Escape from Harem

by Tanushree Podder

  ‘Why should the emperor marry her when he can force her to share his bed like the innumerable girls who pass through these corridors? He doesn’t have to marry anyone.’

  ‘It is because he loves her. He wants to possess both her body and heart,’ replied the know-all.

  Zeenat had heard it all. For the past four years the city had not stopped speculating about the fate of the emperor’s love. Nothing remained hidden for long in the harem; not even romance – especially that of an emperor.

  Now, as she stood trembling in the grimy room before the old woman, Zeenat felt her heart swelling with hatred for Meherunnisa. She held her responsible for everything that had happened to her that night. Had she not rejected the emperor’s advances, he wouldn’t have summoned nubile girls to vent his frustration.

  ‘Go home and rest,’ advised the old woman. ‘Why are you crying? Any girl would have been happy to get an opportunity to spend a night with the emperor. Do not fret, wench, you are fortunate that the emperor desired you. You will be rewarded suitably.’

  ‘Can he give me back my virginity and honour?’ Zeenat’s voice took on a militant note. Her question seemed to amuse the crone. She cackled loudly till tears filled her rheumy eyes.

  ‘What honour are you talking about? Do the poor possess any honour? Do you think I was never young or beautiful? I was a beautiful girl just like you, brought to appease royal lust. Like you I was discarded, imprisoned within these four walls forever.’

  Her voice turned gentle and she patted Zeenat’s head, ‘Do not grieve for what cannot be undone. Accept your fate and make the best of it.’

  Her body stiff with indignation, Zeenat slowly changed into her own clothes and followed Yakub out to the waiting palanquin. This time she noticed nothing except her pain.

  Silence reigned the streets as they wound their way through the narrow streets towards her house. The door opened even before the palanquin reached it and her mother peeped out anxiously. Yakub dismounted and a purse exchanged hands. Zeenat rushed past her mother’s extended arms and flung herself on the bed.

  ‘You knew everything yet you allowed them to take me to the palace,’ she accused, her voice sharp with anger. ‘Why, Ammi, why? Is that purse of gold more important to you than your daughter?’

  ‘You fool! No one can refuse the emperor. Do you think I wanted this for my daughter? Can any mother bear the thought of her only daughter being taken away to satisfy somebody’s lust?’

  ‘Then why did you not protest? Why did you not tell me the truth?’ the girl cried, her voice trembling with impotent rage.

  Humra held her daughter close to her bosom. ‘My child, I wish I could prevent it. How do I explain to you? We are living in a world that belongs to them. We are mere puppets in their hands. When the emperor’s eyes fell on you during the Nauroz celebration at Ruquaiah Begum’s palace, I should have known that he would lust after you.’

  ‘I wish I were dead.’

  ‘Hush, don’t say such things. We don’t want the neighbours to hear us.’

  There were tears in her eyes as she cradled her daughter’s head in her lap. For the hundredth time she wished she could have protected her daughter from the stark ugliness of their life.

  Pushing her mother aside Zeenat got up and walked to the well in the courtyard. She hauled up a bucket of water and poured the icy cold water over herself.

  ‘Have you gone mad, Zeenat? It is freezing cold,’ screamed Humra. ‘Get inside, this moment.’

  But the frenzied girl continued to pour buckets of water over her bruised body. She wanted to wash off every trace of the humiliating experience that had battered her soul. The mother finally managed to herd her inside the house. Tears streamed down Humra’s cheeks as she chafed her daughter’s limbs that were turning blue with cold.

  She poked the dying embers of fire in the small sigri standing in the corner till the flames crackled to life. Then she piled a coarse blanket on her daughter’s shivering body and held her tight. Zeenat lay restless, her eyes staring fixedly at the roof, her mind and body numb with cold and shock.

  The next day, for the first time in many years, Humra did not go for work. She was frightened to leave her daughter alone in the house. Zeenat had been acting strangely ever since she returned from the fort. She refused to leave the bed. The girl had neither eaten nor spoken after her initial outburst.

