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the law of primogeniture. He had dispensed with precedence in elevating Samar to the position of Bara Thakur. By right it belonged to Rajeshwari’s second son, Debendra. But Bhanu was hard to please. He sighed and, waving away the other shoes, let the servants fit a pair of simple wooden
khadam
on his feet. Then, rising, he walked down the gallery. Passing Rajeshwari’s wing he stopped for a moment. Should he meet her once before going down to the mahabhoj? Then he thought better of it. He would not go to Bhanumati that night either. He had made a solemn promise, it was true, but promises to women meant nothing. He was tired of Bhanu’s nagging and tears. It would give him far greater pleasure to hear the music that would come after the feast. Nisar Hussain would play the veena and Kasem Ali Khan the rubab. And the brilliant drummer Panchanan Mitra would tap his pakhawaj to Jadu Bhatta’s singing. He would avoid Bhanu for the next three or four days then, comforting her with a few more lies and get the one lakh of rupees out of her. There was nothing wrong with lying to a woman. It was policy. Humming a little tune the Maharaja walked down the stairs to the great hall where his courtiers were waiting.

Chapter II
    Maharaja Birchandra Manikya sat in state, nine courtiers standing behind him in a row. His hookah bearer waited on his left and on his right stood his chief counsellor and bodyguard Colonel Sukhdev Thakur. The handsome colonel in his impeccable uniform was the king’s constant companion as was Radharaman Ghosh, his private secretary. Radharaman was a plain, middle-aged man of medium height. He was always very simply dressed and kept his feet bare. Looking at him no one would dream that he held such a high position in the realm. Birchandra took a few puffs from his hookah. ‘Ghosh Moshai!’ he said, ‘Every year, on this occasion, I make some announcement pertaining to the welfare of my subjects. What is it to be this year?’
    â€˜I’ve given it considerable thought Maharaj. The announcement you will make will cover you with glory not only here in Tripura but throughout the country. I’ve discussed it with Colonel Thakur and he is in total agreement.’
    â€˜What is it?’ Birchandra asked curiously.
    â€˜You will issue a decree against
satidaha
. The burning of widows is a savage custom and a blot on our old and venerated culture.’ Birchandra sat silent, his eyes downcast as he listened. ‘Your subjects hailed you as their deliverer when you abolished slavery,’ Radharaman continued. ‘Your fame reached —’
    â€˜No,’ the king interrupted. ‘The time is not yet ripe for issuing such a decree.
Satidaha
is an ancient practice rooted in the history and religion of our land. No woman of this realm has ever been forced to become a sati. Our women burn with their husbands voluntarily and joyfully and are rewarded with eternal bliss hereafter. I cannot and will not strike a blow against the faith of so many of my subjects.’
    â€˜Maharaj,’ Radharaman replied, ‘You may not know it but Lord William Bentinck has put an end to this practice with an act of law and the rest of the country has accepted it. Shall Tripuralag behind?’
    â€˜Don’t forget,’ Birchandra said gravely, ‘that Tripura is not governed by the British. They are foreigners and do not understand our ancient traditions. I’m not obliged to obey their laws.’
    â€˜Maharaj,’ Radharaman pleaded, ‘The practice of
satidaha
is not an integral part of our Dharma. If anything, it’s a perversion of the Hindu religion.’
    â€˜Let the argument rest for now,’ Birchandra lifted a hand in command. ‘It is an ancient rite—one that cannot be put aside upon a whim. I’ll have to obtain the views of my subjects before I form an opinion. But have you not thought of anything else?’
    â€˜There is the