Delhi (25 page)

We spent sixteen days in the pleasant surroundings of Shalimar Gardens, a few miles south of the city. The days began to get longer, the sun began to get warmer. At Shalimar the silk cotton trees burst into large red blossoms. Gardeners said that from the colour of the
simbal
(that was what the natives called it) one could foretell the heat of the summer to come; the brighter its fiery red the fiercer the sun’s rays would be.

Our agents in Delhi informed us that Mohammed Shah had raised a huge army to impede our progress towards Delhi. We ordered our troops to resume march as we realized that if we tarried much longer in Lahore the spring would turn to summer and the heat become too oppressive for our warriors.

We followed our advance guard till we arrived at the village Tilauri where our tents had been pitched. A few musket shots away the Mughal army was entrenched between the town of Karnal and the canal named after one Ali Mardan Khan.

The next morning we rode out to see the disposition of the enemy’s forces. He had indeed come in great strength– upwards of 3,00,000 men. Yet it was apparent that the Mughal was still a baby in the art of war. Despite being twice as numerous as us, and possessed of over 2000 war elephants, thousands of camels mounted with swivels, parks of artillery and innumerable cavalry, he had thrown high breastworks about his forces, and thus deprived himself of the power to strike at us. Allah had verily deprived him of sense and delivered him into our hands!

We ordered our mobile columns to cut off the Mughal’s food supplies. Verily has the learned Saadi said: ‘When a warrior is full, he will be brave in fight; but if his belly is empty, he will be brave in flight.’ We let our enemy go hungry for a few days. When his stomach was empty we struck him at various points to create confusion in his mind. He fired his artillery in all directions without ever hitting us.

On the afternoon of 14 February 1739, driven by hunger, the vast army that the Mughal had collected emerged from its earthworks to give us battle. First a wall of elephants was sent against us. We sent camels loaded with burning naphtha on their backs to meet them. The elephants took fright, turned tail and trampled over their own host. Before the Mughal could restore order in his ranks we sent our cavalry to charge him. Our lion-hunting warriors broke the lines of the enemy. In a two-hour engagement, 20,000 of the enemy were killed and many more taken captive. Among those mortally wounded was Samsamudaulah regarded as one of the pillars of the Mughal court. This nobleman was also reputed to be a patron of poets. We were truly sorry to hear of his death.

We allowed the dust of defeat to settle on Mohammed Shah’s face before agreeing to receive him. And who did he send to plead for him but Asaf Jah Nizam-ul-Mulk, who had invited us to Hindustan! This man had been untrue to his master’s salt; but as he had also become the instrument of our designs we bestowed on him a robe of honour and agreed to let Mohammed Shah lay the sword of submission at our victorious feet.

The following day Nasiruddin Mohammed Shah, Emperor of Hindustan, came to our presence. He feared that we might take his life and stopping outside our tent sent a eunuch in with a copy of the
Quran
as a pledge of our forgiveness. We kissed the Holy Book and asked our dear son, Prince Nasrulla Khan, to bring in the Mughal. Mohammed Shah entered our tent, bowed and placed his sword at our feet. We rose and embraced him. We told him to banish fear from his mind. ‘Our policy towards our enemies is open war, not treacherous assassination,’ we said.

He did not believe us. When food was laid before him, we saw the veil of suspicion drop over his frightened visage. We took his plate and placed ours before him. We did the same with the goblets of wine. To reassure him further, with our own hands we poured a cup of
kahwa
and handed it to him. Since kindness failed to kindle the flame of friendship in his breast we thought it best to give him some plain words of advice.

‘It is strange that you should be so unconcerned and regardless of your affairs that notwithstanding the fact that we wrote you several letters, sent you an ambassador to testify to our friendship, you should not think it proper to send us a satisfactory answer!’ We paused for a reply but Mohammed Shah maintained a mute silence. We continued: ‘You show no concern for your affairs; when we entered your empire you did not send an envoy to ask who we were, or what our design was! None of your people came with a message or salutation, nay, not even with an answer to our salutation to you!’

