Escape from Harem

by Tanushree Podder

  ‘Then, will you grant me my request?’

  Jahangir felt trapped. He knew this was no ordinary request. It had a deeper and ominous intent but he could not refuse.

  ‘It will be a difficult journey for a blind man. The terrain is rough and the circumstances harsh,’ he tried one last time.

  ‘I will take care of him. He is my brother.’

  They stared at each other. The younger man’s unwavering look matched the perplexed one of the monarch. It was the emperor who lowered his eyes first.

  ‘Your request is granted,’ he whispered.

  With those words, Jahangir realized that he had signed the death warrant of his eldest son.

  Once again, Shahjahan found himself leading a campaign to the Deccan. The terrain was familiar and the enemies’ tactics known. Victory followed, naturally. This time the conquest did not bring the accolades he expected. The emperor greeted the news with an uncharacteristic coldness. Jahangir did not bestow fresh honours on the victor nor did he order drums to be beaten to announce the victory. No state banquets were held to celebrate the occasion, either. The signs were ominous. Shahjahan could discern the machinations of Nurjahan behind the entire series of events that began with his despatch.

  ‘She is plotting my downfall,’ he ranted.

  His father-in-law, Asaf Khan, had sent missives that Nurjahan was promoting Shahryar’s cause. She had decided that the youngest prince would marry her daughter, Laadli Banu, and ascend the throne after Jahangir. Shahryar, who was called Nashudani, meaning good for nothing, by everyone, was strutting around the palace dreaming of the crown.

  ‘She will not succeed in doing so,’ argued Arjumand, dutifully. ‘The emperor has full confidence in you. He will never agree to her plan.’

  ‘You will be surprised. That woman is capable of twisting my father around her little finger,’ he raged.

  ‘No matter how much she influences him, the emperor will never agree to leave the throne to Shahryar.’

  ‘Why not? I am far away from the capital and have no say in the matter. It is by her design that time and again I have been sent away from the capital for long durations. The moment she finds the emperor warming up to me, she decides that a campaign has to be mounted in the far regions and that Shahjahan should lead it.’

  ‘But Shahryar is a weakling. He can never be the emperor,’ consoled Arjumand.

  He did not hear her as he continued his agitated pacing of the room.

  ‘Khusrau…,’ he halted for a moment. ‘I still have Khusrau.’

  ‘Oh no,’ whispered Arjumand, her eyes fixed on her husband. She could almost read his mind.

  Twelve

  The dying rays of the sinking sun announced that the day was almost over. Only the high trees across the hills glinted in the weak light, the rest of the wooded crest was plunged in Stygian silence.

  They clung together under the deep canopy of vines, not knowing when they would meet next. With great difficulty, Shaukat had arranged their meeting in a farm near the mosque located on the outskirts of the town. Bahar had arrived along with Zeenat and Shaukat. Getting permission to visit the mosque had been difficult. Her excuse of visiting holy shrines was becoming too frequent. It aroused suspicion amongst the mahaldars.

  ‘It is getting difficult to come out of the harem,’ she confessed to her lover.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to resort to subterfuge for long. We will run away,’ he mouthed his usual refrain.

  ‘You keep telling me that, but I see no hope of our escape.’

  ‘I have heard rumours that Shahjahan is planning to revolt against the emperor,’ Zafar changed the topic.

  ‘That rumour has been going around in the harem for days. He is frustrated with Nurjahan’s plotting.’ Bahar added, ‘Everyone says that the empress is trying to lay obstacles in his path to the throne. She wants him to marry her daughter and only then would she support his claim to the crown.’

  ‘Shahjahan will never marry Laadli Banu. He is too devoted to his wife. Besides, he hates Nurjahan.’

  ‘She has kept him away from the emperor and the capital on some pretext or the other for the past four years. First it was Mewar, then Deccan and now they are planning to send him to Qandahar for a campaign.’

  ‘With a growing family, it must be difficult for the prince to be on the move all the time. Besides, Arjumand insists on accompanying him everywhere and she is forever pregnant.’

  ‘But he still has an ace up his sleeve.’

  ‘What is that?’ asked Bahar.

