Nurjahan's Daughter

by Tanushree Podder

  The mammoth tent also accommodated the Diwan-é-khas and council rooms, just as they formed a part of the emperor’s quarters in the fort. Tents for the other nobles occupied the rest of the garden, their distance from the emperor’s marquee indicating their status. In the evening, the emperor sat in the marble pavilions shaped like stone thrones, standing in the centre of an enormous pool, as he listened to the ethereal music played by his musicians. Sheets of cool, quiet water contrasted with shawls of fast running water cascading over chadars–deep-throated marble chutes inlaid with coloured marble. The play of water in countless fountains covered the surface with ripples. Tiny oil lamps set in marble niches sparkled from behind cascades. Rows of trees lit with Chinese lanterns lighted up the path around the garden.

  The breathtaking scene didn’t alleviate Jahangir’s pining heart, however. ‘If only Meherunnisa were by my side,’ he sighed, ‘this would be paradise.’

  ‘Meherunnisa is housed on the other side of the river Ravi. Your Majesty can travel by the royal barge on a moonlit night and capture her heart. I am sure the lady will respond, for who can ignore the magic cast by the moon on a night like this. A direct appeal is always favourable to the ones made through mediators,’ Sharief suggested.

  Jahangir felt convinced of the truth of his stepbrother’s statement. That night, the royal barge, lit like a chandelier, floated on the waters of the Ravi, as it made its way towards the mansion that housed Meherunnisa and Laadli. His heart beating hopefully, Jahangir advanced towards his destination. He went as a lover, not an emperor, to woo the woman of his dreams.

  From her balcony Meherunnisa watched the illuminated barge approaching the shore. She walked to the outer hall where her maid was lying in deep sleep.

  ‘Wake up, you fool, the emperor approaches this mansion,’ she kicked the girl.

  The girl got up, sleepy and disoriented.

  ‘Run to the door and bring in the emperor while I dress,’ instructed Meherunnisa calmly, as she entered her room to complete her toilette.

  Soon they were standing alone in the hall, she heavily veiled and he, hesitant. His escorts waited outside in the garden.

  ‘What brings you here, Your Majesty, at this hour of the night? I do have a reputation to defend. Words of your night adventure will soon leave the four walls of this mansion and people will smirk.’

  ‘I have come to you Meherunnisa, because you have not heeded to the appeals sent through emissaries.’

  ‘Your Majesty should have patience. I am a grieving widow who has no reply for the emperor’s missives.’

  Her cool manner enraged the emperor.

  ‘Enough, Meherunnisa. Enough time has been granted for your mourning. For how long does a woman mourn a husband she didn’t love?’

  Her green eyes spewed fire as she directed her gaze at him. They seemed to burn a hole in the veil that covered them.

  ‘You are insulting me, Your Majesty. Is love to be worn over one’s sleeve, to be declared in public, for everyone to see? I mourn a man who was my husband for thirteen years.’ The rebuke took him by surprise.

  Anger flickered in his eyes. ‘It is a deadly game you are playing with me. You continue to dangle me on a slender thread. I have no more time to give you for your grief. Four years I have waited for you. I can wait no longer.‘

  ‘How can a mere women play deadly games with an emperor? That is the sole prerogative of the royals. I play no games with you, sire. I just want you to leave me to my fate. I am too small a person with no rank and status to challenge the grand Mughal emperor. Do I detect a veiled threat in the emperor’s statement?’

  Her words were sharp and the tone uncompromising. The volcano of rage simmering inside his bosom turned into cold lava in an instant. Its ashes seemed to choke him as the mighty emperor grovelled helplessly before her. ‘Meherunnisa, my darling, how could I threaten you? I love you more than anything else in my life.’

  ‘More than your throne? More than the hundreds of beautiful women in the harem?’ she asked archly, delighting in his discomfiture. She felt powerful and potent before her helpless lover.

  ‘Yes, yes, more than the throne and the crown, more than the women in my harem, more than everything!’

  ‘Is that why you got my poor husband killed? A valiant soldier, who fought bravely for the empire, saved you from death once, and rode with you many times, protecting you from the hail of arrows and bullets. Did he deserve to die so miserably, killed so brutally, his body hacked to pieces by your henchmen? All because he happened to be married to a woman who caught your fancy?’