We pointed to him the errors he had committed in the conduct of the battle. ‘You foolishly cooped yourselves up in your trenches, not considering that you could not remain within barricades without either water or grain. You have seen what has happened!’

The Mughal’s head remained lowered in shame. We did not want to leave him with any misgivings of our motives for coming to Hindustan. ‘Only your indolence and pride has obliged us to march so far,’ we told him. ‘We shall not take the empire from you. But we have been put to extraordinary expense; our men, on account of the long marches, are much fatigued, and in want of necessities. We must proceed to Delhi, and remain there for some days until our army is refreshed and the compensation that Asaf Jah Nizam-ul-Mulk has agreed to is made to us. After that we shall leave you to look after your own affairs.’

Mohammed Shah listened to us without as much as raising his eyes from our feet. We gave him permission to leave. We had it conveyed to him that his Empress, Malika-ul-Zamani, and his son Sultan Ahmed be sent as hostages to our camp.

We proceeded onwards to Delhi with the Mughal King following in our train. When we arrived outside the capital of the Mughals, we detached a posse of Qazilbash cavalry to escort the Mughal king to his palace and prepare the city to receive us.

Our camp was pitched in a suburb called Shalimar where the
omarah
had their pleasure houses amidst the greenery of massive banyan trees whose branches hung down to the earth. Here also were orchards of a fruit called the mango, much relished by the natives. At the time, they were in flower— barely visible clusters of pale green which attracted a pestilence of flies, bees and spiders. The mango tree was also the favourite abode of a black bird of the size of a crow called the
koel
which screamed incessantly all through the day. Besides mangoes, the orchards had a large number of guavas which were again not in season. How different spring was in our gardens in Khorasan and Meshed! There, when the new leaf burst through the brown of grapevine, the days and nights were filled with the melodious songs of nightingales. We said to ourselves, ‘Allah! One day in Iran is worth a hundred in Hindustan.’

The next day we entered the city of the Mughals through the northern gate which opened into Lahori Bazaar. We left most of our army outside the city walls so that no untoward incident between our men and citizens would spoil our sojourn.

We rode through a succession of floral arches with words of welcome in Persian,
Khush Amdeed
, cunningly woven of roses, jasmines and marigolds. From the balconies women in veils showered rose-petals on us. These Hindvis certainly knew the art of flattery! The fragrance of flowers mingled strongly with the sharp smell of asafoetida and garlic which pervaded Lahori Bazaar. We passed a large mosque built, we were told, by one of the begums of Emperor Shah Jahan and named after her: Masjid Fatehpuri.

We turned into a broad street called Chandni Chowk. It had a water channel running in the centre and was lined with trees on either side. When we passed by the jewellers’ quarters, known as Jauhari Bazaar, we were presented with a trayload of precious stones. Next we passed a newly built mosque. This, we were told, had been erected by Nawab Roshan-ud-Daulah the keeper of Mohammed Shah’s treasury. Although it was small, its marble and gold spoke eloquently of the wealth of the treasury keeper. (We later learnt that Roshan-ud-Daulah was a notorious bribe-taker. As in Iran, so in Hindustan money-makers were also the builders of mosques).

Immediately following the mosque was the city
kotwali
, with its jail and execution yard. And next to the
kotwali
was the flower-sellers’ market, Phool-ki-Mandi. Here there were many patterns of floral decorations; the balconies on the opposite sides of the bazaar were linked with strings of garlands, making the bazaar appear like a tunnel of flowers. At the gate of the next bazaar, Dariba, silversmiths presented us with salvers inlaid with precious stones. Some of them were allowed to touch our stirrups before they flung palmful of coins in our name to beggars who abounded in the city. Near the entrance to the fort was Urdu Bazaar, the soldiers’ encampment. This had been vacated by the Mughal for our Qazilbash bodyguards.

As we entered the fort, Mughal guns fired a salute in our honour. We were pleased with the reception given to us. By beat of the drum we had it proclaimed that Delhi was under our protection and that as long as the citizens conducted themselves with propriety they could go about their business without fear. We presented robes of honour to Lutfullah Khan, Governor of Delhi, and to the
Kotwal
, Haji Faulad Khan. We complimented them on the excellent arrangements made by them.

