In case of servants, such firmness was not observed. They could go to the physicians who practiced their expertise in the city. But it was best to play by the rules of the harem, Humra thought. In any case she didn’t have the money for expensive treatment.
When the pain became acute and she could tolerate it no longer, she visited the female hakim in the harem.
After examining her, the woman expressed her fears that it could be a tumour.
‘Is there a cure?’ Humra asked anxiously.
‘It is a difficult ailment and the medicine may just help to soothe away the pain but cure is something I can’t predict.’ The hakim had been candid with her while handing over a palliative powder.
‘Does that mean that I could die?’
‘Birth and death are in the hands of the Almighty; we human beings have no control over it.’
Humra knew then that her days were numbered. She decided not to tell anything to Zeenat. There is no point in making her anxious, she thought, let the girl enjoy herself. As it is, the moments of happiness in her life are far and few.
It was only when she failed to get up one morning that Zeenat realized her mother was ill. The woman had slipped into a coma.
‘Ammi, wake up, Ammi,’ cried Zeenat, shaking Humra but her mother remained inert.
Distressed, she ran to Bahar Begum to beg her for some money to call the hakim.
‘I’ll ask Shaukat to fetch Ruhee, my personal hakim, immediately,’ said Bahar, concerned. ‘She is one of the best. And don’t worry about money. I will take care of that.’
She immediately sent her eunuch to call the hakim.
The aged woman examined Humra and shook her head gravely.
‘What were you doing all these days?’ she asked Zeenat, her voice tinged with irritation. The girl cowered in a corner, her eyes swollen and red with weeping.
‘I did not know she was unwell. She never told me.’
‘Did you ever have to tell your mother that you were ill? Didn’t she realize it on her own? You must have been busy enjoying yourself at the palace. Had you been more caring you would have noticed her pallor and weakness. This hasn’t happened in a day,’ scolded the hakim.
‘I am sorry,’ the girl mumbled through her tears. ‘Please do something. I have no one but her.’
‘I am a hakim, not God. I can try but it is Allah who must save your mother.’
Ruhee prescribed some medicine and left without a backward glance convinced that there was nothing she could do for the woman.
With her flighty nature, she had never been a devout girl but now Zeenat prayed fervently through the night for her mother’s recovery.
Humra did not wake up. She passed away peacefully in her sleep. In a single day the world collapsed for the young girl and she was left all alone to deal with a long and lonely life.
Life in the tiny apartment became impossible to live. Each little possession reminded her of her mother. She wept inconsolably till there were no tears to shed. Zeenat felt the ache in her heart go away, after a while only a dull numbness remained. A week later Ruquaiah Begum summoned her.
‘Come here, my child,’ the Begum beckoned. ‘I can’t express how grieved I am at her death. Your mother has served me loyally for ten long years.’
Despite all efforts at controlling herself, Zeenat broke into loud sobs. The Begum patted her affectionately. ‘If ever you are in need of anything, come to me without any hesitation.’
It was a statement seeped in compassion but Zeenat knew that she would never be able to approach the intimidating dowager for help. She accepted the purse full of coins donated by the queen and bowed herself out of the royal presence.
Bahar was equally sympathetic to the girl. In the past six months she had developed a soft spot for the ebullient girl who seemed impervious to the misfortunes surrounding her. Nothing seemed to rob her of optimism. But her mother’s death had hit the girl hard. The impish smile on her charming face had been replaced by a ghastly pallor.
Six
Autumn 1613, Agra
Spring gave way to autumn, turning the royal mood into a sombre one. At last the endless festivities of the weddings gave way to serious business. The honeymoon had gone on for a long time. The whispers around town alluding to the emperor’s obsession with his empress had gradually become more strident.
Jahangir was seized with a desire to extend his empire. He was keen on quieting the gossiping voices.
‘The nobles believe that I am only interested in romance,’ he confided to Nurjahan. ‘They say that Akbar was a real emperor. I have done nothing yet to prove my ability except wooing Nurjahan.’
