Samyogita was the daughter of Raja Jaichand of Kannauj. A beauteous princess she was who had made waves in royal circles. She was a magnificent combination of beauty and brains. She had heard a lot about the valour and brave deeds of young ruler of Delhi, Prithviraj Chauhan. His name had began to send her heart aflutter whenever she heard it. She had visualised him as a dashing figure like that of a divine warrior of a mythological take. She wanted to know more and more about him. Samyogita would ask her maids and friends to get her more and more information on Prithviraj. Any new information about him would make her squeal in delight. To earn precious rewards from her the maids and her friends would go at great lengths to ferret out bits and pieces of news on Prithviraj.
One day Samyogita was swinging in her garden when an excited maid rushed to her badly panting. “Princess! My princess!!” she huffed and puffed. “I have some very fan…fantastic…news for you. I came here on the run…you see…uh uh!!!”
“We can see that, silly Ratna!” Samyogita said as others giggled. “Running you came here. So what is the fantastic thing that set you alight?”
“A gem of a news it is. You won’t believe it. You will be overjoyed to hear it,” she paused for a breath and said hopefully, “And I surely deserve a pricious gift for it.”
“We will see. Out with it!” screamed Samyogita.
“A great painter has come in the royal court. A real great painter.”
“Bah! A great painter!! Everyday great painters, artists, poets and musicians come in the royal court. So, what is great about it?” a friend of the princess mocked.
“May be, he had horns or a tail!” another remarked.
“Tell me truthfully, girl,” Samyogita spoke impatiently. She sensed that the maid had some worthwhile news and she was holding it up for a reward of some great value. The princess toyed with her pearl necklace and declared, “You will get it only if the news is worth it otherwise you will get banished for playing a hoax on us.” There was a hint of warning but the maid was unfazed. Infact she was smiling.
“That painter comes from Delhi!” revealed the maid.
“Delhi! So what?” Samyogita said. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation of revelation.
“He is the royal painter of Delhi, a close one to Raja Prithviraj Chauhan!”
“Really!?” several voices squealed in delight.
“He has painted hundreds of portraits of the Raja of Delhi in whom our princess is so interested. I am told that he goes to Raja Prithviraj palace almost everyday.”
Now Samyogita was staring at the maid wide eyed. She tossed the pearl necklace to the maid who snapped it in the mid air like a frog catches a big fat mosquito with its tongue. The emboldened maid whispered into the ears of the princess,” He knows many personal facts of Prithviraj. Very close to the Raja this painter is.”
“Has he brought some message?”
“No princess. He is just here on a visit but you can know all about Prithviraj Chauhan from him. He carries around many pictures of the Delhi ruler as his sample work. You must see these pictures.”
“But how can our princess meet this painter fellow?” a girl wondered.
“That should pose no problem. Our Princess Samyogita can say she wants to see his paintings or she wants his expert opinion on some pictures we have here on the walls of our palace,” another friend of Samyogita said.
Samyogita nodded her head. “There will be nothing odd in my meeting that painter. I may even wish to get myself painted by him if his work is of high quality.” The princess got off the swing and ordered the maid,” Ratna! You may go to the court and say the princess wanted to see the work of the Delhi artist.”
The maid Ratna bowed her head saying, “I will be back with the painter as soon as possible.”
“Right! We shall be waiting for him in our chamber.”
For a few minutes Samyogita impatiently strolled around the swing as her friends watched her amused. The princess could not hide her excitement. She kept glancing in the direction the maid had disappeared into. Then the princess and her friends walked into the palace to be in her chamber to receive the painter.
A little while later the maid appeared in the inner sanctum of the palace. She was followed by the painter who carried a pile of paintings. The visitor was surveying the palace decorations with an artistic interest and curiosity. He was ushered into the chamber of Samyogita. The maid pointed respectfully to the stunning picture of the female beauty in regal attire,
“Our beautiful princess Samyogita. She wanted to see you, mister artist.”
Then she spoke to Samyogita, “Princess! Here is the artist from Delhi on a visit to our court.”
The visitor bowed his head saying, “My name is Pannarai, Princess Beauty. At your service I am, feeling greatly honoured by your wish to see me.”
“Please take your seat, mister painter,” the princess pointed to a seat.
The painter happily sat down and thanked the princess for the courtesy.
Samyogita spoke, “So you have come from Delhi, so hear. Artists are always welcome in our court and kingdom. How is life in Delhi?”
“How ironical it is that the same question in two different situations has different answers almost at the same time,” spoke Pannarai.
“Painter, I don’t understand what you are trying to say. Will you make yourself clear?”
