‘I have also brought something for you,’ said the princess. Quickly she passed a sketch from under the jasmine curtain. The artist caught a glimpse of the artistic fingers of his pupil before they were quickly withdrawn. He looked at the sketch and asked, ‘Who is this supposed to be?’
‘Well, I thought that you would find it very difficult to draw my portrait without some help so I have done this self-sketch.’ The mirth in the princess’ voice belied any seriousness she might have tried to convey.
The sketch showed the face of a rather ordinary looking girl. It was just as she had described herself–rather unattractive eyes huddled close together under severe, straight brows, and a broad mouth with sunken cheeks. Imraan smiled to himself as he looked at the sketch and then began sketching furiously on the canvas that he was carrying with him that evening. Occasionally he glanced to his right, towards the pillar of the pavilion where his paintings were hanging. Hidden amongst the paintings was a tiny mirror, which at that moment reflected the face of the princess as she stood near the paintings. He had a good view of her profile as well as the front of her face.
Imraan had spent an entire night thinking of some way to see the princess without her knowledge. It was towards the early hours of the morning that the idea had occurred to him. He hit his forehead for not having thought of it before; it was so simple. All he had done was to hang a small mirror at a height on one of the pillars, at a forty-five degree angle from where he could catch the reflection. The mirror was well camouflaged by the flower vase that was placed in the niche of the wall. Unseen by anyone, the mirror did its job of providing the first glimpse of the princess to her tutor.
If this face is ugly, I’m a monkey, the artist thought, smiling at the countenance reflected in the mirror. Perhaps she was not as beautiful as her mother was said to be, but there was a certain character in her face, a tenderness in her features that arrested attention. Unlike her mother’s blue-green eyes, the princess had calm, grey eyes that reflected her innocence. Her hair, unlike her mother’s curly tresses, was a raven silk–straight and fine. The chin was tapered and weak unlike her mother’s strong jawline; she had her mother’s rosebud mouth, however.
Her complexion was a pale marble with brows that were neatly arched. Taller and broad shouldered than most women, the princess was a bundle of contradictions. Her tall stature belied her delicate appearance. She was like a drooping flower that could, with a little effort, become a tall and beautiful bloom. It required an artist’s sensitive eyes to appreciate the girl’s inner beauty. To Imraan, the princess was far more beautiful than any woman he had seen.
Despite the Sufi saint’s words of warning, Imraan found himself attracted to the young girl as he sketched furiously, capturing the childlike beauty of the damsel. He would give the final touches in the privacy of his room when he could draw unhindered and unhurried by curious eyes.
‘Shall I continue practicing the notes you taught yesterday or will you start a new one?’ Laadli’s voice drew his attention. He quickly packed away his sketch and pulled the sitar towards him.
18
The Nauroz festivities were inaugurated with much fanfare by the emperor. The women vied with each other in adorning themselves with henna and all kinds of ornaments. Tresses were oiled, perfumed and washed with soap nuts and other herbs; novel hairstyles were devised and tried out on each other. Professional masseurs were much in demand for their services. For weeks, excited women had exchanged notes about the latest fashion in clothes: most of them originated within the walls of the harem as Nur Jahan’s clothes tended to set the fashion for each season. No one was allowed to wear the fabric favoured by the royal couple, nor were they permitted to use the same colours or copy their styles, but most women stuck close to the original, with little deviation.
Bazaars and public halls were decorated with costly materials and fresh flowers. Across Lahore, people whitewashed and decorated their houses with green branches to herald the first day of spring. A large number of people flocked from neighbouring villages, to amuse themselves. For a full eighteen days there would be merry-making, when people visited gardens, played various games and attended parties. Even restrictions on gambling were relaxed for the festival: Nauroz was the eighteen-day period when one could do what one wanted.
The public was allowed free access to the emperor once a week during this period. The Mughal emperor distributed special kinds of coins called nissars that were specially struck for distribution among the people. Verses were composed by poets eulogising the emperor. Singers and musicians flocked to the court from all quarters–during the Nauroz festivities, the nobles indulged in all-night song competitions. Contests abounded in the royal courts. Nautch girls made a fortune as their skills were in great demand in the city.
