Nurjahan's Daughter

by Tanushree Podder

  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.

  4

  'Tell me the story about Abbajaan and the tigress.’ The night was warm and Firdaus sat fanning Laadli with a hand fan. The child was restless. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and her muslin dress clung damply on her plump body.

  ‘Hush child, try to sleep. It is late.’

  ‘I can’t sleep. Tell me the story and I’ll go to sleep. Promise!’

  With a deep sigh, the old nurse began narrating, ‘Your father is a very brave man. Did you know that he is the tallest man in the court and everyone has to look up to speak to him? And he can wield his sword more skilfully than anyone else in the kingdom. He is the best horse rider in town and he excels in falconry and polo.’

  ‘Even Ammijaan is very good in falconry and chaugan.’

  ‘I will tell you about your Ammijaan’s falcon. She called it Baaz Bahadur...’

  ‘No, no, I don’t want to hear about the falcon. I want to hear about the tigress,’ Laadli insisted.

  ‘Okay, then don’t interrupt me. Now, Prince Salim is a very impetuous person. He rarely thinks before acting. That is the reason Shehanshah Akbar appointed your father as the prince’s companion. Salim is very fond of hunting wild animals–he loves capturing them and keeping them in his palace. In fact, he owns an impressive menagerie.’

  ‘Does he keep tigers in cages? Isn’t it cruel to cage wild animals?’ asked Laadli with concern. She loved animals and couldn’t bear to see them locked up.

  ‘No one can say that to a prince. Once the prince was hunting at Nagaur. It is a dense forest near Ajmer. A royal camp was set up on the fringes of the forest so that the trackers and soldiers could herd the wild animals into a specified area.’

  ‘But why do they do that?’

  ‘It is a classic Mughal hunting style called Qamargah,’ explained Firdaus. ‘One day, while the royal entourage camped in the forest, Salim rode off with a couple of soldiers. As they were going through the jungle, he noticed a few tiger cubs frolicking behind a rock. The tigress had wandered off in search of food leaving the cubs unattended. The gold-flecked eyes of the cubs attracted the tawny ones of the prince. Fascinated, Salim, dismounted from his steed and bent to caress the cubs, despite being warned not to by his attendants. He decided to take one of them back with him to the palace.’

  ‘It is not right to separate the cubs from the mother!’ said Laadli, who had a strong opinion about what was right and wrong. ‘I would be very unhappy if someone were to take me away from Ammijaan.’

  ‘That’s true, but as I said, no one can tell a prince that. The prince was picking up a cub when the tigress returned. She was incensed at the sight of her cub in his hand. Before the prince could react, she bared her claws and sprang at him. Salim’s attendants were too frightened to come to his aid. It was at that moment that your Abbajaan appeared. He lunged at the tigress with a dagger in his hand and thrust it deep into the animal. Everyone thought he would die but he managed to kill the tigress.’

  ‘Was Abbajaan hurt very badly? Was he in great pain?’ asked Laadli anxiously, although she knew the story by heart.

  ‘Of course he was. You can’t fight a tigress without getting hurt. He was badly mauled by the tigress, but he is a brave man. He didn’t flinch or think of his own safety when he saw that the prince was in danger. Your Abbajaan stood up lurching like a drunken man. He was bleeding heavily from his wounds and then he fell unconscious. They did not expect him to live, but he is a stubborn man. He fought death like he fights his enemies. It took several weeks for the royal hakim to put him back on his feet. Upon hearing about the bravery of your father, Emperor Akbar granted him the jagir of Burdwan, raised his mansab to a thousand and presented him with a royal ring, set with precious rubies.’

  ‘And so he is called Sher Afghan,’ continued Laadli. ‘We are pleased at your selfless act of bravery. You have saved the life of our beloved son. Name your reward and it shall be given to you,’ the girl mimicked the emperor, much to the amusement of her nurse.

  ‘Shahenshah Akbar was very grateful to your father. But your Abbajaan is not a greedy man. Already overwhelmed with the honour and the jagir given to him by the emperor, he did not ask for anything more.’

  ‘But when he saw Ammijaan he liked her so much that he begged the emperor’s permission to marry her.’

  ‘Yes. He had a glimpse of your mother when she was returning from the dargah of Shaikh Salim Chisti. I was with her at that time.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Please Firdaus,’ begged Laadli.

