The proud Rana of Mewar laid down a few conditions before he submitted to the Mughal emperor. He wanted the withdrawal of the Mughal garrison from Mewar, a pledge that the Mughals would honour the sanctity of the shrine of Eklingji, and lastly, that the Rana would be recognised as a sovereign prince within the borders of Mewar. The vanquished Rana also asked that no girl from the Rana’s family would ever be demanded in marriage by any Mughal, and that their heirlooms would be returned.
Jahangir acceded to all the conditions, but insisted that Prince Karan Singh, along with his son Jagat Singh, should attend the Mughal court in lieu of the Rana. It was Karan Singh who arrived to render homage to the Mughal ruler, along with his nobles. Emperor Jahangir sent Prince Khurram, with his most important ministers, to receive the scion of Mewar. The grand entourages met outside the city gates and then traversed the dusty lanes of Ajmer to arrive at the emperor’s residence. The spectators were being treated to one of the greatest events to have ever taken place in that town.
Kettledrums boomed and joyous shouts followed the young prince of Mewar as he rode through the streets. People showered his path with rose petals. In a rare gesture, Jahangir stepped down from his throne and crossed the hall to meet Prince Karan. Nur Jahan, seated behind the marble screen watched incredulously, as the emperor escorted Karan Singh to a seat of honour to the right of the throne. This was an unprecedented honour given to a defeated prince. From her vantage point, Laadli watched the proud Rajputs taking their seats in the durbar hall.
‘Who is the victor and who are the vanquished? The Rajputs seem to be honouring us with their presence,’ she whispered to her friend.
Grand celebrations followed the signing of a historic treaty. The empress had outdone herself in arranging the festivities. The best of food, wine and entertainment were laid out, surpassing any other festivity witnessed by the town of Ajmer.
Two days after the grand celebrations, there was another event to celebrate. The entire harem was buzzing–Laadli had come of age. From a child to an adolescent, the princess had blossomed unnoticed by the inmates of the royal zenana. ‘Late bloomer,’ some of the harem women sniggered behind her back. Laadli was almost twelve, a little too late to mature by their calculations.
To celebrate the occasion, Nur Jahan decided to hold a feast for ladies of the harem. The most exquisite tapestries were brought out and hung on the walls. Bright Kashmiri carpets covered the marble floors and fresh flowers were placed in the jade and porcelain vases that lined the courtyard. Silver incense containers were placed in the empress’ chamber, along with bright silk cushions embellished with pearls and sequins. Festoons and decorations were put up on all the pillars that surrounded the chamber. Musicians were called and nautch girls invited to perform f0r the evening.
Laadli, meanwhile, was bathed with saffron and milk after her body was massaged with unguents made out of almonds and cream. Fler hair was washed and dried over the fragrant smoke of sandalwood sticks. Her hands and feet were embellished with intricate designs of henna, and her eyes were carefully lined with fresh kohl. Strands of jasmine and roses were wrapped around her plaited hair and rose attar, especially made by her grandmother, was liberally sprinkled over her body. She was now ready to wear the beautiful dress designed by her mother.
The purple and pink striped trousers were topped with a diaphanous knee-length qaba in lavender, embroidered with small roses in dark purple and set with tiny amethyst stones. Nur Jahan seemed to favour the colour purple for her daughter. Left to herself, Laadli would have preferred to wear soft colours like ivory, shell pink or white. The lilac silk veil was held in place with a gold tiara set with diamonds. Her tiny waist was clasped with an ornamental belt–a gift from the empress. On her slender throat Laadli wore a necklace made of pink Basra pearls. A hair ornament made of diamonds dangled on her right temple. Gold bangles jingled on her slender wrists, and a solitaire glittered on her nose.
The queens and concubines strolled in to take their place on the assigned carpets, carrying gifts for the princess. Nur Jahan’s sharp eyes evaluated each gift to ascertain the level of allegiance to her. There were gold coins, pearl strings, diamond brooches and gold necklaces studded with precious stones. Yards of silk and velvet lay scattered along with embellished hand mirrors and perfume bottles.
