Nurjahan's Daughter (16 page)

The emperor halted his agitated pacing. His tawny eyes emitted liquid fire. ‘Sharief, if you were suffering the way I do, you wouldn’t be talking in this manner,’ he admonished. ‘I wish to travel to Lahore. Maybe the beauty of that city will awaken romance in the heart of my beloved. Agra is too much of a practical city, it is Lahore where love and romance flourish.’

It was useless to argue with the emperor. Sharief bowed himself out of Jahangir’s presence muttering–‘I shall personally supervise the arrangements for the travel, Your Majesty.’

Outside, away from the emperor’s hearing, he cursed Meherunnisa and the problems she had brought to the court.
Why can’t the woman surrender to the inevitable? What a mess! Allah, I pray that the emperor snaps out of his infatuation or the woman realises the futility of her inflexible stance.

The emperor’s decision translated into frantic activity as the court began packing up for the long journey. When the court moved from one city to the other, it meant that almost everyone moved. From nobles and soldiers to petty traders and even beggars, everyone joined the caravan: no one wanted to be left behind. There would be no business when the royal camp moved and the enormous capital city would become like a ghost town. Life existed where the emperor lived. No less than fifteen hundred elephants, ten thousand horses, hundreds of palanquins and thousands of foot soldiers formed the entourage.

Meherunnisa also travelled along with the emperor’s harem. With more than three hundred concubines and eighteen wives, the harem was a magnificent procession. Laadli travelled with her mother in a palanquin that tailed the procession. The important queens and concubines travelled at the head, and women lower down in the hierarchy, at the rear of the convoy.

It was the first time Laadli was travelling with the royal retinue and she was delighted with everything. On her insistence, her friend, Benazir, was sharing their palanquin. In the past year, ever since Khurram was lost to her, Laadli had made two friends–Ratnavali, the niece of a concubine, and Benazir, the daughter of a concubine. The three girls were of the same age and shared the same interests. They also shared a common hatred for the emperor.

Benazir had grown up with the image of her frail mother endlessly waiting for a visit from the emperor. Benazir’s mother was the daughter of a Hindu noble, low down in the hierarchy. She had caught Jahangir’s eye when she attended a royal function and was brought to the harem by force and converted to Islam. For six months Jahangir had been enchanted with his new paramour, then he tired of her and discarded her forever. Benazir’s mother had been in love with a young Hindu soldier when the emperor had her brought to the harem. Jahangir had ordered his execution when he learned of their romance. Benazir had often heard the story from her mother.

Ratnavali was the daughter of a proud Rajput chieftain. She had been left orphaned after the emperor’s army attacked her town and killed her family members. The imperial soldiers had gone on a rampage, plundering and raping the women, killing children and causing mayhem. Roop Kunwar, a childless concubine and a distant aunt of hers, took care of her now.

The girls giggled as they noted the strapping Uzbek women guards who galloped alongside their palanquin. The one on the right of their palanquin had a discernible moustache and her demeanour added to her masculine appearance.

About two kilometres ahead of the main column, a few soldiers rode with several yards of white linen. This was used to hide from view any animal carcasses or corpses that might lie on the way, so that the sight of a dead body did not offend the royal sensibilities.

Right in front of the procession walked the elephants, with bearers carrying the Mughal standards. The Timurid standard of a crouching lion set against the rising sun was followed by white Arab stallions adorned with gold saddles, reins and stirrups carrying the personal banner of the 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 travelled on a golden howdah under a gem-encrusted umbrella. He was flanked by four artists and calligraphers who noted events and the emperor’s thoughts, to be recorded later for his memoirs. Jahangir never travelled anywhere without his memoirs. Alongside the emperor’s elephant rode a vizier with many documents about the places the procession was passing through. His vast store of documents contained each and every detail about the area. Next to the vizier rode the imperial treasurer with bags full of gold and silver coins to be distributed by the emperor to the people on the wayside, who gathered to pay their respects to him. A posse of elite guards, 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 with pearls and rubies, and covered with brocade curtains, carried the empress. A thoroughbred stallion walked alongside in case the empress 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 troop of riders with 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, the emperor’s menagerie and other stores loaded on the animals. A ragged group of beggars and mendicants formed the tail end of the procession.

