Escape from Harem

by Tanushree Podder

  ‘I have competition, now,’ smiled Arjumand. ‘There is another stunning face in your harem, my lord.’

  ‘Impossible, there is no other woman in the world as beautiful as you.’

  ‘Her name is Zeenat.’

  Sixteen

  Salamat hadn’t fared too badly, either. He was now a part of Shahjahan’s army as a soldier. The two of them were thrilled at their success and decided to celebrate the occasion with an outing. Together, they walked to the public park to spend a few hours.

  An acrobat was walking on a rope near the gate. The crowd cheered him on as he balanced himself with the help of a long bamboo. Across the park, a fire-eater was swallowing flames from a torch. His tongue licked the trembling flames, drawing appreciation from the crowd. A flock of peasants stood around a snake charmer who was making a cobra sway, dazedly, drawn to the movement of his flute. Nearby, a monkey performed tricks, much to the delight of the audience who provoked it with loud cries.

  Zeenat was delighted. She had never been to a public park before. She clapped her hands with the crowd and goaded the monkey to perform more tricks. She fed it nuts and threw coins at the acrobat. Salamat was amused at her childlike innocence.

  She bought a freshly roasted corncob on which the peddler had sprinkled salt and squeezed a lime.

  ‘Let’s do it more often,’ she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

  They sat by a fountain eating roasted grams, watching people enjoying themselves.

  Two days later when Zeenat went back to the harem, Arjumand handed her over to Satiunnisa. ‘She will instruct you on your duties,’ she said.

  Later in the day, the princess summoned the girl and asked her about Salamat Khan.

  ‘Are you married to him?’

  A deep blush spread through Zeenat’s face as she stammered, ‘No, Your Highness.’ She could not bring herself to lie to her mistress.

  ‘Has he asked you to marry him or shown any interest in making an honest woman out of you?’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness, he has expressed his desire to marry me.’

  ‘Then what is the problem? Why are you delaying the marriage? It is not right for you to live with him in the same house without marrying him,’ said Arjumand. ‘Or do you want to come and live here in the harem?’

  Zeenat hesitated.

  ‘Be frank with me, Zeenat. If you don’t like him, you can move to the harem.’

  ‘Oh, no, Your Highness, I do like him. It is just that I was despoiled by the emperor,’ Zeenat said, ‘how can I offer my sullied body to an honest man like Salamat Khan? I feel he deserves someone much better.’

  ‘You must forget the past. Learn to live in the present. We are all going through difficult times. Who knows how long we will live. This is no time to dwell on what has happened or what could be. Does Salamat Khan know about your past?’

  ‘Yes, he is aware that I was the emperor’s woman for a few nights.’

  ‘If you love him and make him happy, it won’t matter so much. Accept the gifts Allah throws in your path and learn to appreciate them. He is gifting you this man’s love. Don’t reject it. What happened earlier was not a fault of yours. It was destiny. This too is destiny.’

  As she listened to Arjumand’s words, Zeenat was struck with her wisdom.

  ‘He is a good man,’ the princess continued. ‘He could have bedded you without any offer of marriage since he knows your past, and the days you spent with him have brought you both close. The fact that he hasn’t done so and wants to marry you shows that he genuinely loves you and wants you for what you are.’

  Zeenat had never thought of that aspect. He could have bedded me and I wouldn’t have refused, she thought. He has never tried to take advantage of the situation.

  ‘I think so too,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  ‘You must marry him,’ ordered the princess. ‘No woman lives with a man without being wedded to him.’

  ‘I will do whatever you suggest, Your Highness.’

  ‘Then stop fretting and get ready for marriage.’

  ‘I have neither relatives nor friends to help me prepare,’ whispered Zeenat sadly.

  ‘If you feel you have no friends here, no one can help it, but if you look around you will notice that everyone here is your friend,’ Arjumand commented. ‘Satiunnisa here loves weddings, don’t you Sati?’

