Tryst with Destiny

"Hello Louis", the Pandit greeted with his arm held out.

"Pandit" replied Louis, in a formal tone, not shaking his hand.

Something is amiss, thought the Pandit. Louis was an intimate friend. They were two gentlemen on sides that never saw eye to eye on anything at all. But they were closer than most people knew. Louis and his wife had shared many warm Delhi evenings on the Pandit's lawn as guests. But today seemed different. Something has changed, thought the Pandit.

"Jeremy, would you mind putting those papers on the Pandit's desk please? And Jeremy, the Pandit and I have some very important matters to discuss. You can leave us for an hour and I shall ring for you later."

"Certainly, Sir" replied Jeremy, placing the files on the Pandit's desk and closing the door behind him.

"What are these files for, Louis?" enquired the Pandit, curious about his friend's visit.

Louis walked up to the Pandit's desk and drew a letter from his waistcoat. He did not utter a word. Only handed the letter to the Pandit and headed to look out of the window opposite the desk.

The Pandit was puzzled at Louis' behaviour today. He took the letter and opened it. It was addressed to him. The Pandit took his time with the letter. Slowly, his eyes widened as he read more. Louis briefly looked back at the Pandit from the window. Clearly, there was a hint of joy in his eyes. It's true, thought Louis. He too loves her. Louis looked out of the window again. He thought of the ramifications if this became public. What a scandal this would break out to be! He could imagine the Press having a field day with this - The wife of a Senior Officer of the Crown having an affair with someone the Empire is at war with! His Aunt would surely not approve of this. She would not think twice to end his glorious military career. After all, she ultimately bore the heavy crown. It would be a quick fall from Viceroy to a retired military drunk in a lonely Manor. No, I shall not let it happen, thought Louis. He looked back at the Pandit.

The Pandit read again that one line that stopped his heartbeat for a second. "..from the bottom of my heart I tell you, that I belong to you. I know, as sure as a woman can be in matters of the heart, that you too love me, my Dear..."

It is true, thought the Pandit. And then, he looked up at Louis. Their eyes met. A small bubble of rage burst in the Pandit's mind.

"A woman's personal correspondence is a private matter and no one should abuse their power to intercept them. Not even her own..."

"What I do in matters regarding my wife is of no interest to you, Pandit!" interrupted Louis harshly.

The Pandit went back to the letter and read the last line again. "..I shall speak with Louis. He's a kind man and I'm sure he will understand us.."

The Pandit thought otherwise. It was clear from the way Louis had conducted himself today that a confrontation would ensue. I shall be firm on this front, decided the Pandit. If he cannot love her the same as I do, it is time for him to move on, he thought.

Louis took a deep breath. He spoke in a calm, almost cold tone. "Now that we have full knowledge of the circumstances, it is time for business."

The Pandit wondered what business he would discuss at this juncture, when he stood before the man who had whisked away his wife.

"Within this rests a letter with the Seal of the Empire, Pandit. That should give you a summary of what this folder holds for you and your country."

The Pandit slowly perused the letter. Soon he was consumed with rage. "This is unacceptable Louis!" he reacted. "My fellow countrymen and I have worked too hard to allow the Crown to defeat our purpose this way! I shall stand by my Leader and we stand as one nation against this. You shall never see my signature underneath these words!"

"Then I shall bring out the matter in the earlier letter from your lady love to your country. Let us see what they think about their leader, who, at a time when they need him to guide them into a bright future, spent his time in the arms of a woman directly related in blood to British royalty! Let us see how you, the one man this nation will look up to lead them tomorrow, manage to convince them that you need to share the throne with a woman adorning the mark of a Crown the whole country despises! Tell me Pandit, do you wish to go down that road?"

The Pandit was stunned. What he had expected to have been a confrontation of illegitimate love had soon changed to a dark blackmail. Louis finally said it - "You will have to choose Pandit - between what your heart says and what a million hearts say. You need to let go of her! Once you do, I shall take this secret to my grave."

But how could he? The memories of all those evenings he spent with her were etched deep in his mind. This will leave him scarred forever. He looked down at the document. With one wield of the pen, he would put an end to the Old man's dream of weaving together a glorious nation. He thought of the Old man. How could the Pandit face him if the news of this scandal broke out! He was the heir to the Old man's throne, the one in line to pick up the stick and lead when the Old man rests in peace. Would his people heed his words in the face of such adversity?

"This state will end up divided whether you approve of it or not, Pandit!" thundered Louis, as he brought down his fist hard on the desk. "You have a day to decide. I expect the signed document in my mail tomorrow before the sun sets. Failing which, I'm sure the sun shall rise to see a nation thrown into turmoil by a leader who made the wrong choice!". Louis left the room, with the Pandit distraught at his desk.

It is time to swallow the bitter pill, decided the Pandit. He would talk to the Old man, try to convince him. But he knew that things will never be the same again.

The Pandit picked up the document. He began reading it again but his mind wandered. "...all British Officers shall resign and withdraw from...Oh God! Why is love this painful?....full autonomy shall be granted on condition that the two parties accept a partition of the State...Oh Edwina, my love! My life shall never be the same again!.."

His ever defiant eyes now glistened. He picked up a pen and drew his signature upon the cursed letter, every stroke drawing a fresh scar upon his heart. As he sealed the envelope, a tear drop escaped his eyes and lodged itself onto a map of his nation on the desk. It was over.

A few weeks later, the Pandit's voice echoed nationwide on the radio - "Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, ... "

A month later, a few hundred miles west of Delhi, a poor farmer carried his daughter, a withered mass of skin and bones, in his arms, walking alongside thousands on an earth baked hard by an unforgiving Sun. As the girl's body went limp on her father's shoulder, a cry of anguish echoed. A few curses followed. Soon, rage took over. In the riots that ensued, over half a million lives were lost. So began another 'tryst with destiny' as two nations rose out of blood, a destiny with a bedrock that lay in broken love.