Modern cement, also known as Portland cement, emerged in the 19th century. It's a type of hydraulic cement that hardens through a chemical reaction with water. Primarily composed of limestone, clay, and gypsum, it starts with limestone, which is quarried, crushed, and heated in a kiln, a oven like structure to produce clinker.
Simultaneously, clay is heated in a separate kiln to form metakaolin. These materials are then ground into a fine powder in a ratio of 70% clinker to 30% metakaolin and mixed precisely. Gypsum is added during grinding of clinkers to regulate the cement's setting time, typically constituting an additional 5% of the volume.
When Aditya explained the cement manufacturing process, Bhaskar's eyes sparked with excitement. He mentioned they had a separate kiln in the smithy, previously used for pottery or baking bricks. It was 3 meters long.
However, Aditya's disappointment was evident as he realized it was small and made of rock and clay. This type of kiln would take more time to heat and require strong surveillance to ensure proper regulation of the heating process.
Disappointed, Aditya called out to Bhaskar, explaining they needed a bigger kiln, preferably made of steel. He suggested some modifications in the design to improve its efficiency and durability. Aditya also allowed the use of extra manpower to expedite the construction of the new kiln.
The next day, in an open space near the smithy, a makeshift area was prepared for the experiment and setting up of the temporary facility for cement production. Aditya had foreseen the difficulty in procuring raw materials, so he had already ordered a few tonnes of them in advance, which arrived promptly.
Two days later, a giant 10-meter oven structure was installed in the temporary facility area. A separate support ladder was built to increase the top reach, and modern opening systems were installed at the top and bottom. These openings allowed for the easy input of large volumes of materials from the top and the extraction of output from the bottom. Handles were designed so that levers could be operated using clothes or other tools, and the setup resembled a giant stove, with space for coal or wood to fuel the furnace.
Setting up the kiln was just the tip of the ice berg. The real struggle came with crushing, mixing, and extracting the product. With this in mind, Prince Aditya himself supervised the manufacturing and assembling of parts for semi-modern crusher, grinder, blender, and composition measurement machines. These were a step up from traditional counterparts and more sophisticated for manual handling.
With only two assistants, it took an additional 6 nights, exceeding the 7-day deadline. Since the area was temporary, the need for a chimney was skipped, and the previously denied kiln was shifted for preheating raw materials.
With all preparations done, Aditya finally obtained the clinker product for which he and his subordinates had worked tirelessly. The hot clinker was left on a thin metal sheet to cool overnight. The next day, using the newly invented grinder, the clinker was ground into fine cement following the rest of the process.
As Prince Aditya dipped his hand into the jar of fine, grayish powder, memories of his previous life flooded back to him. The texture felt familiar, reminiscent of the practical experiments he had conducted in his engineering workshop. With excitement coursing through his veins, he scooped up a handful of the powder and added it to a jar of water, inserting a small wooden twig into the mixture.
The onlookers watched with skepticism as Aditya waited patiently, his eyes fixed on the jar. After a few moments, the powder settled at the bottom of the jar had hardened, trapping the wooden twig in place. Aditya passed the jar to others, inviting them to try and remove the twig, but to their surprise, the twig broke instead, leaving the hardened mass of cement undisturbed.
Undeterred, Aditya fetched a small hammer and carefully tapped the jar from behind, causing the solidified contents to dislodge. The hardened mass, resembling rock rather than the fine powder it once was, tumbled out onto the ground, eliciting gasps of amazement from the gathered crowd.
In that moment, Aditya felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over him. Despite the slight feeling of dissatisfaction for the two additional days it took to achieve their goal, there was also a profound sense of accomplishment and pride. He had ventured into uncharted territory, pioneering a new approach to construction that held the promise of transformative change.
With a newfound resolve, Aditya demonstrated to Bhaskar and Vinayak how to mix the cement with sand to create a paste and how to use it to join the bricks together. With each brick laid and cemented in place, his mixed feelings gradually faded away, replaced by a renewed sense of determination and purpose.
One of the worker expressed his astonishment, unable to contain his surprise, he asked "Your highness, what is the name of this miraculous powder? "
Aditya smiled proudly, replying, "It's cement." His words echoed through the crowd, eliciting murmurs of acknowledgment from everyone present.
This demonstration not only showcased the practical application of cement but also marked a milestone in their journey towards innovation and progress. Aditya knew that despite the challenges and setbacks they had faced, they had ultimately succeeded in pushing the boundaries of what was thought possible. And as he looked out at the newly constructed block of cemented bricks, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what they had achieved together in just a day.
