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Authors: Tanushree Podder

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As soon as Nur Jahan’s soldiers approached the bank in a disorderly melee, the general’s soldiers pushed forward to fight them. Soon the river was a gory mess of red, its waters covered by floating corpses. Nur Jahan tried to bring some semblance of order to her troops but they were in total disarray. Arzani began howling loudly with fright. The empress fired a salvo of arrows at the enemy with great valour. She was a good markswoman and the arrows found their target without effort. All of a sudden the nurse received an arrow in her arm and wailed loudly. With both Arzani and the nurse crying loudly, the empress found herself disconcerted. She pulled out the arrow from the nurse’s arm, staining her own garments with blood.

Mahabat Khan’s soldiers rushed after Nur jahan’s elephant, determined to capture the empress. Her mahout had been slain and she herself began to drive the elephant and urge it into the deep water, to escape Mahabat’s soldiers. When the empress’ army saw her elephant turning back, they were confused. Spotting her bloodied garments, the soldiers assumed that she had been wounded and they began retreating.

Wounded and angry, the empress reached the shore without her soldiers and proceeded towards the royal quarters. Mahabat Khan stopped his soldiers from restraining the empress as she made her way to the emperor’s tent. The victorious general now confined both the emperor and Nur Jahan within the royal camp, although he treated them with respect. Laadli and the other women soon joined the empress in the camp and were also treated with honour.

Asaf Khan, who was the cause of the debacle, fled with his son and soldiers to the fort of Atak and barred the lofty gates of the fortress. Not willing to let him escape, Mahabat Khan’s soldiers attacked and captured the fort.

With this bold coup, Mahabat Khan had imprisoned all the important persons in the empire and was the virtual ruler. But the wily Nur Jahan had not given up. Although she appeared to be spending much of her time with her granddaughter, she was working furiously with Laadli to find a way out of the imbroglio. Together they formulated a plan. Through a spy, the empress delivered a letter to her faithful eunuch, Hoshiyar, instructing him to amass an army of trustworthy soldiers and wait for her at Lahore. The efficient eunuch was able to cobble up an impressive band of 2000 soldiers of the finest kind with the lure of a fantastic salary. On her part, Nur Jahan began fanning communal passions between the two factions–Muslims and Rajputs–in Mahabat Khan’s camp. She worked one against the other, arousing fierce hatred. Besides, she knew that there were many in Mahabat Khan’s army who still nurtured loyalty to the emperor and were waiting for the right time to change sides.

One morning, the emperor announced his decision to hold a review of the cavalry. He gave orders that all the soldiers should stand in formation in two lines stretching from the royal quarters to as far as the riverbank. He then directed one of his attendants to inform Mahabat Khan that the emperor was holding a review of the empress’ Muslim troops that day. It would be better, therefore, for the general to keep away his Rajput warriors, to avoid communal conflict between the two sets of soldiers.

The two lines of the soldiers extended up to the river in an orderly formation. The emperor, followed by Nur Jahan, inspected the troops and the royal couple proceeded towards the river. As Jahangir reached the far end of the parade, he gave a pre-determined signal to the soldiers. Immediately, the soldiers closed the rear to block out the enemy soldiers. Using the opportunity, the royal couple escaped on a boat that had already been hidden at the bank of the river by loyal soldiers.

Jahangir and Nur Jahan passed over the river to the fort of Rohtas, where the army amassed by Hoshiyar was waiting to receive them. It took several hours for the general to realise that the royal couple had escaped. The emperor had been captive for a hundred days; and Mahabat Khan, the great general of the mighty Mughal army, had once again been defeated by Nur Jahan. It was not likely that he would ever forget or forgive her for the trounce.

23

T
here was to be no respite for Nur Jahan, however. Shah Jahan, in a rebellious mood again, had proceeded to Thatta to test the waters before he took on the emperor’s forces once again.

‘If I can’t muster enough support at Thatta, I will travel to Persia to seek the assistance of Shah Abbas. He hates the emperor and will definitely help me,’ Shah Jahan confided to Arjumand when she insisted on accompanying him. ‘It is going to be a rough journey and you are not in good health. You must stay with the children at Burhanpur while I cobble up the necessary reinforcements.’

