The Dancer and the Raja (22 page)

Between visits to the big jewelry shops, from whom Anita orders new designs with the stones brought from India, dinners at the best restaurants, and horseback rides through the Bois de Boulogne, where the raja still keeps his stables at the riding club, time flies past. In spite of the pleasure she feels when she rides Spot, Anita can only think about being with her family. She wants to make the most of the little time she has at her disposal. The news from Madrid is pleasant: the group of artist friends, who now meet at the Candelas Milk Bar, insist on being decorated by His Highness, especially Valle-Inclán, who does not want to die without first having visited Kapurthala. The great zarzuela writer, Felipe Pérez y González has dedicated a poem to the noble pair, which appeared in print on the streets of Madrid in January 1908:

A Rajah who from India came,

Met a dancing girl from Málaga

Who's more beautiful

and graceful than an angel …

Anita laughs loudly at all this news from a Madrid whose streets she is dying to walk along again. Meanwhile, she tries to answer all the questions her parents ask her about her life. She tries to explain about her life as a princess, but she finds it hard to tell them what India is like. How can she describe the devotion of the people of Kapurthala when she entered the city on the back of an elephant after the wedding? Or the heat before the monsoons, the baptism in Amritsar, the garden parties, the parties in Patiala, sunsets in the country, the poverty and the luxury? It is a world that is too distant and too different for them to be able to imagine; besides, Anita does not want to go into the details in order not to worry them. She does not want to tell them about the treatment she gets from the British, or her bad relations with the raja's other wives.

“But is the baby baptized or not?”

Doña Candelaria is obsessed by the spiritual welfare of her grandson. It is like a fixed idea that she cannot get out of her head.

“I've already told you he is. He is baptized into his father's religion.”

“I've never heard of the
Sikh
religion in all my life. I want to know if he's really been baptized.”

“What do you mean? That a Catholic priest baptized him in a church? Well, no, Mother … There aren't any Catholic priests or churches there, and if there are, they're only for the English.”

“Well, I think that's terrible, Anita. This child has to be properly baptized. If anything happens to him as he is now, a pagan, he'll be condemned to eternal hellfire forevermore. He has to be saved.”

One morning, taking advantage of the fact that her daughter and the raja have gone off on a trip to Biarritz and have left the baby in her care, Doña Candelaria picks him up and without saying anything to either Dalima or Don Angel, she takes him out. Without a moment's delay, she slips into Notre Dame Cathedral, “In the blinking of an eye,” Anita would write in her diary, “with no more ado and no prayers, she
christianised
her grandson in the holy water in the entrance.”

When Anita gets back from Biarritz, Doña Candelaria tells her daughter that she can sleep with a clear conscience, because Ajit is saved as a Christian, and she tells her the details of what she has done. Anita is upset, “Mother …! For God's sake! If the raja finds out …!”

“I haven't done anything wrong.”

“If he finds out, he's going to be really angry.”

“When all's said and done, I don't think a drop of holy water can do any harm to a
Sikh
.”

“You have to promise me you're not going to breathe a word … Not to Daddy or Victoria either.”

“No one needs to find out, my girl … I promise.”

After a silence, Anita stands staring at her mother, as though wanting to ask her something, but not daring to.

“Hey … and what have you named him?” she says finally, with curiosity gnawing at her.

“Angel, like his grandfather. Just in case, you never know.”

For Anita, Biarritz was the scene of another unpleasant incident with the English. Because of an error in protocol, the suite where they stayed in the Hotel du Palais was next door to that of the King of England, Edward VII. It seems that the monarch, who is not known precisely for his good manners, has made no comment, but his field assistants have made a strong protest to the management of the hotel. What a scandal to have a raja living with a Spanish dancer in the next rooms! The anecdote has made the rounds among the ladies of the nobility and the members of the entourage. But on the other hand, those same people who spit venom are left speechless with admiration at the unlikely pair when they make their entrance at the gala dinner: he wearing a brooch with three thousand diamonds and pearls in the folds of his turban and she splendid with her crescent moon emerald on her forehead. Both of them move so easily in society that they seem born to it. Anita has such an easy way of treating strangers that everyone is disconcerted by her, and besides, she has a mysterious talent for making herself understood in any language with anyone, anywhere. It is not surprising then that the photographers and reporters, like hunting hounds, are hanging on her every move.

Before leaving for London to then embark again for Bombay, Anita hands her mother a big, heavy parcel done up in gift wrapping.