Several places around the Diwan-i-Khas had been prepared for our stay. Here we received princes of the Mughal household and accepted tributes from them. We presented them with robes of honour.

In the evening we watched a display of fireworks on the bank of the river Jamna. It was followed by dancing and singing. Although we felt that our recent victory called for celebration, we did not deem it wise to indulge ourselves in the company of strangers. However, to please our host, Mohammed Shah, we took a goblet of wine from his hands and accepted a girl, said to be the most beautiful of her sex in Delhi. Without as much as looking at her we told her to await our pleasure in our dreamchamber.

Mohammed Shah drank so much wine that he forgot himself and the guest he was entertaining. He tied bells to his ankles and joined the nautch girls. He could dance as well as they— with the same sauciness in his eyes, the same delicacy of movement in his hands and the same nimbleness of feet. When one of the
omarah
applauded his performance and said that His Majesty had more to him than any dancing girl in Hindustan, Mohammed Shah grinned like an ape and suddenly took out his member from the folds of its privacy. ‘No dancing girl has this!’ he boasted as he waved it about. ‘A hundred gold coins for anyone who can produce a bigger one.’ We smiled at this foolish exhibition. Encouraged by our smile he doubled his wager: ‘And two hundred for anyone, Turk or Iranian, who can put it to better use!’

No one deigned to take up his challenge. The foolish man was emboldened to direct a barbed shaft at us. He quoted Saadi:

...O little mother of ancient days:

Thou hast cunningly dyed thy hair but consider

That thy bent back will never be straight!

He turned to his cronies with a meaningful smile. The besotted sycophants applauded: ‘
Wah
!
Wah
!’ We knew the allusion was to us for we had not had the time to dye our beard and its roots showed the same grey as the hair on our head. The double-faced Saadath Khan, who only a few hours earlier had been kissing the ground before our feet, took up the refrain with another quotation:

I have heard that in these days a decrepit aged man

Took fancy in his grey head to get a spouse

A beautiful lass, Jewel, by name.

And when he had concealed the jewel casket from other men

He tried to perform the feat customary at weddings

But in the first onslaught, the man’s organ fell asleep.

He spanned the bow but failed to hit the target.

We wanted to slap Saadath Khan there and then but decided to postpone his punishment to another day. However, we did not want these besotted men to get away with the notion that we were not aware of the direction in which they had aimed their poisoned darts. As soon as their laughter subsided, we replied:

A nice face and a gown of gold brocade

A haw of rose, aloes, paint and scent

All these a woman’s beauty aid,

But man, his testicles are his real ornament.

They applauded us at the top of their voices:
‘Marhaba!
Subhan Allah!
’

We dismissed the
mehfil
and retired to the bed prepared for us. No sooner had we reclined on our couch than the slave girl made her bow, took off our shoes and began to massage our feet. After the tiresome journey of many days the sensation was most pleasurable. We placed our legs in her lap and let her press our legs as well. We noticed that she was young and beautiful. ‘Girl, what is your name?’ we asked.

‘Your slave is known as Noor Bai. Can your slave have the honour of presenting a goblet of wine to Your Majesty?’

She looked up at us. What eyes Allah had given her! Larger, darker and more limpid than those of a Persian gazelle; and how she could speak with them! She poured wine from a silver decanter into a gold goblet and offered it to us with both her hands. We took it but, as was our wont, put it aside on a table. We never took wine, water or a morsel of food from a stranger’s hands. Noor Bai did not press us to drink. ‘Do I please Your Majesty?’ she asked, digging her forefinger into her cheek and wagging her head.

‘Your face is very pleasing to us. Of the rest we have as yet no knowledge,’ we replied.

She sensed what we meant. She placed our feet on a footstool and stood up. She unbuckled her trousers and let them drop at her feet. Then she took off her chemise and flung it on the carpet. Overcome by bashfulness she covered her face with both her hands, thus exposing herself completely to our gaze. We had never seen a girl fashioned as she: dark as cinnamon; bosom bursting with wanton impudence, waist so slender that we could enclose it within the palms of our hands. She was small but her buttocks were as large as the melons of Herat.