Intrigue
It was not any ordinary soldier who chose to stay hidden within the dark confines of the Shahi Masjid. It was Ajit Singh Rathore of Marwar, a name whispered with reverence and fear across the lands that once bowed to his ancestors.
As he stepped forward from the shadows, his gaze fixated on the tranquil figure of Shah Alam, his mind was a tempest of memories and vendettas, a tapestry of Marwar's tumultuous history woven with the threads of defiance and survival.
The story of Ajit Singh was not just his own but a chronicle of Marwar's relentless struggle against the imperial might of the Mughals. His grandfather, Jaswant Singh of Marwar, a lion of the desert, breathed his last at Jamrud in December 1678, leaving behind a legacy cast in the shadow of uncertainty. With Jaswant Singh's demise and no male heir to claim the throne immediately, Aurangzeb, the emperor with an iron fist, saw an opportunity to extend his dominion, converting the lands of Marwar into territories of the Mughal empire.
A nephew of Jaswant Singh was anointed as a puppet sovereign, a marionette dancing on the strings of Mughal ambition. Yet, the winds of dissent began to howl through the corridors of power as fate unfurled its own narrative.
The royal bloodline, however, was not to be so easily erased.
As the saga of the late Jaswant Singh's lineage unfolded, his two queens, vessels of Marwar's hope, each delivered into the world a son after his death. In those hallowed halls, where whispers of rebellion already stirred the air, the birth of these heirs ignited a flame of defiance.
Durgadas Rathore, the minister of Jaswant Singh, ignited the flames of resistance, challenging the decree of the emperor. He led a daring delegation to Shahjahanabad, pleading for the recognition of Ajit Singh, the eldest of Jaswant Singh's posthumous sons, as the rightful ruler of Marwar.
Aurangzeb declined, proposing instead to elevate Ajit and grant him the title of raja, accompanied by a suitable noble status, upon reaching adulthood. This proposal, however, hinged on Ajit being raised in the Muslim faith, a condition that was completely unacceptable to those who had made the request.
Aurangzeb's refusal to reinstate the young prince to his ancestral throne only fueled the fire of rebellion. The dispute took a darker turn with the death of Ajit Singh's younger brother, tightening the noose around the legacy of Marwar. In a desperate bid for freedom, Durgadas Rathore orchestrated a daring escape from the clutches of the Mughal forces to the city of Jodhpur, smuggling Ajit Singh and the queens out of Shahjahanabad.
Amidst this chaos, a tale of sacrifice marked the beginning of Ajit Singh's journey to reclaim his throne. The Dhaa Maa (wet nurse) of the infant prince, in an act of unmatched devotion, swapped her own son for Ajit Singh, ensuring the prince's safety in a basket, smuggled out under the cover of darkness. Aurangzeb fell to this trick and sent the child to be raised as a Muslim in his harem (royal household).
Back then, it was common for soldiers to lose their lives in the forest. They fell victim to wild animals, illnesses, or bandits. Life was considered much less valuable in those days. Earlier in the forest, he had taken down one of the soldiers, taken his uniform, and blended in with the troops to get close to Shah Alam. He doubted whether Shah Alam would trust him after so much time had passed.
Now, as Ajit Singh Rathore stepped forward, the weight of his heritage heavy on his shoulders, he was not just a soldier in the shadows. He was the embodiment of Marwar's indomitable spirit, a prince whose life was shaped by the struggles of his forebears.
His gaze was fixed on Shah Alam.
In the hushed ambiance of the mosque, Ajit's voice softly broke the silence, "Hi, my friend," his whisper reverberated off the ancient walls, carrying the weight of history and the warmth of old camaraderie. Ajit Singh, a close ally of his brother, stood in the dim light, his presence a testament to alliances forged in times both prosperous and perilous.
"Assalamu Alaikum," came a voice unexpectedly from the shadows, rich with the resonance of authority and surprise. Shah Alam, true to his reputation, emerged like a phantom from the darkness, revealing the figure Ajit had initially mistaken for Shah Alam to be but a loyal soldier. The mosque, steeped in the echoes of whispered greetings, became a witness to the reunion of two souls intertwined by destiny and shared struggles.
"We have so much to discuss," Ajit stated, his voice carrying a mix of hope and urgency.
It felt like his words were paving the way for deep and necessary dialogues—plans to be made, secrets to exchange, and strategies to formulate for what lay ahead.
Shah Alam, sensing both the significance of the moment and the weariness that enveloped Ajit, replied with a welcoming warmth.
"You must be tired. Let's talk over while we eat something," he offered.
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