I gathered my army and marched towards the Mughal Empire. I had about 50,000 soldiers, mostly cavalry, armed with swords, spears, bows, and guns. They were the best warriors in India, trained, disciplined, and loyal. They followed me, trusted me, and loved me.
They were the Marathas.
The Mughal Emperor had about 200,000 soldiers, mostly infantry, armed with swords, spears, bows, and cannons. They were the largest army in India, but also the worst. They were poorly trained, undisciplined, and disloyal. They feared him, hated him, and despised him.
They were the Mughals.
We met at the battlefield of Karnal, a town in the north of India. It was a flat and open terrain, ideal for cavalry. It was a sunny and clear day, perfect for battle. It was a historic and decisive moment, crucial for India.
It was a war.
The battle began with a loud roar. The Mughal cannons fired at us, sending balls of iron and fire towards us. We dodged them, avoided them, and ignored them. They were slow, inaccurate, and ineffective.
They were nothing.
We charged at them, with a fierce cry. The Maratha horses galloped at full speed, carrying us closer and closer to the enemy. We drew our swords, aimed our spears, and fired our guns. We were fast, accurate, and effective.
We were everything.
We reached them, with a violent clash. The Mughal infantry stood in rows, trying to resist us. We broke them, scattered them, and crushed them. We slashed, stabbed, and shot them. We were strong, brave, and ruthless.
We were unstoppable.
We won the battle, with a glorious victory. The Mughal army was defeated, routed, and destroyed. We captured, killed, and wounded them. We seized their weapons, their supplies, and their treasures. We were victorious, triumphant, and proud.
We were the Marathas.
But we did not stop there. We pursued the Mughal Emperor, who fled from the battlefield. We chased him, hunted him, and cornered him. We found him in his camp, hiding behind his guards. We fought our way through them, reached him, and captured him.
We were the Marathas.
We brought him to me, who was waiting for him. He looked at me, with fear, anger, and hatred. I looked at him, with contempt, pity, and disdain. He spoke to me, with a trembling voice.
"Who are you? How dare you do this to me? Do you know who I am?" he asked me, in Urdu, the language of the Mughals.
I answered him, with a calm voice.
"I am Raghunath, the crown prince of the Maratha Empire, the future Peshwa, the leader of the Marathas. I dare to do this to you, because you challenged me, provoked me, and threatened me. I know who you are. You are Muhammad Shah, the Emperor of the Mughal Empire, the son of the previous Emperor, the descendant of the great Emperors. But you are nothing like them. You are a lazy, incompetent, and decadent ruler, who cares more about your pleasures than your duties. You are hated by your subjects, despised by your nobles, and feared by your enemies. You are a fool." I said to him, in Hindi, the language of India.
He was speechless.
I continued, with a stern voice.
"I have defeated you, captured you, and humiliated you. I have the power to kill you, to end your life, to erase your name. But I will not do that. I will spare you, release you, and let you go. But on one condition. You will surrender to me, acknowledge me, and obey me. You will give me your lands, your wealth, and your authority. You will become my vassal, my puppet, and my slave. You will do as I say, when I say, and how I say. You will accept my terms, sign my treaty, and seal your fate. This is your only option, your only chance, your only hope. Do you understand?" I said to him, in Marathi, the language of the Marathas.
He nodded.
I smiled.
I had won the war, with a brilliant strategy. I had not only defeated the Mughal Emperor, but also made him my subordinate. I had not only expanded the Maratha Empire, but also weakened the Mughal Empire. I had not only secured my throne, but also changed the course of history.
I was Raghunath.