Nurjahan's Daughter

by Tanushree Podder

  Nur Jahan was worried. Is this the beginning of the end? she wondered. If the emperor died now, Shah Jahan was too powerful to be halted in his march to the throne. He had the support of Asaf Khan, General Mahabat Khan and many other nobles, while she could count on only a few. Nobles were switching sides every day: opportunism and distrust thrived in uncertain times.

  On theirs way to Kashmir, Jahangir turned to the empress and said, ‘Nur, if I die now, promise me that you will put Shah Jahan on the throne. He may be rebellious and disobedient but he is the only one who can rule this empire. Shahryar is incompetent and foolish. I know that you don’t like Shah Jahan, but I assure you that he will make an excellent ruler.’

  He pointed to his precious sword, Alamgir. Its golden hilt studded with emeralds, it lay in a golden scabbard encrusted with rubies, pearls and diamonds. The Alamgir had been crafted out of a meteor that had chanced, one night, to fall near the royal camp set up for hunt. The emperor considered it a lucky sword.

  ‘I want you to give this sword to Shah Jahan when I die.’

  ‘Hush, don’t speak of such inauspicious things. You will live a long time yet,’ whispered Nur Jahan, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She looked haggard. The recent tension had taken a heavy toll on her.

  Despite the emperor’s pleas, Nur Jahan’s mind was made up. It did not matter if Shahryar was inept, she could rule through him. All she required was a puppet on the throne. A fool, who asked no questions and allowed her to reign, suited her more than an intelligent man. She was confident that she and Laadli, together, could rule efficiently.

  Once at Kashmir, the emperor seemed to recover. His spirits revived at the sight of the tall cypress trees, well laid out gardens, lofty snow-clad mountains and the myriad cornucopia of colourful flowers. The frothy canals, placid lakes and the saffron fields dotted with apple and cherry blossoms brought out a healthy glow on him once more. With his beloved empress by his side, Jahangir felt at ease. Nur Jahan kept up a regular correspondence with the capital. The empire was in tumult, with speculations about the emperor’s health and the matter of succession hanging in the balance. The factions of nobles were quarrelling openly, with no thought to administration. Everything seemed to be in a state of flux, requiring just a trigger to explode.

  ‘Let us return to Lahore,’ the emperor, announced one day. ‘I am in much better health. I have neglected the affairs of the empire too long. I am aware that you have been doing a wonderful job, but I need to get back to the helm. Things are not well with the country.’

  Relieved, Nur Jahan gave orders for the royal entourage to leave as soon as possible. Winter was setting in and the flowers were in full bloom when the entourage began its journey to Lahore. The fruit trees were laden and the forests were ringing with the chirping of birds. Jahangir had decided that he would name his successor at Lahore and surrender the obligation of the running of the empire on his worthy son, relieving himself of the burden forever.

  Enroute, they encamped at a village near Bhimbhar and the emperor was seized with a desire to hunt. Despite severe opposition from the empress, royal physicians and other nobles, Jahangir was adamant. It was a perfect day for a hunt and he felt confident about his health. Besides, he was just fifty-eight, not old enough to live the life of an invalid, he declared.

  ‘One last time, Nur. I may not be fortunate enough to come this way for many years. Let me indulge myself. It has been such a long time since I hunted. My ill health has kept me away from all my favourite activities. Please don’t stop me.’

  As Jahangir rode off on his white stallion accompanied by a few of his nobles, Nur Jahan watched the receding figures till the thunder of hoofs dissolved into silence once more. Her heart was heavy with foreboding.

  ‘Laadli, did you feel a tremor just now, as though there was an earthquake?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘I feel unease in my chest as though something untoward is likely to occur.’

  ‘Nothing unpleasant is likely to happen. You have been under tremendous pressure for the past few months. You should have accompanied the emperor for the hunt instead of letting your imagination run wild,’ Laadli’s reply was practical, as usual.

  Jahangir was ecstatic, adrenaline pumping through his blood stream. Startled wild rabbits skipped away in fear as the hunters rushed up a forested incline. All of a sudden the emperor’s attendant lost control over his horse and plunged into a chasm, his terrified scream renting the peace of the atmosphere. A gaping gorge showed itself just as the emperor’s steed stepped on the edge with a terrified whinny. Jahangir struggled with the reins and brought the horse to a halt. The shock of escaping death so narrowly shook the emperor and he felt faint.