There was a lavish display of wealth and magnificence on the occasion. The first day of Nauroz saw the front courtyard of the palace occupied by a large body of glittering cavalry, all dressed in coloured embroidered silk, while the horsemen wore brilliant silken robes. Royal elephants with golden howdahs followed the cavalry.
Processions of the nobles occupied the streets all through the morning. They competed with each other in displaying their riches. There were jewels and expensive artefacts on all sides. Seated in the balcony of the great hall, Laadli and her friend watched the pompous emirs as they arrived in the court.
They giggled at the sight of Meer Muzaffar, the governor of Allahabad, arriving in his beautifully decorated palanquin. The corpulent governor was seated cross-legged against a thick cushion of brocade, his lips stained red with paan. There was an opium-strengthened, tobacco-filled hookah to keep him in good humour. On one side of the palanquin rested a silver spittoon, on the other walked two servants to flap away flies with a peacock fan. A couple of slaves spread rose petals and sprinkled perfumed water on the ground to flatten the dust. A few footmen marched in front to clear the way and a soldier on a stately steed followed in the rear.
‘Isn’t he a sight?’ giggled Laadli as Benazir mimicked the governor’s posture.
The governor’s wife, Salma Begum, had an equally impressive carriage. A minor princess from one of the princely states, she was entitled to more privileges than the other nobles’ wives. The begum sat in a beautiful golden howdah on a majestic elephant. Five other elephants, carrying other wives of the officers, followed the leading elephant. Surrounding the women were the beautifully dressed and finely mounted chief eunuchs, each with a wand of his office in his hand. The female bodyguards, Tartars and Uzbeks, rode their handsome steeds. There were, besides, a large number of eunuchs on horsebacks and foot soldiers with canes in their hands to clear the way. The minor nobles’ wives, whose retinue were in keeping with their husband’s rank and pay, followed the royal princess.
There were many arrangements to be made for the stabling of the horses, and the boarding of servants and slaves. The Lord High Stewart’s office worked around the clock making elaborate arrangements. They could not afford to leave anything to chance.
The noblemen’s processions were easier to handle than those of the princes and their consorts. Princess Bahar, notorious for her short temper, drove the administrators to desperation when she arrived with her huge entourage. She was travelling in a palanquin which was covered with a rich net of gold. The eunuchs around it had peacock feathers with handles of enamelled gold adorned with precious stones. The palanquin moved very slowly through the streets. A number of water bearers ran ahead sprinkling rose water to settle the dust. Soldiers with sticks of gold in their hands warned people to keep out of the way as the procession passed through the streets.
No one could dare to cross till the royal procession had passed, otherwise he was sure to be beaten back ruthlessly. It was proverbial that three things were to be carefully avoided: being caught among horses where kicking abounds; intruding in the hunting ground; and approaching ladies of the harem.
The right to way followed a strict hierarchical order. It was
customary for a person of junior rank to show respect to his superiors. Emirs had to stand aside to let the royal palanquins pass. At times, the emperor would send a gift of several pieces of betel in a gold brocade bag ornamented with precious stone as a mark of honour to a waiting noble. No breaking of protocol was allowed and severe punishment followed any breach of the rules.
On the first and the last day of the festival, the king took his seat on the throne in the midst of great rejoicing. The nobles stood in rows in order of their rank and offered presents. Jahangir then bestowed jagirs, robes of honour, titles and promotions. Money was distributed generously to the faithful and loyal subjects, artists and artisans.
