Naina stood in silent respect in front of the statue of a woman tenderly holding the hands of two little boys. Her two girls – Rashi (11) and Trisha (9) wondered what she was upto.
The three were on a 3 week vacation from Sweden to visit their maternal hometown in Rajasthan. The last time the two kids visited was 6 years ago when their entire family met for a wedding. After that, their father’s travels took them all over Scandinavia with barely anytime for an India vacation. Naina longed to show them their roots and instill a deep sense of belonging to their homeland.
Just a day before, Rashi and Trisha celebrated with great warmth the Mother’s Day with 3 generations of mothers – Naina, her mother Deepa and their grandmother Kamala. The women talked about their stories of growing up and how mothers played a critical role in who they are today. An idea flashed Naina’s mind that evening and here she was with her girls in front of that statue. Her M.A in History combined with a rooted connect to her native Rajasthan gave birth to that idea.
After a few moments, Naina opened her eyes as few drops of tears trickled down her bespectacled face. Rashi – the elder, the softer and more sensitive one instantly held her hand in concern. Trisha, the younger one, more pampered but equally brattish, stood a little away gazing into the distance but with ears tuned to their conversation.
Naina – “Come here, let me tell you the story of this legendary woman”
Trisha’s shoulders slumped as she dragged her feet. A prospect of a history lesson on old, irrelevant kings and warriors did not excite her mind as much as the latest songs and gadgets.
Naina hugged her daughters, one on each side as she started the narration.
Naina – “I know you two love your mom and appreciate truly - how much our grand mothers and their mothers have done to put us where we are today. But, you must also know about the other mothers who did so much more for us, for our community and our lands.”
Trisha (blurted) – “Other mothers?”
Naina – “It takes a tribe of mothers to raise successful men and women and this lady right here is one of the other mothers our history has long forgotten. Do you know who built this beautiful city we are in now?”
Rashi (remembering instantly) – “Rana Udai Singh”
Naina – “That’s right! But for this brave woman, this city would not even exist!”
Trisha (excited now) – “Whoa! What did she do?”
It seemed to Naina that now she had the attention of both the girls. She continued -
“Panna dai was a nursemaid of Rani Karnavati, the wife of Rana Sanga, and brought up Rani's sons Vikramaditya and Udai Singh, along with her own son Chandan. Those were the tumultuous times of 1500s when the Mughal invader ‘Babur’ was trying desperately to take over the fertile lands of Mewar. Standing in his way was Rana Sanga who united the different chieftains and fought bitterly with the Mughals.
After injuries in battlefield and treacheries in court, Rana Sanga died. The next 2 rulers – who were his 2 eldest sons died in battles too. Next in line was Vikramaditya who was insolent and ended up displeasing the nobles and the generals. Taking advantage of this chaos, neighboring ruler Bahadur Shah attacked and ransacked Chittorgarh. Rani Karnavati, wife of the Rana, put up a brave front with the nobles but lost the battles, eventually committing Jauhar (fire sacrifice). Panna dai was entrusted with the care of young Udai.
Over time, the nobles were fed up with the incompetent Vikramaditya and put him under house arrest. They instated young Udai as the heir-elect with his distant elder cousin Banvir as regent.
Banvir was the illegitimate son of Prithviraj – the estranged brother of Rana Sanga and had been eyeing the throne for himself. Sensing an opportunity, he plotted to remove all obstacles in his path to take over the kingdom. One night, he killed Vikramaditya and his supporting nobles and rushed to kill Udai – the last frontier to his ambitions.
Panna dai had just put Chandan and Udai to sleep when she learnt of the ongoing events. She knew she had to act and act fast. Udai was the future of Mewar and had to be saved at any cost.
In a flash, she gathered her trusted servants, put the sleeping Udai in a wicker basket and smuggled him out of the palace. In his place, she placed her own blood – Chandan.
When Banvir rushed into the chambers with a blood-stained sword, he asked for Udai and a stoic Panna dai pointed to her own son. The wicked man slaughtered the young boy in cold blood and Panna dai uttered not a word nor shed a tear.
Trisha (with wide eyes) – “Mom! Why didn’t she fight?”
Rashi (gushed) – “Banvir would then know it was her son and not Udai!”
Naina smiled as the realization dawned on Trisha.
Naina – “Imagine the pain that must have ripped through her heart to see her son being killed and not even grieve for him! She then quietly slipped out, cremated her son and fled from the kingdom with the young prince. They walked upto different nobles but all refused assistance fearing the wrath of Banvir.
Desperate, she took him to the rocky Aravallis where the tribals- Bhils finally offered them shelter. Imagine the situation for her! Grief, fear of being found out and the trying conditions of the terrain.
Eventually, after a few years, they reached out to some nobles. Once they built confidence, they amassed more support to secretly raise an army and march over their capital to defeat Banvir”
“As the prince was crowned the new king and began to rapidly write new chapters of history, Panna dai was slowly erased from the history books. The other mother was largely forgotten as history remembers only the powerful.”
Naina paused. Her motherly eyes once again shed a tear as she looked at her daughters lovingly.
Rashi and Trisha looked up to the statue and bowed with sincere devotion.
Naina then concluded her history lesson.
“Panna literally means ‘emerald’ which is a precious stone and dai means wet nurse. She had raised the young prince like her own son and when the moment of reckoning came, she willingly did the ultimate sacrifice as a mother. Like her, we all have Panna dai in different shape and form. They come in our lives as nannies, neighbors, relatives, teachers, colleagues or sometimes as fellow travellers in this journey of life. It is their motherly nature that nurtures us, cultures us and helps us become who we are. Let us be grateful for them too ! ”