Nurjahan's Daughter (6 page)

‘What does it looks like? Have you been inside the harem, Firdaus?’

‘Countless times! I accompanied your mother to the palaces and met the queens, concubines and princesses. It is a magical world: the marble pavilions with ornate fountains set in wondrous gardens running along the Yamuna river; magnificent cupolas and exotic gardens lined by fretwork galleries; crimson and gold halls splashed with a profusion of gems, rich Persian carpets, crystal chandeliers, exotic incense in jewelled censers and the enamelled bowls with all kinds of fruits and nuts–everything takes your breath away!’

Meherunnisa smiled wistfully from the corner of the room. Her ears had caught the nanny’s spiel.

Firdaus continued, ‘Within the halls are elegant divans created from sandalwood, covered with intricately embroidered satin with heaps of cushions piled on them. Under the pavilions in the garden, beautiful women recline on thrones crafted out of the whitest marble, enjoying music played by the servant girls. The jewellery on their person can easily buy a few kingdoms. There is blinding resplendence all around. It would require a poet to describe the palace; I don’t have the words to do so.’

It will not harm the child to conjure images of a fantastic place,
thought the nurse, her mind far away. She held Laadli’s hand and walked to the rain-soaked terrace. The clouds had finally floated away.

‘And Ammijaan lived in the harem with the queen?’ Laadli tugged at her hand.

‘Yes, she literally grew up in the palace,’ Firdaus said, remembering how the little girl had transformed into a beautiful maiden with long, wavy hair that fell to her hips, cascading in curls all around her lovely face. Her nubile figure had made the other girls turn green with jealousy. ‘Her nimble fingers could embroider intricate patterns and she loved creating new fashions,’ Firdaus continued. ‘While the other women of the harem spent time in frivolous activities, your mother and Bilquees Begum discussed poetry, architecture and politics for hours, sometimes in the presence of the emperor. Emperor Akbar did not fail to notice the young girl who was always by the side of his begum.’

‘Did he compliment her for her intelligence and talent?’

‘Oh yes, he did. But it was his son, Salim, who was fascinated by your mother.’

‘What did the prince look like?’

‘Well, he was a handsome man. He was always dressed impeccably; he wore satin churidars, muslin sherwanis and velvet caftans embroidered and set with precious stones. He wore a lot of jewellery, especially set with rubies which were brought to him by traders from far away lands.’

‘He must be an impressive person.’

‘Oh yes, he is very impressive, both in looks and style.’

‘How did they meet? Tell me about their first meeting,’ the child demanded.

‘It is a long story.’ Firdaus stood up. ‘It is late now and I am tired. Let me put you to bed. I will tell you all about the prince and your mother tomorrow.’

‘You always do this to me. Just as the story gets interesting, you want to go to bed. This is not fair,’ whined Laadli.

But Firdaus had made up her mind, and once Firdaus made up her mind no one could dissuade her. The little girl made her way reluctantly to her bed but sleep was far from her eyes as she tossed about, dreaming of harems and the prince.

Sleep eluded Firdaus too. Memories of Meherunnisa’s romance with Salim filled her mind. How much of the story could she narrate to Laadli? The child was far too young to understand the intricacies of the royal courts. How could she explain their romance or the royal displeasure it evoked? Laadli would have to grow up before she heard the romantic escapades of the prince, Firdaus thought, remembering the first time Salim had met Meherunnisa.

The harem was abuzz with the news of the emperor’s latest victory. After many months of heavy battle, the imperial forces had finally subdued the rebel king of Khandesh. Bilquees Begum decided to celebrate the event by hosting a mushaira at the harem. When Prince Salim heard of the contest, he decided to get himself invited for the occasion. He loved poetry, wine and women, and there was no way he could be kept away from a glamorous event such as this one.

Meherunnisa, now sixteen and an exceptionally attractive and witty girl, had decided to take part in the contest. She rehearsed a few verses of her favourite composer, Faiz, for the evening. Clad in a white ensemble embroidered with pearls, she looked ethereal. The diaphanous veil with its delicate silver fringe could barely conceal the excitement in her animated eyes. While the women in the zenana wore bright colours and flashy clothes, Meherunnisa favoured white. It was a calculated effort at standing out in the crowd.