As usual, the Meena Bazaar was to be held in the harem gardens. This year, however, Nur Jahan had planned an alfresco luncheon after the bazaar and entertainment programme that followed had ended. When the emperor entered the zenana, an astonishing sight encountered his eyes. As he entered the empress’ quarters, he found all the women clad in a striped, colourful ensemble. He was still recovering from the sight when Nur Jahan walked up to him. The empress was decked in a green and white striped churidar embellished with silver stars, over which she wore a bright tunic embroidered with tiny emeralds and pearls. Her striped veil was edged with zari and on her neck she wore an expensive emerald set within a double row of diamonds and pearls. A profusion of pearls hung from her ears, spilling down to her shoulders. Her eyes shone with a mischievous glint reflecting the emeralds. She looked bewitching.
‘Begum, I have never seen such an enchanting sight!’
Smiling, the empress led him to the rose garden where the rest of the harem ladies were gathered. The path to the marble pavilion by the riverbank was festooned with garlands of fragrant flowers; millions of rose petals were strewn along the path. Royal musicians sat in a special enclosure. Doves floated around freely, feasting on the grains scattered for them. Elaborately dressed eunuchs sprinkled rose attar all around the place.
The stalls for the bazaar were set up on the fringes of the garden, canopied with gaily-striped material to compliment the leheriya dresses of the royal ladies. As usual, the women had outdone themselves: the items for sale ranged from Chinese printed silk yarns to specially-designed hookahs, from ivory chess sets, to exotic love birds in golden cages. The theme of striped decor found echo all over the garden, in the stalls, layout of the food and the dresses. Impressed by Queen Jagat Gossain’s diagonally striped, bright, silk odhni, Nur Jahan had asked about the origin of the material. Her spies had told her that the material was called, leheriya, after sea waves. ‘The name comes from the effect of the diagonal stripes. The dyers of Amber are very skilled in preparing this special kind of design on silk as well as muslin.’
Immediately, she had commanded the royal tailors and clothiers to create special dresses from this material for all the Persian women in the harem. Hordes of tailors and royal clothiers travelled all the way to Amber to get the fabric created in the desired patterns and colour combination.
Queen Jagat Gossain was amused–‘She will do anything to gain the emperor’s attention. So much expense for her whims and theatrics! What next?’
Jewellers travelling from the far coasts of Gujarat and Bengal had been stationed in the city for the past few months, struggling to cope with the orders for new jewellery that poured in from the royal harem. This year’s speciality was the studded necklaces crafted out of gold medallions with a dazzling diamond set in the heart of the flower that made the pendant.
The jingle of colourful glass bangles resounded through the corridors of the harem along with the giggles of excited women. This was a special day for most of them; some of them had not had the good fortune of meeting the emperor for more than six months. The tinkle of anklets as the women ran around playfully arrested the attention of the nobles.
After the emperor and his entourage finished bargaining and purchasing from the stalls, they settled down in the elaborately arranged marble marquee for the entertainment to begin. Cool sherbets and wines were served to the guests along with silver salvers loaded with all kinds of nuts, almonds, sweets and savoury snacks. Several slaves and eunuchs went around serving paans and dry fruits. Hookahs and silver spittoons were strategically placed for the ease of the nobles.
The entertainment programme began with the singing of ghazals. The harem women sang verses composed by famous poets and the emperor presented generous gifts to the singers.
‘My lord, there is a surprise in store for you,’ Nur Jahan smiled secretively, enjoying the emperor’s curiousity.
She clapped her hands and a slave girl carried forth an instrument covered in silk and laid it down on the carpet. Minutes later, Laadli entered the hall and performed a graceful kornish to the emperor.
She looked stunning in a purple and white striped leheriya. A purple veil covering her silky hair; several strings of pearls layered her neck and her ears were adorned with a matching set of dangling earrings. Her long fingers teased the strings and the hall filled up with music. The lilting notes of the sitar held the audience spellbound.
Loud compliments followed her recital. ‘Wah, wah, Subhan Allah,’ the words came from all around.
Clapping joyously, Jahangir beckoned his stepdaughter. Laadli walked towards the dais where he sat with Nur Jahan, and bowed charmingly.
‘What a lovely composition! Begum, I was unaware that she had learnt to play sitar so well! You certainly deserve a gift today.’
