It took four months for her brother to reach Burdwan. As he rode into the courtyard of his sister’s house, a heavy feeling of despondency assailed Asaf Khan. He walked from room to room searching for a trace of human occupancy. The house was empty: thieves had ransacked it and stripped it clean of all valuables. There was nothing left of the splendour it had once seen. The looters had spared nothing, not even the expensive doors and floor tiles. Outside, the fountains had gone dry. Even the fruit-bearing trees seemed to sag with sadness and neglect. A solitary frangipani tree laden with flowers stood desolately at one side. His heart ached at the sight of the ruined mansion. He had not loved his brother-in-law, but he had respected him for his valour and openness. Sher Afghan had not deserved such a gruesome end.
Asaf rode around the village, looking for someone who could enlighten him on the fate of his sister, but no one seemed to know anything. Either they were wary of telling him or they really knew nothing about Sher Afghan’s family. He pitched his camp in Sher Afghan’s house and waited for his soldiers to gather some information.
Two days passed before Asaf’s soldiers brought Sayeed before him.
‘Sir, this boy was employed in this house. He must be aware about the fate of the women,’ said the captain of the soldiers.
‘Tell me where they have been taken, boy. We’ll reward you for the information.’
‘Are you a soldier of Emperor Jahangir?’ Sayeed asked.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then I am sorry I can’t tell you anything,’ the boy said, his mouth set in an obstinate line. Sayeed crossed his arms across his chest in an unyielding gesture.
‘Why won’t you tell me?’
‘Because the emperor ordered the killing of my master.’
‘But I am Meherunnisa’s brother. I have come to take her back safely to Agra.’
‘You should have told me that in the first instance,’ smiled Sayeed, flashing his strong white teeth. ‘Follow me. I will show you where your sister stays.’
Meherunnisa wept when she saw her brother. The dam of grief burst uncontrollably as she clung to him. Till then, she had tried to remain composed for fear of upsetting her daughter. She cried silently in the dark, soaking her pillow at night, and maintained a calm front during the day. But now she could control herself no longer. Asaf was heartbroken at the sight of his sister. Meherunnisa was his favourite sibling and he had always been very protective about her. When Salim was romancing her, only Asaf had been supportive of the relationship. The rest of the family, including her parents, had been apprehensive about the romance and its outcome.
From behind a pillar, Laadli v/atched her mother crying inconsolably.
‘Hush sister, everything will be all right. Pack your things and let us go. Ammijaan is waiting for you.’ With open arms, he approached his niece. ‘I am your uncle, Laadli. I have come to take you home. You would like that, won’t you?’
Laadli’s blank stare broke his heart.
Hours later, the family began their arduous journey back to Agra, where Mirza Ghias Baig and his wife waited eagerly for their daughter and grandchild.
Meherunnisa’s heart grew a little lighter as the greenery of Bengal gave way to the flora of the north. The graceful palm and banana trees slowly vanished; the pungent smells of jackfruit gave way to the majestic neem, mango, jamun and kikar trees. The rice fields gradually vanished, replaced by the nodding yellow of mustard in the fields.
On their way to Agra they passed Bihar, the outskirts of which city a well-known Sufi saint resided. On his sister’s insistence, Asaf agreed to halt for the night so that she could pay her respects to the saint.
Anxious about her future, Meherunnisa begged the seer to give her some indication of what her life would be like. ‘My husband’s death has left me bereft of all hope. I feel very insecure and helpless. Tell me, great saint, what is going to happen?’
The holy man’s piercing gaze sent a shiver of fear through her body. After what seemed like ages, the old man said in a tremulous voice–‘I see a crown on your head. You have a magnificent decade before you, but I see sorrow ahead if you let your ambitious nature take over.’
Heavy clouds from the incense lay between Meherunnisa and the fakir, making it difficult for her to read his features.
‘Baba, tell me how I can avert the disaster,’ she begged.
‘Your greed will be the cause of your downfall. I can tell you nothing more; one has to face one’s destiny. No one can change its course.’ And the fakir closed his eyes in a dismissive gesture.
