The Indomitable

Year 1192, place Ghazni, Afganishtan; the royal courtroom of Ghorid Empire.

The enormous courtroom was octagonal in shape with arch like portals at each wall. The dome roof above complemented the unique architecture. Intricate motifs across the walls portrayed delicate Persian artistry. The handsome green carpet covering the floor, the enormous crystal chandelier suspended from the centre of the roof, the velvety rich drapes on the arches manifested the grandeur of the empire.

There was a half-moon enclosure covering one fourth of the room, discretely segregated by delicate latticework railing. Seats were arranged for court members facing the enclosure. A platform at the centre of the enclosure held the spectacular throne encrusted with finest gems. The tall bearded man with the air of a hawk; seated on the throne was Emperor Shahabuddin Muhammad Ghori.

The mood in the court was jubilant; the Emperor had returned victorious over the great Delhi Empire. This was no ordinary victory; it was a reprisal of the humiliating defeat of last year to the great King of Delhi. Each day for the past one year, the Sultan suffered the agony of his disgraceful capture and above all, the subsequent grant of mercy at the Delhi court. The act of benevolence inflicted great injury to his pride. It was simple to disregard an enemy, but not so easy to forget a benefactor.

A heavily chained prisoner was brought to the courtroom at the Sultan’s order. Tall, chiseled, strikingly handsome with the air of conceit; he looked every inch an aristocrat. His great strength and valor was apparent even in this captive state, reminding of a caged lion.

-         “Welcome to my court Raja, hope you are not uncomfortable?”

The sarcasm in the Sultan’s remark failed to impact the distinguished prisoner.

-         “A Rajput warrior is never uncomfortable Ghori, be it in the company of Tiger or Hyena.” He looked straight in to the eyes of the Sultan.

The Sultan looked away avoiding the penetrating gaze. His face darkened with fury.

-         “Don’t forget Raja you are defeated and my prisoner too! Your survival depends on my wish.”

-    “A King survives in the heart of his subjects, patriot survives in legends. A coward survives at the mercy of others.” The fearless voice mesmerized the entire courtroom.

-    “Shut your mouth and keep your gaze down! I have tolerated enough of your impudence!” the Sultan lost control.

The courtiers were stunned to witness the Sultan in such rage. But the chained hero was unperturbed. He continued to look into the eyes of the Sultan.

-         “I warn you for the last time, lower your gaze or else, you will suffer.”

-         “A Rajput only lowers gaze when his eyes are shut forever.” The voice was full of confidence.

-         “This time I will prove you wrong Raja!” A shrewd smile passed through the Sultan’s lips; a cruel madness reflected in his fanatic eyes.

-         “Blind this prisoner with hot Iron rods!” he ordered the sentries and continued;

-         “Take care not to harm him in any other way; he must live.”

Every living soul around realized the atrocity of the order. An inconceivable expression passed through the eyes of the great warrior Prithviraj Chauhan. Sentries took him under siege to carry out the order.

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Fourteen years had passed, since, the fall of Delhi. There had not been many changes in the courtroom of Muhammad Ghori.

The Sultan seated on the throne looked older with graying beard; his cunning eyes still showed the same ruthlessness.

He had returned to his summer capital after a long trail subjugating a revolt among Gakhar clan. Courtiers were busy in praising him for his valor. The Sultan, happy and content diverted his attention to the chained prisoner standing at a corner. Blinded, confined, Prithviraj Chauhan still carried a majestic air. Constant humiliations of those past years had failed to dampen his fortitude.

-         “I hope you weren’t missing me too much for my long absence Raja? Alas, I can’t meet your gaze anymore!”

Prithviraj maintained silence; his jaw hardened in self restrain. Chand Bardai touched his arm for assurance. Chand bardai, his court poet and life long companion was also captured in the second battle of Tarain. Now he was the only comfort to the great leader at his confinement.

Nasir-ud-Din Qabacha, the most trusted commandant of the Sultan suggested a grand celebration in the name of the victory.

-         “What kind of celebration do you suggest Nasir?”

-         “Let the soldiers entertain you with their skills my Lord. That will revive their battle worn spirit.”

-         “Then arrange for it at earliest and make the announcement for participation. True artistry will never go unnoticed in my Empire.” The Sultan proclaimed.