  ‘Don’t you dare make such allegations, Meherunnisa. Don’t test my patience just because I love you.’

  ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty, for a moment I forgot that you are the emperor. For an instant I saw my husband’s murderer standing before me. You may punish me in any way you want. Behead me, have me trampled by elephants or bury me alive within the walls like Shahenshah Akbar buried Anarkali. I shall not complain.’

  ‘Why are you intent on torturing me? Believe me, I had no role to play in your husband’s death.’

  ‘For four long years I have lived with the gory image of my husband’s brutalised body. Flow can I forget his murder, sire? The entire empire knows that your foster brother, Qutubuddin, was instructed by you to kill my husband. And you are telling me that you had no role to play in his murder?’

  Jahangir was pacing the floor agitatedly.

  ‘What do you want from me? Tell me, how can I atone for the murder of Sher Afghan? Since you believe that I was instrumental in causing his death, tell me what I must do to erase that idea from your mind?’

  ‘I am no one to pass judgement, Your Majesty. I can’t dictate terms to the powerful emperor of Hindustan. Please leave me to live the rest of my life in peace.’

  Rejected again, the emperor left to drown his misery in endless cups of wine.

  ‘Sharief, I am trying to be tolerant, but she tries my patience. I must be the only Mughal emperor to be spurned by a woman. I feel ashamed of my weakness.’

  ‘Your Majesty must not lose heart. I have no doubt that a persistent approach can make her heart melt. No woman can reject a penitent man.’

  Every night, for eleven nights, the emperor travelled on his barge to Meherunnisa’s mansion, trying to mollify her. Hidden behind a pillar, the eight-year-old Laadli watched as the emperor wooed her mother with expensive gifts, laid the imperial treasures at her feet, bared his heart and tried every ploy he could think of. The innocent child applauded what she thought was her mother’s courage in rebuffing the emperor. Laadli gloated in the emperor’s discomfiture. She was convinced that her mother’s love for Sher Afghan would not allow her to submit to Jahangir’s wishes.

  Seated in the garden of the mansion, Laadli told Benazir, ‘My mother will never acquiesce to the emperor’s desires. How can a woman marry a man who murdered her husband? Is the emperor so naive that he doesn’t understand that, or is he so vain as to think that he can win any woman’s heart with his throne and crown?’

  But Laadli’s delight did not last long. Appalled, she watched as her mother’s frozen heart slowly thawed and warmed to the ardent lover’s pleas. On the twelfth night, Jahangir could control himself no longer. He fell on his knees and pleaded–‘Don’t send me back, I beg you.’

  Taking her in his arms forcibly, he murmured against her black fragrant tresses–‘Meherunnisa, I can’t live without you.’

  ‘I do not give my heart to form until the course of action is known; I am a slave to love, and the seventy-two sects are known,’ she recited, closing her eyes in ecstasy.

  Her pliant body receptive to his caresses, she whispered back–‘Your Majesty, you will have to pay a high price for me.’

  Intoxicated by her soft voice and aroused by the sensual scent of roses on her warm body, he promised, ‘I am willing to lay my crown at your feet, just say yes to my proposal, my Meherunnisa. From today you shall be known as Nur Mahal, the light of t
he palace, if you agree to my proposal.’

  With bated breath, Laadli listened from behind a pillar. She clapped her hand on her mouth to stop herself from gasping as she heard her mother respond–‘I shall not acquiesce to being a concubine, even if you bestow that title on me, that is my first condition.’

  ‘You will never be a concubine, that is a promise. I shall make you a queen.’

  ‘The second condition is that my daughter, Laadli, will wed your son and your heir.’

  Laadli could barely control her revulsion. Why was her mother succumbing, and why was she including her in her list of conditions? In that moment she knew all was lost. She realised that her mother had only been playing a game with the emperor: all she had wanted was a good bargain. It had nothing to do with emotions or mourning or love. Laadli’s heart broke. A sob escaped her throat. She watched helplessly as her fate was sealed.

  ‘I agree to that condition too,’ the emperor said, ready to acquiesce to all her demands.

  ‘If you make me a queen, it may cause a stir in the harem. Queen Jagat Gosain, the Shah Begum, will not take kindly to your decision.’

