Shah Jahan was presented with the important jagirs of Hissar and Punjab, along with jewels and precious stones, which alone amounted to rupees 22,60,000. There were fireworks and grand feasts; prisoners were released to celebrate the occasion.
The empress was now convinced that he would inherit the kingdom. In the privacy of her boudoir she began to plan ways by which Laadli could seduce the prince. ‘Shah Jahan must marry Laadli. We have to make it happen,’ she told Firdaus.
‘But he is not interested in marrying her,’ Firdaus, who sympathised with the girl, said. ‘We can’t force him to wed her.’
‘Leave it to me. I will think of something,’ Nur Jahan said, with a determined look.
The empress organised a magnificent feast for the royal family to celebrate the reunion. Her mind began ticking off the tasks at hand as she prepared for her bath. The marble pool of sparkling water was ablaze with crimson rose petals and jasmines. The empress sat on a marble bench while her personal attendant, Azra, rubbed a special cream made from sandalwood, almonds, saffron, and camphor on her body. The gentle hands of the maids untangled and soothed her taut muscles as they ran over her neck and shoulders, sensuously massaging the back of her body with strong movements. The expert hands kneaded her muscles till they relaxed, traversing from her back to her thighs, legs and feet.
‘A good massage is more satisfying than sex,’ the empress believed and she abandoned all inhibitions for the ritual, as she lay prone on the bench while Azra did the four finger spinal walk down her vertebral column. The technique never failed to put her in a tranquil mood. The cool, shadowy interiors of the hamamgah were designed for repose. It was her own private haven, an escape from the ceaseless demands on her time.
An hour later she sank into the refreshing bath gratefully. The cool and refreshing rose scented water washed her troubles away and she felt rejuvenated, ready to take on the demands of her role once again.
As the maids helped her dress, Nur Jahan’s mind was already on the task at hand–Laadli’s marriage. Her daughter was already fourteen years old and the empress was worried. As Azra helped her into a sheer ivory muslin qaba with delicate gold embroidery, Nur Jahan’s mind was in a whirl. The knee-length jacket with embroidered rosettes and dark crimson churidar set off her translucent skin to an advantage. The emerald choker on her neck highlighted the flashing green of her eyes making them appear deeper. She decided to don a turban style headgear for the day. A heron feather and diamond stones adorned her turban.
‘Azra, I want you to help Laadli with her toilette today. Ensure that she looks her best.’ commanded the empress walking out of the bath.
Accompanied by Benazir, who was her inseparable companion, Laadli submitted herself to the elaborate ritual of massage, bath and dressing up. She emerged from the hamamgah perfumed and bejewelled, and made her way towards her mother’s chambers. Nur Jahan had left instructions that she wanted to see her daughter after the bath.
The empress critically took in the pale-pink costume her daughter wore and nodded her head appreciatively. The colour suited Laadli. Nur Jahan had especially designed the dress. The bright red arabesque pattern on the dress gave it a dramatic effect and the grey pearl necklace she wore set off her daughter’s calm grey eyes.
The evening feast was an elaborate affair. Hira Bai, the famous dancer from Agra, had been invited to entertain the gathering. Leaning against the softness of silk cushions and bolsters, the emperor looked relaxed. By his side sat the empress, her witty remarks amusing her indolent husband. Shah Jahan reclined at one end with Arjumand, who was pregnant again. Prince Shahryar sat in another corner with his cronies, his mood swinging from petulant to boisterous. Laadli had been ordered by her mother to sit with Shah Jahan, so she dutifully took her place near the prince, trying to make conversation. Arjumand was fond of her cousin and accepted her company with pleasure.
‘Tell me, Laadli, did your mother instruct you to sit with us?’ asked Shah Jahan.
Blushing with embarrassment, Laadli confirmed his suspicions.
‘So, now it is my turn to be wooed by the princess. I am flattered,’ he raised his wine glass with a flourish and saluted the empress. She returned his mocking glance with a sweet smile.
‘Don’t be offensive,’ scolded his wife. ‘She means no harm.’