  ‘Why are you punishing me for something beyond my control?’ cried the mother. ‘No one can stop the emperor from demanding any girl he wishes to sleep with.’

  ‘He couldn’t have dreamt that you have a young daughter,’ Zeenat’s voice was icy. ‘How did the royal attention fall on me?’

  ‘Why did you dance at the harem on the day the emperor was visiting the dowager? He must have noticed you and made enquiries.’

  The daughter sighed heavily. It was true. She had danced for the emperor, expecting rewards. The rewards had come in the form of his lecherous design.

  ‘You should have at least warned me. You are familiar with the happenings at the harem. You should have refused to send me with the eunuch.’

  ‘You are being foolish if you think I can refuse to obey the mighty Jahangir? The emperor will have us executed or thrown in the dungeon if we resist his demands. In any case, isn’t it foolish to blame each other for whatever happened? Let’s forget the night; there is no point in reliving the unpleasant experience.’

  Zeenat threw her mother a disdainful look and stomped out of the room. Humra hoped that the emperor would not summon her daughter again. Jahangir was known to change his women faster than he changed clothes. With a harem of three hundred women, of whom nineteen were his legally wedded wives, and hundreds of slave girls, he didn’t perhaps visit a woman more than twice a year.

  Some were fortunate if he visited them even once after the initial interest. Fresher pastures interested him more than old fields.

  The women waited with bated breath as the sun went down. The dreaded knock came a few hours later. There was no escape. This time Yakub had brought expensive clothes and jewellery for the girl to wear. Her heart sank with apprehension as Humra dressed up her unresisting daughter. Zeenat’s silence terrified her.

  ‘Allah, the merciful one, protect my child,’ she muttered fervently as the girl stepped out of the house without a backward glance. There was no fight left in her.

  The thrill of the palanquin ride, the stunning beauty of the embellished palace pillars, the anticipation that had occupied her mind the previous night had died a natural death. She knew her life would never be the same again.

  The emperor was drunk, even more than the previous evening. With an effort, he tottered towards her and fell into a heap at her feet. Like silent genies, a couple of servants materialized out of thin air and helped him to the bed. He waved them away with a rude gesture and addressed her.

  ‘I am the emperor, am I not?’ he babbled.

  She nodded silently. ‘Then why can’t I get the things I want?’

  ‘Am I not handsome, am I not powerful?’

  ‘You are, Jahanpanah,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then, why won’t that proud woman yield?’

  Zeenat felt sorry for him. She wondered about this woman… Meherunnisa had the power to reduce the powerful Mughal emperor into a snivelling weakling.

  ‘Will you dance?’ he asked, pulling her face close to his. He pinched her cheeks and she squirmed with pain. Anything to get away from this drunken fool, she thought, her face twisting into a grimace.

  As she began to get up he changed his mind. ‘No, don’t get up. Sit here with me. Do you know any couplets?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Your Majesty, I…’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He shrugged. Suddenly his mood changed and he laughed loudly. ‘You must hate me. Don’t you?’

  ‘No, Your Majesty, I…’

  He laughed again. ‘You are not a convincing liar, Ayesha.’

  She refrained from reminding him that her name was not Ayesha
. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more.

  ‘You are very young and beautiful. If only you were educated and intelligent like her…’ his voice tapered off. Suddenly he tore the precious string of pearls from his neck and offered it to her. ‘Keep this.’

  Perplexed, Zeenat stared at the string, too scared to touch the expensive pearls. ‘I can’t… ’ she mumbled. ‘I don’t want it, Jahanpanah.’

  She was still trying to fathom his volatile mood when he directed his sharp tawny eyes at her.

  ‘Are you refusing my gift? No one can do that and live to speak about it,’ he thundered.

  Zeenat fell on his feet terrified. ‘Reham, Jahanpanah, reham. I did not mean to annoy you. I feel I don’t deserve such an expensive gift.’

  ‘It is for me to decide what a person deserves. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘Yes, Jahanpanah, yes.’ The words tumbled out of her lips.

