Chapter 7: The Road to Unity
Jaipur bustled as the Prime Minister returned to oversee reforms, while Kabir and I rode to Nainpur to join Manoj. The Bhil tribes, led by Che Liji, commanded a hundred thousand archers but lacked iron and grain. Their lands, harsh and cold, held the key—horses.
I sent a letter to the Bhil king, requesting a meeting. The Bhils, long wary of Rajput power, prepared their own surprises. Old wounds ran deep, but curiosity prevailed—this was no ordinary king coming to visit.
We rode to Nainpur, Manoj and Kabir puzzled by my secrecy. Over poha and jalebi, I let them stew. A few days later, Jayant—a legend among the Bhils—arrived to surrender. I welcomed him at the city gate, declaring, "I am happier to have Jayant than to gain ten towns." From then on, he was called "Ten Towns."
Amit, forgiven for his earlier defeat, drilled his troops with renewed determination. Kabir, his beard now white, watched me with a father’s pride. Manoj, surprised by his new responsibility, wrote home, vowing to honour his family.
I rode silently, mind full of plans. Rajputana lacked cavalry, not salt, iron, or grain. The Bhils had horses; together, we could be unstoppable. If I could tolerate the Afghans, why not the Bhils? This time, I would win with words, not just swords.
As the horizon stretched ahead, my heart swelled with ambition. The jingle of harnesses, the laughter of my men, and the promise of a new Rajputana—all lay within reach. The title "Chakravarti Maharaj" was no longer just a dream. It was destiny, waiting to be seized.