Nurjahan's Daughter (30 page)

‘We always assume that those whom we love will live forever,’ Laadli cried, leaning her head on her lover’s shoulder as they sat on a cold stone bench near a stream. Imraan was staring moodily at the water that gushed happily on its journey over the smooth rocks. The news that the royal entourage was to make its way back to the capital disturbed him. He was aware that meeting Laadli would be extremely difficult once they left Kashmir.

‘I have always been close to my grandmother. I have so many happy memories of the days spent in my grandparents’ house,’ she continued, her heart heavy with despair. ‘I can’t imagine her gone.’

‘We are just puppets in the hands of the Almighty, Laadli,’ Imraan tried to console her. ‘Who knows when he will call us back to be with him?’

‘I am thankful to Allah for bringing you in my life. I can bear anything as long as you are with me.’

B
efore the emperor’s camp could reach Agra, Asmat died in the arms of her husband. Ghias Baig was inconsolable; he had loved his wife deeply. The tragic blow seemed to sap him of his will to live: overnight he seemed to show his age, transforming from an upright, proud noble, into an old, bent man. Asmat had been the trunk that supported the sprawling family tree, with its many branches, binding them in a mesh of togetherness with her love. Under her benign shade, the tender branches had grown and flourished, unaffected by the storms of events that shook up the others around them.

The empress’ palanquin arrived at her father’s mansion on the fifth day after her mother’s demise. Laadli and Nur Jahan stepped out of it and stood helplessly at the threshold of the quiet house. Silence hung over the huge mansion like a heavy shroud. Tears clouded her eyes as Laadli recalled the joy she had experienced there. She could almost smell the rich flavours of her grandmother’s cuisine as she stepped into the house. The gentle and loving touch was still there, hanging around them like a protective cocoon.

Quietly she walked into the large, sunny room that had once been Asmat’s chamber. She had spent so many happy hours in that room listening to stories, feasting on the delicacies prepared by her grandmother. Laadli sat down on the floor and, closing her eyes, she attempted to recall each smell, taste, touch and emotion that she had experienced in the room. The cool floor embraced her in its fold, stoking memories of her grandmother’s comforting touch.

Her heart overflowing with grief, Nur Jahan crossed the open courtyard with its trees and fountains and walked into her father’s darkened study. She could see the old man framed against the light filtering in from the window, seated cross-legged near his desk, lost in his thoughts. His vulnerability touched her. Sitting close to him, she held his hand and pressed it gently. They remained sitting that way for many moments. At last she spoke–‘Come father, you are much too important a man to waste your life in the darkness of this room. You are much too strong and capable.’

But he shook his head and pleaded–‘Meher, the light has gone out of my life. Let me dwell in the darkness, steeped in my grief.’

There was no point arguing with him. Resolving to return another day to try and convince him, she went back to her palace. The empress returned six months later, this time to talk about a subject she had not discussed with anyone. Her father still rarely stepped out of his study. After the initial greetings and small talk, Nur Jahan broached the subject of Laadli’s marriage.

‘There is something I need to discuss with you. 1 need your advice in the matter. Abba, you know that the emperor’s health has been failing. If only I could get Laadli married, my responsibility would be over.’

Ghias Baig was absentminded as he responded, ‘And whom do you have in mind for your daughter this time?’ He felt much too tired to continue any discussion with his strong-willed daughter and wished she would leave.

‘I know that mother’s death has struck a devastating blow to you, but Abba, you can advise me on this subject without being caustic about it.’

‘You don’t need my advice any longer, you are the all-powerful empress. You can do whatever you want.’

‘Please don’t speak to me like that, Abba. You know I love you and respect your judgement. I am pleading with you to help me decide about Laadli’s marriage. She is as dear to you as she is to me, and I know that you will never give wrong counsel about her life.’

‘If you really want my advice, forget about getting her married to any of the princes. Khusrau is no more. Khurram is already married to Arjumand and he will not marry Laadli. Who else is there to consider?’

Nur Jahan hesitated. ‘I was thinking of Shahryar.’