7
Unused to the heat and dust, Laadli fell ill during the journey. Meherunnisa watched over her anxiously, as she lay burning with fever and dysentery. Firdaus, worn down by her own aches and pains, could not help much in the care of the girl. Finally, after five months of hard travelling, they arrived, on a hot June day, at Agra.
Laadli had lost weight during the journey and looked wan after her illness. Through the journey, the girl had barely said anything, only responding when spoken to. Meherunnisa’s heart ached at the sight of the dark rings around her daughter’s face. She sat Laadli on her lap and rocked her child lovingly. ‘We are at Agra, my baby. Soon, you will be at your grandparents’ house. We shall have a comfortable place to stay and you will have cousins to play with. You will love the house: there are many trees there, and birds nests on the trees. Your grandmother will make many delicacies and your grandfather will bring you many new toys.’ Her attempts at cheering the child barely elicited a spark of interest in the grey eyes.
But as they entered the city portals, winding their way through the crowded, cobbled streets, Meherunnisa sensed some animation in her daughter. The streets were lined with hundreds of tiny shops selling almost everything that a person could want: there were grain shops with fat men in strange turbans weighing out the requirements of the customers; perfumery shops lined with flagons of attars, their aroma wafting in the heavy breeze; sweetmeat shops arrayed with all kinds of halwas and sweets. Bales of fabric–colourful velvets, silks, brocades, printed chintz and muslin–occupied the shelves in the next shop where a group of women were haggling with a shopkeeper over a few yards of bright fabric. Beyond the street, at the head of another lane, stood an imposing jewellery shop with exotic ornaments in its showcases. An array of armlets, bangles, nose rings, anklets, hair adornments, wristbands and necklaces dazzled Laadli’s eye. She had never seen such a variety at Burdwan.
‘This is a beautiful city,’ she said, speaking without having first been spoken to for the first time in many months. ‘Will we live here forever?’
‘I don’t know, my child. Who can predict the future?’
A monkey performing tricks on one side of the lane caught Laadli’s attention and she leaned forward, a smile creasing her face. ‘Look Ammi, the monkey is doing cartwheels,’ shouted Laadli, clapping her hands excitedly. Meherunnisa sighed deeply as she felt some of her own grief lift. She exchanged a smile with Firdaus.
The palanquin traversed through the maze of streets and reached the wide road leading to the fort; her parents lived in a large mansion in the same area. The avenue was lined with fruit-bearing trees, which shaded the path. The sidewalk was ablaze with the petals of fallen flowers. Meherunnisa felt a surge of nostalgia as they travelled on the well-remembered road to the haveli. Just a few more turns before we reach home, she thought happily.
Suddenly, their palanquin bearers halted. A posse of soldiers had ridden up to them. The emir who was leading the soldiers went up to Asaf Khan. ‘Sir, I have the emperor’s order to take the ladies to the royal harem. Begum Meherunnisa has been appointed as a lady-in-waiting to the emperor’s stepmother, Ruqayya Begum. All arrangements have been made at the imperial harem to house the women.’
‘There must be a mistake. They are on the way to the house of my father, Mirza Ghias Baig, the Itmad-ud-daulah,’ Asaf Khan tried to explain. ‘The emperor is aware of the arrangements.’
‘I am sorry, but m
y orders are quite clear. I am to escort the women to the harem. They will have to request the emperor for permission to leave the harem.’
Meherunnisa was livid. Was she the emperor’s prisoner? Take his permission to go to her father’s place? The audacity of the man! She gnashed her teeth angrily. But the emir was not the man to argue with; he was just following imperial orders.
‘I will seek the emperor’s permission and take you home,’ promised her brother before he rode off in the opposite direction.
As they entered the palace, Laadli looked curiously at the liveried soldiers, the caparisoned elephants with their golden howdahs and the sturdy steed. This seemed to be another world–so different from their house at Burdwan where the rhythm of life was languorous and leisurely. This was a bustling city, full of servants, courtiers, and women, all walking at a brisk pace, bowing and nodding constantly to the nobles who passed by in their palanquins or rode on magnificent chargers. The ahadis, the royal elite guards, clad in resplendent crimson uniforms, strutted around with naked swords. There was a purposeful air all around them.
