Empress

by Ruby Lal

  Once Ladli was engaged to Shahryar, the rift between Nur and Shah Jahan deepened.30 Shah Jahan knew what Ladli’s marriage could mean. He was leaving for the Deccan, the emperor was weakening rapidly—and Empress Nur was at the center of the imperium, now closely tied to another prince who could easily become a contender for the throne. Before Shah Jahan’s first expedition to the Deccan, his father, Nur, and others had assured him that his interests could be protected during his absence. As the prince prepared to depart once again for the Deccan this time, his youngest half-brother Shahryar, Nur’s new protégé, occupied his mind. On December 16, 1620, Shah Jahan left again for the war in the south, adorned with a robe of honor, a jeweled sword on his waist, mounted on an elephant that Nur had given him—a public acknowledgment, however reluctant, of her power. The royal retinue headed for Agra that same day.

  TWELVE

  The Light-Scattering Garden

  The empress began overseeing the creation of her Light-Scattering Garden, the Bagh-i Nur Afshan, when she and Jahangir returned to the capital from Kashmir in February 1621. From its ramparts overlooking the Yamuna River, one could see the enormous Agra fort and the spot where the Taj Mahal would one day stand, Shah Jahan’s tribute to Arjumand, better known to the world by her imperial name, Mumtaz Mahal. From winter into late spring, the royal family and their court gathered in the Light-Scattering Garden several times for celebrations hosted by Nur in anticipation of the April wedding of Ladli and Shahryar.

  During the reign of Jahangir and Nur, and under their direction, palace gardens flowered as a mode of aesthetic and imperial expression. In the Light-Scattering Garden, Nur further advanced the idea of architecture as statecraft, seen in the Nur Mahal Serai on the Grand Trunk Road, and the bold engraving of her name on that large traveler’s inn.

  A short boat ride from the Agra fort, Nur’s garden was built on the site of a much older one established by the first Mughal. Babur, unhappy about the lack of springs and streams in Indian cities, designed a spot that re-created the canals, waterfalls, and pathways found in Persian gardens, which were squares divided into quarters by walkways and waterways to represent the Islamic idea of the shape of Paradise. Babur was temporarily buried here, in the very center, before being entombed in Kabul. In reusing the first Mughal’s garden for her own, Nur made an aesthetic link with Jahangir’s great-grandfather—a connection between herself and other male emperors.

  Nur’s plan for the Light-Scattering Garden, today called the Ram Bagh, was less formal and more innovative than a traditional Persian arrangement.1 She added three descending terraces and walkways along the river, with pavilions, arcades, and walled rooms for shelter and shade—a rhythm of open and closed design that echoed the harem quarters. Beneath the main pavilion were underground rooms, including a hammam or bath with a disrobing room, a hot room, and a cool room; and a large hall with pools and waterfalls.2

  The vaulted ceilings of the pavilions remain impressive, shaped like stars circumscribed by concentric circles and densely painted with winged beings, some carrying parasols; peacocks, birds of prey, ducks, herons, kingfishers, and mythic birds like the simurgh, the representation of the divine in the work of the Persian Sufi poet Attar; and vines and flowering trees, in peacock blue, ochre yellow, wine red. The paint on the ceiling, where still visible, looks newly laid. Fresh air floats in through circular windows shaded by louvered wooden slats.

  The gardens lie below riverside walkways. Today, the gardeners of Ram Bagh tend the same varieties of plants that adorned the premises in Nur’s time—flowers like jasmine; raat ki raani, or queen of the night; and an Agra local, morpankhi, peacock flower. Trees, too: lemon, ashok, tamarind, guava, orange, almond, pomegranate, and date palm.3

  In her choice of motifs for her garden too, Nur asserted her co-sovereignty. Large-winged birds had long been part of the decorative repertoire of Islamic rulers; birds and angels also referred to King Solomon, as he appears in the Quran.4 Contemporary writers often referred to Nur as the Sheba of her age: Bilqis-uz-Zaman, the Powerful Sheba! And as with all the gardens planned and cherished by Nur and Jahangir, she was building a bridge between the whole Mughal past and the dynasty’s future.