  ‘Your modesty and lack of greed are a pleasant change from the other women who come to this chamber.’ His mood had changed once again. ‘Tell me about your life,’ he ordered.

  Fumbling for words and stammering stupidly, Zeenat told him about herself. She described her house and the locality, the poverty they lived in and the unsafe neighbourhood and he listened to her story with growing interest. Maybe he doesn’t know about the misery that exists outside the palace walls, she thought, he needs to be told about the wretched life that people lead in the narrow gullies of the capital.

  Without skipping any details, she told him about the miserable life she and her mother were destined to live after her father’s death. ‘There is not much else in my life,’ she smiled. ‘My mother and I spend most of our waking hours working for a living and worrying about our next meal.’

  The emperor was thoughtful. He had no desire to hear the stories of wretchedness from the girl brought to him for pleasure. It was a waste of time. It spoilt his mood. Yet, he found the candid manner of the young girl quite touching. She was unbelievably naive. He felt compelled to do something for her.

  ‘Your story has touched my heart. It is a shame that you have to live the way you do since your father laid down his life for the empire. Your mother and you deserve a secure life. I shall instruct Yakub to make arrangements for you to move to the harem.’

  She fell to his feet once again, thanking him for his generosity. ‘You are the most generous emperor in the world. May Allah grant you a thousand years of peaceful life.’ She said in a voice choked with gratitude.

  Pleased with her words he smiled at her. ‘A beautiful girl like you should not be allowed to suffer. You are like a rose bud that must be protected so that it can bloom. The thorns must be removed.’

  He clapped for his servants.

  ‘Tell the musicians to play something joyful,’ he instructed. The atmosphere had grown depressing and he desired to dispel the gloom.

  As music filled the air, he smiled at her and asked again. ‘Will you dance now?’

  She nodded enthusiastically as she gave herself up to the rhythm of the music. Dragging on his opium-laced hukkah, the emperor nodded his head to the music.

  The next day, Yakub showed them a tiny apartment at the back of the concubines’ complex. A row of tiny cells, meant for the servants, flanked the apartment. Its starkness contrasted sharply with the opulence of the harem. But it was luxurious compared to their mud house outside the palace walls.

  Humra bustled around the rooms inspecting them minutely, her face creased with satisfaction. ‘No one will throw us out of this place as long as the emperor is happy with you.’

  With a victorious smile playing on her lips, Humra busied herself with the task of settling down. The stressful life in the insecure neighbourhood would not haunt her any more. Bustling around the room she set up her kitchen and arranged their meagre belongings. She smiled at her good fortune. ‘It is a cosy place. With a little effort it can be made quite comfortable. I don’t have to trudge in rain, heat or cold to reach my place of work. Ruquaiah Begum’s palace is just a stone’s throw away from here. The most important thing is that I am absolved of all worries about protecting you from the lecherous men all around that marketplace.’

  ‘All except the emperor,’ Zeenat muttered, a wry smile playing on her lips.

  ‘It was a privilege,’ Yakub assured her. ‘The emperor is making a special concession for the girl because he is fascinated by her dancing skills,’ he told Humra. Never before had the emperor exhibited such generosity to his one-night stands. They had been sent away with a few pieces of gold or a purse of coins. ‘Not many could hold his interest for more than a single night,’ the eunuch smirked. ‘Your daughter is very fortunate that the emperor has desired her company so long.’

  Night after night, for four nights, Jahangir summoned her to amuse him. Sometimes he made her dance, at others he listened to her stories about life in the impoverished streets of Agra. As he heard her, his mind tried to picture the tough life of his people. Twice he made love to her. His activities were governed by the amount of wine and opium he had consumed.

  In the harem, she was branded as Jahangir’s latest interest. Jealous eyes and whispered conversations followed her wherever she went. The women speculated on how long she would be called to entertain the emperor. Some concubines wagered on the period she would occupy the emperor’s bed. It was a matter of a few nights, everyone predicted.