The empress paused in her track and stared at him. ‘It is time to prove them wrong.’ She stated in her usual, matter-of-fact manner. ‘We don’t want to project the wrong image, do we?’
‘That is exactly what I intend doing.’ The hardening of his voice convinced Nurjahan of her husband’s resolve and she smiled.
They resumed their stroll amidst the multihued rose garden. ‘I have been wondering if I should undertake a campaign to set the wagging tongues at rest.’
‘That will be a perfect way to resurrect your image,’ the empress said, realizing the emperor was using her as a sounding board.
‘Qandahar is quiet at the moment, besides it is too far. Logistically, it would take a long time to plan a campaign. I was thinking if it is time to subjugate the proud Maharana of Mewar.’
‘An excellent idea, Your Majesty,’ clapped Nurjahan. ‘It is closer home too.’
‘For long, it has been my dream to bring the Maharana to his knees.’
‘There couldn’t be a better way to exhibit your power. Even the mighty Akbar could not defeat those arrogant Rajputs.’
Of all the states of Rajputana, the Mewar Rajputs had managed to challenge Mughal supremacy for a long time, refusing to surrender their suzerainty to the Mughal emperors.
Proud and ferocious, the Rajputs were undefeatable. After occupying the throne, Jahangir, like Akbar in the past, had also sent several contingents of the imperial army led by Prince Parvez, and stalwarts like General Mahabat Khan, Abdullah Khan Feroz Jung and Raja Basu. But they had failed to subjugate the king of Mewar. The repeated failures disheartened the Mughal soldiers and the Maharana continued to prove a thorn in Jahangir’s ambitious plans.
‘Do you think Khurram will succeed where others have failed?’ he asked Nurjahan, thoughtfully.
‘That we will know by allowing him to lead, wouldn’t we?’ she replied, smiling slyly.
‘He is still honeymooning with Arjumand,’ Jahangir hesitated. ‘Would it be right to send him to battle right now?’
‘Battles don’t wait for honeymoons,’ stated the empress enigmatically.
‘I guess not,’ sighed the emperor. ‘I would not like to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while he is battling the Rajputs.’
She directed a mystified look at her thoughtful husband. He should lead the battle, she thought but knew better than to voice her thought. Khurram’s victory will bring accolades to the prince, not to the emperor.
‘We will move to Ajmer,’ decided Jahangir. ‘I can oversee the campaign from there.’
Nurjahan knew the reason for his decision. Like his father, Akbar, Jahangir made annual visits to the dargah of the saint, Moinuddin Chisti. Ajmer was lucky for him, a holy town where his prayers were always granted. Nurjahan knew the emperor expected the campaign to be a long one. ‘Victory will not elude us this time, Your Majesty,’ she smiled archly at him.
The news that Prince Khurram would be leading the imperial army against the Mewar Rajputs sent a fresh wave of hope in the soldiers as they prepared for battle. It was the first major battle for Khurram and everyone realized that the outcome of the battle was very important for the future of the handsome prince.
Preparations began in earnest within the harem to leave for the holy city of Ajmer. The eunuchs and slaves began putting together the personal clothing and je
wels of the women in huge caskets. The people of Agra also began to pack their belongings. They would go with the emperor, for when the emperor moved from Agra, his harem and almost the entire city also moved with him.
Despite her preoccupation with grief, Zeenat was thrilled to be a part of the emperor’s entourage. It was a novel experience for the girl as she rode a palanquin with Bahar Begum. Every now and then she peeped through the brocade curtains of the palanquin to marvel at the mammoth convoy as it wound itself through the open lands.
Ahead of the procession walked the elephants, in an unhurried manner, with bearers carrying the Mughal standards. The Timurid standard of the crouching lion set against the rising sun was followed by the white Arab stallions adorned with gold saddles, reins and stirrups carrying the personal banner of emperor Jahangir, calligraphed in Persian. A dozen men sprinkled rose water and fanned the air free of flies so that dust or pests did not bother the emperor.
