I, Hemchandra Vikramditya, smile sitting atop the elephant howdah as I look at my army ecstatic with joy. We have discouraged the Mughal troops. Some are fleeing, some are clueless and some are fighting out of desperation.
“Calm down…War is not over until the last soldier of the enemy has been slain” I announce.
The army is yelling at deafening pitch, sounds of “Jai Shree Ram” along with “Allahu Akbar”. My scouts tell me that Akbar and Bairam Khan haven’t come to the battle field. They are scared of the collective might of my brave Hindu and fearless Afghan units.
“Jai Shree Ram” the army goes again.
Suddenly a sharp surge of pain overtakes me. I feel a shaft buried deep inside my left eye. I feel dizzy and take forever to fall from the elephant back.
I pluck the arrow out. An Afghan soldier comes running.
“Let the war continue…” I pronounce.
I feel dizzy. I start having flashes of all the incidents of my life. But they say you see flashes of past only when your end is near. “Yama” is nowhere in sight.
******
“But why do they raze our temples down?” I see a five year old me asking my mother.
“Because they are evil” mother replies.
“Hemchandra’s sword will teach them a lesson someday” I reply.
******
“Let not the Mughals win” I cry again as the Afghan bandages my wounded eye.
******
“Sir! He is a fine man, an astute negotiator…he is a Vaishya by birth, Brahmin by knowledge and a Kshatriya by his martial skills” the market head introduces me to Islam Shah Suri, the son of Emperor Sher Shah Suri. I am 16 years old and very embarrassed at this exaggerated introduction of mine. I am a small-time seller, a saltpetre huckster. I was recently promoted to the ranks of Government Huckster for my diligence.
“Is that true Hemu?” Islam Shah asks.
“Sir! This is not exactly untrue” I say with a sheepish smile.
“Hahaha, you are one cunning man Hemu. I promote you to the rank of Superintendent of Markets in Delhi” Islam Shah announces.
******
“Sir, you need the Raj-Vaidya’s attention. I need to get you out of here” The Afghan says.
“No, let me be here. Hemchandra Vikramditya does not want his men to be leaderless” I shout.
******
“Hemu…My end is near, I am shifting the capital to Gwalior and I want you to be the governor of Punjab.” Islam Shah Suri proclaims. He is old and diseased.
“I will discharge my duties with utmost honesty sir” I reply. The king coughs and pats my shoulder. I smile. “Sir, Humayun is under the protection of the Iranian King and I am sure he is gathering forces to attack India again”. I say.
“Yes…you have my trust. Train the armies and hire more men. The treasury of Suri Kingdom lies at your dispense” Islam Suri says.
******
“Sir, Akbar’s forces are elated. They know Hemchandra Vikramditya is down” the Afghan says. I sigh.
******
At the age of 37; I take the reins of the decaying Suri Empire in my hands and lead them to 22 victories. I am still to see a defeat in my life. I overthrow the rebel brothers of Suri Family in fierce combats. The brothers had illicitly taken control over Bengal and Punjab. Except for Delhi, all the provinces are back in the Suri Empire. I do not rate my master Adil Shah highly. He is a drunkard and a whoremonger. But I have sworn an oath of steadfast loyalty to the throne. The king wants me to kill the rebels and keep the Mughal away and I am duty bound. But one thing that I am very sure of is that this rivalry in the family will ultimately benefit Humayun who is waiting for an opportune moment. Sources tell me that his General Bairam Khan is a very able military commander.
******
“Hemchandra, are you alright…are you alive?” The afghan shouts. I am sinking into darkness.
“Hemchandra, I can’t let you die” The afghan is at the verge of crying. I somehow raise my hand and pat his shoulders. “Stay put” I command feebly.
******
The obvious happened. Bairam Khan killed Sikandar Shah Suri, one of the rebel Suri brothers and Mughals conquered the Delhi sultanate again. The only good news is that Humayun is dead. I do not want Mughals in India. I am livid with rage. With a troop of 50000, I start a march from Bengal through Bihar, Eastern UP and Madhya Pradesh to Delhi. The Mughal fauzdars flee in panic as they behold the horde of Hemchandra Vikramditya. The commander of Mughal forces Iskander Khan Uzbeg In Agra, is on a run after hearing the news of my invasion. Even without raising arms Agra, Etawah, Kalpi, Bayana and all of central and western UP are mine.
The Mughal army doesn’t want to leave Delhi. Abdullah Uzbeg, Haider Muhammad, Iskander Beg and Tardi Beg, the famed Mughal lieutenants are in charge. Their Turki Cavalry is very well armed. They capture 400 elephants and slay 3000 men of the Afghan army. But I never rated Mughals as fine warriors for a warrior never thinks of anything else in the War-field. Mughals are nothing but plunderers. They think victory is already gained and have dispersed to plunder our camps. Tardi Beg is strolling casually in the battlefield unaware of the fact that I am holding 300 choice elephants and a force of select horsemen as a reserve in the centre. We attack suddenly hacking anyone and everyone to death. The Mughals are now on a run. Bairam Khan, the chief commander is clueless. He keeps sending reinforcements one after the other but our blades kill them all.
I win Delhi after a day’s battle on 6 October 1556. I enter Delhi, victorious under a royal canopy. The army is loyal to me and that whoremonger drunkard Adil Shah commands no respect. People confer me the title of Vikramaditya. I am their king, the first Hindu emperor of North India in 350 years. Hemchandra Vikramditya. I revitalise the administration and economy. With my knowledge of trade and commerce I start giving fresh impetus to commerce throughout North India. I suspend everyone who indulges in black-marketing of goods. I have even introduced a coinage bearing my image.
******
“Are you Hemchandra, the great Vikramaditya?” asks the Mughal as three of his men stab the Afghan. I kick his face.
“Yes, Shah Qulin Khan he is the one…let us drag him to our side” the other Mughal says. I kick again.
******
November 5, 1556
Bairam Khan is back. He now is the sole commander of the Mughal Empire and the protector of the successor of the Mughal throne, the 14 year old Akbar. His armies have attacked us again. My army is motivated and stronger than ever before. My generals tell me to avoid this battle but I have sworn an oath of killing both Akbar and Bairam myself. I know the war is easy but I can’t stay away from the battlefield. Every army needs a leader and I know the mere sight of me energises my troops.
******
I smile sitting atop the elephant howdah as I look at my army ecstatic with joy. We have discouraged the Mughal troops. Some are fleeing, some are clueless and some are fighting out of desperation.
“Calm down…War is not over until the last soldier of the enemy has been slain” I announce.
The army is yelling at deafening pitch, sounds of “Jai Shree Ram” along with “Allahu Akbar”. My scouts tell me that Akbar and Bairam Khan haven’t come to the battle field. They are scared of the collective might of my brave Hindu and fearless Afghan units.
“Jai Shree Ram” the army goes again.
Suddenly a sharp surge of pain overtakes me. I feel a shaft buried deep inside my left eye. I feel dizzy and take forever to fall from the elephant back.
“The war is over Hemchandra, you are our captive. You will be beheaded by Bairam Khan himself. And your head will be hung outside Delhi Darwaza.” Shah Quilin says as he drags me. I kick again and sink into darkness.