  The hunters returned to the camp in dejection. Jahangir had taken ill once more. The horror of seeing himself poised on the precipice of death’s hands and his own narrow escape had shaken him tremendously. ‘I saw death staring at me, begum,’ he whispered to Nur Jahan.

  Through the night, the empress nursed her delirious husband. The emperor rambled, calling out for Khusrau and Khurram alternately. Nur Jahan kept vigil by his side, wiping his forehead with napkins soaked with rose essence. He clutched at her hand, grasping it in desperation. ‘I don’t want to die, Nur. I have so much to live for,’ he mumbled in his feverish state.

  The dying emperor called for a glass of wine, but when it was placed to his lips, he was unable to swallow. It fell in frothy streaks from the side of his mouth, staining his qaba. Laadli took over the vigil from her exhausted mother. She held the emperor’s hand as she read the Quran loudly. Jahangir seemed to relax as he heard her recitation; his thrashing head stilled on the cushion for a while. She placed a cool hand on his brow and stroked it lovingly as though he was her father. For the first time she felt tenderness for the suffering man. He was not the emperor she hated, just a tormented soul.

  Towards the end of the night he grew worse and called out for Nur Jahan. In an instant the empress was by his side, cradling his head lovingly on her lap. A constant flow of tears stained her cheeks. By midnight, Jahangir could not hear her nor sense her presence although she called out his name repeatedly. He was in a coma and she knew that the end was near. Badshah Nuruddin Muhammad Salim Jahangir died in her arms in the early hours of the following day, in the twenty-second year of his reign.

  24

  Even before the emperor’s body had become cold, the tussle for the crown began. Nur Jahan sent several messages to Asaf Khan but he refused to come. Instead, he sent his swiftest runner to Shah Jahan with the news that Jahangir had died. He also sent his signet ring as a guarantee of loyalty.

  At Lahore, Shahryar declared himself the emperor of the Mughal Empire and seized the treasury. Within a week, he distributed seventy lakh rupees among soldiers and nobility in order to gain their support. He managed to cobble up an army of fifteen thousand soldiers.

  When Nur Jahan arrived with Laadli at Lahore Fort, she immediately announced her support for the new emperor and ordered week-long celebrations in the city.

  Meanwhile, Asaf Khan declared Khusrau’s son, Dawar Baksh, as the next emperor. The wily Asaf Khan knew that if Dawar Baksh were crowned as emperor, he would proceed to Lahore to challenge Shahryar. This would enable Shah Jahan to reach Agra without any obstacles. True to his expectations, Dawar Baksh marched towards Lahore to confront Nashudani. In the meanwhile, Shah Jahan rushed to Agra from the Deccan with remarkable swiftness and declared himself emperor.

  Hindustan now had three self-declared emperors: Shah Jahan at Agra, Dawar Baksh at Kashmir and Shahryar at Lahore. The parched earth waited impatiently for the bloodshed that was inevitable.

  At Lahore, neither Shahryar nor Nur Jahan heeded Laadli’s advice for a cautious approach. ‘I don’t think that our troubles are over. Shah Jahan is definitely going to attack Lahore. He has already declared himself the emperor at Agra and will not rest till he has the control of the entire country.’

  ‘You fret too
much,’ refuted her mother. ‘We will fight back if he dares to attack Lahore.’

  Shahryar laughed at Laadli’s predictions. ‘You are now the empress, Laadli Begum. Leave the thinking to me and enjoy yourself.’

  Power had gone to his head. Money flowed like water through his hands and he doled out jagirs and ranks with reckless generosity. No longer concerned about his disfigured looks, Shahryar indulged in drinking and gambling bouts followed by orgies of food and sex. Shahryar invoked revulsion in Laadli with his irresponsible acts. ‘Let Shahryar indulge in his fancies, allow Shah Jahan to rule the country,’ Laadli advised her mother. ‘I do not know what you are planning but my heart is full of fear. Let us forget the throne and the crown. If we appeal to Shah Jahan, he will let us live in peace.’