  Satiunnisa, who was tending to the youngest princess, nodded her head enthusiastically. ‘Of course, I do. Everyone around here does. It is the only occasion when we can let our hair down and enjoy ourselves.’

  She smiled encouragingly at Zeenat, ‘Don’t worry about the preparations, just set your mind at looking your best for the day. The rest will be taken care of.’

  Three days later, at a simple ceremony, Zeenat was married to Salamat Khan. Arjumand had made all arrangements for the wedding. Both Arjumand and Shahjahan had been very generous with gifts for the couple. The bridal attire that she wore had come from Satiunnisa and the jewels from Arjumand.

  ‘You have been so generous to me, Your Highness. I can’t return your favours even if I tried my entire life.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to lose a good worker, so you must continue to work for me,’ said Arjumand when Zeenat fell at her feet thanking her profusely for all the kindness.

  ‘I will do anything you say,’ the girl nodded tearfully. She had known just a few women who had given her all the happiness in life, first her mother Humra then Bahar and now the princess.

  ‘Just wipe your tears and go to your husband. He has been waiting for you for long.’

  In her palanquin to the new home, Zeenat carried with her a bundle of fears, hopes, and dreams. Arjumand had assured her that her past didn’t matter. It wouldn’t come in the way of her happiness since Salamat Khan loved her despite everything. Yet, Zeenat couldn’t stop wondering if things would have been different if circumstances had not thrown him across her path. He would probably never have thought of marrying her. She wondered if he really loved her or was it just pity. She wouldn’t have liked him to marry her out of pity.

  The palanquin brought her to the small courtyard of the house that had been allotted to Salamat by the prince. The house had belonged to a rich merchant who had fled the town when Shahjahan conquered it. There were many such havelis that had been abandoned by important people. Shahjahan’s men now used these houses.

  It was a nice and comfortable house with a little garden of its own. It was everything she had ever dreamt of. The large airy rooms reflected the sun’s glory through the day. A small fountain was set in the garden with dovecotes in one corner. A huge magnolia tree stood at the corner, its white flowers dotting the ground. It was a world of dreams. She clutched at her heart at the sight of it all, fearful that the dream would end suddenly. ‘Allah,’ she whispered to herself, ‘don’t let this dream end.’

  She looked into Salamat’s eyes and the nervousness seemed to flow out of her body. The twinkling brown eyes were warm and fluid. There was humour, gentleness and curiosity in them. And then he smiled.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I am as nervous as you are. After all, this is the first time I have got married.’

  His words brought a smile to her lips and she relaxed. Everything is going to be all right, sang her heart.

  Gently, he lifted her veil. Zeenat closed her eyes. ‘You are beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen,’ mumbled her husband. His large hands were clumsy and awkward as they moved over her body. Slowly, he peeled off her clothes and carried her to the bed. Kneeling across her, he began to tease her breasts.

  Zeenat was surprised at the tenderness in his rough hands, as though he was scared of hurting her. Her body ached for him as he moved maddeningly all over it. The music in her mind reached a crescendo as he entered her, eager and sure. Clinging to his hard body, she arched to fulfil his passion and yielded to him with all her heart. This is real, what happened at the palace was a bad dream, she told herself. This is what love is all about.<
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  Through the night, she watched him sleep; she was scared he would get up and leave. Her mind could not believe this was real. It was too good to be true. Salamat Khan snored away peacefully, unaware of her worries. Towards dawn, her tired eyes relaxed from their vigil and she sank into a dreamless slumber, her arm flung across his chest possessively.

  In the few weeks that he had been working with Shahjahan, Salamat Khan had many opportunities to prove his loyalty and sincerity to the prince. His benefactor, Sa’dullah Khan, had been keeping a close eye on the Pathan. He had put many obstacles in the soldier’s path to test his tenacity. The cunning minister had put him through severe hardships and difficult situations before he promoted him from an ordinary foot soldier to a more important position.

  ‘He is a good soldier,’ Shahjahan had conceded grudgingly, after a minor skirmish in which Salamat Khan had more than proved his mettle.