The Itmad-ud-daulah could hardly believe his ears. Outrage roused him from his grief. ‘Have you gone crazy? Your greed for power has gone to your head! Are you seriously contemplating getting your daughter married to that good-for-nothing? Do you want to ruin her life? Meherunnisa, think for a while, that girl has suffered enough. Let her be. Don’t involve her in your foolish plotting.’ He rose from his seat and began pacing agitatedly in the room, shaking his head with disbelief.

Nur Jahan parried his remarks with a counter offensive. ‘How can you accuse me of trying to ruin my daughter’s life? I want the best for her. I want her to be an empress.’

‘Don’t try to convince me that you are thinking of your daughter, you are only concerned about yourself. You don’t want to lose the reins of power after Jahangir’s death. You want to control the empire by proxy. Getting Laadli married is just one of your foolish attempts at clinging to power. Let me make it clear to you–after Jahangir’s death, no one can stop Shah Jahan from ascending the throne. With Khusrau out of the way, there is nothing you can do to deter him. He is able and ambitious. As for Shahryar, he is an imbecile with all the wrong habits. He will never become the emperor. All you will succeed in doing is ruin your daughter’s life.’

The empress was shocked by her father’s anger. She had not anticipated such a vehement objection to her idea. ‘Meherunnisa,’ her father said, now trying to cajole her, ‘I know that you are a very adamant girl, you have always been so, but I beg you to reconsider. If you have any concern for Laadli, please don’t pursue this plan of yours. We will find her someone with whom she can find happiness. I love her too much to be able to bear her unhappiness. Forget Shahryar. Have you not heard all the rumours about him?’

‘They do not affect me. Whether he visits nautch girls or sleeps with teenaged boys: all that can be brought to an end. Once Laadli is married to him, I will take the responsibility of changing Shahryar’s behaviour.’

‘You are silly if you think that you can change the ways of a delinquent when the emperor could not do so,’ Ghias Baig shook his head sadly. He knew now that his daughter’s mind was made up and nothing he said could alter it.

‘Poor Laadli,’ whispered the old man as he watched Nur Jahan walking away angrily.

Unaware of what was brewing in her mother’s mind, Laadli decided to keep the rendezvous she and her lover had planned later that day. The two girls, Benazir and Laadli, crept out of the palace and made their way towards the garden where Imraan was waiting at the usual corner seat by the fountain.

The artist was lost in contemplation when he heard a few voices behind him. Turning, he spotted a few familiar faces. The young men were staggering drunkenly.

‘Mian Imraan, what are you doing here, all alone?’ one of them said. Altaf was always high on opium.

‘He is thinking of his next painting, I presume,’ said Amjad, who resented the young artist’s meteoric rise. A failed artist, he was perpetually searching for someone to pay for his wine.

The third man, less drunk than his friends, tried to drag the other two away. ‘Come on, we have a rendezvous with Zeenat Bano, the nautch girl,’ he reminded them.

As the inebriated men were walking away, they ran into the two girls. Not realising what lay in wait for them, Benazir and Laadli were hurrying towards Imraan.

Amjad lurched towards them. ‘So this is the reason for our great artist’s presence in the garden. What a lovely reason for waiting.’

‘Hold your tongue, Amjad,’ threatened Imraan. With his hands he gestured to the women to turn back to the palace, but he was too late.

Altaf caught hold of Laadli’s arm and pulled her towards him, while Amjad had caught hold of Benazir and was dragging her towards the bench. As Imraan rushed towards them, the third man struck him on the nose. Spotting the blood spurting from his nostrils, Laadli screamed and began struggling against her captor–‘Imraan!’ she cried.

‘Well, well! The heart cries for the lover! Lift your veil and let me see your beautiful face,’ Altaf slurred.

As she thrashed about to escape his embrace, her veil dropped.

‘You fool, do you think you will go unpunished for this dastardly act of yours?’ her eyes blazed. With her free hand she slapped him on his surprised face. The man tightened his hand around her in a fearful grip that hurt. ‘You slapped me,’ he shouted. ‘I will show you what it means to slap Altaf.’ His voice was cruel.

‘Let them go,’ shouted Imraan, trying to grapple with the men. ‘You do not know who they are.’

He pleaded with the drunken fellows to release the girls but they jeered at him. ‘Yes, yes, tell us who they are. Are they from the royal harem?’

‘Of course they belong to the harem. Look at the jewellery and the fair faces,’ chuckled Altaf.

