Javali — the Gateway to the Konkan

Every kingdom that hopes to reach the sea needs a door to get there. Tonight Shivaji opens his — but I must warn you: this is a harder, darker night than the ones before, and we are going to tell it honestly, the good and the grim together.

Between Shivaji's hills and the Arabian Sea lay a wild, forested land called Javali (you may also hear it as Jaoli). Picture a maze of deep, dripping jungle and narrow, twisting mountain passes, so tangled and shadowy that whole armies could march in and simply lose their way. And here was the thing: whoever held Javali held the secret roads that ran down to the Konkan, the rich strip of coastland by the sea. Without those roads, swarajya could never grow toward the water. With them, a whole new world of harbours and trade — and one day, ships — would open up.

But Javali was ruled by a proud old family, led by a chief called Chandrarao More. He was a Maratha, just like Shivaji — and you might think two Maratha chiefs would happily join hands. But he would not. Chandrarao chose to stand with the Sultan of Bijapur instead, and he planted himself squarely in the doorway to the sea, blocking Shivaji's path and refusing every offer to join the dream.

The More family were no ordinary chiefs. For generations they had been lords of Javali's thick valleys, and that wild country made them feel unbeatable. "Who would dare come into our jungle?" was their proud boast — and, to be fair, it was not an empty one: in those ravines and that dense forest, an outside army could hardly survive. But Shivaji had something they did not: the Mavlas — men who knew jungle warfare in their very blood.

Even so, Javali could never be taken by strength alone. So here, force was joined by stratagem — and this is where our story turns dark.

And so, in 1656, Shivaji went into that jungle to take Javali. And here, my dear, we must be honest, because a good story does not hide the hard parts. This was not a gentle tale like the oath on the peaceful hilltop. It was a real, grim war, won with force and with cunning — and in it, Chandrarao More and members of his family were killed. Even great heroes, when they are fighting for something huge, sometimes make hard and harsh choices, and use trickery as well as bravery. Grown-ups and historians still argue to this day about whether everything done at Javali was fair. We will not pretend it was simple, or spotless. It was not.

Now you might wonder: then why tell a story like this to children at all? But it is exactly the kind of story we should tell. Real history is not a fairy tale where the hero never puts a foot wrong. Truly great people are still people — wonderful, fair and generous most of the time, but sometimes harsh, and sometimes argued about. If we hid this, Shivaji would stop being a real, flesh-and-blood person and become a cardboard statue. And we cannot learn anything from a statue — only from a person. So we will look honestly at the hard parts, not just the good ones.

When the fighting was over, Javali was won, and the door to the Konkan swung wide open. Swarajya could finally stretch its hand toward the sea — and many, many years later, that would blossom into something no Indian kingdom had built in a long time: a real navy, with warships to guard the coast. (But that is a wonderful story for far, far down the road.)

With Javali in his hands, Shivaji's kingdom took on a new shape. Now the passes that joined the hill country to the coast were his; trade routes, salt pans, harbours — all of it was coming within reach. The door a stubborn neighbour had blocked now stood wide open, and swarajya was no longer shut away in the hills.

And there was one more prize. On a commanding peak rising above the Javali forests, Shivaji built a brand-new fort to guard everything he had won. He named it Pratapgad — "the fort of valour." Hold that name close in your heart. In just a few more nights, at the foot of that very fort, Shivaji will come face to face with the most terrifying giant of his whole life — and everything he learned in these hills will be put to the ultimate test.

And Pratapgad was not just a lookout. It kept watch over the Par pass, the road winding down to the Konkan, and guarded the newly won lands. So tonight's hard story of Javali is really the first rumble of a much bigger storm to come.

Tonight's lesson is a grown-up one, but it is worth keeping forever: history is true, not perfect. The people we most admire did brave and brilliant and generous things — and, being human, sometimes hard and troubling ones too. Pretending otherwise would turn a real person into a cardboard hero. To truly love a story — and truly respect a great person — is to be brave enough to tell all of it.

Goodnight — tonight's badge: the door to the Konkan, the road to the sea.