The Moghul Hedonist

by Farzana Moon

  "Your Majesty, I have another gift to present to you when we reach Lahore. Another gold coin with the engraving of Chandra Gupta with his queen!" Mahabat Khan declared with the pride of a connoisseur. "Also a coin struck by Alexander to celebrate his victory. On this is the engraving of Alexander himself on horseback, attacking the Indian King Porus on his war-elephant." He added proudly.

  "And the emperor will show you the portrait of his father holding the globe of dominion." Jahangir lifted his gaze slowly and thoughtfully. Such poise and warmth were in his eyes that not even a seasoned prude could detect the rivers of pain simmering behind them. With one flash of a smile, he asked nonchalantly. "And how did the empress receive her edict of death?"

  "Padishah Begum craves Your Majesty's permission to see you before—" Mahabat Khan blurted out, unable to deflect the stab of pain and remorse in his delirious thoughts. "This is the last wish of the empress, Your Majesty, as Padishah Begum said."

  "What's the use, you tell me, Mahabat?" Jahangir murmured.

  "I don't know, Your Majesty." Mahabat Khan muttered distractedly. "The wishes of the dying are to be honored, as far as I know." Pain and hopelessness were tearing his heart to bleeding shreds.

  "Are they? My edict can't be altered. Should I grant the empress her last wish?" Jahangir appeared to question the air itself.

  "I am here to serve you, Your Majesty. If you decide to grant the empress her last wish, I am your obedient slave. I will fetch Padishah Begum myself." Mahabat Khan murmured with half relief, half dread. His thoughts were entangled in chasing the fleeing nobility as Asaf Khan and his brood, who needed to be captured.

  "Then summon the empress to the presence of the emperor, Mahabat. This day is going to be long and wearisome, it seems." Jahangir sighed, as if he was surrendering to the wishes of Mahabat Khan, not to his own.

  Mahabat Khan departed quickly without any advice or protest. This time, urged by his duty as a captor, which was hanging around his neck like one giant millstone. The burden of this edict was heavy on his shoulders, and the arms of fate were coiling around his neck like the noose of death. His thoughts were finding diversion in racing after the royal rebels on the other side of the river. He was afraid of losing control, and falling into the same pit of misfortune which awaited the empress.

  Mahabat Khan had escorted the empress in some stupor of fog and delirium. Astonishingly and inexplicably, he was feeling both drained and humbled by her sad beauty. The empress was bowing before the emperor as a lowly suppliant, and Mahabat Khan was quick to announce that he was going out to instruct his troops to follow the fleeing rebels.

  Mahabat Khan had left the tent, but he was heard posting more Rajput guards, and barking instructions. He had doubled the number of guards, it seemed, but soon his voice was fading, his hurried steps too growing faint and distant. Jahangir had kept his attention fixed on Mahabat Khan, neither acknowledging Nur Jahan's curtsy, nor granting her the permission to speak. He had maintained his poise of authority, his gaze harsh and forbidding. Now that Mahabat Khan had left, he sat contemplating his hands. Suffering not to lift his eyes, lest he break the bonds of propriety in snatching her to himself and endangering the life of his beloved along with his own. He was waiting for the command of his honed perspicacity to announce the ultimate departure of Mahabat Khan. He could barely keep his gaze averted, his hands themselves aching to confirm the nearness of his beloved. A sea of agony was churning inside him, kneeling in gratitude before some presence, Omniscient. God Almighty had spared him the anxiety of a mental combat in winning this opportunity, and he was humbled, even amidst this great torture in not being able to snatch his beloved into one eager embrace. As soon as his honed perception confirmed that Mahabat Khan had finally left and would not be back for a while, he clapped his hands without raising his eyes.

  "Leave us, my devoted friends. And stay friendly with the guards." Jahangir swept his gaze over the three men, who sat with their heads bowed and their lips sealed.

  Mukhlis Khan and Hushiyar Khan scrambled to their feet, and Mutamid Khan followed their lead. They were quick to offer hasty curtsies to both the emperor and the empress, before escaping the charged silence of this strange abode. No sooner had they left, that Nur Jahan fell into the emperor's arms sobbing like a child. All the restraints of her misery and anguish were broken loose, flowing through her eyes in a flood of tears.