‘Oh, my innocent Arjumand. If only you could read your aunt’s thoughts the way I can, you wouldn’t be so charitable to her.’
‘Please...I am not here to cause any problems. I know that my mother intends to push me into your company but, honestly, I have no option,’ stammered Laadli. ‘I would rather be with you than be with Prince Khusrau or Prince Shahryar. Being with Prince Khusrau is depressing, while Shahryar is downright nasty.’
‘My poor sister,’ clucked Shah Jahan. ‘I really pity you. With a mother like the empress, you don’t need an enemy. Khusrau is likely to be relieved now that she has taken him off her list of eligible husbands for you. He is besieged with problems of his own. As for Shahryar, he is a total disgrace to the Timurid dynasty. I just hope that your mother does not entertain even the remotest idea of including him in her list.’
‘He scares me. There is something quite abominable about him,’ admitted Laadli. ‘I do hope the empress will never ask me to entertain him.’
Their eyes travelled to Shahryar who was making lewd gestures at the dancing girl. He was totally inebriated and behaving in his usual offensive manner.
‘I sincerely hope that my aunt doesn’t take it upon her to thrust poor Laadli on him,’ agreed Arjumand, who felt genuinely sorry for her cousin.
The freezing winds of November burst through the forests of Malwa. Laadli walked through the vast gardens that were denuded of their blooms; browning leaves lay on the ground. A severe water shortage affected the royal camp, forcing people to buy water from the villagers who carried it from long distances. The emirs complained about the high cost of water and began putting discreet pressure on the emperor to move camp. By now Jahangir had tired of Mandu and was equally eager to move to a new place.
Winter faded away into spring, bringing back beauty to the hills. It was summer by the time the emperor began his journey towards the sandy shores of Gujarat. It was the empress’ wish to spend a couple of months near the port of Surat. Neither Jahangir nor Nur Jahan had ever seen the sea and were looking forward to the trip. But the long journey to Ahmedabad was neither pleasant nor enjoyable as the weather began to deteriorate, much to the unhappiness of the royal family. The sand and dust displeased the emperor who was more at home with the greenery of the hills.
The arid landscape and the heat turned the emperor into a cantankerous person and he constantly complained about the journey. Disgusted, he recorded in his memoirs–I do not know whether to call the place Samumistan [the place of hot winds], Bimaristan [the abode of sickness], Zaqqum zar [the thorn or cactus bed] or Jahannumabad [the house of hell].
To make matters worse, a strange sickness afflicted the royal party at Ahmedabad. It began with a high fever and the appearance of large, dark blisters on the body that multiplied at a fast rate. Death ensued in a matter of hours. The emperor as well as Shah Jahan fell prey to the pestilence and it was only after intensive treatment by the royal physician and a prolonged period of recuperation that they recovered. This illness prompted the emperor to order an early departure from Gujarat.
The jagir of Surat belonged to Nur Jahan. It was a prosperous port and a constant bone of contention between the Portuguese, English and the Dutch who were fighting for sole trading contracts. The English were currently not allowed to purchase or construct forts in the area, restrictions which the English were now trying to have removed. Sir Thomas Roe, the English ambassador, had accompanied the royal caravan all through the journey from Mandu to Ahmedabad, looking for an opportunity to present his case. Throughout the journey, Roe endeavoured to negotiate with Asaf Khan, but was perpetually thwarted by Shah Jahan and Nur Jahan, who were both wary of the English.
‘Why do they need to build forts when we have allowed them trading rights?’ she raged. ‘Traders don’t need forts. All they need is permission to trade.’
The Portuguese, meanwhile, had been encouraged by Jahangir’s response to the overtures of the Jesuit priests. He had already agreed to the conversion of three princes to Christianity. Three nephews of Jahangir, his brother Prince Daniyal’s sons, had been baptised and the priests had taken them under their wings. The Jesuits hoped that the emperor would eventually consent to being converted to Roman Catholism. Jahangir had adorned his courts with Biblical paintings and the Jesuits–mistaking his curiosity in an art form for religious fervour–took it as a sign that he was keen to be converted.