Laadli felt suffocated with the attention. Her jewellery and clothes felt heavy on her body. If she were not the centre of attention, the circus around her would have amused her. But now, the music, chatter and the vulgar jokes irritated her. She wished she could escape from it all. It was all so tedious, to be smiling at women she knew disliked her. The harem women just needed an excuse to celebrate. Laadli would have given anything to escape to her grandfather’s house for the day. But that was not to be.
‘Tonight I have invited the emperor and his sons for the feast. I want you to dress up in your best clothes. Amreen will help you dress. I want you to pay special attention to Prince Khusrau, Laadli. I don’t want any trouble, is that clear? No running away to the garden or ignoring the prince. He is going to be the next emperor and I want you to impress him.’ Her mother’s instructions were loud and clear–Laadli was to flirt with the prince. She knew that her mother was trying to make a match between the two of them. She intended making an empress out of her daughter.
‘Did you hear me, Laadli?’ Her mother’s voice took on the ice-cold tone she was so familiar with.
The morning entertainment ended with a grand feast that sated the women. Stuffing their mouths with fragrant paans they complimented the empress for the arrangements as they sauntered back heavily to their chambers.
There would be a short reprieve for Laadli, before the evening function began. Nur Jahan had made meticulous arrangements for the evening, with music, dance, amusements, ending with a feast. Only the emperor, his Shah Begum, the princes and their wives, were invited. It was to be a close-knit family function. The empress did not want any distractions while she thrust her reticent daughter onto the unwilling blind prince. Khusrau, happily married to Rukhsana, was most reluctant to have anything to do with Laadli. He had always behaved like an indulgent elder brother and treated her like a child.
The empress, however, had not given up. She intended him to marry Laadli only because she knew that he was the most likely successor to the emperor. Nur Jahan tried to seduce the prince with promises of freedom and hinted at the possibility of her support in the matter of inheritance, if he married her daughter.
The idea had come suddenly to Nur Jahan just a couple of days earlier when she visited her father. ‘I have been toying with an idea for a long time now,’ she declared, seating herself amidst the soft silk cushions on the comfortable divan in his study. Illustrated copies of all kinds of books lay scattered around the room. She picked up a copy of the Quran, beautifully bound, and read through the first page, waiting for her father’s reaction.
Ghias Baig shot her a quizzical look. He was familiar with his daughter’s quirks and impulsive decisions. What now, he thought, taking in Nur Jahan’s opulent attire and bejewelled appearance. She has changed so much. I can’t find my Meherunnisa among the jewels and royal trappings. Malika Nur Jahan is a stranger. He sighed wistfully.
Patiently, he waited for the empress to speak.
‘Don’t you think it would be a good idea if Laadli were to be wedded to Khusrau?’ she asked, toying with the quill that lay on his writing desk.
The old man was stunned. ‘Marry Laadli to that blind, unfortunate man who is living on borrowed breaths? Even Allah has abandoned the wretched fellow. Mehru, his days are numbered. Don’t you know that your brother, Asaf, and Khurram are waiting to murder the man? He is the only obstacle in the path of Khurram’s accession to the throne.’
‘I know everything. There is not a thing in this empire that I don’t get to know. I am aware that Asaf and Khurram will try to murder Khusrau. But don’t forget he is still the eldest son of the emperor.’
‘If only that old
fool, Aziz Koka, Khusrau’s father-in-law and his uncle, Raja Maan Singh, had not been so impatient to make him an emperor, Khusrau would have ascended the throne after the emperor’s demise,’ the minister sighed deeply. Like most people, he was fond of the prince. His tragic plight saddened the Mirza.
‘He can still be an emperor,’ stated his daughter enigmatically. ‘If he marries Laadli, I will champion his cause. He is young, intelligent and popular. He can be the next emperor if he collaborates with me. But the young fool does not want to listen to good advice.’
‘Mehru, my child, you must not involve yourself in the royal squabbles. You must remain steadfast in helping the emperor deliver justice to those who deserve it, without any ulterior motives. Advise the emperor to do the right thing,’ begged the Itmad-ud-daulah. But his words fell on deaf ears.