** Ladakh, evening time in Shey Palace **
In the grand courtyard of Shey Palace, where the Namgyal dynasty use to rule over Ladakh, an enchanting scene unfolded. The air was filled with excitement as influential nobles gathered for entertainment in behalfs of king's request
In the center of the courtyard, a stage was set up under the soft glow of torches. Musicians played traditional Ladakhi tunes, setting the mood for the evening's entertainment.
As the music filled the air, dancers took to the stage, dressed in colorful costumes that shimmered in the torchlight. Their movements were graceful and captivating, telling stories of love and heroism through their dance.
King Jamyang Namgyal sat on his throne, his old wrinkled eyes shining with pride as he watched the performance. His courtiers, dressed in their finest attire, leaned forward in anticipation, eager to be swept away by the spectacle before them.
The dancers' feet tapped out a rhythm that echoed the beat of the drums, their movements drawing everyone's attention. With each twirl and spin, they seemed to transport the audience to another world, where ancient tales came to life before their eyes.
The flickering torches cast shadows that danced along the courtyard walls, adding to the enchantment of the scene. As the music reached its peak, so did the energy of the dancers, their joy infectious and impossible to resist.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the audience was captivated by the magic of the moment. In that courtyard, surrounded by the beauty of Ladakh and the richness of its culture, the legacy of the Namgyal dynasty was celebrated in all its glory
As the dancers' performance reached its peak, a sudden interruption occurred that drew the attention of King Jamyang Namgyal. Amidst the joyous atmosphere, he noticed the grave expression on the face of his third son, Bhagan, who stood at the entrance of the courtyard.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, King Jamyang Namgyal raised a hand, signalling for the music to halt and the dancers to pause. With a solemn nod, he instructed his attendants to reward the performers generously and bid everyone farewell with utmost respect.
As the dancers gracefully exited the stage, the courtiers dispersed, leaving only King Jamyang Namgyal and his son, Bhagan, in the quiet courtyard under the flickering shadow of torch lights.
"Why the sudden interruption, my son?" King Jamyang Namgyal inquired with concern.
Bhagan hesitated for a moment before responding, "I received a letter from the prince, regarding his mission in the Kashmir region."
"So, what news do you bring, Bhagan?" Jamyang inquired, this time his voice carrying a note of anticipation.
Bhagan cleared his throat feeling nervous as he was called by his name, his gaze steady as he delivered his report. "Father, I bring news from the court of Kashmir. Our son, Tsewang Namgyal, has succeeded in his mission. Disguised as Tenzin Wangchuk, he has risen to the position of general and gained the full control over the princess, who now holds the regency."
Jamyang's eyebrows arched in surprise, with a hint of pride, he exclaimed, "This brat never ceases to amaze me." He continued, "We sent him to weaken their defences, and he got their princess in his bed. Good, very good. Things are getting fun."
But Bhagan's next words tempered the king's enthusiasm. "However, Father, the Emperor of Delhi has dispatched ten thousand troops as reinforcements to Kashmir. This may delay our plans for expansion. "
Jamyang sighed, "Ah, it seems everything is not as planned," he continued, "Who knew they would still give importance to this remote mountain kingdom."
After thinking for a while, Jamyang grew amused. "But perhaps this is an opportunity in disguise. Thanks to Tsewang, we might not need to shed any Ladakhi blood if we can arrange a marriage."
Bhagan nodded but reminded with caution, "Indeed, Father. Tsewang's cunning has served us well, but the Empire's reinforcements pose a significant challenge."
Jamyang leaned back in his throne, his mind already devising new strategies. "No matter how strong the empire is, it would be foolish to step back after so much preparation. We shall proceed with caution and adapt to the circumstances. Send a message to Tsewang to take care of hurdles and swallow the prize."
As Bhagan prepared to relay his father's orders to Tsewang, he hesitated, a troubled look crossing his features. "There is one more thing, Father," he began hesitantly. "The new inheritance laws of the Empire... they could complicate matters. If Tsewang and the princess were to marry and she were to inherit the throne..."
Jamyang chuckled, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Let us not worry about such trivial matters. If needed, the toy can be replaced. Tell Tsewang that Ladakh awaits him as his rightful reward if he can fulfil our ancestral dream of expansion in fertile lands. Don't forget, I have other options as well."
Bhagan's face lit up with pride at the prospect of his son becoming king, as he assured his father, "Yes, Father. I can assure you that our Tsewang shall be the one to make it happen."
The father and son shared a knowing glance, as they set their sights and made plans on the future. Unbeknownst to them, their actions would shape the destiny of Kashmir and Ladakh for generations to come, forging alliances, and sealing fates in the turbulent landscape of medieval India and its neighbours.