The emperor sat on a golden howdah under a gem-encrusted umbrella. He was flanked by four artists and calligraphers who noted his thoughts and events, to be recorded in his memoirs. Jahangir never travelled anywhere without recording the details of flora, fauna, terrain and weather for his memoirs, later published as Jahangirnama. Alongside the emperor’s elephant rode a vizier with many documents about the places the procession was passing through. His meticulous documents contained the minutest detail about the area.
Next to the vizier rode the imperial treasurer with bags full of coins to be distributed by the emperor to the people on the wayside, who gathered to pay their respects to the emperor. A posse of elite guards called the ahadis, who were the emperor’s privileged soldiers, followed these riders, decked in crimson uniform, their faces solemn and determined.
A regal palanquin, crafted out of silver and decorated in pearls and rubies, covered with brocade curtains carried the Shah Begum, the chief queen. A thoroughbred stallion walked alongside in case she wished to ride when she got bored of sitting in the palanquin. A number of imperial palanquins carrying other queens, according to their ranks, followed the empress’s palanquin. Ferocious looking Uzbek women guards with drawn scimitars surrounded the palanquins, ready to attack any man who dared cross the path.
Behind them rode another posse of riders brandishing naked swords. After them came the palanquins carrying noblewomen and emirs, followed by the procession of lesser courtiers, musicians, servants, slaves and traders. Hundreds of horses, camels and elephants carrying provisions, water, and tents followed in the rear. There were makeshift baths, emperor’s menagerie and other stores loaded on the animals. A ragged group of beggars and mendicants formed the tail end of the procession.
At any given time, the total number of elephants that travelled in the procession was not less than five hundred and the number of horses exceeded ten thousand. Countless soldiers, nobles and emirs accompanied the royal family on every trip. It was as though the entire city of Agra shifted along with the emperor to Ajmer. They traversed through innumerable towns and villages, leaving clouds of dust and an indelible impression of the dazzling spectacle in the minds of the bystanders.
For Zeenat it was an amazing experience.
‘Does the emperor always travel in this manner?’ she asked.
‘Yes, these are the times to display his power and wealth and no emperor would let go of an opportunity to exhibit his might.’
‘Isn’t it quicker to travel with a smaller entourage?’
‘The emperor has all the time in the world. Why should he travel swiftly unless he is going to war himself? Prince Khurram has already reached Ajmer and made arrangements for the emperor’s stay. He will be leaving for battle as soon as we arrive.’
Zeenat felt sorry for the newly-wed prince who would have to leave Arjumand behind to go to battle. It is not easy being royalty, she sighed.
At Ajmer, the prince was getting ready to leave for Mewar. There was consternation in Khurram’s harem as a heavily pregnant Arjumand began to pack her things to accompany the prince for the campaign. No amount of dissuasion worked on the adamant princess.
‘Your Highness, it is not right for you to go to the battlefield in this condition,’ advised Satiunnisa Khanum, her companion.
‘Do not tell me what I must do, Sati; just do what you need to do. Hurry, pack my things, the prince leaves in a few hours.’
‘This is unprecedented. No pregnant queen has ever gone to the war zone. Your going there will complicate matters,’ the girl persisted.
‘Don’t argue with me.’
Sullenly, the companion began putting the things in a leather casket. She knew it was futile to argue with the princess.
‘What is this nonsense, Arjumand?’ the prince stormed in angrily. ‘You are not going anywhere. I will not allow you to move out of Ajmer.’
‘I am coming with you, my lord. We have promised to be with each other through our lives. You forget the pact we made. I am not going to be parted from you, not now and not ever.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Arju. We are going for a battle; not for a joy ride. In your condition it is dangerous to travel around. I will not allow it.’
‘Then I shall go without your permission.’ The finality in her voice took him by surprise.
‘The emperor will be annoyed if he hears of your obstinacy.’
‘I don’t care. I will accompany you and that is all I know.’