  ‘Khusrau. This time he has taken his elder brother with him as a hostage. I am sure he would eliminate him at the slightest sign of emperor’s vacillation regarding the succession issue.’

  ‘You mean he would murder his own brother? I don’t think that is possible,’ Bahar was revolted at the thought.

  ‘Anything is possible when it is about the crown. Royalty has no compunctions. They are not ordinary mortals with conscience. Wasn’t Khusrau blinded on the orders of his father, Jahangir? Can any father do that to his son, except the emperor?’

  ‘Anyway, that doesn’t concern us. We do not care what they do to each other as long as we can escape this place,’ Bahar pouted.

  ‘So, if Shahjahan revolts it would be the best news for us.’

  ‘How will his rebellion help us?’

  ‘You don’t understand. If we elope and seek his protection, he will readily grant it. Shahjahan is the only one who can stand up to the emperor.’

  ‘You mean you intend to flee towards the Deccan to seek asylum in Shahjahan’s territory?’

  A sudden beam of hope lit up Bahar’s face.

  It could work! Zafar was right. If only they could make their way to Deccan, they would be safely out of Jahangir’s reach. Happy and excited, she embraced him.

  ‘It is an ingenious plan, Zafar.’

  ‘I am working on our escape. Wait till I have the entire plan ready. I will send word through Shaukat. It may not be possible for us to meet again.’

  ‘I will wait,’ she promised solemnly.

  Three days later, she received the details through Shaukat. From a map drawn on a piece of paper, he explained Zafar’s plan.

  ‘You know the eastern gate of the fort?’ he asked.

  ‘You mean the Jal Darwaza. The gate along the river that is used for bringing water from Yamuna?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one drawn here on the map. You have to use that exit.’

  ‘But that is always well guarded. No one can go out from there without being seen.’

  ‘The gate might be well guarded, but there is an old well at the end of the small garden near the Jal Darwaza, which is not visible from the gate. During Emperor Akbar’s reign it was used to store water brought from the Yamuna, but now it is almost dry,’ he informed her. ‘By the side of the well is a deep canal which brings in water from the river. You have to escape through that canal.’

  ‘How will I do that?’ Bahar looked sceptical.

  ‘The canal runs along the wall of the fort for a distance before flowing under a bridge that leads to the bank of the river. Swimming in the canal, you can reach the bank of the river. And nobody will even notice you.’

  ‘And Zafar? Where will he hide?’

  ‘He will be waiting with a boat at the far end of the bank.’

  Bahar threw an exasperated look at the eunuch. ‘I think the entire plan is foolish. It is fraught with risk. No one can escape the eyes of the guards at the eastern gate and swim along the exposed walls.’

  ‘But Zafar Khan thinks it can be done.’

  ‘Tell him it is impossible to make this plan work. Now, I will think of something,’ she sighed. Her lover might be a good poet but he was definitely not an astute planner, she realized.

  It was a hot afternoon. Bahar was lying on the bed while Zeenat fanned her with a peacock feather fan.

  Her thin muslin shirt clung to her perspiring body revealing the proud rise of her bosom. A gla
ss of cold sherbet lay next to the bed, tiny beads of dew forming on its surface. Not a bird stirred and not a soul was visible in the long corridors of the harem. It was siesta time, after the heavy meal, for all inmates. For two hours the harem turned as quiet as a tomb as the inmates shrunk into the dark innards of their chambers to escape the afternoon heat. While most of them took a siesta, a few spent time playing cards or chess.

  Sleep was far from Bahar’s eyes. Her mind worked furiously. In the past few days she had resolved to risk an escape. She had to break free. The harem suffocated her.

  ‘I think it is time to pray at Khwaja Salim Chisti’s dargah. I will request the emperor’s permission to travel to Fatehpur Sikri,’ she suddenly declared.

  ‘Isn’t it too hot to travel all the way there,’ protested Zeenat.

  ‘Exactly! Very few people will be mad enough to go there in this heat and that is precisely what we want.’

  Perplexed, Zeenat stared at her mistress.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Both of us will travel to the dargah in a palanquin with Shaukat riding along. Zafar and Salamat should wait for us there. After praying, we will escape from there to the Deccan.’