Finally, the entourage reached Lahore Fort. Covering a vast area, the fort had been constructed with red sandstone by Shehanshah +Akbar, but Jahangir insisted that marble pavilions be added to the palaces. The emperor was partial to glazed Kashi tile work and frescoes, and his architect Mamoor Khan was instructed to use these elements extensively in his’ renovation efforts.

‘Mamoor, we wish you to make generous use of glass mosaic for the embellishment of the Sheesh Mahal so that it will reflect the grandeur and beauty of a Mughal emperor’s court. The Sheesh Mahal would require extra thick walls and ceilings to provide adequate depth for different layers of the plaster background, and the openings will have to be minimised to necessitate the use of artificial light. This will bring out the effect of the glass mosaic work. And, of course, it will also ensure coolness.’

The emperor’s understanding of architectural details impressed Mamoor Khan.

Pointing to the fort, the emperor continued. ‘I want this to look more like a palace than a fort. I want you to design the Khwabgah with paintings on the ceilings and the walls. You can also use stuccowork on the walls, like we did in my mother, Queen Jodha Bai’s palace at Fatehpur Sikri. I want similar work in the Diwan-é-khas. And the gardens–they should be as beautiful and ornate as the ones in Kashmir.’

While reconstruction work was going on at the fort, the emperor camped in the Dilkhusha gardens, on the banks of the river Ravi. Double-storied royal tents in bright crimson were pitched in the lawns of the garden amidst the fruit trees. The emperor’s tent, containing several rooms, was covered with exotic paintings and its floors were furnished with bright carpets. Carved screens of Kashmiri walnut wood provided privacy from prying eyes. Ivory caskets and jade wine cups with couplets inscribed on them, gold spittoons, enamelled flower vases filled with perfect blooms, porcelain plates with fruits, carved sandalwood side tables, almost everything that brought comfort and luxury to the emperor in his palace, was replicated within the tent.

The mammoth tent also accommodated the Diwan-é-khas and council rooms, just as they formed a part of the emperor’s quarters in the fort. Tents for the other nobles occupied the rest of the garden, their distance from the emperor’s marquee indicating their status. In the evening, the emperor sat in the marble pavilions shaped like stone thrones, standing in the centre of an enormous pool, as he listened to the ethereal music played by his musicians. Sheets of cool, quiet water contrasted with shawls of fast running water cascading over chadars–deep-throated marble chutes inlaid with coloured marble. The play of water in countless fountains covered the surface with ripples. Tiny oil lamps set in marble niches sparkled from behind cascades. Rows of trees lit with Chinese lanterns lighted up the path around the garden.

The breathtaking scene didn’t alleviate Jahangir’s pining heart, however. ‘If only Meherunnisa were by my side,’ he sighed, ‘this would be paradise.’

‘Meherunnisa is housed on the other side of the river Ravi. Your Majesty can travel by the royal barge on a moonlit night and capture her heart. I am sure the lady will respond, for who can ignore the magic cast by the moon on a night like this. A direct appeal is always favourable to the ones made through mediators,’ Sharief suggested.

Jahangir felt convinced of the truth of his stepbrother’s statement. That night, the royal barge, lit like a chandelier, floated on the waters of the Ravi, as it made its way towards the mansion that housed Meherunnisa and Laadli. His heart beating hopefully, Jahangir advanced towards his destination. He went as a lover, not an emperor, to woo the woman of his dreams.

From her balcony Meherunnisa watched the illuminated barge approaching the shore. She walked to the outer hall where her maid was lying in deep sleep.

‘Wake up, you fool, the emperor approaches this mansion,’ she kicked the girl.

The girl got up, sleepy and disoriented.

‘Run to the door and bring in the emperor while I dress,’ instructed Meherunnisa calmly, as she entered her room to complete her toilette.

Soon they were standing alone in the hall, she heavily veiled and he, hesitant. His escorts waited outside in the garden.

