The Coronation

Do you remember the very first word we kept, back on our very first night? Swarajya — "our own rule." Do you remember the boy who swore an oath in a hidden temple, and the crescent moon on his seal that promised to keep on growing? Tonight that whole long story reaches its peak. On the 6th of June, 1674, on the summit of Raigad, the dream gets its crown.

But wait — Shivaji already ruled a great kingdom. Why did he need a crown at all? Because in the eyes of the sultans and the emperor, he was still only a rebel, a troublesome landholder who had grabbed some forts. A crowned king is different. A crowned king is the equal of other kings: he can sign treaties as one ruler to another, strike his own coins, and start his own calendar. A coronation would tell the whole world, and his own people most of all: this kingdom is real, and it is here to stay.

A coronation needed the ancient rites, performed by learned priests. And here there was a difficulty, which we should tell honestly. Some scholars of that time argued that, according to the old rules, Shivaji's family was not of the kind that could be crowned. It was a real argument, and it delayed things.

So Shivaji invited a famous scholar from the holy city of Kashi, far in the north: Gagabhatt. Gagabhatt studied the question and declared that Shivaji's family descended from the great Sisodia Rajputs of Mewar, and that he could rightly be crowned. (Historians still discuss that family tree — but Gagabhatt's word settled the matter then.) He came to Raigad himself to lead the ceremonies.

For weeks the mountain buzzed with preparation. Guests arrived from near and far: priests and scholars, nobles and commanders, and envoys from other powers. Among them was an Englishman named Henry Oxenden, sent by the English traders of Bombay, who kept a diary of everything he saw. Thanks to him, we have an eyewitness account of these days.

The rituals went on for many days. At their heart was the abhishek — the sacred bathing of the king, with waters gathered from holy rivers, while priests chanted ancient verses. That is why the ceremony is called a rajyabhishek: the "anointing of a king."

Then, on that June morning, Shivaji climbed the steps of a magnificent throne. Oxenden wrote about what stood around it: royal emblems raised on tall, gold-tipped spears, and among them a pair of golden scales, perfectly balanced — a sign that this king would rule with justice.

Above the throne rose the royal umbrella, the chhatra, one of the oldest signs of kingship in India. From that day Shivaji was Chhatrapati — "lord of the royal umbrella," the sheltering king. And the heralds cried out his titles in a long, rolling proclamation, ending:

"…क्षत्रियकुलावतंस, सिंहासनाधीश्वर, महाराजाधिराज छत्रपती शिवाजी महाराज की जय!""…jewel of the warrior line, lord of the throne, king of kings — victory to Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj!"

Many new things began that day. A new calendar started, counting the years from the coronation: the Rajyabhishek Shaka, "the era of the coronation." New coins were struck — a little gold coin called the hon, and copper coins called shivrai, stamped with the words "Shri Raja Shiva" and "Chhatrapati." And a council of eight ministers, the Ashtapradhan, was given fine new titles to help run the kingdom — with Moropant, the builder of Pratapgad, as Mukhya Pradhan (Peshwa), the first among them.

And remember Day 6, when young Shivaji chose Sanskrit instead of Persian for his seal? As a crowned king he went further. Soon after the coronation he had one of his ministers, Raghunath Pandit, make a whole dictionary — the Rajavyavahara Kosha — giving Sanskrit words for the Persian words used in government. It begins by saying, in effect: where people said padshah, say raja. The kingdom would now speak in words of its own land.

Somewhere in that crowd stood two people who meant more to Shivaji than anyone. One was his son Sambhaji, now about seventeen, honoured as the heir. The other was an old woman, now about seventy-six: Jijau. The mother who had held a newborn under the stars on Shivneri, and wished that this land might one day be free, was watching her son crowned. Her crescent-moon wish had grown into a full moon.

That autumn, in September 1674, a second, smaller coronation was held in a different religious tradition. Why two? Historians give different reasons — but both ceremonies said the same thing: Shivaji was now a crowned king.

Now for the honest part. The coronation itself is certain, and well recorded. The date is usually given as 6 June 1674 (in the old Indian calendar, the thirteenth day of the bright half of Jyeshtha). The long proclamation of titles was probably made grander in later retellings. And people argued about Gagabhatt's family tree then, and still do.

Think how far we have come. A boy in a small hill-town, a mother's stories, a band of Mavla friends, an oath in a lamplit temple — and now a throne, a crown, coins with his name, and a calendar starting from this day. Every year on Raigad, crowds still gather to celebrate it, and the cry "Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj ki jai!" rings off the cliffs. But stay close tomorrow, my dear — because after the brightest day, there comes a quiet and tender night.

Goodnight — tonight's badge: Chhatrapati, "lord of the royal umbrella" — a king who shelters his people, as an umbrella shelters from the rain.