“Mother, I want you to take this to Málaga. It's a promise I made to the Virgin of La Victoria for saving me in childbirth.”

When she unwraps it, Doña Candelaria exclaims in amazement. The Virgin's mantle, sprinkled with precious stones, is a work of art.

“The seamstresses in the workshops at the rue de la Paix have taken over a year to make it. I want you to tell the bishop that it's a donation I'm making to the people of Málaga and to the Virgin, so that she looks the most beautiful in the whole of Spain for her festivities.”

The farewells are sad, as usual. Anita is not sure she will be able to come back next year. She takes the books—the
History of Spain
and
Don Quixote
—which she had asked her parents to get for her so she doesn't forget her Spanish. She feels great nostalgia for Madrid, for Málaga, and for her friends, as well as for the smells, colors, and sounds of Spain. For her roots. As though she somehow knows what is going through her daughter's mind, Doña Candelaria says, “By the way, did you know Anselmo Nieto has gotten married?”

She receives the news like a stab in the heart. Anselmo, the painter who looked like a bullfighter, the eternal suitor, has tired of waiting for her. It is only to be expected, but deep down Anita liked knowing that far away someone was dying of love for her. A woman's vanity, although, if she had stopped to think about it, she would have pushed aside that feeling and thought she was being selfish.

“His wife is called Carmen,” Doña Candelaria goes on, “and they've just had a baby daughter. He came back from Paris just after you went off to India. Things aren't going too badly for him, he's in a lot of exhibitions with a group of young men who call themselves ‘independent.'”

“I'm glad things are going well for him,” answers Anita with a touch of sadness in her voice, the reflection of her wounded pride more than sadness at having lost a man who had been just a dream for her. No woman likes to lose a suitor.

¹⁴
The merchant caste.

PART FOUR

The Wheel of Karma Turns for All

29

The raja's passion for luxury is even greater, as though he wished to compensate for the small size of his state with more and more pomp. He has added a red pompom to the sky-blue turban worn by the members of his guard with their matching navy blue jackets with silver lapels, in honor of the French navy. Thus attired, with the tassel dangling on their turbans, the worthy Sikh warriors escort the carriage that bears the flamboyant couple, now returned from Europe, through the streets of Kapurthala. As they pass by, the crowds greet them everywhere, and in the center of the city the mass of people fighting to welcome them home is so dense that the entourage is forced to stop several times. The raja has set up this kind of welcome for whenever he comes back from a trip: he makes a tour of the main Sikh, Hindu, and Moslem temples to thank the gods for his safe return and to reestablish contact with his people.

Afterward, the retinue goes a little way out of the city and heads for the highest point, until they come to the entrance gates to the new palace, L'Élysée, which will be his residence from now on. A double rows of elephants, in perfect formation, flank the avenue that leads to the entrance porch, to welcome them. With its cypresses, its lawn, its bushes all carefully pruned and its beds full of flowers looked after by five hundred gardeners, with its wrought-iron lamps, its Renaissance-style balustrades and its allegorical statues, among which one, by the French sculptor Le Courtier, of a tiger in an attacking position stands out, the garden is so disconcerting that for a moment Anita thinks she has not left France. Framed by the snow-topped mountains that stand out on the horizon, the building, finished in pink with white relief work, is the raja's dream come true. “I have managed to bring a piece of France to the foothills of the Himalayas,” he says proudly. With its pointed roof tiled in slate, its porch supported by pairs of columns, and its one hundred and eight bedrooms, the palace is gigantic in comparison with the size of Kapurthala. It is only in proportion to the prince's vanity and to his desire to emulate the wealthiest men in the world. However, his courtiers applaud the fact that the raja has decided to move to this building located on the outskirts of the city, since they are convinced that in this way he will reinforce his aura of divinity among the people. But his detractors think just the opposite; for them, it is an undeniable symbol of the widening rift that separates the princes of India from their subjects.

