My sons and I attended the court per an appointment. The Royal Munshi, a thin, nervous man, insisted on giving us the grand tour of the Qila Mubarak. The Fortunate Castle seemed down on it’s luck . The jewel box use of mirrors was augmented by an unusual use of glass cut like diamonds and rubies and emeralds and set in gold tinted plaster. The floor was polished with egg shells to appear as smooth as marble. There were some lovely but ghostly frescos as well. The durbar room boasted outrageously over the top gigantic chandeliers of French design. Over 20 feet tall and a ton in weight. But frankly, no one wanted to see any of it. And the munshi had this whining voice and a nervous way of rubbing his hands together that reminded me of that villain character in ‘David Copperfield’ . So when the Royal Munshi then announced a tour of the fucking roof we all rolled out eyes. Sikhs were usually an very efficient people but this Sikh rajah seemed as addled as the damn monkeys. The Royal Munshi let slip that the rajah was suffering from some debilitating disorder. Anemia or something.
“When did you take over from the other munshi?” Son # 2 asked. “The original munshi I originally wrote to?”
“When he developed a debilitating disorder” the new munshi replied. “But I fear I am developing the same disorder. This job has proved too stressful Sahibs!” he whined as he rubbed his hands together nervously.
Up to the roof we went to see the crow’s nest which proved to a handsome British style country cottage complete with gothic details, marble fireplaces, windows, and state of the art plumbing for the kitchen and bathroom. It was a pre-constructed, then disassembled product ordered out of a catalog and shipped here and reassembled. We rolled out collective eyes. That was when we were collectively attacked!
Langur monkeys attacked us left, right, center, and behind. It was a whirlwind of furry fury! We were lucky to escape with our lives! I have never witnessed such a sustained, organized, and massive assault! And Indian monkeys are notorious! We ended up cut and bleeding in the office of the Royal Munshi. His windows were covered by boards and nails. Apparently he had been under continuous attack himself. “We are under attack Sahib!” he wailed. “Such attack! As to wear a soul down! We are at our wit’s end! We cannot take it anymore! It is relentless! Relentless! A soul cannot take relentless torment!” he rubbed his hands together as his shattered nerves all but quivered.
“The Wahhabists?” I said as one of my hands held up my all but torn off sleeve and another hand held down my unruly hair. The fiends had torn off my turban.
“The monkeys!” the man shouted hysterically. “They are fiends! Fiends! Some evil god has possessed them!”
“The danger is the Wahhabists” I said. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything? The fear and terror started with them.”
“The danger is the monkeys!” he cried.
“I agree they are savage. Why not shoot them?”
“But they are the children of Hanuman the Monkey God! They are almost as holy as the holy cows!”
“Holy cows do not attack!” I said as Son # 2 held up the shreds of his pajamas to preserve the shreds of his modesty while Khan Son # 1 held the tatters of his tunic.
“Tonight you must spend the night in the haunted pavilion and find out why we are being bedeviled!”
“I do not do monkeys!” I replied.
“You have helped other principalities! Why not us?” he wailed.
“Your monkeys are worse than any demon!”
“They are a cloud of demons!”
“We are here to….”
“Not until you defeat the monkeys!”
“Are you asking me in?” I asked.
“We cannot take this torment any longer!” he wailed.
And so tonight I am residing in the haunted pavilion!
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John Nicholson and the Great Mutiny of 1857 