  "Your Majesty!" Nur Jahan groaned. All her pain, all her love, all her grief were embodied in this one tremulous expression. Her heart was breaking under the weight of shame, humiliation and hopelessness.

  "Hush, dearest, hush. The light of my heart, hush." Jahangir's anguished pleas were spilling endearments. "You have no idea how terribly disconsolate I have been without you. "Had I been blind, lame, or twisted in limb, or deformed of body and soul, I would have not been more grieved than I was in being separated from you. You are my life, my soul, my staff, my refuge. How could I then survive without you? Now that we are together, we will plan. The emperor has a plan. Have patience, my pearl, have patience. We are fighting evil and madness. This is no fair war, of pride or honor, but a hideous game of deceit and dementia. Hush, my best and the dearest, hush." He grazed his lips against her hair. "My profoundest of loves, no more tears and sorrow. We would not ever be separated, nor ever again. If the emperor is not already drowned in this sea of captivity, my love, you will drown him into the flood of your tears." He cupped her tear-streaked face into her hands, and smiled into her eyes.

  "Your Majesty." Nur Jahan smiled back, trying her best to dispel the torrent of her joy and tears.

  "My sweetest of loves." Jahangir dried away her tears with kisses. "Come, sweet, sit by me." He gasped for breath. "This chair, I have kept beside me, all this time. Imagining you in there. Telling Mahabat that it is for him, but never offering him to be seated near me. He has not defiled its sanctity, not as yet, and nor he will."

  Nur Jahan drifted toward the chair beside him, dazed yet pacified. Her tide of grief was abating, and she was mastering her will to conquer all the misfortunes which lay sprawled before them like the locusts foul and poisonous. No more tears were clouding her eyes, and she was deliciously content to be with the emperor.

  "These terrible fates, Your Majesty, we would conquer them together." Nur Jahan's calm and optimism were returning.

  "Master of our own fates we tremble like the salves, when fates confront us with the superiority of their own invincible powers." One feeble epigram escaped Jahangir's suffered anguish, his gaze wistful and profound.

  "The grains of adversity and uncertainty are the salts of life, Your Majesty, without which life would have no taste or flavor." Nur Jahan's mind was sketching a string of plans to gain release. "Is Mahabat Khan's madness as unpredictable as his plots, Your Majesty?" She asked abruptly.

  "Each one of us has a tendency to be raving mad or unpredictable at times, my Nur." Jahangir began quickly, his thoughts still mired inside the pools of profundities. "Saints and sinners both, all tormented by the fires of evil and good in their souls. The only difference between a saint and sinner is that the former absolves his fire of evil through penance and austerity, and retains the flame of goodness. The latter, of course, corrupts the flame of goodness by the virtue of his need and desire, and nurtures the fire of evil. Goodness is like ether, pure and mysterious, with a tendency to soar towards heights lofty and noble, when awakened by the rod of consciousness. I am beginning to understand my own moods—more so the fits of madness attacking Mahabat Khan’s. Future will reveal more as to who is the captor and who the captive, I hold him in check under the sway of my mental powers." He sighed.

  "Why waste time looking into the eyes of the future, Your Majesty, when the face of present demands living?" Nur Jahan urged softly. "We must plan, Your Majesty. What is to be done? Why that edict? What is to become of me—you?" She murmured.

  "An illusion, my love, all is illusion." Jahangir murmured back. Unable to expound the complexity of his
plan which depended upon the whims of Mahabat Khan, not upon his will and prudence. “Hold on to this illusion, my Pearl, the only reality worth possessing. Illusion has many capricious veils, and each veil when lifted, reveals the caprice of many doubts." His eyes were shining with a poetic gleam.

  "Are we going to wander in captivity, Your Majesty? Distraught and homeless, while our empire and sovereignty are being usurped by the evil designs of this madman?" Nur Jahan hummed her concerns.

  "Are we all not homeless—and wandering?" Jahangir's poetic reverie was donning the mantle of ideation and mysticism. "Yes, wandering on the face of this earth in misery and wretchedness, bent double by the burden of greed and ambition. Fear clawing at our hearts, and false courage cutting open the wounds of ego—" He paused, noticing Nur Jahan's pained expression. "I have been writing couplets, my love, rather quatrains. Centuries upon centuries of wait has driven the emperor quite mad, stark mad with pangs of separation and longings indescribable—" He paused, before reciting.