Inside, six hundred workmen have taken nine years to get everything ready. The walls of the Durbar Hall (audience chamber) are decorated in the purest Indian style, with reliefs of wood that combine French and Oriental motifs. The finely sculpted ceiling, with a stained-glass window in the dome, is illuminated by little lights in the form of stars. At midheight, with balusters at regular intervals, there is a gallery reserved for the ladies of the court for when official ceremonies are celebrated. The coat of arms of Kapurthala—an elephant on the left and a horse on the right of a shield, holding a breastplate with a cannon engraved on it and an inscription that reads
Pro Rege et Patria
—is set into the parquet floor in woods of different colors to make it stand out. It has been polished so much that it shines and the servants look at themselves in it to adjust their turbans. Enormous Sèvres porcelains, copies of Gobelin tapestries, antique furniture, and Aubusson
¹⁵
carpets, ordered the same size as the rooms, show the raja's uncontrollable admiration for the French style of the XVIIIth century. Except for two rooms inspired on other countries—the Japanese room and the Turkish-style smoking room—each one of the one hundred and eight suites reserved for guests bears the name of a French town or a French celebrity. The table in the main dining hall can seat eighty guests. A coal boiler provides hot water twenty-four hours a day for the greater comfort of the residents, guests, servants, and other employees. Because the palace has also become the seat of government. The offices of the various administrations occupy the basements. The office and rooms of His Highness are on the first floor, which has a beautiful view of the park and, in the background, the city. His bedroom is separated from Anita's by a more than ample dressing room. Anita's rooms, which include the baby's room and her maids' rooms, give onto a wide terrace. The place lacks the intimacy and bucolic charm of the Villa Buona Vista, but it is roomy, comfortable, and grandiose. In the early days, Anita feels a little lost, because, in addition she has been left without the last links she had with the past, Mme Dijon and Lola. It is not that she misses her maid, quite the opposite, but she does miss the contact with her own kind. On another trip, she will bring another maid back, from the south of Spain if possible, even if only to remind her where she comes from. She needs a point of reference in this make-believe world.

The raja's women have decided to oppose their husband's wish to move the
zenana
to a wing of L'Élysée.

“We will stay in the old palace, Your Highness,” Harbans Kaur, his first wife, has told him, in the decisive tone of someone who has thought about her words.

“And may I know the reason for your persistent refusal? I'm offering you the most modern and luxurious palace in India, and you turn it down.”

“You know our reason only too well. We would willingly move to the new palace if that Spanish woman would agree to become part of the
zenana
.”

“That's impossible and you know it. She is not accustomed to living like that. She will live in her own rooms.”

“Your Highness, we do not think it is right for us to live in
purdah
in the new palace while you share your life with a foreign woman whose behavior is insulting to tradition precisely because she derides the rules of
purdah
… I beg you to understand our position.”

Given the firmness of the opposition, the raja has not wished to prolong the discussion. His wife has come to remind him of the principle that has always ruled over Indian society: each in his place.

“Our world would collapse if the traditions were not kept up,” Harbans Kaur ended gravely.

In other words: it is all of them or none of them. Perhaps they thought they might get what they wanted by putting pressure on him, and that the raja would end up putting Anita in her place.
They are
naive,
he thinks.
No one can put pressure on the raja.
Or perhaps he is the naive one? In this peculiar war of nerves, his wives have time on their side. Meanwhile, they oppose everything they can, subtly sabotaging the raja's projects and boycotting his attempts to get Anita accepted one day.

He chooses not to tell his wife about this conversation. It has not even crossed his mind to ask her to become part of the
zenana
. He knows it would do no good, and besides, he would not like that either. It would mean that Anita “has gone native” and precisely what attracts him is that she is not like the rest of them, that she has her own personality, her own beliefs, and her own voice, as long as it does not cause too many upsets in his life.

The raja reacts as he usually does: using his power to respond with an even greater affront than the rebuff he has suffered at the hands of his wives. You don't want to live under the same roof as the Spanish girl? You won't accept her? Well, then, she will be the one in charge of organizing the wedding of the heir to the house of Kapurthala.
They'll get more than they bargained for
, thinks Anita, seriously worried at the direction things are taking.

“They'll hate me more and more,
mon chéri
. Isn't it more logical for Harbans Kaur to deal with the wedding? When all's said and done, it's her son who's getting married.”

“I want you to organize everything. My wives will deal with the wives of our Indian guests and nothing more. That's all they're good for.”

“I wish your sons were here,” she adds with a sigh.

Anita met them at a dinner while passing through London. Ratanjit, the eldest, seemed an introverted boy to her, very serious and intimidated by the figure of his father. He was the opposite of his fiancée, Gita, sparkling and full of life. Baljit seemed more amusing, although rather distant and very frivolous. Premjit, the soldier, the youngest, appeared to be a real gentleman, a man who seems worthy of trust. And she has not been able to meet Kamal, who everyone says is the nicest and most open of them, because he was away on a trip to Switzerland.
If they were living in Kapurthala,
she thinks,
I would have some friends, there would be more of an atmosphere and life would be more normal and less lonely.
Curiously, she trusts in her stepsons to dissipate the rather hostile atmosphere that has been created toward her. They are more or less the same age as she and they have lived in Europe for a long time and only they can exert an influence on their mothers and, at the same time, break her feeling of isolation. Ratanjit's wedding could mean the beginning of a change. She would no longer be the outsider and the “hated one.”

