If you ask me about this festival a year on, this would be one of the sessions to stick in my mind. It had the same historic splendour of another great talk I’d attended on Indian colonization last year. (And should the Brits pay back? Short version: No; but should they morally repent and apologize? Hell yes.)
Like most people in India, I believed our Kohinoor was the most beautiful diamond in the world; a stolen treasure which now rests on the crown of the Queen of England.
‘These were my childhood memories of seeing the crown jewels displayed, when I went with my extended family,’ said Anita Anand, a dark haired UK national of Indian origion. She’d co-authored ‘Kohinoor’ with William Dalrymple. ‘I’d immediately know I was there because I’d hear the whispers of my Indians behind the glass panes. “Saale chor, chakarre.” That got her a big laugh.
The two fiercely talented academicians thus began their session. They retold the riveting story of the Kohinoor. And it’s pretty damn hard to believe.
‘The Kohinoor traces back centuries, it’s been passed down a bloody trail of Mughal emperors. Today, five governments around the world lay claim to it,’ said William Dalrymple. He was a kind, portly gentleman wearing Indian kurtas and leaning over the notes under his spectacles. He had a magical voice. It felt like being seated the finest lecture at Harvard.
‘Nearly all the diamonds of the world in early history, came from India. You could find plenty in extinct riverbeds. Diamonds are known to harbor spiritual reverence too, many gods are believed to reside in their glittering particles.’
He then gave a quick treatise on how obsessed with jewels the Mughals were; the longest rulers and ravagers of India. ‘At one point, 700 elephants left the capital carrying mounds of jewels.’
The Kohinoor is an eminent jewel. It popped up in all noteworthy moments in history. But it appeared to be cursed with dark powers, birthing a fearsome trail of bloodshed amongst grappling nobles. It began when the Kohinoor was thwarted from the fun-loving, miscreant emperor Muhammad Shah Rangeela by Nadir Shah. The son of a shepherd, Shah’s cunning and sheer tactical brilliance made him a distingushed military general. His recorded ideas still inspire the armed weapons used in our countries today.
Now the Kohinoor would always appear in portraits of his descendents. On turbans, arms or shoulder plates.
‘We arrive at the murderous bloodshed,’ said Anita with a a glint in her eye. ‘The latest emperor, Ranjit Singh dies and his own son doesn’t even make it to his father’s cremnation. A falling boulder crushes him — ill luck — as he’s pouring the King’s ashes in the river waters. Consequently, a far off cousin arrives to lay claim to the kingdom.’
‘Ranjit Singh’s wife remains a distracting loose end. A year or so on he has the Queen assasinated by her own handmaidens who, while brushing her hair, smash in her skull. Later on, this devious King is himself murdered by jealous nobles in his court.’ You can imagine what a toss around the Kohinoor (& the kingdom) are having here.
Finally, and much to the nobles’ uproar, the crown falls to the youngest heir of Ranjit Singh. He’s barely seven, and a dishonorable child Ranjit Singh had out of wedlock with a kernel keeper’s daughter. The boy was named Dilip Singh. You think this pocket sized prince is now destined to be bullied by his own courtesans? No.
‘Rani Jindal, Dilip’s mother, knew he wasn’t old enough. So she decided to rule alongside her son. Until he’d be old enough to protect himself, she’d protect him,’ said Anita.
By now I’d decided I loved her voice. She had this marvelous way of weaving in sudden, human reactions in her narrative, which really pulled you in. She made you feel empathy for these long dead, faceless historical figures. The lady had deep dark eyes, curls, a British tinted accent and her modulation made me wish I’d learn to speak like her one day. She was awesome.
Both William and Anita spoke to enchant the audience. I learnt that if the strength of your purpose is strong enough, you forget stage fright. You’re on an idea roll of interest — -a muscle soar.
‘Rani Jindal is my favorite character really,’ said Anita. ‘Just think of her. An early feminist, a ruler over a group of manly, prideful Sikhs. She was the little girl whom her father practically threw at Ranjit Singh’s lions, to give him whatever he could spare in return. And then despite all, she gets her son to the highest court in the land to claim his right.’’
But it was not to last. The Englishmen arrived temporarily to ‘look after the throne’ until Dilip turned 16. They exploited the Sikh’s weakness; their inherent bias towards Rani Jindal. She knew what would happen, but they locked her up in a tower and ignored her warnings.
When truth emerged in the form of an Anglo-Sikh war & Dilip’s army was massacred, the boy king walked up to the Britishers with the Kohinoor. And he signed his life & kingdom away on slip of paper.
Dilip is sent towards South India, in the care of a John Spencer Logan. The boy becomes an English gentleman; he reads the Bible, he knows proper manners and parlor charm — and the Logans become a second family.
When he turns 18, Queen Victoria sends for him.
‘The Queen was fascinated by this English speaking Sikh prince. Ignoring the counsel of her Prime Minister, she invites him. Instantly, she adores him. She even has a portrait of him made.’
Here he is now, our dashing prince. And if you look at this closely, you’ll see the locket around his neck bears the Queen’s face.
The Queen decided to show Dilip the Kohinoor.
‘The Kohinoor had a ride of its own to Britain. The ship it came on got caught in a tsumani and nearly drowned. So the English public was less than thrilled, with what appeared to be a cursed diamond. Prince Albert there tried his best to popularize it, even decided to cut the diamond in half.’ William chuckled. ‘He had the Duke of Wellington chip off the first shaving. Spoiler Alert: Duke never makes it until the few weeks taken for the whole diamond to be cut, and promptly dies.’
Today, it rests beautiful in dim lighting at the heart of Britain. ‘We take no stands on who should have it,’ said William. ‘We just wanted to give you the whole, unabridged story.’
But think about Dilip, Anita would say later. The true heir to the diamond.
I try to imagine it in my own mind. Prince Dilip would have entered the quiet halls. The floor must have shifted beneath his feet, as he saw the diamond exhibited there. Cut in half, shined and trimmed, the Kohinoor looked nothing like his past. Nothing like the kingdom he’d signed away, and the mother he couldn’t remember. But then Dilip took a deep breath, looked at the jewel. And he smiled and walked away.
