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of India fit to be ranked with the regulars, and our Lancers were the best of those three.’
    The rajah said gloomily, ‘When I employed that old English colonel, I thought I would just be convincing the British that we would do nothing against them ... You are mad, boy! Why should I send my people off to be killed in a British war thousands of miles away? I don’t even know or care where France is ... or Germany. Our problem is not the French or the Germans, but the British.’
    ‘Grandfather,’ Krishna said earnestly, leaning forward, and realizing suddenly how strange and out of place his trousers and tie and jacket looked against the Rawal’s dhoti and kurtha and the rajah’s white robes, with the grains of rice sticking to the painted stripes on both men’s foreheads, ‘we have trained our Lancers to be the equal of the Indian Army. India is threatened, and we ought to be fighting beside the British. We are soldiers, after all. How can we truly compare with the Indian Army if we sit at home, filling our bellies, while they are fighting a real war?’
    ‘You mean that afterwards we will be able to take on the British on level terms?’ the rajah said, ruminating. He shook his old head angrily. ‘You are being ridiculous, grandson! I have seen my father and my cousins bayoneted to death by British soldiers, on that square outside the palace! There is no more sense in fighting them than in fighting the smallpox. The way to survive is to stay away, keep quiet, out of sight. They will pass, like all plagues, in the wisdom of Brahma.’
    ‘I do not think we should ever fight the British,’ Krishna said. ‘I think we should learn from them. Why is it that they can rule India with 800 officials? And the British soldiers outnumbered two to one by Indian soldiers? It is because they have a superior civilization. We are backward and ignorant. We will always remain in subjection, and will deserve to, unless we learn from them, and improve ourselves. But if we don’t fight beside them, they will continue to look down on us. If we do, they cannot refuse to give us what we then will have earned--greater freedom to rule ourselves.’
    ‘One cries war, another peace,’ the Rawal said, ‘it is like the Mahabharata.’ He began to chant:
    Ponder well ye gracious monarchs, with a just and righteous mind,
Help Yudisthir with your counsel, with your grace and blessings kind,
Should the noble sons of Pandu seek his right by open war,
Seek the aid of righteous monarchs and of chieftains near and far,
Should he smite his ancient foemen, skilled in each deceitful art,
Unforgiving in their vengeance, unrelenting in their heart?
Should he rather send a message to the proud unbending foe,
And Duryodhan’s haughty purpose seek by messenger to know?
    The chanted Sanskrit died away and the rajah lowered his palms, which he had joined together to listen respectfully.
    Krishna said, ‘Yes, but Rawal, when Krishna went to Hastina, there was no war. Now there is. The choice has already been made. It is only a question of whether we act nobly or ignobly, whether we stand by the British, or let them suspect that we are not really their friends after all.’
    ‘I don’t see why we should pretend to be their friends,’ the rajah said. ‘Their vassals, yes. Perhaps they are better overlords than the Germans would be. Certainly better than the Muslims were. But friends? No, no!’
    ‘Highness! ‘ Krishna said. ‘I am your grandson. The Lancers are my regiment. I want to take them to war. I will not be able to hold up my head if I do not. Grant me what I ask, I pray.’
    ‘Ah,’ the old man said slowly, ‘the young warrior wants to win his spurs. And what if you are killed?’
    ‘I have brothers.’
    The old man cracked his swollen knuckles and winced. He stared, unfocused, at the darkly looming phallus. ‘And my people ... some, many will die. For what? So that their young rajah can prove himself? That is a worthy object. But, to