  ‘I have received very good reports about his capabilities from the capital.’

  ‘Send him to the battle at Golconda,’ ordered Shahjahan. ‘Put him in charge of a band of soldiers. That will allow him to make strategic decisions. Watch him carefully.’

  True to the prince’s prediction, Salamat Khan led his men from the front and turned the losing battle into a victory. His valour and judgement stood the test of the time. Recognizing his talent, Shahjahan immediately granted him the honour of serving as his personal bodyguard.

  Within a year, Salamat had gained prominence in the prince’s army. He was hard working, sincere and loyal, qualities that were rare treasures in the army.

  Seventeen

  Although they were in constant turmoil due to conflicts around them, there also were moments of fun and laughter in the harem. The women seized on these moments to lift their spirits from the gloomy news on the warfront.

  One day, Arjumand decided that she would gift her portrait to the prince on his birthday. She summoned Satiunnisa and asked her if she knew any good artist.

  Satiunnisa sent Isa, the head eunuch, to find a skilled painter.

  Later that day, when Isa returned with his findings, she relayed the information to Arjumand.

  ‘There is a Hindu artist who is famous in these parts of the country. His name is Shankar Rao. There is just one problem, though,’ she hesitated.

  ‘What?’ enquired Arjumand.

  ‘He is reputed to be a very irritable and short-tempered man. It is said that he doesn’t care for imperial orders. A very moody man, he undertakes work only if he wants to.’

  ‘Interesting!’ commented Arjumand. ‘Artists are supposed to be moody. Let us see if he will accept our offer.’

  ‘Do you think it will be wise to call him to the harem?’

  ‘No, don’t call him to the harem. Let him come to the garden behind the harem, tomorrow morning,’ commanded Arjumand. ‘But remember, not a word of this should go out of the harem. It must be done in strict secrecy. It has to be a surprise for the prince.’

  ‘Your word is my command! I will ensure that it remains within the four walls of the harem, Your Highness,’ agreed Satiunnisa.

  ‘There is just one problem, Your Highness,’ Zeenat interrupted. ‘Since you are to remain in purdah, how will he draw you?’

  ‘True,’ seconded Satiunnisa. ‘How can any artist draw a woman who is hidden behind the veil?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t given a thought to that. All I know is that I want my portrait painted. You must find a solution to that problem. I don’t care how it is done.’

  Zeenat and Satiunnisa spent the entire day deliberating over the matter. How could the artist draw the princess without seeing her? At last Satiunnisa hit upon an idea.

  ‘We will have to use servants to sit for the artist,’ Satiunnisa declared.

  ‘How can servants sit for him when he has to paint a portrait of the princess?’

  ‘Not one, but about a dozen of them will have to sit for him.’

  Zeenat was flabbergasted. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Look, it is quite simple,’ explained Satiunnisa. ‘We will have to find a girl who has eyes like Arjumand. The artist will have to draw the eyes by looking at her eyes. Then we will find someone who has lips like the princess and so on…’

  It seemed a preposterous idea but it was the only one they could think of.

  ‘Will it work?’ Zeenat was doubtful.

  ‘Of course it will work. There are hundreds of women in the harem; many are quite beautiful. I could reel off names of several women with similarity in features with the princess. For instance, your complexion is quite close to that of her. Afroza has eyebrows identical to those of the princess. Sakina’s eyes could be passed off for her eyes.’

  There was wonder in Zeenat’s voice as she applauded Satiunnisa’s plan. ‘Initially it sounded far-fetched, but now I think it is a brilliant idea. I would never have thought of it,’ she gushed.

  ‘Of course, it is going to take longer to get the portrait done and it will require a great deal of the painter’s skill to combine the features but it can be done.’

  The next day, Shankar Rao was summoned to the garden across the harem. A heavily veiled Arjumand sat behind the screen and observed the haughty demeanour of the artist.

  ‘We have heard of your finesse. You are reputed to be the best in the region,’ she said.

  ‘Pardon my insolence, but how do you know I am a good artist. You have not seen any of my work. Reputations are not always reliable.’