‘I can’t allow you to travel in this condition,’ wailed Arjumand clutching his arm. Shah Jahan had been ailing for a while: the harsh life they had been leading for the past few years had taken its toll on him. ‘Let us go back to Burhanpur together. We can stay there till you recoup.’

‘You don’t understand Arjumand, things are too precariously placed right now. The emperor is suffering from ill health and Nur Jahan has complete control over the empire. If anything happens to die emperor now, she will place Shahryar on the throne.’

Despite all his wife’s misgivings, Shah Jahan set out for Thatta. But he did not get too far–the weather and his own illness changed his course. Overcome with fever and persistent weakness, he could barely ride on a horse or an elephant and was obliged to travel in a palanquin. His progress was slow and painful. Realising the wisdom in Arjumand’s advice, he determined to return to the Deccan. And then everything changed.

Shah Jahan received the news that his elder brother, Prince Parvez, had died. He also learnt that Shahryar had been seized by a strange illness. The once handsome prince had lost his luxuriant crop of hair; even the neatly trimmed beard and eyelashes had fallen out in bunches. His skin had turned white, and prominent red patches had appeared in some places. The royal physicians were unable to diagnose the disease. The prince had taken to spending most of his time locked up in the dark, drinking wine and swallowing opium pellets, away from the curious gaze of people.

Nothing could have heartened Shah Jahan more than this news. With Parvez out of the way, and Shahryar suffering from a peculiar malady, there was no one to stand in his path to the throne. Surely the emperor would embrace him with pleasure and forgive his sins.

In the meantime, Mahabat Khan had been ordered by the emperor to release Asaf Khan and to march against Shah Jahan. The general, cut up with the empress who had been behind his downfall, chose to join forces with Shah Jahan. The prince was overjoyed to have the capable general on his side and greeted him with great enthusiasm. ‘Victory shall be ours,’ he declared. ‘I shall not rest till the empress is defeated and rendered powerless.’

Alarmed at this dangerous collaboration between the powerful general and the mutinous prince, Nur Jahan began plotting ways to suppress them. The emperor was very ill by now, and incapable of giving any advice or support. Broken-hearted by one son’s death and another’s disfigurement, Jahangir had lost the will to live. He could barely breathe; his asthma had reached an incurable stage. Painful coughing bouts kept him awake through the night. No amount of medicine or opium could alleviate his suffering.

‘Nur, the Almighty beckons me. Soon, I will have to answer him for all the sins I have committed.’

‘Jahanpanah, you must not speak such words. You will live a hundred years, this is just a passing malady caused by inclement weather,’ Nur Jahan assured him, her heart pounding with trepidation.

‘Perhaps you are right. I need to get away from the foul climate of this city. I yearn for the beautiful valley of Kashmir.’

The royal physicians echoed his sentiments. The emperor needed to recoup his strength in the healthy climes of Kashmir, they opined. Although he was in frail health, the emperor was delighted to leave for his favourite hill station. He was unable to ride on horseback and was carried in a palanquin. His sufferings were great. Sleepless and breathless with chest complaints and lung congestion, Jahangir lost all appetite for food. Nur Jahan was surprised when he even refused opium, which had been his companion for forty long years.

Even Laadli felt sorry for him. The most powerful man in the Mughal Empire was suffering like a common man. She could only imagine the pain of a father, losing two of his sons in the prime of their youth. And out of the two who lived, one was suffering from an incurable disease and the other were baying for his blood. Even his trusted friend Mahabat Khan had deserted him and joined the seditious prince. The wheels of destiny were spinning in an adverse direction, and there seemed to be nothing that could stop them.

Nur Jahan was worried.
Is this the beginning of the end
?
she wondered. If the emperor died now, Shah Jahan was too powerful to be halted in his march to the throne. He had the support of Asaf Khan, General Mahabat Khan and many other nobles, while she could count on only a few. Nobles were switching sides every day: opportunism and distrust thrived in uncertain times.

On theirs way to Kashmir, Jahangir turned to the empress and said, ‘Nur, if I die now, promise me that you will put Shah Jahan on the throne. He may be rebellious and disobedient but he is the only one who can rule this empire. Shahryar is incompetent and foolish. I know that you don’t like Shah Jahan, but I assure you that he will make an excellent ruler.’