Attracted by the shouts, a crowd soon collected and began taking sides. The girls, realising their opportunity, quickly made their escape in the resulting melee. Harassed and scared they ran back to the palace but trouble awaited them when they reached the gates of the harem. An overzealous guard decided to establish their identity before letting them in. Despite Benazir’s pleas that they worked for the empress, the guard was not satisfied. He was a new recruit and wanted to prove his sincerity to the bosses.

As the girls were cajoling the guard to let them in, Hoshiyar, the chief eunuch of the harem, strolled by. ‘What goes on there?’ he shouted, walking towards them.

‘Sir, these women wanted to enter the harem and when I asked them to prove their identity, they told me that they work for the empress. They say that they were out on an errand.’

‘Is that so? I know all the women who reside within the walls of the harem. I can tell you whether they belong here or not.’

Laadli knew all was lost. Hoshiyar smirked sadistically when he lifted their veils. ‘Well, well, it is none other than the empress’ daughter. But what might the princess be doing in those coarse garments. Was it a rendezvous outside the palace walls?’

‘It is none of your business,’ snapped Laadli, moving past the gaping guard. Even as the girls made their way to their apartments, they knew that Hoshiyar would report the matter to Nur Jahan.

‘With all her spies around, she was bound to find out about Imraan one day. I will just have to seek my mother’s forgiveness,’ Laadli said.

‘I doubt if the empress will be merciful in this matter.’

Benazir was right. The empress was incensed. She had suspected that something was going on behind her back, and now she was convinced that Laadli was meeting someone secretly. She decided to find out. Her network of spies was efficient and it was just a matter of a few hours before Nur Jahan learnt that Laadli had regularly been meeting her tutor, Imraan. She called Hoshiyar and issued explicit instructions to the eunuch.

That night, Benazir rushed into Laadli’s apartment. ‘Nissar has brought news that the empress has got wind of your affair.’

‘Hoshiyar must have reported yesterday night’s incident to her,’ said the princess. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve decided to meet my mother and tell her everything.’

‘It is too late, Laadli! I think Imraan’s life is in danger. The empress has decided to punish the artist,’ Benazir cried.

Laadli was full of trepidation–‘What should I do? If she has decided to end the affair, she will do so at any cost!’

‘Send Nissar with a message. Instruct him to leave Agra immediately.’

‘I will die without him, Benazir!’

‘Would you rather lead that unfortunate fellow to his grave? Don’t you understand the peril he is facing by staying in this city? Control yourself, Laadli. Let him go away for the time being. We will find a way out later. The empress must not find him.’

That night Laadli had a horrifying nightmare. In her dream, she saw the emperor seated on his throne and Imraan standing in chains before the court. He was being tried for the temerity of falling in love with the empress’ daughter. The nobles and soldiers were jeering at him. Then, Laadli saw herself, her veil askew, clothes dishevelled and tears streaking her cheeks. ‘Jahanpanah, I beg you to spare Imraan’s life. Take my life instead,’ she begged. The courtiers sniggered at her as she clung to the emperor’s feet. Her mother glared at her from behind the jaali. The harem women laughed at her but she wouldn’t let go of Jahangir’s feet. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed loudly, ‘Your Majesty, I beg you to let him go.’ The guards dragged her away, even as Imraan struggled futilely against his shackles. Then she dreamt that a mammoth elephant stood with its enormous foot poised to stamp out the life of her lover. Imraan was entrenched in a hole, only his head visible above the ground. As the foot came down on her lover’s head, she screamed.

Her scream brought Firdaus running to her. Laadli was soaked in perspiration and her heart was hammering wildly. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. As a child, nightmares of her father’s murder would wake her up, and now it was the nightmare of Imraan’s death that had terrified her. Would she be haunted by nightmares of death forever?

Laadli passed the rest of the night pacing her chamber agitatedly, as she waited for the first light of dawn to light up the east. At last, her mind was made up. She quickly penned a note for her lover and despatched Nissar to Imraan’s house.

‘Nissar, you must hurry. Run to Imraan’s house and warn him of the danger. Ask him to leave immediately for Marwar. Ratnavali is married to the prince there. I’ll write her a note to grant asylum to Imraan for some time. Carry this note to him immediately. His life is in grave danger.’