince to take over the battle with the Sultan and Shehzada also takes leave of Chittor to go his own way, looking for means to grab the crown of Gujarat from his father, superseding his elder brother. While the crown prince is in battle with the forces of Gujarat, Rana comes back and releases Vikramaditya and gives him charge of the security of Chittor. Drunk with power and newly found freedom and with nobody to confront him, Vikramaditya and his cronies play havoc with the city.
Almost as soon as the crown prince takes over the battle, he feigns surrender. The commander of the Gujarat army falls for it and sends back about 10000 of his forces back to Gujarat. On the way they are waylaid and they are driven to their death in the nearby swamps. The crown prince along with his companions now employs cunning and guerilla warfare instead of taking the enemy head on and troubles the Gujarat forces to no end. The commander is killed and the Sultan himself comes to lead the army.
One day when the crown prince is with all his chiefs, the sultan of Gujarat makes a surprise attack on the encampment of the Rajput to try and eliminate all their leaders. But the crown price thwarts his attempt. He kills a soldier of Gujarat and puts on the soldier’s garb. He manages to get close to the Sultan by pretending to be a soldier of Gujarat. He kills him taking everyone by surprise. The army of Gujarat, now without a leader surrenders and the crown prince's brother-in-law is made the king of the local kingdom.
When the victorious crown price returns to Chittor, Vikramaditya and his mother have ensured that there is nobody to welcome him back. He is booed at by the citizens of Chittor for not having taken the enemy headon and for having killed the Sultan using deception. Rana Sangha is also conveniently away from Chittor paying respects to their family deity at Pushkar. The day is saved by his wife who comes out to greet him and manages to almost turn him into a hero. She herself is now being hailed as the little saint and everybody folks to the temple where she sings to Lord Krishna.
Rana Sangha comes back and relegates the crown prince to a secondary status. Soon cholera visits Chittor and the crown prince is left to take care of the citizens of Chittor who do have not left it. Slowly the epidemic dies down and the townsfolk attribute it to the efforts of the little saint and blessings of Lord Krishna. The little saint is stuck by cholera and the crown prince nurses her back to health.
Rana Sangha comes back and this time banishes the crown prince to a smaller province of Kumbalgarh and assigns him trivial tasks. The son of the dai who breastfed him, Mangal, is the crown prince's secret agent and keeps providing him with happenings in the kingdom and happenings outside of it. One of the information that he provides is about the Afghan king Babur who has designs to take over Delhi from Ibrahim Lodi. The crown price had been failing to convince the Rana to take on Ibrahim Lodi.
Another crisis brews as another rajput king, Medini Rai, approaches Rana for his help to fight his erstwhile master Mahumad Khalji, Sultan of Malwa, from whom has been estranged for a while now. Rana calls upon the crown prince who sets out with his trusted lieutenants and a very small army. He manages to fool the Sultan into believing that he has come with a large army capable of defeating his army and the Sultan surrenders without much fight.
The triumphant crown prince marches into Chittor and this time his valour does not go unrecognized. He once again becomes the de facto crown price and Vikramaditya is relegated to Ranthambore. Medini Rai offers his daughter, Sugandha, in marriage to the crown prince who is not inclined to remarry. But he succumbs to pressure and marries her but is unable to fulfill is duties as a husband as he is now obsessed with winning over the little saint. The little saint also now starts bestowing her attentions on him while denying him the conjugal bed. The frustrated Sugandha succumbs to the charm of Vikramaditya and starts having an affair with him making the crown price a cuckold all over again.
The royal family decides to go to Pushkar to thank their deity for all the blessings that it has showered upon them. On the way back an attempt is made to murder a powerful eunuch who has been a close cohort of Vikramaditya and his mother. The crown prince with help of Mangal manages to save him and they keep moving him from one safe to another. Sugandha comes to the crown prince one day with bruises all over the body and the prince realizes who is behind this. The crown price takes her under his care and starts spending time with her much to the frustration of the little saint. Sugandha confesses that she has seen Vikramaditya try to kill the eunuch. The crown prince and Mangal now need the eunuch’s help to nail Vikramaditya for treason, But the eunuch refuses to help despite being in the know.
The crown prince and Mangal keep meeting the eunuch who is now up on his feet. They do not use any form of coercion on him and slowly win over his trust. He now confesses and is ready spill the beans on Vikramaditya and his mother. As the crown price assembles the court to hear the eunuch Vikramaditya and his mother get better of him and manage to poison the eunuch just before he spills the beans.
In the meantime Babur has captured Delhi and the rajputs gather to decide on how and when to take on Babur. The crown prince warns them against rash action. He suggests that they wait patiently, study the enemy, get some enforcement in the form of modern equipment (canons) before taking on Babur. But the rajputs laugh him off and an army of 120000 marches to take Bubur's army of 20000.
On the battlefield too Rana and the other Rajputs fail to heed the crown princes warning and out of bravado take on Babur. They fail miserably and Rana is grievously injured forcing the rajputs to halt the battle and retreat. The victorious Babur goes back to Delhi while the crown prince and others are trying to nurse Rana back to his health. As the Rana finally recovers health and agrees to return to Chittor, some cronies of Vikramaditya come and suggest a party to celebrate the home coming of Rana. The crown prince who has accepted an invitation from the villagers goes to the village while the others party on in the palace. While the crown prince is with the villagers he receives a missive from Mangal saying that Vikramditya and his cronies are plotting to kill Rana. The crown price rushes back the palace, but he is too late. The cronies have poisoned Rana. They now come after the crown prince who manages to elude them and runs away and disappears forever.


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