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251 pages, Hardcover
First published February 15, 2010
Mrs Fagin. That’s what I once called Queen Victoria. The biggest pickpocket of them all. The receiver of stolen goods. Stolen kingdoms, stolen jewels. Smuggled away to her by her loyal viceroys, men like Dalhousie with immaculate records and long panegyrics. The thousands of pearls and emeralds and rubies and diamonds taken from my toshkhana and presented to her by the East India Company after the Great Exhibition of 1851. To be locked away in the Tower of London, stuck in her tiara, sewn on her dresses. That’s how she received the Koh-i-noor. Dalhousie tucked it away into a chamois bag especially made by his wife, which was then sewn into his belt by Login.But Duleep Singh too was not blameless – he relinquished his religion, led a dissolute life in England and, when abandoned by the British for his profligacy, reconverted to Shikhism and yearned for his kingdom. He conspired with Russians, Afghans, Turks and French to somehow get his throne back and resume slaking his blood lust – shooting pheasants and other wild-life on a gargantuan scale.