  "My burning heart hath melted my body with separation's pang

  A soul-consuming sigh burnt me, as t'were a lamp

  The day of my joy became black like the night of grief

  Separation from thee hath made my day like this."

  "Your Majesty!" Nur Jahan was too overwhelmed to trust her voice. "I too wrote, or rewrote a quatrain, Your Majesty. Pressing the edict of death to my breast, while suspended on the gallows of wait. An eternity lingered before the summons came." Her grief too was entering the sanctuary of poetic comfort.

  "Let there be neither a light nor a flower

  On the grave of this humble person

  Nor the wings of the moth burn in flames of love

  Nor the nightingale send out his wailing cry."

  The saddest-blue in her eyes was sparkling all of a sudden. "You must inscribe this verse on my cold tomb, Your Majesty, promise."

  "Haven't I heard this before, in another world, in another century?" Jahangir murmured chokingly. "Yes, my love, with the pen of my bleeding heart I might inscribe this verse till my own heart would cease to throb." He was trying to ward off the blows of agony. "On judgment day, my dearest recluse, you would see my wounded heart, if its wounds bleed not to death right this moment in fear of losing you."

  "Recluse!" Declared Nur Jahan. The mingling of poetry and mischief in her eyes were kindling them to midnight-blue.

  "Oh, Recluse! do not create terror in my heart about the Day of Judgment

  I am aware of the extreme suffering which results from the separation from beloved."

  "Your wit alone, my Nur, has the power to break the shackles of captivity." Jahangir laughed low, as if he had forgotten how to laugh.

  "Your Majesty, what's to be done? Please tell me before Mahabat Khan returns. How are we going to—" Her frenzied plea was stifled by the sudden impact of Mahabat Khan's blistering tones outside the tent.

  "Your Majesty." Mahabat Khan charged into the tent like a stray animal. His nostrils were flared, and his lips hanging loose under the bushel of his dark mustache. "Great losses on both sides, I have learnt. Several of my Rajput soldiers are dead. Fadai Khan has fled toward the Rohtas to join his sons. Asaf Khan with his son Abu Talib, and Balaqi, the son of late Prince Khusrau, all have fled toward the fort of Atok." He was blathering under the strain of rage and urgency. "We must march to Atok, Your Majesty, to catch those royal rebels who have been the cause of such havoc." Panic and frenzy were glowing in his eyes as he gasped for breath. He seemed to have forgotten about the edict of death, not even noticing the empress seated beside the emperor.

  "Your judgment is faultless, Mahabat Khan. Asaf Khan is the sole cause of this needless havoc and warfare." Jahangir appeared to commiserate with the mad traitor.

  "I have already dispatched my son Bihroz, Your Majesty, along with a contingent of Rajputs to invest the fort of Atok." Mahabat Khan was quick to catch his breath, and to dole out his bulletin of news and decisions. Abul Hasan has submitted without any trace of provocation, and has sworn his fidelity to me. Now with your permission, Your Majesty, permit me to capture Asaf Khan and his followers, so that I could parade them before you in chains of disgrace and humiliation. The fort of Atok is best suited for this purpose." His rage was spent, his look wild and feverish.

  "You have absolute consent of the emperor to punish the offenders as you may deem proper." Jahangir assumed the look of utter resignation. "I have listened to the pleas of the empress. It took me long to discover that I have been mistaken in my judgment. Asaf Khan is the one who instigated this attack. The empress was too distraught and frightened to think about anything, she was merely obeying her brother in whatever he proposed. She herself has vowed complete submission, pleading mercy and forgiveness from the emperor. I have acted hastily, neglecting to discover the truth against the veil of my blind rage. If I could recant my edict, the Most Merciful God Himself might forgive me for almost committing this injustice? With your full support, of course, if you too believe in the innocence of the empress?" He concluded, feigning detachment, as if he was surrendering his will to the will of this traitor.

