Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, or the Central and Western Rajput States of India v2.c28.s3.9

v2.c28.s3.9

Treachery of Sardār Singh of Kishangarh.—The Raja of Kishangarh had deprived his relative of Rupnagar of his estates ; both were junior branches of Marwar, but held direct from the emperor. Sawant Singh, chieftain of Rupnagar, either from constitutional indifference or [123] old age, retired to the sanctuary of Brindaban on the Jumna, and, before the shrine of the Hindu Apollo, poured forth his gratitude for “ his escape from hell,” in the loss of his little kingdom. But it was in vain he attempted to inspire young Sardar with the like contempt of mundane glory ; to his exhortations the youth replied, “ It is well for you, Sire,¹ who have enjoyed life, to resign its sweets so tranquilly ; but I am yet a stranger to them.” Taking advantage of the times, he determined to seek a stronger auxiliary for the recovery of his rights than the poetic homilies of Jayadeva. Accordingly, he joined the envoy of Ram Singh, and returned with the Mahratta army, on whose successful operations his hope of reconquering his patrimony rested. It was at that moment of doubt that Apa, the Mahratta commander, thus addressed young Sardar : “ Your star, young man, is united to Ram Singh’s, which fortune does not favour ; what more is to be done before we move off ?” Inexperienced as he was, Sardar knew his countrymen, and their vacillation when touched by superstition ; and he obtained permission to try a ruse, as a last resort. He dispatched a horseman of his own clan to the division which pressed them most, who, coming up to the Mainot minister, as if of his own party, asked “ what they were fighting for, as Bijai Singh lay dead, killed by a cannon-shot in another part of the field ?” Like the ephemeral tribe of diplomacy, the Mainot saw his sun was set. He left the field, followed by the panic-struck clans, amongst whom the report circulated like wildfire. Though accustomed to these stratagems, with which their annals teem, the Rajputs are never on their guard against them; not a man inquired into the truth of the report, and Bijai Singh,—who, deeming himself in the very career of victory, was coolly performing his devotions amidst the clash of swords,—was left almost alone, even without attendants or horses. The lord of Marwar, who, on that morning, commanded the lives of one hundred thousand Rajputs, was indebted for his safety to the mean conveyance of a cart and pair of oxen.¹