From the outside, it seemed a beautiful world with its marble pavilions, ornate fountains, wondrous gardens, and magnificent cupolas. The paths lined by fretwork galleries, crimson and gold halls splashed with a profusion of gems, rich Persian carpets, crystal chandeliers, exotic incense in jewelled censers and the enamelled bowls with all kinds of fruits and nuts seemed like paradise. Only those who stayed within the confines of the heavily guarded premises knew the desolation camouflaged under the expensive brocades and priceless jewellery.
Although Zeenat liked to think herself as a concubine, she was nothing more than a kaneez. Concubines were far more important women who ranked next only to the wedded wives of the emperor, the rest were called kaneezes – servant girls – a passing fancy of the emperor.
Even though she hated the cloistered life in the harem, Zeenat was not blind to the luxury and riches surrounding her. Like every other young girl, she desired beautiful clothes and jewellery. Some of the kaneezes dressed much better than her. She neither possessed silks nor jewellery. Whatever little money her mother earned was barely enough to fulfil their basic needs.
For some months after shifting to the harem, she remained depressed and moody, snapping at her mother whenever the woman suggested that she should venture out and make friends.
‘It is time you dropped your bitterness. This will get you nowhere,’ her mother scolded. ‘We can’t afford to remain angry with the emperor when we live on his charity.’
‘I hate him,’ was the only reply Humra got from her daughter.
‘Zeenat, you are neither a queen nor a concubine,’ her mother continued, ‘you are a mere kaneez and a kaneez needs to work for a living.’
But her words had no impact on the daughter who refused to accept the reality.
Three
Spring tiptoed into the capital stealthily, awakening the sleeping bounties of nature. After the cold and frigid nights of an extreme winter, the pleasant change of season brought delight. New leaves covered the branches of trees denuded by the bitter cold and the hibernating animals surfaced once again.
It was time to rejoice and celebrate the eagerly awaited Nauroz. Market places were abuzz with activity as sweets and savouries were prepared for welcoming the new year. Colourful decorations, paintings, chinaware, enamelled brass and silverware, carpets, rugs, chandeliers, vases, incense censers, jewellery, muslin, printed cotton, patterned and embossed art silk were piled high in the shops. It was time to spend whatever money one had earned through the year. Nauroz was the nine-day period when one could fulfil one’s desires. Bazaars and public halls were decorated with festoons and flowers. Lofty pavilions were erected around town. Gifts were bought, new clothes stitched, jewellery purchased, sweetmeats prepared and houses cleaned to herald the coming of the auspicious season.
Across the city people whitewashed and decorated their houses with green branches to celebrate the first day of spring. It was a symbolic welcome offered to the changing mood of nature. A large number of people from neighbouring villages flocked to the capital to feast their senses. There would be merry making all through the kingdom with people visiting each other, and attending parties.
On the streets of the capital people betted freely and enjoyed cock-fights. The skies were brightened up with colourful kites.
Restrictions on gambling were relaxed for the festival and the public was allowed free access to the emperor once a week during Nauroz.
The harem buzzed with activity as women busied themselves with shopping for jewellery and getting new clothes tailored. Tresses were oiled, perfumed and washed with soap nuts and other herbs; novel hairstyles were devised and tried out on each other. Lotions, unguents and various kinds of exotic perfumes were concocted by the women. Professional masseurs had a busy time as demand for their services soared.
The joyful atmosphere touched Zeenat too. No one could remain depressed in spring. At the age of fifteen it is difficult to mourn over lost virginity forever, especially when one is surrounded by women who have suffered the same fate. Youth is amazingly resilient. The irrepressible joie de vivre in the girl began to resurface after the long period of hibernation. Like a cork bobbing up in water, the girl sprang up from the murky depths of depression. She had come to terms with her loss. Life is too beautiful to waste away in regrets. It has to be lived with zest, enjoying each day as if it were the last. Zeenat decided. I have seen the unpleasant side of life, but the future doesn’t have to be gloomy. Why should I allow the past to dictate my life?
One morning, her mother managed to drag her along to Ruquaiah Begum’s palace.
‘We have to present ourselves before the Queen to convey our Nauroz greetings. She will take offence if we don’t.’
‘I don’t want to go,’ Zeenat stuck out her chin rebelliously.
Resolutely, Humra refused to give in to her daughter’s protests. ‘Enough of your airs, you will come with me and that is final.’
Despite an outward show of reluctance, Zeenat was eager to abandon the self-imposed seclusion. She was yearning to taste the bounties of life once again. The girl dressed with great care and adorned herself with fresh flowers. Around her neck she wore the expensive pearl necklace gifted by the emperor. Her mother noticed the change and smiled to herself. Things were going to be all right.
As soon as Zeenat entered the palace she experienced a soaring of her spirit. Ruquaiah Begum sat amidst a heap of silk cushions. A carved stool with jade bowls full of almonds and nuts stood besides her. On another side stood a silver hukkah, on which the dowager drew from time to time. Prince Khurram lolled next to his grandmother, regaling her with anecdotes.
The queen was pleased to see Zeenat after a long time. She was fond of the girl who had grown up before her eyes.
As the girl performed her salutation, she waved her dimpled arms and signalled her to move closer, ‘Where did you disappear, my child? And why are your eyes encircled with shadows of gloom. Girls your age must keep smiling.’
Humra pushed her daughter towards the Begum complaining, ‘That is exactly what I keep telling her, Begum. Worrying makes girls look ugly.’
The prince threw a bored look at the thin and wan face of the girl standing before him. For an instant, Zeenat raised her eyes and they met those of Khurram. A wave of current seemed to pass through her body as she looked into his eyes. Quickly, she lowered her gaze and backed away. As she moved towards the door she heard him telling Humra, ‘Your daughter is quite a beauty. Keep her hidden lest she attracts the attention of my father.’ Both Ruquaiah and Khurram burst out laughing at the comment.
