1875
Prince of Wales visits India. Telephone.
Dada:
I was five( Baba's hand falls on Neelkanth's head, who looks up) when I first heard of Sayaji Gaekwad, the wonderful boy of twelve who was being made King in Baroda. The road was like the scorching dry bed of a river that stretched long from kalvana.. One summer day, three brothers, anand, 18, gopal,12, and sampat, 10 are seen making a slow procession under the canopy of the moving arc of the sun. A pair of eyes lift from the still ness that is Queen Jamnabai. She looks at them and asks them why they think they have come to Baroda. "To rule" said Gopal and for that reply, he becomes Sayaji.
We had a kaka of the same age, 12, a laggard at studies, slow, though sweet and loving. That time, I remember joined the other children to tease him. I feel bad now, but.. it is not enough to be nice, Baba.. beware, you are the same age. Babaraya's giant pupil flashes and retreats, floats away from anticipated hurt, to wander among the shadows, like tresses among which he still floats.
Dada:
Nasik was bursting with coronation stories,each story wanting to be the shinier pearl. We heard of children drowning in the deep carpets of Baroda and of trapped sunlight, struggling to free itself at the bars of every gem that blazed in the crown jewels, of horses that danced in the fields, of white people in shock when they saw all this..There were many stories about the white people, who gathered around the coronation.. generals and tutors and officers in dress and among them, the most wonderful 12 year old boy. One of them became tutor to Sayaji..
Prabhakar leans over Sarasvati's shoulder staring at the baby, Neelkanth has moved away from where he was sitting by Dada's large hand, instead he plays with her mother's toe. Mandakini stands mid ground, between her parents, still, standing, considering her father as he speaks. Saraswati strokes the head of the baby in her lap as Dada speaks.
Dada: Such a young mind,it would soon be made tensile, it would learn to retain all the manners of learning, that left marks like the hoof prints of horses that are made to run, over and over a field.
Baba, at your age, I was not Sayaji, but I was curious, I was in a new city, I was learning so many things, asking so many questions. Sometimes I wonder how it is, that despite being my son, you have little curiosity? Ask me a question?
The large eyes of the flying Hanuman, who is Babaraya, begin to cloud over with anxiety. Sarasvati stares at the windows, and tries to console her child with the expressions across her small face. She cannot look long- the fear in his eyes is too magnified. She lifts up her baby, and with her little brood following, moves to cover one window.
Sarasvati: How did they decide to make such a little boy the king?
Dada is distracted, he enjoys questions that he can answer