  "Forever your slave, Your Majesty. Your will and your justice, I embrace most warmly!" Mahabat Khan exclaimed with the vehemence of a devotee who knew nothing about the edict of death. "The Most Merciful God, may He save us all from the tyranny of foes and cutthroats." He murmured deliriously, his eyes shining.

  "The emperor's justice is the mercy and justice of God's own will." Jahangir breathed sadly. "The empress will stay with us." His gaze was thoughtful and searching, as if diving straight into the method of his madness.

  "We march toward the fort of Atok this very evening, Your Majesty. Our Rajput forces would be our shields of protection. Asaf Khan and his followers must be captured." Mahabat Khan announced with a sudden glint of authority. "We will march as if nothing has changed. Your imperial forces would stay with us, but they would be subject to my command. I would look to the preparations of the journey myself." He waved his arms as if already commanding some invisible battalions. "And now, Your Majesty, I myself would conduct Padishah Begum to her royal tent." A sudden fire of victory and elation was blinding his sight.

  "Leave the empress with the emperor, Mahabat. She has no more troops to command." Jahangir waved his own arm in firm dismissal.

  "Yes, Your Majesty." Mahabat Khan stood there demurring. "Rajput guards would be announcing the hour of our journey." He sprinted out of the tent.

  Jahangir's gaze was turning to Nur Jahan in worshipful silence. His pallor was accentuated by the bellows of his inner torment, which he was trying to empty inside the tides of his stoicism. Mists of tears were gathering into the eyes of Nur Jahan, but she too was forcing her pain and tears back inside the rivers of her mute sufferings.

  "This Babylonian sadness, my love. It too will cease as well as the Babylonian corruption." Jahangir murmured soothingly.

  "Yes, Your Majesty. We would break the chains of captivity, I assure you." Nur Jahan was smiling through the mists of her tears.

  "It's an illusion, love, not the curse of inevitability, just remember that. Just an illusion." Jahangir claimed her hand, pressing his lips to this treasure of loveliness.

  19

  Kabul of King Babur

  The fort of Atok with its bastions and ramparts was gleaming under the Sun. It was being besieged by a battalion of the Rajputs. Mahabat Khan himself was at the head of his forces, bloated with pride and confidence that soon he would capture Asaf Khan and parade him before the emperor in chains of humiliation. Not far from the fort was the silk city of royal encampments, woven in false colors of peace and harmony. The imperialists were idle and languishing against the strict vigilance of the Rajput troops. They were seething with rage and bitterness, and waiting for an opportunity to roast these heathens into the fires of the damned.

  The journey from Jehlum to Atok was a parade of pomp and pageantry floating ahead of the emperor's cavalcade, as if Mahabat Khan
was in total command, though he was not heard issuing any orders. Mahabat Khan was visible on the scene most of the time, barking orders and shooting decisions with the mad genius of a ruthless general. The emperor was permitted hunting, even presiding over his court in the usual manner of power and authority, both of which he couldn't claim. Mahabat Khan was the sole arbiter, master of the state affairs, and executioner of all commands. Even today, he had ordered the emperor's throne to be erected in the open at the foot of a verdant hillock. He was anticipating victory, and was voicing his commands that the emperor would mount his throne to receive the royal prisoners namely Asaf Khan and his followers.

  The emperor's throne with gold latticework was splashed with velvets, and furnished with a brocade canopy in shimmering folds. This throne was unoccupied for the time being, and its gold chair encrusted with jewels appeared to bemoan the absence of the royal occupant. Jahangir had chosen to stay with Nur Jahan in the luxury of his own tent, while the traitor was away on his own siege. The royal encampment itself was brimming with colorful tents reserved for the princes, Begums and for the entire cavalcade, but the emperor had alienated himself from them all with the aloofness of a hermit. There was a great lake at the foot of these hills where the elephants could bathe and bask under the Sun. Jahangir's only indulgence or diversion was to ride up to this lake and watch the happy beasts till they were clean of all grime, and could be heard snorting with pleasure. The meadows too at the edge of the lake had become Jahangir's favorite retreat for solitary contemplations, where he was wont to retire, condoning the strings of guards following him. Just five days since the royal tents were pitched here close to the fort of Atok, and the emperor had a feeling that he had been living here for the past five centuries.