But there was also a lot of ill-will against the Portuguese as well. They had plundered a few trading vessels belonging to the empress, taking many slaves and robbing the ships of expensive carpets, gold, precious stones, dry fruits and other expensive commodities. The owners of the trading vessels appealed to the emperor to control the activities of the pirates. As the Mughals had no naval strength, they could hardly take it upon themselves to do the task. The only way out was to grant privileges to the British. Supporters of the English traders in the court argued that privileges given to them would help in controlling the Portuguese.
The emperor vacillated on the decision, finally leaving it to his empress. He was raring to return to the comforts of Agra after his stay in the inhospitable climes of Gujarat. The march to the capital began in the midst of the rains that washed the landscape with a muddy brush. Wading through the deep slush, the royal caravan, with its innumerable elephants and horses, soldiers and slaves, wound its way slowly through the vast stretches of forests, crossed several rivers in spate and climbed the frightening ravines, passing through insignificant villages, impressive towns, poor and impoverished hamlets as well as prosperous cities.
Exhausted, the royal court finally returned to Agra. There was not a soul who didn’t feel elated at the sight of the lofty gates of the city.
Back at Agra, it was business as usual for the empress. Seated behind a screen, Nur Jahan listened to every petition presented to Jahangir. On the empress’s insistence, Laadli accompanied her occasionally.
‘The only way to learn the intricacies of politics and administration is to be present when the court is in session. You have to learn these things, Laadli. I expect you to know them since you will be an empress one day,’ Nur Jahan rebuked her when she expressed her reservations about attending court.
It wasn’t always boring to attend court. Some of the incidents that took place were rather amusing. One morning the ambassador of an African country presented his credentials to the emperor. Among the expensive gifts presented by him was an animal with black and white stripes.
‘What kind of animal is that? It is neither a horse nor a mare, although it looks like an ass. I think the ambassador has got black and white stripes painted on it to make it look different. It is a ruse to please the emperor,’ whispered the ministers.
The emperor was perplexed. If this were a painted horse, would the colour not fade after a few months? Finally, the ambassador, amused at the reactions, explained that the animal had not been painted–its stripes were natural.
‘Your Majesty, this animal, found in our jungles is known as a zebra. The Almighty God has painted it with his own brush.’
Still not convinced, the emperor commanded that the animal be washed and scrubbed. It was only when he saw that stripes remained despite being scrubbed, was the emperor convinced that they were natural.
Jahangir immediately ordered the court artiste to paint a picture of the exotic animal and preserve it for posterity. He also commanded that the animal be weighed and measured. Then he made notes in his diary about the peculiarity of the animal.
‘We would like you to bring us a mate for this strange animal so that they may produce more of their breed and Hindustan may possess many of these funny beasts,’ Jahangir told the African ambassador. For many days he watched the zebra with great interest, noting its habits and manners in great details.
While the emperor occupied himself thus, a deadly disease was spreading like wildfire in the countryside, leaving a trail of death behind. The stench of rotting corpses permeated the air. Hundreds of people were dying every day. Food was scarce and so was drinking water; there were no farmers left to till the lands and no doctors to tend to the sick. Jahangir, finally realising the intensity of the disaster, granted several thousand rupees to the villages, but it was too meagre an amount to contain the disastrous effects of the plague.
16
Amidst the tragedy, the emperor was struck by wanderlust once again. This time he was pining for his favourite city of Lahore. ‘Nur, what is it about the magical city of Lahore that lures me time and again. Is it the dense clumps of the tall eucalyptus and cypress trees lining the Grand Trunk Road, or is it the lofty minarets of the mosques? My heart rejoices in anticipation of a visit to Lahore.’
Nur Jahan knew it was futile to argue with the emperor once he had made up his mind. ‘It is the most beautiful city in the entire empire,’ she agreed. ‘The buildings, the roads, the trees and the gardens, in fact the very air of Lahore is wonderful. When the wind whistles through the tall trees, and twilight floods the beautiful face of the fort, the Ravi flows in gentle rhapsody, mist fills the ancient streets and the havelis come alive with strains of classical music; the sublime spirit of Lahore suffuses even the hardiest of souls with tender emotions.’