  The predictions came true much earlier than Zeenat had expected. Foolishly, she had mistaken the emperor’s drunken outbursts as an indication of his interest in her. He must love me a little to spend so much time with me, she convinced herself, or else he would not discuss Meherunnisa with me. She did not know that he even talked to the walls about his frustrations when he was drunk.

  The summons stopped as suddenly as they had begun. The nightly knocks ceased and Yakub did not arrive to lead her to the emperor’s chamber. The suspenseful wait ended for Humra and her daughter. The emperor had tired of her, finally. Humra’s insecurity increased with each passing day. Now that Jahangir had lost interest in her daughter, would they be thrown out on the streets? She expressed her fears to Zeenat. ‘What will happen to us?’

  But Zeenat was relieved with this new development. The claustrophobic environment of the harem depressed her. ‘I don’t mind going back to our old house,’ she declared.

  Her mother was aghast at the suggestion.

  ‘How can we go back there?’ The brief span she had spent in the comfort of the new room in the harem had spoilt her. ‘Don’t even think of it. We can’t go back to our old lives. That chapter is closed forever.’

  ‘Do you think he remembers my name?’ Zeenat asked her mother, her vanity overriding logic.

  ‘So many girls shared his bed, some for just a night; how could he remember their names,’ Humra explained patiently. ‘There are no less than three hundred concubines and wives waiting for a visit from the emperor. They would be happy if he could visit them once a year. The poor women languish in the hope that they would be favoured by the emperor at least thrice in their lifetime.’

  ‘But my life is ruined forever,’ Zeenat lamented.

  ‘So are the lives imprisoned in the harem. I thought you would be happy that he is done with you,’ Humra muttered.

  In a way she was disappointed that Jahangir had lost interest in Zeenat. Life would have become much more comfortable if he had impregnated her. Like most harem women, Humra was aware that bearing the emperor’s child could elevate a woman’s status by several notches.

  A life of denial was not a happy life and no one knew it better than the poor widow. She had lived a tough life. Ambitions had begun stirring in her bosom ever since the first night when her daughter had been summoned by the emperor.

  ‘Maybe that widow, Meherunnisa has finally agreed to marry him,’ surmised Humra. ‘He no longer needs substitutes.’

  Four nights of the emperor’s attention changed the young girl’s life forever. Her dreams evaporated like the mo
rning mist at sunrise. No longer did her feet threaten to break into a dance on hearing music. Nor did she dream of Prince Khurram anymore. Once carefree and mischievous, bitterness was now a part of her life. She despised the emperor and hated being caged in the harem. It was one place that operated strictly according to the pecking order and breaking the protocol was unforgivable. Much as Zeenat loathed the rules, the girl quickly learnt to obey them for her own good.

  The dowager empress was the most revered woman in the harem. On his birthday, Jahangir began the day by visiting his mother’s palace to seek her blessings. Her word was sacrosanct.

  The Padshah Begum came next only to the dowager empress in terms of protocol. She was actually the most important woman in the harem. Although seniority played a major role in the hierarchy, the emperor’s current favourite wielded considerable power over the less fortunate women. Besides the queens, the most important concubine was the one who had held the emperor’s interest for the longest duration.

  The head eunuch who had the Padshah Begum’s blessings was an important person in the harem. He was the eyes and ears of the chief queen. Nothing escaped his eyes. A much dreaded and hated figure, the eunuch exerted significant authority over the lesser women in the harem.

  Other eunuchs, female guards, slave girls, and kaneezes, made up the tail end of the hierarchy.

  With so many women, the harem was a crowded place that required strict administrative functions. Capable managers were needed to look into matters like wages, appointments, monies, allotment of accommodation, and other arrangements; and since no man could enter the harem, the emperor appointed highly educated and wise women as mahaldars, who enjoyed immense powers. They also acted as spies in the interest of the emperor.

  Masseurs, dais, mehendi artists, seamstresses, and rammals, the women astrologers, formed a motley class who were important for the services they rendered but were content to remain in the background.