  At the end of March 1621, Nur’s brother Asaf invited the young couple, Jahangir, Nur, and other members of the imperial family to a grand entertainment. To mark his niece’s wedding, he presented “delicate gems and wonders in cloth, and rare gifts.” Jahangir accepted offerings worth 130,000 rupees, but returned the rest as a sign of moderation.5 Yet again, gifts spoke to the force of the political-personal relationships uniting and binding the Mughals and the clan of Ghiyas Beg. Ladli was the third woman from Ghiyas’s family to marry a Mughal prince.6 Cross-cousin and first-cousin marriages were a norm in elite households, but this was still a somewhat unusual situation. The emperor and empress were giving each other their son and daughter from other relationships to forge a new marital bond.

  The wedding took place on April 13, 1621. Jahangir records that his mother, Harkha, Shahryar’s grandmother, hosted the henna party before the wedding. Female and male companions led Ladli and Shahryar to separate baths. Then the rituals of decoration with henna began in the men’s and women’s quarters. Ladli’s companions would have drawn delicate henna designs on Ladli’s hands and feet; her eyebrows and eyes were painted with kohl. The men were decorated too, but the party in the women’s quarters was a more extended and elaborate affair, with music and dancing. Typically, the mother of a Mughal groom readied gems, jewels, gold and silver utensils, brocades, carpets, rugs, canopies, elephants, horses, cash, and more, to give to court servants, princes, harem women, honorable nobles, and relatives. If she was there, Shahryar’s unnamed mother no doubt followed protocol. Grandmother Harkha may have joined her in laying out gifts. Shahryar stayed in his quarters, where he had a feast.7

  The wedding ceremony itself took place in Ghiyas and Asmat’s mansion. Mughal princes and senior nobles would have escorted Shahryar from his residence to the palace, where he kissed the ground before his father the emperor, performing kornish. Jahangir blessed him and presented him with a robe of honor, a jeweled dagger, sword and strap, a rosary of pearls, horses from the royal stable, and elephants with silver trappings. He then fastened a sehra or veil around the prince’s head, from which dangled strands of lustrous pearls, rubies, and emeralds.8 Dignitaries presented gifts to the prince, then helped him mount a horse with a gem-studded saddle and bridle. With some of the men on horseback and others on foot, the entourage set out for Ghiyas’s haveli, where Ladli waited.9 At night, the servants lit lamps in the garden below the private hall of the palace. Boats adorned with candles, torches, and lamps lined the river, and fireworks sparked the sky.

  No portraits of Ladli survive. I like to envision her as a young version of her parents, with something of the strong will of Nur, and perhaps the courage of her father, Quli, as well as the gentleness and grace of her grandparents. As for Shahryar, a sketch made in preparation for a painting shows the prince on the imperial balcony, his arm leaning on the windowsill. His longish face is delicate, his eyes small, and his gaze tender.10

  Under ordinary circumstances, as the bride’s mother, Nur would have been by Ladli’s side during the wedding ceremony. But she was also the Mughal empress. The emperor and the empress likely sat together on a gold-embroidered divan, with Nur on the right, at the helm of the gathering. Hangings embroidered with silken gold threads and strings of pearls surrounded the divan, and Persian carpets covered the floors. The older women like Harkha and Asmat would have sat beside Nur. Slightly behind them, on cushioned divans, would sit Nur’s sisters, Khadija and Manija; the wives of her brothers; her niece Arjumand; and other women of Ghiyas’s extended family. And perhaps in a smaller section, Ladli would be surrounded by women friends and relatives and Dai Dilaram, tucked away from the public eye. On Jahangir’s side, Shahryar, the princes, Ghiyas, Asaf, foster brothers, distinguished nobles, and officers would all be positioned acc
ording to rank. Musicians and sweet-voiced reciters performed wedding poems and songs.11 The qazi, the officiating cleric, finally pronounced the words of marriage.