  ‘You are a hard bargainer, Meherunnisa. Don’t forget that she is much senior to all the women in the harem and I cannot displace her. It is against the rules of the Timurid dynasty.’

  Meherunnisa knew she had reached the limit of her bargaining strength and pushing harder could jeopardise all that she had managed to inveigle out of Jahangir, so she gave up graciously.

  ‘I respect the Timurid laws and will not insist on breaking any of them. I am yours, Badshah, from today, both in flesh and spirit.’

  The emperor’s eyes lit up with her words. He embraced her with happiness. ‘My Nur Mahal, we shall get married at the earliest and you shall be my chief consort. Allah is great! He has blessed me with happiness. We will have the grandest wedding ever seen in Lahore. There will be rejoicing and celebrations throughout the land,’ he said, holding her tight, his grip hurting her.

  ‘Not at Lahore, Jahanpanah, let us get married in Kashmir. It is the most beautiful place on earth and I want our relationship to start from there.’

  ‘That is a fantastic idea. Why did I not think of it? We will set out for Kashmir immediately. Sharief,’ he called out to his foster brother who was waiting in the garden. ‘Congratulate us, brother. She has agreed, at last.’

  Mohammad Sharief bowed low to both of them and expressed his delight at the momentous decision. He was relieved at the development. At last I will be able to rest in peace, he sighed, as he accompanied the ecstatic emperor to the barge.

  Laadli’s world shattered as she watched the emperor returning to his barge, elated at his victory. Soon she would be the daughter of a queen. At that moment, she hated her mother more than the emperor. For Laadli, her mother was a traitor who had let her husband down.

  ‘But why does she have to marry that murderer?’ she wailed in her room. Neither Benazir not Firdaus, sitting by her side and trying to console her, had an answer to that.

  News of Meherunnisa’s reconciliation with the emperor spread like wildfire. There was consternation in the harem. Would the wily Meherunnisa demand a higher status than she was eligible for? There was much anxiety in the Rajput faction, but the Persian bloc was jubilant.

  Jahangir met Mirza Ghias Baig and expressed his wish to get married immediately. There was little time to prepare for an elaborate ceremony, but the elated Mirza Ghias Baig and Asmat got busy with their daughter’s wedding arrangements with enthusiasm. The household bustled with the constant arrival of jewellers, seamstresses and traders who brought the finest of silks from China, the best of muslins from Dacca and embroidered velvets from Gujarat. Cooks were brought in from different parts of the country. The most famous nautch girls, musicians and singers were called to accompany the royal entourage to Kashmir to perform for the festivities.

  The wedding was a grand affair. Meherunnisa was resplendent in a royal blue silk qaba embroidered with pearls, her slim legs encased in a matching churidar, and her radiant face covered in a gossamer veil of pure woven gold. Her feet were shod in velvet slippers embroidered with seed pearls and gold thread. She wore the most exquisite jewellery, which had been gifted to her by the emperor: a delicate ornament, crafted out of gold filigree and set with huge blue diamonds and rubies, sat on her head; an emerald and gold choker adorned her neck, along with five strings of pearls which hung to her waist; dangling earrings fell to her shoulders; her arms bore pearl and gold bracelets and armlets; each finger had a ring; and a crescent shaped ornament covered the back of her palm. The bride shimmered with each step she took to walk up to the flower bedecked dais, followed by her maids.

  Musicians heralded the arrival of the emperor as he walked to the hall with his sons and Mirza Ghias Baig. Only Khurram seemed to be brooding about something–his handsome face dark with anger. Jahangir wore a pure white silk qaba with gold embroidery and a pearl encrusted, richly embroidered crimson cummerbund, in which was stuck his dagger with its jade handle. A flank of nobles followed the emperor, resplendent in their finery. Dozens of slaves sprinkled rose essence and strewed the path with petals of roses and jasmine, as the bridegroom approached the stage that had been covered with a canopy of gold. Strings of jasmine, roses and pearls hung from the ceiling to divide the men and the women. Sombre-faced mullahs and qazis began the nuptial rituals.

  The emperor was impatient for the formalities to be over. He could not wait to hold Nur Mahal in his arms. His heart leapt with pleasure as Nur Mahal whispered her acceptance and the qazi announced that the ceremony was complete. A volley of greetings rose from the spectators. Each noble wanted to be the first to congratulate the couple and offer precious gifts.