There was no arguing with Arjumand once she had made up her mind. Her outwardly gentle looks belied the streak of obstinacy within. A few hours later, despite the misgivings of the royal physician, Arjumand along with her trusted maids began the journey to the Mughal camp set up at the base of the Mewar hills. Dishevelled and exhausted, they arrived at the camp as the sun was setting.
Once there, Hakim Wazir Khan shook his head disapprovingly as he looked at the wilderness around the camp. It was going to be tough to save the princess if something went wrong with the pregnancy. The temperature dropped by the minute as night fell. Campfires were lit and the women quickly settled down in their tents to escape the cold winds that blew through the desert.
Life was hard in the desert but no one was heard complaining. How could they when Arjumand suffered the hardships with a smile?
The siege continued for a long time. Standing on a high hill above the desert land, the granite fort continued to suffer the onslaught of the Mughal cannons, without yielding. Men and beasts fought side by side, trying to vanquish the Rajputs, to no avail. Finally, frustrated at the unyielding tactics of the Maharana of Mewar, Prince Khurram decided to lay barren the lands standing below the fortress. The Mughal army went on a rampage destroying all crops, killing ordinary peasants, looting and raping the women in the villages for miles around. The kind of blood bath and terror unleashed by the imperial soldiers had never been seen before.
For the first time, Arjumand saw the cruel, sadistic traits of the prince she adored. His ruthlessness shocked her. The ugly side of the handsome Khurram bared itself as anguished cries of the tortured peasants rent the air each night. Disturbed, the Mughal women tried to shut out the cries by singing through the night. It was not possible to sleep with so much on one’s conscience. The devout Arjumand prayed continuously for an end to the war.
‘There can be no war without bloodshed,’ Khurram replied harshly when she requested that they stop killing and tormenting innocent men and women.
‘But this is not war,’ she protested. ‘You are killing innocent villagers, not soldiers.’
‘This is the only way to teach the Rajputs a lesson they will never forget.’
‘I don’t agree with your logic,’ she muttered.
For a moment rage overtook the love he felt for his wife and he shouted, ‘I warned you not to come here. If all you can do is interfere in the battle, it is better that you go back to Ajmer.’
After that Arjumand never offered her opinion.
The ruthless strategy worked. Inside the fort, hunger led to desperation and disc
ontent. The Mughal forces soon outnumbered the Rajput army.
Agonized by the torture suffered by his people, the Maharana finally relented. Messengers were sent to broker peace between the Rajputs and the Mughals.
However, there was a price to be paid for this peace. The Mughals demanded that Mewar should never fortify its fort. Mewar surrendered its sovereignty to Prince Khurram. It was decided that Maharana’s son, Karan Singh, would represent the ageing king in the Mughal court. In return, Jahangir promised that the Mughals would not demand any woman of Mewar in marriage.
Prince Khurram, proud and regal, led the procession of victory into the town of Ajmer where Emperor Jahangir came out to welcome his son. Ajmer was witnessing an event that would make an indelible mark in history. Kettledrums boomed, rose petals were strewn on the victor’s path. Loud cheering followed Khurram as he rode through the town accompanied by important nobles and the young prince of Mewar. The vanquished and the victor rode side by side.
The Prince of Mewar unbuckled his sword and laid it at the feet of the emperor. Touched by the gesture, Jahangir got down from his throne and embraced the boy. Then he picked up the sword and with his own hands tied it back on Karan Singh’s waist. Message of friendship, which the Rajput prince was carrying from Mewar, was read out with flourish. As reciprocation, Khurram read out the message of welcome written by the emperor himself. Then he presented Karan Singh with a beautiful dress of honour, a jewelled sword, dagger, a horse with a golden saddle and an elephant. This was the beginning of a special friendship between the two young princes.
Khurram had achieved something that even the great Emperor Akbar had failed to accomplish. He had brought the proud Rana of Mewar into the Mughal fold. The emperor was ecstatic; he rewarded Khurram with an increase in rank and gifted him with several rich estates.
Escape from Harem Page 6
