I spent the next few days learning everything I could about this world. Balaji was my guide, my teacher, and my friend. He taught me the basics of Marathi, the history of the Maratha Empire, the culture of the Marathas, and the skills of a prince. He also introduced me to the other members of the royal family, the court officials, the military commanders, and the important allies. He helped me to blend in, to act natural, and to avoid suspicion.
He was my brother.
But he was not the only one who helped me. There were others who supported me, who respected me, who loved me.
There was my mother, Radhabai, who was the first wife of Baji Rao I and the daughter of a powerful noble. She was a kind, gentle, and wise woman, who cared for me and my brothers. She gave me advice, comfort, and encouragement. She was my mother.
There was my father, Baji Rao I, who was the Peshwa of the Maratha Empire and the son of the previous Peshwa. He was a brilliant, brave, and charismatic leader, who expanded the empire and defeated the enemies. He was proud of me and my brothers. He gave me authority, responsibility, and trust. He was my father.
There was my eldest brother, Vishwasrao, who was the second in line to the throne and the commander of the army. He was a handsome, noble, and courageous warrior, who led the troops and fought the battles. He was friendly to me and my brothers. He gave me respect, protection, and friendship. He was my brother.
There was my youngest brother, Madhavrao, who was the fourth in line to the throne and the most talented of us all. He was a smart, curious, and diligent scholar, who studied the scriptures, the sciences, and the arts. He was close to me and my brothers. He gave me knowledge, inspiration, and admiration. He was my brother.
There were also my half-brothers, Chimaji Appa and Sadashivrao, who were the sons of Baji Rao I and his second wife, Mastani. Mastani was a beautiful, brave, and loyal woman, who was the daughter of a Muslim king and a Hindu mother. She was loved by Baji Rao I, but hated by many others, who considered her a low-born and a threat. She and her sons faced a lot of discrimination, hostility, and danger.
But they were not alone.
I supported them, I respected them, I loved them.
They were my brothers.
And they supported me, they respected me, they loved me.
They were my brothers.
We were a family.
We were the Marathas.