The raja has decided to spend half the annual income of his state on the celebrations for his son's wedding, a colossal sum to organize the transport, maintenance, and entertainment of the guests. Like medieval monarchs, he invites everyone. And, like them too, he wants his people to join in the festivities. He said, “To emphasize this momentous and happy event, I have the honor of announcing to all my subjects that from now on primary education will be free within the frontiers of our state.” But the last phrase of his speech is going to give rise to a flood of comments: “Free for boys and also for girls.” In 1911, the mere idea that girls should study is revolutionary, and the representatives of the Moslem community make that known to the highest civil servants of the state, asking for the decision to be reversed. But the raja maintains his stance and does not give way.

Jagatjit has decided to make his state into a shining example of civilization and progress, and he wants to pass into history as an enlightened monarch. In spite of being known for their eccentricities, many princes have improved the living conditions and gained social advantages for their subjects that are unknown in the India administered directly by the English. Like the maharaja of Baroda, famous not only for his troop of trained parrots that could walk across a wire or ride miniature silver bicycles, but also because in 1900 he introduced education that was both free and compulsory. Or Ganga Singh, the maharaja of Bikaner, who has turned certain areas of the desert in Rajasthan into oases of crops, artificial lakes, and prosperous cities. Or the maharaja of Mysore, who has financed a science university that is becoming famous all over Asia. Or the raja of the tiny state of Gondal, a simple man if ever there was one, who abolished taxes on the peasants and increased customs tariffs to compensate the losses in state income. The raja dreams of going further and wants to directly rival the Western nations. Suddenly the Crown Prince's wedding is a perfect opportunity to tell the whole world about progress in Kapurthala. “The Rajah had great interest in favourably impressing his European guests. He wanted them to take home the memory that his state was an exotic and yet modern place at the same time,” Anita would write in her diary.

There followed months of feverish activity. Everything must be perfectly planned, studied, and even timed to the second. On one of her visits to Patiala, Anita requests the expert advice of Frankie Campos, Paco, chief of the kitchens, who helps her to work out the menus, order the foodstuffs, hire cooks, and plan everything. A special train ordered by the raja, full of bottles of Évian water, whiskey, port wine, sherry, and champagne, will arrive from Bombay, so the drinks area is guaranteed.

The thornier decisions are those relating to protocol. With so many rajas, nawabs, aristocrats, and civil servants, it is a nightmare to plan where they will sleep, what they will eat, what program of activities will be suggested for them, and who will sit next to whom. What has to be borne in mind is their rank, religion, age, title, and tastes.

“The women, especially the Englishwomen, are very particular about protocol,” Paco tells her. “If there is a mistake, the husband may accept that he has not been placed in the right position, but I can assure you that his wife will react with great indignation. They care a lot about these things, my dear …, it must be because they don't have anything else to think about.”

Paco knows what he is talking about. He has brought her a little book of about ten pages—known as the
Red Book
—which indicates the order of precedence of all the civil and military posts.

“If you need to know if a pollution inspector is a little lower down the scale than a property registrar, you only have to look it up in the book.”

Paco is a great help to Anita, who puts all her efforts into the work of organizing the preparations. Her reputation is at stake, even more knowing that she is under the eagle eye of the raja's women. She cannot fail.

Paco has advised her to go to Calcutta to stock up. Only there can she obtain the meters of material she needs to make the hundreds of tablecloths, serviettes, sets of sheets, and towels that will have to be made up, as well as the fifty marquees that will be erected in the palace park to accommodate all the guests. It is necessary to buy more cutlery and glassware and to deal with endless details that go from salt cellars and insecticide down to toilet paper, of which, just in case, Anita decides to order a whole carriage full.

The raja decides to take advantage of the period before Christmas to go to Calcutta with her. It is polo and racing season, and the elite of the whole of Asia will be there without fail. Calcutta, which in 1911 is about to stop being the capital of the British Empire in India in favor of Delhi, is still the most important city in the subcontinent, its commercial, artistic, and intellectual capital. In spite of being rather run-down after so many decades of monsoons, the public buildings, the business center, the monuments, and the residences with balustrades and columns still maintain their former splendor.