The women, accompanied by the noble and a few of his soldiers, entered the Red Fort, which stood on the banks of the Yamuna River, through the Amar Darwaza, and progressed toward the inner gates that led to the fort. The red sandstone fort was intimidating, with its ten-feet thick walls and ramparts, which were manned by the elite imperial troops. They were stopped and their identity checked many times before being allowed to proceed on the steep ramp, flanked by high walls and turrets that led to the inner palaces. Just ahead stood the majestic Diwan-e-aam with its silver roof and ornate pillars, its walls covered with arabesque, inlaid with precious gems. The winding path from the Diwan-e-aam led to a beautiful charbagh with fountains and terraced gardens through which one could enter the palaces. At the side of the garden through which Meherunnisa’s entourage passed, there was a shaded path, flanked by flowering gulmohar trees.
Climbing the steps to the palace they made their way to the royal harem, the section of the palace that was most guarded. The large and rambling zenana was buzzing with activity. Imperial guards stood outside the walls of the harem casting suspicious looks at the guests. Here, the nobleman and his soldiers handed them over to the royal harem keeper and departed hastily. The women now entered the inner parts of the zenana which were guarded by giant Uzbek and Tartar women carrying gleaming scimitars. These women were reported to be more ferocious than the royal guards; their expressionless faces appeared to be carved out of stone. Laadli clung to her mother as she looked around the cold and hostile place. They stepped into the inner courts that were guarded by eunuchs, a dazzling lot with their gaudy attires and profusion of cheap jewellery. They ceaselessly argued with the other guards, trying to establish their superiority.
Meherunnisa took in the atmosphere with disdain. She had walked the corridors of the zenana a long time back, her head held high, mingling with royal blood as she waited on Ruqayya Begum. Once again, fate had brought her back to the harem to wait on the same queen, but this time round as a married woman with a child.
There had been not much decline in Ruqayya Begum’s importance, although her husband, Shahenshah Akbar, had passed away making way for his son. Emperor Jahangir’s wives now held more a important place in the harem hierarchy, but kept their distance from the dowager queen. The Mughal code demanded due respect for the dowagers.
Jagat Gosain, Shah Begum after Jahangir’s first wife committed suicide, was virtual ruler of the harem, and her ladies-in-waiting wielded more power than the others in the zenana. By virtue of being the senior-most wife of the emperor, the empress’ word was more powerful than any other law within the four walls of the harem.
Meherunnisa had once been an important figure in the harem: her closeness to Empress Ruqayya had ensured her prominence over the other ladies-in-waiting. As she walked towards the set of rooms allotted to her in the harem, she wondered what changes she would have to face. She walked with a regal air although her heart was hammering nervously. She had to remain calm to allay Laadli’s fears. They were a strange trio–the regal widow, the timorous child and the bellicose servant. The harem women watched them with a mix of ridicule and pity. News of Meherunnisa’s return had already travelled through the harem. There were whispers that the emperor had ordered her to be kept in the harem so that he could reignite the love that had once throbbed between them. The concubines hated her for trespassing into their world and the queens questioned the status of the new entrant.
The rooms assigned to Meherunnisa were ordinary and stood far away from the queens’ apartments, signifying her inferior position in the harem hierarchy. In the harem, as well as the emperor’s court, proximity to the royals was an indication of a person’s significance. Meherunnisa wrinkled her nose with disgust at the sight of her humble quarters. Within the four bare walls of this apartment lay their future. Her mind was already buzzing with a hundred ideas that could help secure her position in the harem.