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The small grilled window at the top barely made room for the bright sunlight to illuminate the prison cell. The King was seated on a stone slab erect and proud. At the seclusion of the prison, his otherwise shrouded countenance betrayed the expression of unfathomable pain. Probably the impregnable warrior is also a broken man within.

The prison door opened, Chand entered escorted by guards. He had permission to visit his lord everyday.

-    “How are you today Rajan?”

-         “How a king loosing his motherland to the intruders should be? How a warrior deprived of honorable death should be Chand?”

-         “But now we have an opportunity to avenge it Rajan.”

-         “I don’t understand!” king looked puzzled.

-         “It is time to showcase a glimpse of your archery skill great Chauhan!”

For the rest of his stay they busied themselves in deep conversation, Chand speaking the most.

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Next day Prithviraj offered his willingness to participate in the archery show. As usual he was ridiculed by Sultan and his accomplices.

-         “I have a condition but.” The King announced.

-         “Yes, tell me the legendary Rajput archer! I am eager to witness your proficiency.” The Sultan mocked.

-         “I will start the shoot only at your order.” The King declared firmly.

-         “Why is it so?” The Sultan sounded suspicious.

-         “The king can take order only from an Emperor.” Chand clarified.

Ego being satisfied, the Sultan readily agreed to the condition.

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The colossal stadium was surrounded by the cheering audience. The Sultan was seated on a platform convoyed by his bodyguards and trusted aids. The exhibition had been going on for the past one week. Soldiers from different ranks across the army had participated in showing off their mastery in warfare. The demonstrations included wrestling, acrobatics, swordfight; horsemanship and archery being the favorite of all.

That was the last day of the exhibition; crowd was tickled with anticipation. Particularly one show was the subject of all discussions, not only among the masses but also the nobles. Today the blind king Prithviraj Chauhan would showcase his archery.

An abrupt silence engulfed the stadium with the announcement of the next show. The legendary archer arrived, unchained for the first time in many years. Chand Bardai followed him just behind. Chand acknowledged the audience and guided Prithviraj to face the Sultan. The Sultan responded with a smile and gestured the sentries to provide for bow and arrow. Standing motionless for a few seconds the king picked up the accessory. Chand recited in his native dialect;

-         “Chaar baas, chaubees hastha, angul ashta pramaan,

 yete pe sultaan hai, mat chuko Chauhan!”

(Four bamboo lengths in front, then twenty four hands and eight fingers in height, the sultan is sitting. Dont miss him Chauhan)

Prithviraj aimed; the Sultan shouted order to start the game. He shot instantly tracing the voice.

The arrow pierced Ghori’s heart in lightning speed. Ghori breathed his last; with an expression of awe. A gleam of joy softened the stubborn face of the Rajput king.

With teary eyes Chand Bardai recited further;

-         “Prithviraj ki soorvirta ghar ghar bani desh ki aan,

 wo veero ka veer mahan , jai jai Prithviraj Chauhan.”

(Legend of Prithviraj reign in the hearts of millions,

 Long live Prithviraj Chauhan)

Epilogue

Immediately after the death of Ghori; Prthviraj and Chand Bardai stabbed each other with the knives seized from the sentries. At last the great warrior got his honorable death escaping the wrath of Ghori’s bodyguards. Ghori’s favourite slave commander Nasir-ud-Din Qabacha succeeded him in Ghazni. Another slave commander Qutb-ud-din Aibak ascended the throne of Delhi, with that started the famous slave dynasty. Death of Prithviraj, marked the end of Hindu era and beginning of Muslim reign in Hindustan.

Note:

As per historical documentations, Muhammad Ghori was assassinated in 1206 by Khokkar clan to avenge the death of Prithviraj Chauhan. But I preferred to go by the legend as; even today Afghans vent their anger on Prithviraj's grave by stamping on it and then pay accolade to their assassinated Sultan Ghori.

Prithviraj indeed was captured and blinded by Ghori and Chand Bardai accompanied him to Ghazni. But the fourteen years confinement is my anecdote to authenticate the death of Ghori. ‘Prthviraj Raso’, the epic poem based on the life of King Prithviraj Chauhan was primarily written by Chand Bardai which supports the legend of Prithviraj’s revenge on Ghori. 

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