As her eyes took in the conglomeration of bejewelled harem women, she felt a tremor of nervousness. This was the moment she had been waiting for. For long she had been watching the handsome prince from behind screens, but to see him face-to-face had remained a dream.

The ornate candleholder, with its solitary candle, was passed from one contestant to the other. The first in line was the princess of Mertha, the beautiful woman who was brought to the harem when her father lost his kingdom to the Mughal emperor. The proud Rajput princess, resplendent in a crimson silk lehenga and shell pink veil, wore thick gold ornaments in her hair and ears. She had beautiful doe eyes that were rumoured to have captivated the emperor’s heart. Her melodious voice carried the ache of a vanquished soul as it reverberated in the extravagantly decorated harem. A loud note of appreciation echoed around the room as she ended her composition with a flourish.

The candle flickered in its crystal stand as it passed to glamorous Gulnaar, another consort of the emperor. It passed from one woman to the other and Meherunnisa’s heart thumped uncontrollably as she waited for her chance. Her heart was filled with trepidation: would she succeed in attracting the attention of the prince? He already looked bored with the proceedings, his eyes scanning the faces of the women, searching for momentary diversion.

Finally, the candle was placed before Meherunnisa. Clearing her throat nervously, she began singing a romantic couplet. The prince, who was reclining on a velvet bolster, picking some grapes from the carved silver salver, immediately sat up. His glance travelled through the hall and rested on the girl seated at the far end.

The thickly lashed eyes sparkled like emeralds, confusing the prince from a distance; were they green or blue, he wondered. The delicate lips trembled with nervousness and her cheeks blushed a deep crimson as she caught his eyes. He was mesmerised.

‘Allah!’ the prince swore. ‘Is this an angel, or am I dreaming?’ he mumbled. Bilquees Begum was watching his reactions closely.

‘Salim, this is neither heaven nor is she an angel. Control yourself, she is my ward,’ she scolded teasingly.

‘Ammijaan, I must meet this girl. What is her name?’

‘Don’t be impatient, prince. Come to my garden tomorrow and you shall meet her,’ the queen smiled playfully at him.

Salim could barely wait for the day to break. He tossed about sleeplessly on his bed, unable to drive away Meherunnisa’s image from his mind. Her impish smile and unfathomable eyes haunted him.

He sprang up from his bed as the muezzin announced the morning prayer. For the first time Salim prayed in earnest, begging for a sight of the beautiful damsel who had disturbed his mind for the past twelve hours. He petulantly rejected all the garments laid out by his valet and finally settled for his favourite white muslin fargal embellished with intricate embroidery. Golden tassels fringed with seed pearls dangled from the buttonholes. Tight satin trousers covered his legs, while the royal head was protected with a green turban from which a heron’s feather jutted out jauntily. A jade hiked dagger encrusted with rubies was stuck in his crimson cummerbund.

Walking hurriedly, the prince reached the harem garden. The gurgling fountains did not attract his attention, nor did the lotus blooming in the pond. Occupied with his thoughts, the prince did not notice the flower-laden branches of the champak tree bending over the pool of water nor did he pause for a moment to admire the peacocks strutting about.

In a pavilion at the far end of the garden, Bilquees Begum reclined surrounded by her attendants.

The empress was amusing herself with the gossip provided by her coterie. They were telling her about the whims and fancies of her Rajput rival, the Amber Queen.

‘...And then she demanded a goblet of the wine brought from Goa by the Portuguese Jesuits. A sip of the nectar and she got addicted to the brew. Now a regular supply has to be procured for the empress who refuses to drink any other kind of wine...’

Bilquees Begum was distracted by the announcement made by the eunuchs guarding the harem gate. ‘Ba mulaiza ba hoshiyar, Shehzada Salim is on his way.’

The queen watched the prince making his way across the multi-layered garden as she nibbled on a peach. A secretive smile lurked on her face.

Meherunnisa was nearby, admiring a pair of pearly white pigeons in a gilded cage that hung from a guava tree. It was the latest acquisition of the queen, presented by a trader who had just arrived from Persia. She feigned disinterest in the prince’s arrival, although her heart tattooed madly with delight. She sensed the prince’s eyes on her. She let her veil slip, uncovering the striking features of her face.