As soon as they had settled, she paid a visit to Ruqayya Begum along with her daughter. Laadli was dazzled by the richness of the objects that were scattered in the luxuriously decorated apartment. It was all crimson and gold, splashed with hues of green and blue. A profusion of gems, gold embroidered hangings, Persian carpets, jewelled censors and silver filigree lamps, tinted crystal bowls, jade cups, and enamelled gold goblets covered the room. The begum sat amidst a heap of soft silk cushions embroidered with pearls. Near her stood a carved stool, on which were jade bowls containing almonds and nuts. By her side lay a golden spittoon and a gem encrusted paandaan. The queen was ecstatic on seeing her protégé after so many years.
‘Meher, my child, it is so nice to see you again.’ Her eyes narrowed curiously. ‘And who is this lovely lady?’
Meherunnisa bowed courteously and pushed Laadli towards her. Scared, the girl stared at the corpulent matron silently.
‘Come here, child,’ the begum patted a cushion near her. ‘Don’t be afraid. Here take some of these.’ She offered Laadli sweets from the silver bowl lying near her.
Laadli remained where she was. Queens are supposed to be slender and beautiful houris, not fat and bovine. My mother would make a much better empress. The thought had come unbidden to her mind, but she never forgot the day when she had, for an instant, imagined her mother as an empress. Laadli would wonder what had sparked that thought in her mind.
Harassed servant girls ran around serving khus and rose drinks to everyone. Realising the queen’s affections for Meherunnisa, they favoured her with special attention. After a while, the attendants dispersed, leaving the two women to converse.
Unnoticed by the chatting women, Laadli sneaked out to the adjoining garden, separated from the apartments by a latticed wall. A marble courtyard–with fluted columns rising from its tiled floors–ran all around the lush garden. A host of flowers and fruit trees lined the garden’s central canal, which terminated into a beautiful marble fountain. On one corner stood a pavilion with its entire roof covered in striking frieze, overlooking the river. A cool breeze blew into the chambers, laden with the smell of the frangipani trees that lined the path.
Laadli walked up to the dovecotes that lined the edge of the garden and looked at the playful white doves. She thought about all the stories Firdaus had told her about the harem and the queens. She had been fascinated, thinking the harem to be magical, glamorous. But none of Firdaus’ stories had prepared her for how intimidating the harem was. She wasn’t sure she liked the reality: she would have preferred to have them remain stories to be heard within the confines of a happy home. She felt claustrophobic: she wished she could roam around the unfettered world outside the walls of the fort. The cheery streets that had been her first glimpse of this city. The women here frightened her; their disdain of her tore into her soul, stripping it of all confidence. If only I could live with my grandparents, she thought wistfully. How does Ammijaan remain so unruffled and poised?
Things did no
t improve with time for Laadli. Her mother and Firdaus were busy with their official duties, and she was lonely. No one had ventured to make friends with her, and she had no one to speak to. Although there were many girls her age in the harem–the daughters of concubines as well as those of the ladies-in-waiting–Laadli kept away from all of them. It was not only because she was shy, which she was, but that the memory of her father and her home at Burdwan was still fresh in her mind. She still had difficulty sleeping sometimes; nightmares of her father’s murder tormented her. She remembered what Firdaus had told her mother that fateful night, that the emperor was behind her father’s murder, and she did not like to think of herself as being in the same palace as him.
Preoccupied with her own problems, Meherunnisa did not notice her daughter’s unhappiness. She was concerned about their economic status. The queen was generous with her and gifted her clothes and jewels, but that was not enough.
‘I have been thinking, Firdaus,’ she told her faithful nurse one day, ‘there must be some way we can make money so we can live more comfortably. I have to start earning money.’
‘But how will you earn money inside the harem?’
‘I have an idea that could work. I can sew clothes for the women.’
Meherunnisa had always been a skilful seamstress and she thought her natural talent for designing could be put to good use in the harem. ‘That’s a good plan–and I could help you with the work.... But...I am not sure the women will give you the opportunity. They don’t know about your skill.’
‘I have a plan that will get me all the orders I want,’ Meherunnisa’s eyes were bright. ‘I will first make a dress for the begum. If she agrees to wear a dress made by me, the others would do so too, and my importance as a designer will be established within the harem.’
Nurjahan's Daughter Page 9