  Her eyes wide with wonder, Zeenat stared at Bahar. ‘Will you take me with you?’

  ‘Of course, I can’t leave you behind to face the punishment. After my disappearance, the guards will round up my staff and subject them to severe interrogation and finally the emperor will pronounce a death sentence for them.’

  ‘So, Shaukat and Salamat have to accompany us?’

  ‘Yes, you are the most trusted companion and Jahangir will surely get you executed.’

  ‘But, will Prince Shahjahan allow us to remain in his domain?’

  ‘I am sure he would. He needs loyal men to join him; men he can trust. Besides, Salamat is a very good soldier who will make a good commander of his troops. I am sure he will protect us.’

  Grudgingly, Zeenat admitted that the plan could work.

  ‘When do you intend to carry out this daring escape?’ she asked. ‘I will get our things packed.’

  ‘Oh no, we can’t take anything with us, except the jewellery. And even that will have to be stitched into our garments so that a search would not reveal that we are carrying them. We can’t afford to rouse any suspicions.’

  ‘Should I call Shaukat? You can ask him to convey the message to Zafar Khan.’

  ‘Not so fast, Zeenat. I can see you are as keen to get away from here as I am. But there are still several details that need to be worked out before we move on. I will request for permission for a visit on Monday. Once the emperor’s permission has been granted, we will inform Zafar.’

  ‘Don’t you think we should give some time to him for preparation?’

  Zeenat was thinking about Ayesha, Zafar’s wife. She felt sorry for the woman.

  ‘You are right,’ conceded Bahar. ‘We should inform him about my plan.’

  Bahar’s request for permission did not face any hurdles. Jahangir granted it without any suspicions but Nurjahan smelt something unusual in the request.

  ‘Bahar Begum seems to have turned into a very devout woman.’ Her staff did not miss the sarcasm in her voice. ‘Lately, we have been receiving a lot of requests for her visits to holy shrines.’

  The empress paced her apartment thoughtfully.

  Isn’t it too hot for a visit to the dargah? I do not see any reason for Bahar Begum to travel all the way to Fatehpur Sikri in this heat. Perhaps there is something more than meets the eye, she thought.

  She had heard vague rumours about Bahar’s interest in a young noble.

  The harem was teeming with the empress’s spies. Whatever happened within the four walls of the harem found its way into her ears. No matter was too trivial and no happening irrelevant for her attention. The jealous interactions between the concubines, clandestine meetings, births, deaths, illnesses, dalliances, everything was reported to the empress by her spies. An empress could only control the harem if she had information, and Nurjahan’s was no different.

  ‘Not another problem brewing, I hope,’ sighed Nurjahan as she called her chief eunuch, Hoshiyar Khan, and put him on the job.

  Dust swirled around raising blinding eddies in the afternoon heat. The cloudless sky afforded no protection against the fury of midday sun as Bahar and Zeenat got ready to leave the harem. Shaukat had travelled to Zafar Khan’s house the previous night to apprise him of the plan. It had found instant approval from both Zafar and Salamat.

  As Shaukat mounted the horse, the women stepped into the palanquin. The four muscular palanquin-bearers, perspiring with the effort, hauled it on their shoulders and began journeying towards the gate.

  From his post, Hoshiyar Khan watched them go. As the small group turned a corner, he gestured towards the mounted soldiers waiting at one end. Their leader rode up to the eunuch and saluted. Hoshiyar was a powerful person; everyone knew that his orders came directly from the empress.

  ‘Ride behind them without raising any suspicions,’ commanded the eunuch.

  ‘Do not harm them unless they resist. If you find that it is a rendezvous or an attempt to escape, arrest all of them and bring them to the court.’

  Saluting the eunuch, the soldier walked back to his group and issued instructions to them.

  Bahar sighed with relief as they neared the massive gate of the fort. So far so good, she thought, once we are out in the open, it will be easier to relax. The hemline of her dress felt heavy with the jewels hidden in it.

  Secreted inside the bodice of Zeenat’s dress was a mini treasure of precious stones, which Bahar had entrusted in her care. Her heart beating madly, she prayed for a safe journey.