  ‘Shaikh Salim Chisti was a great saint. He had promised Emperor Akbar that he would have three sons who will survive till adulthood. The emperor had sought the blessings of the saint because none of his sons survived beyond a few weeks. When Prince Salim survived, the emperor constructed a dargah for the saint, as an expression of his gratitude. People believe that a wish made at his dargah is always fulfilled. Your Ammi also visited the dargah with a wish.’

  ‘What did she wish for?’

  Firdaus did not tell the child that Meherunnisa had wished to be married to Prince Salim.

  ‘I wouldn’t know that, you will have to ask your mother. Maybe she wished for a beautiful daughter like you and Allah granted her the wish. Anyway, wishes are supposed to be kept a secret.’

  ‘Yes, I think she asked for me,’ stated the child seriously. ‘She keeps telling me that I am a child of many prayers.’

  ‘We had just finished praying at the dargah and were walking out towards our palanquin when your father dismounted near the dargah. Just then a gust of breeze blew away your mother’s veil. As she struggled with the veil to cover her face, the Quran she was carrying in her hand fell down. In the holy book, there was a peacock feather that your mother considered lucky. Prince Salim had gifted it to her and she never parted with it. The wind blew it away and she ran to grab it.’

  ‘Can Ammi run as fast as me?’

  ‘Of course not. Anyway, your father also ran behind the feather. It was a hilarious situation. All three of us were running after the feather, which kept eluding our grasp. Suddenly, the feather got entangled in a bush and both your mother and father reached out for it. At that moment, your father saw her face and fell in love with your mother. Perhaps destiny wanted the two of them to meet at the saint’s shrine. He followed our palanquin to Agra and rode up to Mirza Ghias Baig’s house.’

  ‘Did he enter the house and meet grandpa?’

  ‘No, it would not have been proper for him to enter the house or ask for your mother hand without the formalities that need to be observed. He approached the Khan-é-Khanan Abdur Rahim to take a marriage proposal for her to her father’s residence. The Khan-é-Khanan was a friend of your grandfather and a very important man at the emperor’s court. The old man was delighted that Sher Afghan had finally decided to marry. For a long time, the Khan-é-Khanan and his wife had been pestering him to get married. They had brought many proposals for him but he had refused all of them.’

  ‘He couldn’t have married anyone else,’ Laadli’s explanation was simple.

  ‘The Khan-é-Khanan broached the topic with your grandfather but no marriage could be conducted until the emperor gave his consent.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That is the Mughal emperor’s order. The marriages of all important people in the Mughal court have to be held only after they have been approved by the emperor.’

  �
��Did grandfather seek the emperor’s approval for the marriage?’

  ‘No, it was the Khan-é-Khanan who approached the emperor for his consent. He mentioned to the emperor that Sher Afghan wished to marry Mirza Ghias Baig’s daughter. The emperor was delighted because he was very fond of your Abbajaan as well as your grandfather. Besides, the two families came from Persia and there could have been no better match for the Mirza’s daughter. The emperor blessed their union and the two were married.’

  ‘Did Ammijaan see Abbajaan before the wedding?’

  ‘She had seen him briefly at the dargah.’

  ‘Did she like him?’

  ‘That is a question you will have to ask your mother,’ Firdaus evaded the child’s queries adroitly. She remembered the heartache Meherunnisa went through when she learnt that the emperor had given his sanction for her marriage to the Persian soldier. Salim and Meherunnisa were passionately in love with each other and the prince had vowed to marry her after his return from Mewar.

  Very few people knew that the emperor had sent the prince away deliberately so that Meherunnisa’s marriage could be solemnised without any hindrance. The hot-tempered prince was not likely to give up his ladylove to another man easily. Emperor Akbar knew that the prince wanted to marry Meherunnisa. He also knew that the Persian faction in the harem wanted to see the prince married to her. His own queen, Bilquees Begum, had been instrumental in encouraging the romance. Salim was free to marry any woman he desired except Mirza Baig’s daughter. Sher Afghan had reminded the Shahenshah about his promised reward and the emperor could not refuse his request.

  When Salim learnt about the wedding, he went on a rampage. A tremor travelled through Firdaus’ body as she remembered the prince’s cruelty.