‘What brings you here, Your Majesty, at this hour of the night? I do have a reputation to defend. Words of your night adventure will soon leave the four walls of this mansion and people will smirk.’

‘I have come to you Meherunnisa, because you have not heeded to the appeals sent through emissaries.’

‘Your Majesty should have patience. I am a grieving widow who has no reply for the emperor’s missives.’

Her cool manner enraged the emperor.

‘Enough, Meherunnisa. Enough time has been granted for your mourning. For how long does a woman mourn a husband she didn’t love?’

Her green eyes spewed fire as she directed her gaze at him. They seemed to burn a hole in the veil that covered them.

‘You are insulting me, Your Majesty. Is love to be worn over one’s sleeve, to be declared in public, for everyone to see? I mourn a man who was my husband for thirteen years.’ The rebuke took him by surprise.

Anger flickered in his eyes. ‘It is a deadly game you are playing with me. You continue to dangle me on a slender thread. I have no more time to give you for your grief. Four years I have waited for you. I can wait no longer.‘

‘How can a mere women play deadly games with an emperor? That is the sole prerogative of the royals. I play no games with you, sire. I just want you to leave me to my fate. I am too small a person with no rank and status to challenge the grand Mughal emperor. Do I detect a veiled threat in the emperor’s statement?’

Her words were sharp and the tone uncompromising. The volcano of rage simmering inside his bosom turned into cold lava in an instant. Its ashes seemed to choke him as the mighty emperor grovelled helplessly before her. ‘Meherunnisa, my darling, how could I threaten you? I love you more than anything else in my life.’

‘More than your throne? More than the hundreds of beautiful women in the harem?’ she asked archly, delighting in his discomfiture. She felt powerful and potent before her helpless lover.

‘Yes, yes, more than the throne and the crown, more than the women in my harem, more than everything!’

‘Is that why you got my poor husband killed? A valiant soldier, who fought bravely for the empire, saved you from death once, and rode with you many times, protecting you from the hail of arrows and bullets. Did he deserve to die so miserably, killed so brutally, his body hacked to pieces by your henchmen? All because he happened to be married to a woman who caught your fancy?’

‘Don’t you dare make such allegations, Meherunnisa. Don’t test my patience just because I love you.’

‘I am sorry, Your Majesty, for a moment I forgot that you are the emperor. For an instant I saw my husband’s murderer standing before me. You may punish me in any way you want. Behead me, have me trampled by elephants or bury me alive within the walls like Shahenshah Akbar buried Anarkali. I shall not complain.’

‘Why are you intent on torturing me? Believe me, I had no role to play in your husband’s death.’

‘For four long years I have lived with the gory image of my husband’s brutalised body. Flow can I forget his murder, sire? The entire empire knows that your foster brother, Qutubuddin, was instructed by you to kill my husband. And you are telling me that you had no role to play in his murder?’

Jahangir was pacing the floor agitatedly.

‘What do you want from me? Tell me, how can I atone for the murder of Sher Afghan? Since you believe that I was instrumental in causing his death, tell me what I must do to erase that idea from your mind?’

‘I am no one to pass judgement, Your Majesty. I can’t dictate terms to the powerful emperor of Hindustan. Please leave me to live the rest of my life in peace.’

Rejected again, the emperor left to drown his misery in endless cups of wine.

‘Sharief, I am trying to be tolerant, but she tries my patience. I must be the only Mughal emperor to be spurned by a woman. I feel ashamed of my weakness.’

‘Your Majesty must not lose heart. I have no doubt that a persistent approach can make her heart melt. No woman can reject a penitent man.’

Every night, for eleven nights, the emperor travelled on his barge to Meherunnisa’s mansion, trying to mollify her. Hidden behind a pillar, the eight-year-old Laadli watched as the emperor wooed her mother with expensive gifts, laid the imperial treasures at her feet, bared his heart and tried every ploy he could think of. The innocent child applauded what she thought was her mother’s courage in rebuffing the emperor. Laadli gloated in the emperor’s discomfiture. She was convinced that her mother’s love for Sher Afghan would not allow her to submit to Jahangir’s wishes.