  ‘You have always lacked ambition. Don’t you understand that Shah Jahan will never allow Shahryar to live? Your husband is a threat that has to be eliminated before he steps on the throne. Do you want to be widowed?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ bitterness dripped from Laadli’s voice. ‘I am worried about you and Arzani. We could escape to Persia and seek the protection of Shah Abbas.’

  ‘Let me handle this, Laadli. You are being emotional and one can’t be objective when one is emotional. The problem with you is that you think with your heart instead of your brain.’

  Soon, they received the news that Dawar Baksh’s royal troops were marching towards Lahore and were just ten kilometres away from the fort. The mercenaries raised by Shahryar were sent to counter the attack. The two forces encountered each other outside the city, where it quickly became obvious that the mercenaries were no match for the imperial forces. Shahryar’s army broke rank and fled. Only a handful of soldiers remained in the fort to defend it while Dawar Baksh set up camp at the base of the citadel, waiting for an opportune moment to enter the city.

  In the meanwhile, the imperial army under Asaf Khan was marching towards Lahore with explicit instructions from Shah Jahan. Both Dawar Baksh and Nashudani were to be blinded and imprisoned.

  Although Nur Jahan maintained a calm exterior, she was agitated when she heard the news. Fears of personal safety began to worry her. She knew that Shah Jahan was a dangerous enemy and she would be his first target when the time for retribution arrived. He was not likely to forget his humiliation and the hardship his family had had to endure because of her. Nor would he condone her role in the separation from his beloved sons, Dara and Aurangzeb. Fearful of her fate if Shah Jahan was successful in capturing Lahore, she commanded Nashudani to go to battle.

  Shahryar, however, sent his soldiers under the command of Hoshang, a general, and spent his time with nautch girls. Laadli was outraged at his nonchalant stance. ‘You should be fighting the enemy troops instead of hiding behind the skirts of the servant girls,’ she said, appalled at his conduct.

  ‘Don’t worry, begum, there is no need for me to soil my hands when there are others who will bring the crafty Asaf Khan in chains before me.’

  Laadli knew that her husband was a coward; she had no doubt that he would abandon her at the first hint of danger. Clutching her daughter to her bosom, she prayed for good sense to prevail. Neither her mother nor Shahryar seemed to realise the wisdom of accepting the inevitable while there was time. Most of the nobles were unreliable and treacherous. Laadli knew that they would throw themselves at Shah Jahan’s feet the moment he arrived. If only her mother would heed her pleas and escape, they could still make it to Persia.

  Later that day, the fort received news that Hoshang had been killed and that Shahryar’s soldiers had either abandoned their post and fled into the jungles or surrendered to Asaf Khan’s forces. The sound of victorious cries and drums reached Laadli as the conquerors entered the city. ‘There is still time. We can leave undetected if we use the secret passage under the fort’s dungeon,’ Laadli pleaded with her mother.

  ‘It is too late now. They are already at the gates of the palace,’ sighed Nur Jahan. The fight had gone out of the woman. There was resignation on her face.

  Shahryar, trembling and sick, crouched in a corner. Laadli looked at her husband with disgust. In the distance, they heard the triumphant cries of the imperial army as they approached the fort. A victorious Asaf Khan entered the harem and warned Nur Jahan–‘Hand over Nashudani to us and you will not be harmed.’

  His soldiers searched the apartments for the self-declared emperor. In desperation, Shahryar had garbed himself in a woman’s costume and joined the women in the zenana. His veil hid his hideous face from the soldiers. But the tide had begun to flow in the reverse direction; one of the harem eunuchs, wanting to curry favour with the victors, betrayed Nashudani. A trembling Shahryar was hauled up before Asaf Khan. Dressed as he was, the soldiers jeered and made fun of him. Laadli tried to shut her ears to the sounds as her husband, screaming and begging, was dragged away from the harem. She had never felt more humiliated in her life.