  His voice was gentle but firm. There was a sharp intake of breath behind the screen.

  ‘Let us be a judge of your artistry.’ Arjumand replied softly. ‘It is our desire to present a portrait to the prince on his birthday. We can’t do it without your assistance. If I were to request you personally, would you undertake the project?’

  The artist was taken aback at the humility in her voice. ‘Your Highness, I had come here prepared to be commanded by an arrogant princess but I am floored by the gentleness of your approach. I will be happy to do your portrait.’

  ‘But I can’t sit for the portrait,’ said Arjumand. ‘Satiunnisa Khanum will explain the details of how it should be done.’

  ‘That is rather unusual,’ said Shankar Rao, doubtfully. ‘I have never done the portrait of someone who was not willing to pose for me.’

  The artist seemed amused when Satiunnisa explained the plan to him.

  ‘I have never done anything like this. It is a challenge and I like challenges,’ he said. ‘I will try but I can’t assure you that I will succeed in creating a likeness of the princess. Now I am going to put forth a condition. I will not allow anyone to see the portrait till it is finished.’

  Condition granted, he was allotted a studio near the harem.

  First a slave girl whose eyes were similar to Arjumand’s eyes was brought to him. Shankar sketched the eyes on one side of his paper. Then a girl with similar eyebrows was brought to him and he drew the brows over the eyes.

  As each feature was revealed to him, he drew that feature on one corner of the paper. Like a jigsaw puzzle, the different elements covered the corners, waiting to be put together.

  ‘How are you going to put them together?’ asked Satiunnisa wondering how he was going to assemble the features to create a whole picture.

  ‘Leave that to me,’ he replied testily.

  The process was a long one but it was a challenge he had accepted. They all wondered if the final portrait would be anything like Arjumand.

  ‘I don’t know if he is as talented as he is made out to be,’ wondered Zeenat. ‘It will take an expert to make some sense out of the bits and pieces that we are throwing his way.’

  ‘Let us see what happens finally,’ replied Satiunnisa enjoying the mystery. ‘Not a word of all this to your husband, either,’ she admonished.

  Everyone knew that neither Zeenat nor Salamat could keep secrets from each other.

  In fact, she had already confided in him about the portrait.

  ‘
You are not to tell it to anyone,’ she instructed her husband as she narrated the episode to him.

  Laughing, he swore not to talk about it. ‘Can’t you keep a secret, woman? You are absolutely hopeless.’

  ‘So are you, dear husband. How else would I have known about the things that go on in the court?’

  It was almost a fortnight and Arjumand was getting impatient to see the portrait.

  ‘How is it coming along?’ she asked Zeenat.

  ‘Your Highness, Shankar Rao is not allowing anyone to have a look at the drawing. He says that it will be shown only on completion.’

  ‘I think I have a plan,’ said Arjumand tapping her foot impatiently. ‘Tomorrow I will go and sit for the artist.’

  ‘That will not be right, Your Highness,’ protested Zeenat.

  ‘No one will know. I will cover my face. Only my hands will be revealed to him.’

  ‘What if he came to know that you are sitting for him?’

  ‘How will he know?’

  ‘But what purpose will it serve? You will not be able to see the portrait, anyway.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I will steal a look at it, somehow,’ assured Arjumand.

  The next morning Arjumand sat for the artist, heavily veiled, with only her hands visible.

  Shankar Rao was an astute man. One look at the hands and he knew he was looking at royal fingers.

  They were delicate hands that had never worked in their lifetime. In her hurry, Arjumand had forgotten to remove the precious rings presented to her by the prince. They were priceless. Only royalty had access to such jewels.

  ‘You need not have bothered, Your Highness,’ said Shankar Rao, as he sketched the fingers.

  Shocked, Arjumand stared at him through the narrow slit of her veil. How did he know?

  He smiled mysteriously. ‘I am sure you have come to see how the portrait was progressing. All you had to do is to command me and I would have put it before you.’