When did this change take place? he wondered. When did his daughter transform into the ambitious and ruthless queen who stood before him. Was this the child Asmat had borne in the harsh desert of Qandahar? Ghias Baig shook his head dejectedly. She wouldn’t listen! She never did. His heart turned cold with premonition as he watched Nur Jahan stride out imperiously from his chamber, without a backward glance.
Amidst the rejoicing and the dancing of the audacious nautch girls, Nur Jahan watched the blind prince groping his way through the hall to reach his brother’s side.
Moments later she beckoned Laadli and said–‘Offer some wine to the princes. See that they are comfortable.’
Reluctantly, Laadli made her way to the princes.
‘Come Laadli, join us,’ invited Rukhsana, seated by Khusrau’s side. She liked the girl. There was no guile in her.
‘Did your mother ask you to come here?’ asked Khusrau, laughing loudly. ‘The scheming bitch.’ His mouth drooped with bitterness and he shook his head and repeated, ‘The most venomous adder sits on the royal treasury. Does that satisfy her? Of course not; she needs to control each and every breath inhaled in the palace.’
Laadli was shocked. She threw a terrified look at her mother, but Nur Jahan was busy feeding grapes to the inebriated emperor who was lying prone on her lap. If she had heard the comments, she displayed no signs of having done so.
‘Well spoken brother, just don’t let her hear you or you will not go back to your prison. She holds the slender reins of your life. It is up to her to snap the thread at any moment she desires,’ warned Prince Khurram.
‘You won’t miss me, brother. I am sure that would delight you more than anything else in the world,’ retorted Khusrau.
‘Enough, enough, please don’t quarrel,’ Rukhsana intervened. ‘Let us talk of pleasant things. Prince Khurram, when are we to hear the good news?’
Arjumand was in labour.
‘Any moment now. In fact, I should check on her.’ Khurram left the party in haste, glad to find an excuse to leave the depressing company of his brother.
Khusrau turned to Laadli–‘So, your mother wants me to marry you? To save my life, I must succumb to her majesty’s desire?’
He was in a foul mood.
‘I don’t mind marrying you if it will save your life,’ confided Laadli. ‘It must be terrible to remain imprisoned for so long.’
She liked Khusrau and pitied him. Like Khurram, Khusrau had been kind to the friendless girl when she had entered the harem. Laadli remembered the day he had rescued her from the clutches of heartless harem girls who were teasing her mercilessly. He had warned them of dire reprisal if they dared to tease his sister. The girls kept away after his threat.
‘Poor child! I wish your mother were half as kind as you. How could a nice child like you have emerged from her wicked womb?’ Laadli flinched at his words.
Khusrau patted her hand affectionately. ‘No dear Laadli, I couldn’t marry you to save my life. My days on this planet are numbered, thanks to your mother’s plotting. You deserve someone who will take good care of you.’
‘But I really don’t mind marrying you,’ insisted Laadli.
‘I do. Brave princes do not hide behind petticoats of women; they face their punishment with courage. If I have to die, I will die honourably, but I shall not succumb to the tricks of that vile woman who has reduced my father to a mumbling idiot.’
‘I do not want you to die.’
‘Pray for me, Laadli, the odds are stacked too high against me. Not just your mother, but my brother and his father-in-law also wish me dead. If it is written in my destiny that I should die young, I will,’ he ended philosophically.
His dark mood overwhelmed Laadli. ‘How can you bear to listen to all this and remain cheerful?’ she asked Rukhsana. ‘Does it not depress you?’
‘Is there any point in being depressed about it? Should I spoil the few moments that I have with him? No, Laadli, I am trying to enjoy the time that remains for us and then I shall leave the world with him,’ Rukhsana smiled gently at the wretched girl. ‘Tell me what happened to your desire to learn sitar?’ she asked, changing the subject. Everyone in the harem knew about Laadli’s fascination for the instrument. ‘Did you find a tutor?’
‘Not yet, I am still trying to persuade my mother to find me a good teacher. I did find one but lost her soon enough.’
‘And how did that happen?’ asked Khusrau.