  A great feast followed the ceremony. Ghiyas Beg bestowed numerous gifts on the wedding party, “rare and choice things from all countries.” A few days after the wedding ceremony, Nur celebrated the union again, in the Light-Scattering Garden, where she “held the royal entertainment and presented great offerings” to Shahryar, showering him with jewels and other precious goods, a worthy gesture for a prince rising in favor.12

  With two formal rites, a Mughal prince moved to adulthood. The first was when the emperor gave him an appropriate rank, with or without a significant administrative-military assignment. The second was the prince’s marriage. But these vital signs of a princely adulthood did not make him fully independent. He had to work in various offices in order to establish himself as a holder of power and possible contender for the throne. So Nur set to work bolstering her new son-in-law’s prospects. She proceeded strategically, building his household and raising his political profile. Soon after the wedding, Shahryar asked Nur to appoint a noted loyalist of hers, Sharif ul-Mulk, as a manager of his household. Sharif continued in this capacity for nearly six years, a very long stint for someone who was also an imperial officer.13 The emperor appointed well-regarded men as paymaster and finance officer to Shahryar’s staff.14 Having key figures working with him would allow Shahryar to build his resources, and his reputation. Eventually, Nur hoped, she would maneuver to have him head an important military campaign.

  Through messengers and news from his father-in-law Asaf, Shah Jahan kept abreast of the moves that the empress made in favor of her young son-in-law, carefully assessing the possibility that his younger brother could emerge as a major threat to his ambitions. Among other contemporary courtiers, Bhakkari noted bluntly that a rift between Nur and Shah Jahan formed not long after Ladli’s marriage. Nur Jahan had always, Bhakkari wrote, been in favor of “that inheritor of the kingdom [Shah Jahan],” but she “gave up (this feeling of) affection,” and began promoting the cause of Shahryar.15

  While Nur was caught up in building up Shahryar and Jahangir’s health steadily weakened, a letter arrived from the mother of the Uzbek ruler Imam Quli, the king of Turan, or Transoxiana, the land beyond the river Oxus. The Turanian king had at some point broken off relations with the Mughals because Jahangir had made jokes about his inclination to pederasty. This letter of goodwill, accompanied by what Jahangir noted as rarities of Central Asia (most likely jade, horses, and fruit) was filled with expressions of loyalty and friendship. Nur Jahan decided to respond immediately in an attempt to mend relations. The Turanian matriarch extended a hand of peace and Nur Jahan actively promoted reconciliation.

  The friendship proffered by Imam Quli’s mother would have been a relief to Nur. The Safavids of Iran had just begun to mobilize near Kandahar, and Mughal response was urgently needed.16 A military clash was likely, so gaining allies in neighboring kingdoms was critical. Nur immediately ordered an ambassador sent to Turan, a seasoned courtier who had served Jahangir since he was a prince, bearing a letter of goodwill from the empress and “choice gifts.”17

  The situation in the Deccan, however, remained uncertain; there was no news of a decisive victory. Jahangir was increasingly agitated by Ambar. The emperor’s health deteriorated further. The shortness of breath he’d experienced in Kashmir returned. Hakim Ruhullah applied warm and gentle remedies, but to no avail. Another doctor, Hakim Rukna, was called in. His treatment was more aggressive, including powerful medications blended according to the theories of the second-century Greek physician Claudius Galen, who taught that cures should balance the four natures of the body, warm, dry, cold, and wet. Rukna also tried dosing Jahangir with goat and camel milk, but neither offered relief. He complained that the medications affected his temperament and made his back weak.

  The emperor called in a third doctor. Hakim Sadra was formerly the chief physician in Safavid Persia, and had migrated to India in the reign of Jahangir’s father, who honored him as “the Messiah of the Age,” the masih uz-zaman. His treatment failed too. The emperor’s deterioration was visible. With no relief in sight, he became malicious: “That ungrateful man [Sadra], in spite of the claims which I had on him, though he saw me in such a state, did not give me medicines or treat me.” Everyone, including the emperor himself, knew that the problem was compounded by Jahangir’s drinking.

  Finally Nur Jahan took over. Once again she reduced Jahangir’s intake of wine by degrees and kept him away from unsuitable foods. Jahangir recovered. Nur’s “skills and experience,” her husband wrote, were “greater than those of the physicians, especially as they are brought to bear through affection and sympathy, [she] endeavored to diminish the number of my cups, and to carry out the remedies that appeared appropriate to the time, and soothing to the condition.”18