‘That was beautifully said, Nur. I have also composed a couplet on the city. A glance tugs at the heart’s skirt, saying–this is the place!’ recited the emperor.
‘I only wish we didn’t have to travel so much in the heat. Besides, the scourge is creating unlimited fear in every heart. Most of the nobles are unwilling to stir out of their houses for fear of the disease.’
‘Don’t they realise that they may be safer at Lahore than they are here?’
‘Your Majesty, the plague has taken over the entire country without exception. The royal historians are claiming that only once have they heard of such a widespread scourge. Entire states of the northern and western parts of the country are suffering from the tremendous onslaught of the disease. We will not escape it in Lahore.’
‘Begum, I loathe Agra during the hot months. Even Yamuna seems to boil and the sands blow in from the deserts of Rajput lands. The weather brings unhealthy effects on my constitution and that is why I prefer to reside at Lahore.’
The emperor was suffering from breathlessness and his asthma attacks had resurfaced. So, once again the royal caravan took to the road, winding its way through the deserted and dusty streets, in a slow and tired march across the plains. They rested during the afternoon and covered small distances by the cooler hours of the morning and evening.
Even the usually imperturbable Uzbeg and Tartar women, who rode alongside the harem palanquins, wore an expression of irritation on their countenance. The Meer Samaan, who was in charge of making suitable arrangements for a comfortable stay enroute, looked harassed. Each evening, he would leave ahead of the rest of the entourage with an advance party of workers to find a restful site where the tents could be pitched for the emperor’s party. The preferred site would ideally be next to a body of water with good green coverage for shade. The tents had to be pitched in strict hierarchical order. Bathing tents and a kitchen had to be set up, arrangements for drinking water for the men as well as the beasts had to be made in advance. The next morning the caravan would arrive at the chosen spot to find everything waiting in readiness for them. Even the slightest discomfort could lead to the most severe punishment by the emperor.
It was weeks before the emperor reached the city of Lahore. It was a warm May month and Lahore was sweltering with the northwestern heat waves blowing into the city from the deserts. It was Nur Jahan’s second visit to the city. Like Jahangir, she had grown to love Lahore.
The sun was yet to rise when
a eunuch announced the approach of the emperor to her chamber. She was surprised. It was unusual for her husband to wake up so early. ‘I want to take you to a lovely place and we must go there early in the morning before the sun gets intense,’ Jahangir told her.
As the empress dressed in a hurry, she wondered what the unexpected visit would entail. She couldn’t stop laughing when she saw that they were to travel by a bullock cart. Drawn by a pair of strong bulls, the sturdy cart was decorated with tassels. ‘Why, Your Majesty. It is a delightful idea to travel by this cart instead of the elephants or horses.’
‘I thought we should do something different this time. Besides, I did not want to be accompanied by our retinue. A ride in a bullock cart is much more comfortable than riding a camel or an elephant. I am sure you’ll find it quite enchanting.’
‘I am sure I will. It was a good idea.’
They rode forty kilometres away from the fort. The green spread all along the jungle path was delightful. The thought that they had eluded their escorts was thrilling enough to amuse the two of them.
‘Agra will always remain Shahenshah Akbar’s city. I prefer Lahore. We have purchased Lahore with our soul; we have given our life and bought another paradise,’ the empress recited with feeling while relaxing under the mango grove near Hiran Minar on their way to Jahangirabad, which was the emperor’s favourite hunting spot.
‘Do you know why I built this memorial? My pet antelope Hansraj was more intelligent than many human beings. He could understand everything I said and could follow all commands. Only dogs are known to do that. I came across Hansraj during my first hunt in the forest. The beauty of those limpid eyes struck a blow to my heart.’
It had broken the emperor’s heart when the antelope died. He ordered an imposing monument to be raised over its remains, on which a life-size stone statue of the deer was placed. Nur Jahan walked over to the memorial and read the Persian inscription engraved on a slab of stone affixed to the grave:
Nurjahan's Daughter Page 19