  With a voice shaking with emotion, Jahangir read out a long ode he had composed for his queen, eulogising her beauty and intelligence, her grace and goodness, her generosity and benevolence.

  ‘From this day, Begum Meherunnisa will be known as Nur Jahan, the Light of the World. With this wedding I adopt her little daughter, Laadli, who will, henceforth, be known as Shehzadi Laadli Bano,’ he announced to the assembled nobles.

  Earlier that day, wedding gifts from the emperor to Meherunnisa had filled the chambers of the harem. Jahangir had been extremely generous. There were caskets full of gold coins, totalling eighty lakh gold asharfis. Eunuchs carried in over five hundred sets of exquisitely tailored and embroidered dresses in muslin, silk, velvet and satin, in various colours, for the empress. There were heaps of priceless pearl necklaces, each pearl the size of a nugget, chokers set with diamonds, rubies and emeralds, gold bracelets and armlets, hundreds of gold rings set with precious stones, countless casks of perfumes, musk and ambergris, satin and velvet slippers embroidered with seed pearls. He had also given her dozens of caparisoned elephants, pure-bred Arabian stallions and palanquins ornamented with gold plating and inlays. Finally came the royal Farman, which endowed Nur Jahan with jagirs of Rampur, Kanauj and Qandahar, along with a command of thirty thousand troops. It was the largest jagir ever given to an empress.

  After Jahangir’s announcement, poets read out their compositions in praise of the emperor, nautch girls danced with abandon and the musicians played divine music as the couple was led to their bridal chamber. There were fireworks and joyous celebrations, clothes and food were distributed generously to the needy.

  While the entire valley resounded with laughter and merriment, a tearful Laadli sat in a dark corner of her room, weeping inconsolably. She had refused to attend the marriage ceremony despite the pleas of her friends. The sounds of laughter, music and revelry seemed to scorch her soul as she tried to block out the sounds of her mother’s wedding. Firdaus found her lying in a heap on the floor the next morning.

  As the days passed, Laadli felt increasingly miserable. Preoccupied with her new husband, Nur Jahan had no time for her lonely daughter. The couple spent endless hours in the beautiful gardens by the Dal Lake and Jhelum river, where distant shikaras
bobbed in the placid waves. Jahangir, gazing at the snow-clad peaks of the distant mountain ranges, sighed with happiness.

  ‘Kashmir has never been more beautiful to my eyes,’ he declared ardently.

  Kashmir was the emperor’s favourite resort, and its saffron fields, undulating grasses specked with nodding blooms of daffodils, irises and roses had never appeared more enchanting to the emperor. The flock of exotic birds hovered around them, their colourful plumes brightening the surroundings. The tall chinar trees stood like sentinels at a distance. Fruit trees laden with cherry and apple blossoms sparkled from a distance. A cup of wine by his side and his Nur Jahan near him, the emperor wanted nothing more from the Almighty. He felt blissful and sated.

  ‘The placid Jhelum, beautiful lakes, willow-shaded canals, deep green rice fields, wooden bridges across rivers, water lilies and lotus–these are the things that make this place so wonderful. This is a place I never want to leave. When I am in Kashmir, Agra and Lahore seem so miserable that the mere idea of going back to them depresses me.’

  Nur Jahan sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to the emperor under the black marble pavilion. ‘The heart is one held prisoner by beauty and perfection, a cry of “blessed” arises from the nightingale’s soul.’

  ‘Wah, wah, Nur, is that your couplet?’

  The empress nodded modestly.

  ‘I am thankful to Allah for giving me the most beautiful, intelligent woman on earth. What more could a man want? Nur, wine, and Kashmir, I have it all,’ Jahangir sighed contentedly, burying his face in her bosom.

  When he looked up, he saw Nur Jahan’s brows knitted in concentration. ‘What is it that troubles my queen?’

  ‘I do not want to mar the perfection of your day with my problems,’ she demurred.

  ‘Don’t I have the right to share your worries? Tell me what troubles your mind, begum.’

  ‘It is Laadli, Your Majesty. She has taken this marriage badly. The child does not understand. She has locked herself in her room and refuses to speak to me.’