  They never saw Shahryar again, but the imperial guards conveyed the news that he had been blinded on Shah Jahan’s orders. Nur Jahan and Laadli were forcibly confined in the harem and a strict watch enforced over them. Asaf Khan did not trust his sister. She still had the resources to resort to mischief and he wanted to take no chances with her. There were some who still nurtured loyalty to the erstwhile empress, however, and they conveyed news of the events to her. They brought bad tidings–Shahryar had been executed and Dawar Baksh had vanished without a trace. Speculations abounded that he had escaped to Persia and sought the protection of the Shah, a decision that Laadli applauded. If only mother had listened to me, she thought with a sigh as she waited for Shah Jahan to pronounce judgement on their fate.

  25

  Shah Jahan was crowned at Agra and Arjumand Begum–now empress of the vast Mughal Empire–was given the title Mumtaz Mahal. Nur Jahan received the news stoically. She now realised the futility of resisting Shah Jahan. It was wiser to declare truce and appeal to his magnanimity. Her very survival depended on his charity. Whether it was a pension or permission to reside at the capital, everything depended on the new emperor.

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ she sighed loudly as she sealed the letter she had written to her niece. ‘I will have to appeal to Shah Jahan through Arjumand. I hope she will act as our advocate in Agra. The emperor will never deny her anything. Remember how people always appealed to Jahangir through me?'

  In her letter, Nur Jahan had composed flattering verses for the emperor. She congratulated her niece on being crowned the empress and expressed her anguish at being imprisoned within the walls of the fort. She requested Mumtaz Mahal to intercede on her behalf and obtain the emperor’s permission for her to travel to Agra. ‘I want to atone for the wrongs that I have committed and pay my respects to the emperor. I shall throw myself at his feet for mercy and request his clemency.’

  Shah Jahan was strolling in the royal gardens debating over the merits of conferring a new jagir on Asaf Khan, who was now the Grand Vizier. He had been a loyal commander and had served him well by furthering his claim to the throne; moreover, Asaf Khan was his father-in-law. His steps halted for a moment as he saw Mumtaz Mahal approaching him. As usual, his heart skipped a beat at her sight and a tender smile lit up his solemn face. She looked dazzling in her jade green costume. He delighted in her simplicity.

  ‘Your Majesty, I have come with a request to you,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Your wish is my command, my queen,’ Shah Jahan responded flippantly.

  ‘I am serious, Your Highness. My aunt, Nur Jahan, has written a pathetic letter about her imprisonment at Lahore fort. She appeals to your merciful disposition to release her from the humiliation. Those hapless women can hardly cause any discomfort to you or be a threat to your peace. Let them go. I do not want you to begin your rule with my aunt’s curse.’

  ‘You have always been too kind. Have you forgotten the sufferings heaped on us by the woman you call your aunt? It is because of her that we were deprived of a comfortable and normal
life. She created a rift between my father and me. It was her machinations that separated our two sons from us for such a long time. She is the one who is to blame for all the ills that haunted us for so many years. Even if you have forgotten it all, I can neither forget nor forgive her.’

  ‘An emperor must be kind and just. Let it not be said that the emperor did not find it in his heart to forgive an old and repentant woman. She has realised the futility of resisting your power and now she wants to atone her sins by paying her respects to you.’

  ‘So the wily woman is trying to appeal through you,’ Shah Jahan was suspicious.

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, she has sent a letter regretting the past and expressed her wish to visit the court and pay her respects, if you permit her to do so.’

  ‘So, that is the reason my beloved Arjumand is advocating her cause. Well, to make you happy, I shall allow that evil woman to visit you. Let me warn you, her stay will have to be short. I do not trust her at all.’

  Mumtaz Mahal, relieved at having obtained her husband’s approval, sent a reply to her aunt conveying the royal approval for her visit to the court at Agra.

  It was only after weeks of exhausting travel that the women reached the palace at Agra. Nur Jahan, ecstatic to be back at the familiar palace, looked around with wonder at the changes made by Shah Jahan. Laadli, cautious and curious, clutched Arzani close to her as their palanquin made its way to the harem. Vivid memories flooded her mind, some happy and some tragic. She remembered the first day she had entered the portals of the palace after the gruesome murder of her father. The fear, excitement, trepidation of the experience of setting foot for the first time in the harem came back to her along with vivid images of the bejewelled concubines. Laadli would never forget her first encounter with the emperor. Nor would she forget her first meeting with Prince Khurram and their fragile friendship.