“Princess! I was asked the same question that you put to me here in the court a short while ago by Raja Jaichandji. The answer I will give you will be different from what I gave in the court.”
“Why so?” the princess raised her pretty eyebrows.
“Because in reply to that question your father wanted to know the political state of affairs of Delhi. But I think you have little interest in the political state of Delhi,” Pannarai probed.
“Your assumption is correct, clever artist,” the princess agreed and added, “I may be interested in social and financial state of your kingdom.”
“Princess charming! Under the able rule of my king Prithviraj Chauhan everything is fine and the people are happy. The society is peaceful and there are no bickerings. Anti social elements have gone to sleep. The trade is flourishing. Incredibly popular is our young ruler. He is a renowned warrior and the symbol of valour. He possesses a very impressive personality and a very handsome face. I wish you could have seen him in person…and…”
Suddenly Pannarai realised that the princess was not listening to what he was saying although her vacant eyes were fixed on him. She was lost in a dream world of her own imagination. To test his assessment he softly said, “I hope you are listening to me, princess. Aren’t you Princess beauty?”
“Arn’t …what?” she woke up from her dream and blushed. “Oh yes, you were telling me about your king Prithviraj Chauhan…his valour and…handsome face…. It is surprising.”
“Surprising?” Pannarai really got foxed.
“Yes, it is not easy to associate a battling warrior with a handsome face.” The princess smiled.
“Princess, human mind is prejudiced. It can’t see two good things together. It has preference for pairing opposite values. That is why they say that the beauty and brains can’t go together. How untrue it is one can seen after meeting you, my princess!”
Samyogita blushed. “I don’t know or you are being generous to me.”
“There are exceptions, princess beauty. You will see for yourself. I have…”
Just then a maid appeared with sherbat and light refreshments for the guest. She put the items before Pannarai on the table and withdraw. Samyogita urged the painter to get replenished.
Pannarai thanked the princess for her hospitality to a wandering painter like him. He was really feeling overwhelmed at the generosity of the princess. Deep down his heart Pannarai felt that Samyogita had deep interest in him and all her courtesy and treats were not without a motive. When the plates had been removed, the princess began to betray her motive.
“Good painter! I would like to be portrayed by you but I want to see some samples of your art work. I hope you are carrying some portraits of the prominent persons of Delhi…”
I do have, princess. They are infact my testimonials. Would you care to see them right now? I have some here with me.”
The painter opened his satchel with elaborate ritual as the princess watched with her heart beating fast. She would see the picture of her heart throb for the first time. Pannarai produced some portraits of the Delhi court personalities and some landscapes. The princess examined them one by one and wanted to see more because she had not yet got what she had wanted. The painter was perhaps trying her patience.
“The pictures are good. You have a natural talent, no doubt. Show me more,” the princess said. “What is your favourite subject?”
“My favourite subject is Prithviraj Chauhan,” the painter revealed. The face of Samyogita brightened up. “So many portraits I made of him, most of them life size and larger than life size. Therefore it was not possible to carry them around.”
“So, you don’t have Prithviraj portrait!” Samyogita’s face fell. She looked disappointed.
“To carry around as sample of my work I made a small portrait of my Maharaja. I put in a lot of hard work in it. But it was worth it. It turned out to be a mirror image of Prithviraj, a real sample of what I can do.”
Samyogita looked at him with great expectation as the hands of Pannarai groped inside the satchel. Then out came a portrait and with a flourish of a magician he placed it before Samyogita who turned red as if she had run into Prithviraj himself. She stared at the picture of Delhi ruler, a very handsome and impressive face he had. Samyogita’s heart was poundng. She instantly fell in love with the subject of the portrait. Instinctively she began to caress the face of Prithviraj with her slender fingers. She was trying to feel the fierce moustaches of the portrait.
She got so lost in the portrait that the presence of Pannarai she forgot. He was watching her reactions with great amusement.
He coughed to draw Samyogita out of her dream world, “Princess! How do you like the picture?”
“Oh! It is incredible. I have never seen such a fine portrait of anyone before. There indeed is magic in your hands,” Samyogita praised the artist.
“Princess! How do you like the character in the portrait…I mean Prithviraj Chauhan?” Pannarai asked looking hard at her.
“Better and more impressive then I have imagined. You were correct, painter. Your king is a very very handsome and regal personality. Would you like to sell this picture?” She blushed.
“I won’t sell, princess. Infact I present it to you as my small gift. Its becoming part of your collection will be the greatest reward to me.” Pannarai presented the portrait of Prithviraj to Samyogita with both hands with his head bowed.
The princess, Samyogita accepted the gift with humility and genuine gratitude. Now she had the portrait of the man she was in true love with and would be gazing at it all the time. It was her private treasure.
