NOT A Book Review: A note of appreciation for The Last Queen

Edited by: Shreya Jain

I remember the first time I read The Palace of Illusions. The intricate book cover and the luring title caught my eye when I was simply browsing through the local bookstore back in my hometown on a regular Sunday morning. I grabbed the book and sat on a stool in the corner of the bookstore, thinking I’d just indulge myself with a couple of chapters. But oh man, I was so engrossed in the book that I finished the entire thing in less than an hour. As I read this heart-wrenching yet empowering story of Draupadi, I was going through a range of emotions. I was smiling, gushing, and even sobbing, completely oblivious to my surroundings and everyone else at the store. 

This is the kind of charm that Divakaruni and her books have on me, especially her historical/mythological fictional books. I have always believed that history can never be a one-way street, it can never be fixed or linear. History is a narrator-dependent perspective that moulds itself according to what the narrator wants to focus on. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni has this knack for retelling history and mythology through the lens of strong, independent, and fierce women. One of her books, which is a perfect blend of history and fiction, is The Last Queen. Published in January 2021, the novel narrates the journey of a dog kennel keeper’s daughter Jindan Kaur, who became the last queen of the Sikh Dynasty. I remember reading all the praises that poured in when the book came out. But somehow I never got the chance to read it and I eventually forgot about it. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, nearly two years after its release, I stumbled upon it at a street bookstore in the bustling streets of Connaught Place. It was sitting right there, in the middle of all the Colleen Hoovers and Sally Roonies. I grabbed the book once again and impulsively bought the book. 

The story begins at the deathbed of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, the “Lion of Punjab”. Young Jindan Kaur, the Queen Mother, is sitting at his bedside watching her husband slip away right in front of her eyes. The book then takes us back to Jindan’s childhood, long before her marriage and coronation as the queen of Punjab. Born and raised near Lahore, Jindan was always a strong-willed child. Her stubbornness was evident even as a teenager when she refused to leave for Punjab without her elder brother. Eventually, her kicking and crying compelled her father to relent. Her loyalty and fierce protectiveness towards her loved ones eventually become her greatest vulnerability. 

What captivated me the most about the book is the sense of agency and freedom that Jindan portrays. Dividing the book into four parts – “Girl,” “Bride,” “Queen,” and “Rebel” – Divakaruni portrays Jindan’s unwavering attitude through all four stages of her life. From battling caste and class divides following her marriage with the Sarkar, to raising her son all alone in the face of adversity, as well as her unwavering determination to fight the British depicts Jindan’s transformation from a girl-next-door to a formidable woman, queen, and mother. 

The first-person account, a hallmark of Divakaruni’s previous works, allows us to forge a deep emotional and empathetic connection with Jindan. From personal tribulation to political upheavals, Jindan’s complex story is covered in merely four hundred pages. Each subplot is clearly laid out and skillfully interwoven, making the storyline easy to follow and remember. Divakaruni also ensures that Jindan is presented as a character with shades of grey, who is prone to mistakes rather than a saintly, self-sacrificing heroine. This portrayal reinforces the idea that she is just as human as the rest of us. 

Rani Jindan was truly ahead of her time. Her ideas and actions broke and shattered every societal stereotype that was prevalent against women. She was the first ever queen regent in the history of the Sikh Dynasty. She was also the first woman to give up her veil in the court and to take on a lover as a widowed queen. As Priyanka Chatterjee astutely notes in her article for Feminism In India: “(The fact that) we bear the legacy of a mid-nineteenth century independent spirit might allow us to contemplate the many Jindans who questioned conventions and unregretfully lived a life they chose, making us aware of possibilities today.”

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We can soar today because women like Jindan dared to walk and crawl. 

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