He pointed to his precious sword, Alamgir. Its golden hilt studded with emeralds, it lay in a golden scabbard encrusted with rubies, pearls and diamonds. The Alamgir had been crafted out of a meteor that had chanced, one night, to fall near the royal camp set up for hunt. The emperor considered it a lucky sword.

‘I want you to give this sword to Shah Jahan when I die.’

‘Hush, don’t speak of such inauspicious things. You will live a long time yet,’ whispered Nur Jahan, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She looked haggard. The recent tension had taken a heavy toll on her.

Despite the emperor’s pleas, Nur Jahan’s mind was made up. It did not matter if Shahryar was inept, she could rule through him. All she required was a puppet on the throne. A fool, who asked no questions and allowed her to reign, suited her more than an intelligent man. She was confident that she and Laadli, together, could rule efficiently.

Once at Kashmir, the emperor seemed to recover. His spirits revived at the sight of the tall cypress trees, well laid out gardens, lofty snow-clad mountains and the myriad cornucopia of colourful flowers. The frothy canals, placid lakes and the saffron fields dotted with apple and cherry blossoms brought out a healthy glow on him once more. With his beloved empress by his side, Jahangir felt at ease. Nur Jahan kept up a regular correspondence with the capital. The empire was in tumult, with speculations about the emperor’s health and the matter of succession hanging in the balance. The factions of nobles were quarrelling openly, with no thought to administration. Everything seemed to be in a state of flux, requiring just a trigger to explode.

‘Let us return to Lahore,’ the emperor, announced one day. ‘I am in much better health. I have neglected the affairs of the empire too long. I am aware that you have been doing a wonderful job, but I need to get back to the helm. Things are not well with the country.’

Relieved, Nur Jahan gave orders for the royal entourage to leave as soon as possible. Winter was setting in and the flowers were in full bloom when the entourage began its journey to Lahore. The fruit trees were laden and the forests were ringing with the chirping of birds. Jahangir had decided that he would name his successor at Lahore and surrender the obligation of the running of the empire on his worthy son, relieving himself of the burden forever.

Enroute, they encamped at a village near Bhimbhar and the emperor was seized with a desire to hunt. Despite severe opposition from the empress, royal physicians and other nobles, Jahangir was adamant. It was a perfect day for a hunt and he felt confident about his health. Besides, he was just fifty-eight, not old enough to live the life of an invalid, he declared.

‘One last time, Nur. I may not be fortunate enough to come this way for many years. Let me indulge myself. It has been such a long time since I hunted. My ill health has kept me away from all my favourite activities. Please don’t stop me.’

As Jahangir rode off on his white stallion accompanied by a few of his nobles, Nur Jahan watched the receding figures till the thunder of hoofs dissolved into silence once more. Her heart was heavy with foreboding.

‘Laadli, did you feel a tremor just now, as though there was an earthquake?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘I feel unease in my chest as though something untoward is likely to occur.’

‘Nothing unpleasant is likely to happen. You have been under tremendous pressure for the past few months. You should have accompanied the emperor for the hunt instead of letting your imagination run wild,’ Laadli’s reply was practical, as usual.

Jahangir was ecstatic, adrenaline pumping through his blood stream. Startled wild rabbits skipped away in fear as the hunters rushed up a forested incline. All of a sudden the emperor’s attendant lost control over his horse and plunged into a chasm, his terrified scream renting the peace of the atmosphere. A gaping gorge showed itself just as the emperor’s steed stepped on the edge with a terrified whinny. Jahangir struggled with the reins and brought the horse to a halt. The shock of escaping death so narrowly shook the emperor and he felt faint.

The hunters returned to the camp in dejection. Jahangir had taken ill once more. The horror of seeing himself poised on the precipice of death’s hands and his own narrow escape had shaken him tremendously. ‘I saw death staring at me, begum,’ he whispered to Nur Jahan.

Through the night, the empress nursed her delirious husband. The emperor rambled, calling out for Khusrau and Khurram alternately. Nur Jahan kept vigil by his side, wiping his forehead with napkins soaked with rose essence. He clutched at her hand, grasping it in desperation. ‘I don’t want to die, Nur. I have so much to live for,’ he mumbled in his feverish state.

BOOK: Nurjahan's Daughter
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