  Nur decided to mark his recovery with merriment, even though the improvement was clearly temporary; it was becoming evident that Jahangir’s health was beyond repair. At the next solar weighing ceremony in September 1621, she arranged an entertainment that was grander than usual. On that occasion, she paid greater attention than ever to arranging the feast. The servants hovered like moths around the emperor; she honored the attendees with dresses, sword-belts, daggers, horses, elephants, trays full of money. The aging astrologer Jotik Rai had earlier predicted that the emperor would certainly recover. During the weighing ceremony, as usual, Nur Jahan displayed her special offerings for Jahangir, and at the end, astrologer Rai was honored for his optimistic vision. Jahangir was weighed against coins, some of which were distributed to the needy.19

  Two weeks later, Nur’s mother, Asmat Begum, died. The cause of her death is not recorded, but her passing was devastating to all. “What can one write?” mused Jahangir. “Without exaggeration, in purity of disposition and in wisdom and the excellencies that are the ornament of women … No Mother of the Age was ever born equal to her … I did not value her less than my own mother.” No husband, he went on, was equal to Ghiyas in his attachment to his wife. Jahangir went to pay his respects to his grief-stricken wazir and father-in-law. With affection and kindness, he spoke a few words to the old man. It was several days before Ghiyas returned to public gatherings. Outwardly, he was poised and controlled, “yet with regard to his affection for [Asmat],” wrote Jahangir, “what resignation could there be? Ghiyas no longer cared for himself. Although he looked after the affairs of the empire and civil matters, yet in his heart he grieved.”20

  At the end of October, Agra was unseasonably hot. Jahangir was keen to move to more temperate regions, so the imperial camp headed north toward Hardwar, a city revered by Hindus, on the banks of the Ganga River in the Himalayan foothills. If Hardwar wasn’t to his liking, he said, the camp would head again toward Kashmir.

  With stopovers for hunting and visits to several other places along the way, it was mid-December by the time the royal caravan reached Hardwar, nearly 250 miles from Agra. Here hermits and Brahmins, the declared pundits of Hinduism, thronged to receive alms in silver and gold coins. No suitable place could be found for the imperial tent camp, so the Mughals headed farther north toward Kangra, where Jahangir would celebrate Shah Jahan’s recent capture of the region’s massive fort from the raja of Kangra. Jahangir’s troops had made a previously unsuccessful attempt to take the fort, soon after he ascended to the throne, so this victory was especially satisfying to him.

  The core camp was made up of Jahangir, Nur, and Ghiyas, physically weak and in mourning, along with attendants and carriers of goods. As usual, the party on the march hunted, received officers, and granted awards. In the village of Bahlon, Nur Jahan gave robes of honor to “forty-five great amirs and intimate servants.” Reports from the Deccan trickled in, including reports that Khusraw was ill. Yearning to tour the fort and hill country of Kangra, Jahangir set off with Nur and a group of chosen courtiers and servants. Ghiyas Beg stayed back i
n the care of a top officer. They hadn’t yet reached Kangra the next day when news arrived that Ghiyas’s condition had deteriorated; there was little hope of his survival. Nur was distraught. “I could not bear the agitation of Nur Jahan Begam, and considering the affection I bore towards him [Ghiyas], I returned to the camp,” wrote Jahangir.

  The dying Ghiyas went in and out of consciousness and lucidity. Once, pointing at Jahangir, Nur Jahan asked her father, “Do you recognize him?”21 This is the one sentence of Nur Jahan’s quoted directly by Jahangir. Ghiyas, it is said, eventually answered his distraught daughter by reciting a verse in praise of the emperor:

  He is (such a) one that even if a person born blind before him

  He would see majesty in his world-adorning forehead.22

  As the sun set on January 27, 1622, three months and twenty days after his wife’s death, one of the most prodigious nobles of the Mughal Empire, on whose shoulders lay, as Jahangir put it, the weight of a great kingdom, passed away. Jahangir offered condolences to Ghiyas’s sons and sons-in-law, and presented forty-one of his children, grandchildren, clansmen, and servants with dresses of honor and garments of mourning.23

  Two weeks later, the emperor declared that everything belonging to Ghiyas Beg’s establishment, including all the paraphernalia attached to his government office and household, was to be granted to Nur Jahan Begum—even though Ghiyas’s eldest son, Asaf, was alive. The governmental inheritance was the most significant: Jahangir had declared that Nur was, in effect, the oldest son and successor of the Great Wazir—prime minister as well as empress. Jahangir also ordered that drums were to be sounded at Nur’s arrival at court, right after the drums of the emperor, exactly the way her father had been announced.