Was it a usual day for Salar Jung II, the old prime minister of Hyderabad? Maybe it wasn’t. In the court, convoys from Spain, Britain, and France have already started the imperial oiling-the-minister’s-hand routine. Gifts should accumulate around the ruler; eventually hiding the vision of his country and people – that was the imperial gifting policy! The Spaniards accompanied a huge object with elaborate rituals expressing admiration and respect for Prime Minister Salar Jung. As the saying goes, the colonisers always make sure that they have comfortable seating over your shoulder before starting to eat your ears.
It was the biggest among all other gifts of the day – gigantic enough to hide Salar Jung’s vision of his courtiers. “Unveil the gift now” Salar Jung ordered in his acquired British accent. “Tadaaa” the thick moustached Spaniard in a driver’s suit was just waiting for the order. It was a big egg-shaped machine – it looked like an iron-eating dinosaur had just laid its best egg. “Whoah, now show me what’s inside, and how this machine operates” Salar Jung was getting impatient. “Sir, this machine could dig a hole in the wall of time, no machine could ever do this before” – the Spanish army officer resembled a passionate literature teacher with a science-ish heart”.
“Rhetorics apart, get to the point” Salar Jung yawned. “Sir, basically, you can move across the time. If you want to go to 1600, make 1600 as a combination of four digits on these number wheels.” The officer explained. Salar Jung yawned again, but this time in an audibly higher pitch. “Another imperial joke”. “You can try it for yourself, sir.” The officer bowed politely as if the white man’s burden was sitting on the back of his neck. “NO, first you go back in time and bring me evidence to prove that you crossed the wall of time.” “Sure sir, as you desire. What should I bring for you from the past?” The sceptical Salarjung was so sure that the Spaniards could make even the counterfeits of articles from the Adamic age! “Hmm…1864 April 2nd is the day of my first head-shaving after birth. You go, steal the shaving knife, and prevent the head-shaving ceremony from happening. Once the head-shaving ceremony gets stopped or postponed, the current shape of my hair will alter. Then I’ll trust you.” Struck by wonder and awe, the Spaniard nodded his head in agreement. He didn’t expect this seldome-evolved-sapience to develop profound skills in logic and physics. The army officer opened the cranky door and started the engine – whirring, whizzing, white smoke – it’s time to flag off. An oriental human sends off an occidental fellow, for the first time in history, in search of unknown landscapes, or ‘timescapes’ to be precise! There was a persistent jolt, cranky feel…krr..kkrrr…and boom! The machine disappeared in a split second. It wasn’t indeed a very pleasant way to break the great wall of time, but the officer seemed wandering beyond it, lost in the wilderness of time…
A few hours later, as an end to the impatient wait, the machine began cracking again. It’s then Salarjung noticed his hair. It looked as if the inventor of scissors has just conducted the first hair cutting trial – a total mess. The door creaked open and the Spaniard is back with a bang – a literal bang! Now that the coloniser has played his part; proving his point by a habitual messing up of the world. It’s Salarjung’s turn to go back in time and restore the harmony of his hair. What else would make a valiant cause for the upcoming adventures in time!
It’s April 3rd of 1864, just one day after the catastrophic arrival of the Spanish officer in the Darbar. Apparently, things were settling down but everyone was talking about the interruption in the shaving ceremony. ‘A human-like creature appeared in Darbar and it stole the royal shaving blade’: Someone in the teashop said. ‘Is that a human? It looks too white like a frozen dead body. ‘No no, he is an artist soaked in white paint, it’s just a trick he’s playing with the king’. ‘Idiots, shut up or acknowledge your ignorance. He’s from the other side of the earth where the sun never rises and their bodies never get baked properly to brown’: an earth-is-a-disk arguer gave his expert opinion. It went on and on because it won’t cause a pie to pass a comment. Anyhow Salar Jung was sure that the colour of the Spaniard’s skin caused a great deal of curiosity.
He somehow managed to introduce himself as a shipwrecked merchant to the gatekeepers and scrunch himself down as a common courtier. The heated arguments are about how the wretched creature managed to hide the royal knife and disappeared with his giant tin canister. “Under unforeseen circumstances, the majestic shaving ceremony has been postponed to a later date. But how late can we be? This late shaving could possibly set a bad precedent for a series of ‘ill-shaved’ or even perhaps ‘unshaved princes!'”: a senior courtier commented. “The royal family has never formed a norm out of adjustments forced by unfortunate circumstances. I strongly contest that ill-willed suggestion of your claim, but I do agree that we need to conduct the shaving ceremony immediately.” A ‘little more senior’ member replied, and the court was unanimous about the urgency of conducting the ceremony soon.
‘Oops, how should I replace the shaving knife now?’ Salarjung wondered. To get his hair back to its original shape, he has to replace the knife the Spaniard stole. It’ll take time to forge a new royal shaving knife, and the later it gets, the worse is gonna be the shape of his hair. He tried hiding the knife behind the minister’s chair. But there are few kids from the royal family who had no interest in the big shaving dilemma. They have been eyeing this ‘shipwrecked fellow’ who effortlessly stood out from the rest of the crowd. And now, for Salar Jung, the biggest hurdles are these littlest kids. He boiled his brain over this kiddish conundrum. And he can’t just walk out of the Darbar because it means his disinterest in the great shaving dilemma. Acting deeply interested in the discussion – but totally pissed off – deep down inside, the Salar Jung is feeling a boiling brain! ‘What’s that little gap in there?’ He noticed that the circular floor of the Darbar was covered by two red carpets in a semi-circular shape and together they formed a full circle. Now luckily, right under his feet, one semi-circle overlaps the other leaving a little pocket to hide his shiny little shaving blade. He gently pushed the knife under the carpet leaving no room for suspicion except for those two bulging eyes fitted on a chubby little face. That kid was just behind him and hence he didn’t notice; a room with a curious kid fitted on each corner might have felt like a modern-day FBI office with a thousand CCTVs and super-surveillance! The Darbar is about to conclude and he was dashing towards the door in relief. Then the alarm banged. ‘Knaaaaiiiiff’ – that noisy little mouth would beat a supersonic flight on the decibel scale. Everyone rushed towards the epicentre of the alarm. They gathered around the kid – in half happiness. Since the long hours of knife-retention-debate had gone well wasted, they asked unanimously ‘But how’.
Those little fingers didn’t hesitate to point at the shipwrecked, who was now fading away like a mistimed star on the horizon. Then there was a chase but futile for obvious reasons. An entire country, stood panting, witnessing the disappearance of the notorious tin canister… A canister that has profoundly freaked out a medieval civilisation.
Salarjung was just getting the kick of time travel. Where to go next? To home-time, or an exodus in the foreign times of the future.? He has to make up his mind now.
*To Be Continued