‘Jabeen, the daughter of our Meer Samaan, can play the instrument reasonably well. She agreed to teach me the basic lessons. Just after we began the lessons, she fell prey to Prince Shahryar’s attentions. I lost a teacher and he gained a lover. So ended my lessons.’ A wry smile flashed on Laadli’s face as she recollected the incident.
Khusrau guffawed at her words. No one knew his indolent, half-witted younger brother better than he. Prince Shahryar was always surrounded by his cronies, drinking, or spending time with the harem women and slave girls. He had no time for intellectual efforts.
‘Next time, try to find a male tutor. That way, you will not lose your teacher to Shahryar.’
‘Who can be sure?’ commented Rukhsana, meaningfully. Rumours of Shahryar’s sexual preferences abounded in the harem.
The three of them broke into laughter and the clouds of depression seemed to lift momentarily.
‘I want an honest reply to my question,’ Laadli suddenly turned serious. ‘Would you have married me if I were beautiful?’
Her question took them by surprise, and the couple exchanged troubled glances. They knew that Laadli suffered from low self-esteem.
‘Who said you are not beautiful, Laadli? You are very pretty and only a fool will refuse to marry you,’ Rukhsana consoled her.
‘That is not true...’ the girl said tearfully.
Laadli was not conventionally beautiful. With her lanky, long limbs, she stood out among the other women and that made her so self-conscious that she had begun to stoop. Her lack of self-assurance and over-sensitive nature made things worse for her. Besides, she never bothered about her appearance, nor made any attempts to look pretty.
Rukhsana looked the girl over critically and wished Laadli would submit herself to the harem women. They could make anyone look glamorous. A little shaping would have helped the straight brows over her sensitive, deep eyes. She had beautiful grey eyes that could make any man swoon if she learned to use them to advantage. The gentle-hearted woman wished she could take the girl under her wings, but she dreaded the empress.
‘Do you know what is wrong with you, Laadli?’ Khusrau held out his hand to her. ‘You are too critical of yourself. Give yourself a chance. Both Khurram and I are in love with other women. It is not because you are not beautiful. Besides, I am blind and too old for you! Why do you torment yourself with such ideas? Let me assure you that you are a very pretty girl and any man would love to marry you. Anyway, you are too young to be worrying about all this.’
‘I am not too young. Khurram was in love with Arjumand from the time she was my age,’ Laadli was petulant. ‘And how do I convince my mother who believes that I repel men.’
‘Does your mother really believe
that?’ Rukhsana was appalled.
From her end, the empress watched them and wondered what they were talking about. She could see the forlorn face of her daughter and thought that Khusrau was not being kind to her. Seething inwardly, she gently pushed her sleeping husband to a side and made her way towards them.
Laadli noticed and quickly escaped before her mother could reach them. Outside in the garden, she sat on a bench amidst the rose bushes and gave vent to her tears, her slender body shaking uncontrollably with sobs. In her misery she remembered her adoring father, Sher Afghan. There were very few moments when Laadli did not miss him, and still fewer moments when she did not hate her stepfather. As for her mother, it was difficult for the lonely and miserable girl to decide whether she loved or hated her.
It was a glorious morning when Arjumand Bano gave birth to a beautiful daughter. They called her Jahanara, Jewel of the World. The delighted prince walked all the way to Salim Chisti’s dargah in thanks and distributed gold and silver coins to beggars.
Ajmer was witness to so many happy events occurring simultaneously, that the palace reverberated with constant celebrations and activity. The victory of the Mughal troops over the Maharana of Mewar, and the birth of Prince Khurram’s first child–it was a glorious period, to be celebrated and enjoyed. Convinced that the town of Ajmer, with the holy dargah situated in it, was lucky for him, the emperor decided to stay there for a longer period.
The emperor loathed Agra for many reasons, one of them was his belief that the city was unhealthy. Jahangir had been having breathing problems and he believed that the climate at Agra aggravated this ailment. ‘Sometimes I feel that I should shift my capital from Agra to Ajmer or Lahore. Agra is definitely not lucky for me.’
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