  With growing alarm, Bahar noticed the pallor on Zeenat’s face. She was trembling all over. The girl is terrified, she could muddle up everything, she thought.

  ‘Zeenat, get a grip over yourself,’ she hissed. ‘It is just a matter of a few moments.’

  Bahar clasped her perspiring hand in her own as the guard climbed down from his post to make enquiries.

  Shaukat flashed the royal papers permitting them to travel to Fatehpur Sikri, and the guard withdrew after casting a furtive look at the palanquin. Zeenat drew in a sharp breath. Her entire body was soaked in perspiration.

  They journeyed through the arid stretch of land without halting anywhere. Straddling the crest of a ridge, Fatehpur Sikri was several kos away. The road was deserted; not even a mongrel could be seen in the blistering heat. Lost in their thoughts, they sat in the swaying palanquin, listening to the rhythmic grunts of the kahars, the palanquin-bearers, along with the tapping of their sticks.

  As Bahar sipped water from the earthen ewer they were carrying, she felt sorry for the men who were sweating profusely. She leaned out and summoned Shaukat. ‘Let them stop under a tree and drink some water,’ she commanded.

  The kahars put down the palanquin under a tree and drank thirstily from the pitcher of water offered by Shaukat.

  A couple of minutes later they were on their way again. Resting longer would put the entire plan into jeopardy.

  The red sandstone structures loomed large in the distance. The fortress-city stood in profound quietude, its bare sandstone walls whispering untold stories of the past. Now deserted, the masterpiece in sandstone glowed in subtly changing shades of pink and red as the day progressed and the light faded.

  The exquisite palaces built by Emperor Akbar dotted the skyline lining the ridge of Sikri. For fourteen years the Mughal emperor had reigned from the majestic palaces of Fatehpur Sikri that he had painstakingly built around the mausoleum of the great saint, Sheikh Chisti.

  A great empire had flourished in the region with the lofty minarets, mansions and palaces crowding the area. The naubat khana had reverberated with the sound of drums announcing the victories, the gardens had blazed with colourful flowers and the harem had buzzed with the activities of women. The beautiful sandstone Hall of Public Audience where the gre
at Akbar had given hearing to the public had seen some of the greatest judgements. The greatest singer of Mughal Empire, Tansen’s rich voice had regaled the royal family and the witticism of Birbal had elicited laughter in the court.

  Fourteen years later, water scarcity and strategic considerations had made Akbar desert his laboriously constructed city and move to Agra. It was now a ghost town visited by people who came to pray at the saint’s dargah.

  The majestic Buland Darwaza, built to commemorate Akbar’s victory in Gujarat, towered like a beacon, welcoming the exhausted travellers to the ghost town.

  The hot June sun was fading away as they reached the dargah. The pale, slanting rays of light from the west lit up the soaring structures that fringed the horizon. It would be another hour before darkness fell. The call of a muezzin from the nearby mosque reverberated in the atmosphere as they halted at the base of the dargah.

  From afar they could hear the bells, tied around the necks of cattle, tinkling as they headed home in the twilight.

  The exhausted kahars laid the palanquin on the ground and moved away towards the water tank to quench their thirst. It had been an arduous journey for them. Speaking in hushed tones they dispersed towards the periphery of the courtyard.

  Shaukat dismounted and led his horse towards a water tank meant for the animals, at the back of the wall. Minutes later, Zafar rushed out from behind the beautifully-trellised marble screen of the dargah and gathered Bahar in his arms as she stepped out of the palanquin. Zeenat remained seated inside, waiting for them to draw apart.

  Suddenly they heard Shaukat shouting, ‘The imperial soldiers are coming, take cover.’

  In the distance, they saw clouds of dust as the horsemen approached. The beating of hoofs neared rapidly even as Bahar, speechless with shock, clung to Zafar. The suddenness of the event had shaken everyone.

  Zeenat, who was near the dargah, was pulled in the shadow by Shaukat. Warning her to remain hidden, the faithful eunuch marched towards the lovers. Minutes later, four soldiers surrounded Bahar and Zafar.

  ‘We have orders to take you back to the city. The emperor desires your presence,’ said the leader.