Salim, who was in the act of performing a smart kornish to the queen, stood transfixed and stared at the vision till the queen coughed meaningfully.

Bowing low to her, he said, ‘You commanded my presence this morning so here I am. Now, you must keep your part of the promise.’

‘First, let me show you my new acquisition.’ The queen was enjoying his impatience. ‘I’m sure you have nothing as exotic in your menagerie.’

The prince loved pigeons and owned an impressive menagerie. But at the moment nothing interested him except the girl standing near the guava tree.

‘If you must,’ he sounded irritated with the queen’s diversionary tactics.

‘Meher, bring me the pigeons that were presented to me by Abdul Nasser.’

The girl moved with fluid rhythm across to the queen, carrying the cage in her hand.

‘Allah! I have no words to express the beauty of your possession,’ he declared, staring at Meherunnisa, who quickly moved away.

Too much exposure can kill interest, she had been told by her mother repeatedly. To hold a man’s interest let him pursue you.

‘Salim, I am talking about these pigeons. Are you listening?’ scolded Bilquees Begum. ‘I am willing to barter these birds for the pair of peacocks you brought from Amber.’

The prince was distracted. ‘Yes, yes, definitely,’ he conceded eagerly, as his eyes flitted anxiously. At any other time, he would have been delighted with the offer. Right then, he wanted to get away and pursue Meherunnisa who was walking away. She was deliberately moving towards the other end of the garden.

‘Well, they are yours. Take them with you,’ Bilquees Begum offered him the cage.

‘Thank you so much. I will ensure that the peacocks reach your garden immediately.’

The prince bowed himself out of her presence. Carrying the cage in his hands he hurriedly walked towards the girl.

‘Meherunnisa, that’s your name, isn’t it?’ he began without any formalities.

‘May...may...I take the cage from you, sire?’ she stammered.

His eyes travelled from the bottom of her hennaed toes to the top of her head in a sweeping glance.

Without a word, he offered the cage to her. She took out a pigeon and stroked it absentmindedly. The prince was captivated; she knew it.

‘You have not replied,’ his voice was husky with desire. ‘Your eyes have driven me crazy.’

‘What can I say to that, my lord?’ The nervousness was gone; she was in control. Meherunnisa liked to be in control, it gave her a sense of power.

He came closer and lifted her chin with his left hand while the right hand strayed towards her shoulder. Her body trembled at his touch. The pigeon fluttered in her hands and she let it escape. Glad to be released from captivity, it soared to the sky. Within minutes, it had disappeared.

The prince was aghast.

‘You careless woman, what have you done? Don’t you know the pigeon is priceless. How could you allow it to escape?’ he raged. His passion had turned cold with anger.

Without a word Meherunnisa removed the other pigeon from the cage and released it in the air. ‘Like this,’ she said, laughing as the bird flew away to join its mate.

She was playing with fire–the prince’s temper was legendary. It took moments for his mood to change into a dangerous one, but Meherunnisa was not afraid. The scales were tipped in her favour. The infatuated prince had a difficult choice to make–give in to his rage or to his passion.

Astounded at her audacity, the prince looked at Meherunnisa. He had never dealt with a situation like this. ‘You are a fearless woman,’ he seized her in his arms and whispered. ‘I could have you executed for this, do you know?’

‘Yes, you can get me executed,’ admitted Meherunnisa demurely, lowering her head. ‘But I know that you will not do so because I fascinate you.’

‘What a conceited woman you are, Meherunnisa! You are right, you captivate me. I want to possess you.’

‘Princes have momentary fascinations. I know of the hundreds of objects of your fascination who are languishing within the four walls of the harem, imprisoned for life. I don’t want to be one of them. When I surrender myself, it will be to a man who will value me beyond the riches and the crown.’ She was gambling, once again. She trembled, nervous at her own impudence, but a streak of madness goaded her on.

‘Woman, you are too vain. What makes you think that I will wait for your consent? Do you know that I can possess you by force if I wish to do so?’

‘I know that, Huzoor. But I also know that you will not possess me by force because I will never yield my spirit and it is my spirit that fascinates you more than my body.’

Salim walked away in a huff, angry at her words. In the solitude of his room, her words echoed in his mind and he knew she was right. She was one in a million and she knew it.