Saying this, the emperor removed the precious necklace of diamonds and rubies he wore around his neck and handed it over to her.
‘I think her tutor deserves a reward, too. He has excelled in his job,’ remarked the emperor, summoning a minister. ‘See that Imraan Baksh is present at the court tomorrow morning. I want to reward him for making a musician out of the princess.’
An enormous dastarkhan had been laid out in the central baradari for the royal family, while the nobles were led to their designated areas. Slave girls carried silver platters heaped with aromatic pulao, various kinds of meat dishes, kebabs, and lotus stems cooked in the Kashmiri style. Exotic fruits like pomegranate had arrived all the way from Persia, cherries had come from Kabul, pineapples were procured from Europe, melons from Badakshan, dry fruits like makhana, dates, walnuts, pistachio and almonds, from Kabul.
Nur Jahan delighted in the sight of the nobles satiated with the fare, while she tasted a few kebabs and biryanis. She was a light eater and loved feeding people more than she liked eating. Laadli, lost in her thoughts, picked at the food. She was eagerly waiting for the hours to pass. Excited about her rendezvous with Imraan in the evening, she barely noticed the delicacies lying before her.
In the end, the guests were served specially prepared paans with cardamoms. The princesses could not help giggling at the sight of the nobles and emirs who, stuffed with food, found it difficult to get to their feet. Eunuchs and slaves helped them up, and then, tottering, they made their way out of the garden, singing praises about the food and entertainment. It was a satisfying start to the Nauroz.
Amidst all the revelry, no one noticed Laadli and Benazir slipping away to the public park where Imraan waited. They had decided to meet away from the palace, to escape the spies and the vigilant eunuchs. The moon played hide-and-seek behind the woolly clouds as the princess walked stealthily towards the palace gate. The girls had no difficulty in passing the guards who assumed them to be maidservants from the royal harem as they were dressed up in a cotton lehengas and thick veils like the Rajput women. Since the royal palace gates were kept open for visitors during the Nauroz festivities, passing through the portals was an easy task.
Laadli did not know where she was getting the courage to do this. Getting caught by the guards would mean severe punishment for her and for Imraan–he could even lose his life. But, at that moment, all she wanted was to meet him. Clutching Benazir’s hand, she walked swiftly till she reached the massive gates of the park.
An acrobat was walking o
n a rope near the gate. The crowd cheered him on as he balanced himself with the help of a long bamboo pole. For a moment, Laadli halted, her feet arrested by the entertainers. Across the park, a fire-eater was swallowing flames from a torch. His tongue licked the trembling flames drawing appreciation from the crowd. As a child, she had read stories from the Arabian Nights and the scene seemed no different from the ones described in the classic. A flock of peasants stood around a snake charmer who was making a cobra sway, dazedly, drawn to the movement of his been. Nearby, a monkey performed tricks, much to the delight of the observers who provoked it with loud cries.
This was such a different world from the cloistered one in the harem. She breathed in the air greedily, exulting in her new-found freedom. For the first time in her life, she had stepped out of the harem without the protection of the eunuchs. It was an exhilarating experience.
‘Laadli, don’t loiter around. It could be dangerous if we are recognised,’ Benazir gave her a push.
They entered the far end of the garden and made their way towards the fountain in the centre. Imraan was lounging on a marble bench at one corner of the garden. As soon as he saw them, he hurried forward and greeted them with a bow. The three of them moved into the shadows of the trees to escape notice.
An uncomfortable silence hung like a thick curtain between them.
‘I hope you did not have much trouble arriving here,’ Imraan finally said.
It had been Laadli’s idea to meet him in the park. He had been appalled at the idea. ‘It is dangerous for you to move out of the harem.’
‘We all have to die some day. If the fear of death binds our feet, we will never live anyway,’ Laadli had commented philosophically.
Living a life of seclusion could not be a very happy thing for a young girl, thought Imraan.
‘Shehzadi, as promised, 1 have brought your portrait.’ He handed her the painting and stood back to watch her reaction.
Nurjahan's Daughter Page 22