Her heart beating a mad tattoo, Zeenat smiled shyly at him. He has noticed me, her heart sang, but the warning has come a little too late, the emperor’s attention has already done the damage. For an instant she forgot all about the exploitation and her wretchedness. The clouds seemed to lift and the sun danced into her dark life. Her heart brimmed with joy and she rushed to the garden beyond the latticed wall of the apartments.
A marble courtyard ran all around the beautiful garden with a circular lotus pond in its centre. Fluted columns rose from the tiled floors of the courtyard that was sealed off with an impressive door. A host of flowers and fruit trees lined the central canal, which terminated at a beautiful marble fountain. In one corner, overlooking the river, stood a pavilion, its roof covered with a striking frieze. Cool breeze blew into the chambers laden with the smell of frangipani trees that lined the path. Zeenat stood near the fountain, allowing the sharp spray of water to lash her face, breathing in the fresh air greedily.
‘I will survive. I will not allow my dreams to die,’ she cried to the peacocks strutting around in the garden. The multitude of doves and pigeons cooed back in agreement.
In the evening, an entertainment programme was held at Ruquaiah Begum’s palace. One of the concubines rendered some couplets composed by a famous poet, another narrated a few anecdotes. Dancers regaled the audience with their skilful rendition.
‘We
want your daughter to dance for us,’ the dowager commanded Humra and all eyes turned towards her. Aware of Prince Khurram’s eyes on her, Zeenat got up shyly and began pirouetting to the beat of the music. Her feet seemed to move magically as the tempo quickened.
Applause filled the halls as the performance ended. In a fit of generosity the dowager gifted a bagful of gold coins and remarked, ‘You dance very well, my child.’
But it was the prince’s compliments that won the day. ‘Don’t ever give up dancing,’ he said tossing his ring towards her as a reward.
His words rang in her ears as she tossed sleeplessly in her bed that night.
I won’t, she promised the walls.
Gradually, Zeenat became aware of the activities that went on in the apartments around her. She learnt to ignore the subtle passes made by some of the women and feigned indifference when they invited her to their rooms.
It was a muggy night. Unable to sleep, Zeenat made her way towards the garden for a breath of fresh air. As she passed an adjoining chamber, she spotted a slave girl, sleepily waving a fan over her mistress.
Outside, the atmosphere was strangely quiet. Not a leaf stirred. She moved towards the marble bench under the gazebo. The cloying smell of the night blooming flowers wafted into her nostrils. The night sky was ablaze with innumerable stars. It was very peaceful. She sat there for a long time, ruminating over the happenings in her life.
‘So much has changed in the past few months,’ she thought. ‘My birthday heralded a new life. For the better or worse, I don’t know.’
For a long time, she mulled over the course her life had taken since the night she had been summoned to please the emperor. Her heartbeats quickened. In the stillness of the night, she heard whispers of passion in the breeze. A faint stirring of passion touched her as her thoughts lingered on the young prince. Alerted by a sound, she quickly moved behind a thick bush. Two women emerged from their rooms and occupied the bench she had just vacated. One of them laid down on the bench while the other began undressing her. With mounting passion they began caressing and kissing each other. From behind the fringe of palm leaves, Zeenat watched the women.
A slow, molten heat rose up from her thighs as she saw them fondling each other’s breasts, their nipples engorged with excitement.
Why am I behaving like a voyeur? Zeenat asked herself, shaking her head sorrowfully. Perhaps it is the balmy night that is responsible for the stirring within me.
Dragging her feet, she made her way back towards her apartment and slipped into her bed. The ache in her heart had intensified.
Two months later, Meherunnisa consented to marry Jahangir and he never again summoned girls for amusement. The fortunes of his queens and concubines receded with the marriage. As for Zeenat – she was relegated to the backrooms of the harem, forever.
Like many others, she finally woke up to the reality. It was time to begin earning a living. Now that her life was under control, Zeenat began looking around for some work. Although the emperor had granted her a meagre allowance, it wasn’t enough to buy the kind of clothes and jewellery she yearned to wear. She was surrounded by opulence and beauty and a spark of ambition began niggling inside her. The girl wanted to be a part of the beautiful women around her.
There were always important functions and celebrations in the harem to which the queens and important concubines were invited. Working for one of them would mean an entry into the restricted zones, she reasoned.
And the opportunity came sooner than she had thought. One day Humra heard the news that Bahar Begum, one of the important concubines, was looking for a young girl to work for her. Never one to lose an opportunity, she immediately visited the concubine.
‘I have many servants but I need a young girl to be around. I need someone who can cheer me up when I am depressed; someone unworldly and simple who would be able to bring freshness to my boudoir; someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back and will know how to keep secrets,’ Bahar told Humra.
‘My daughter Zeenat is just the girl you are looking for. She is innocent and completely capable of keeping secrets.’
‘Hmmmm.’ The concubine subjected the woman to a sharp scrutiny. ‘Besides, I want someone who doesn’t have any ego problems. It is no secret that I have a nasty temper. Your daughter will have to learn to take my moods in her stride,’ declared Bahar walking around the fountain set at the centre of her courtyard.
‘Begum, she will do that wonderfully. Zeenat is an adaptable girl. I have brought her up to be subservient. The poor can have no temper and she knows that.’
‘Well, well, if she is what you profess her to be, you may send her to me.’ The concubine picked up a rose and tucked it in her hair. ‘If I like her, she will have the job.’
Delighted, Humra rushed back to her room. ‘Zeenat… Zeenat, where are you? I have good news for you.’
The girl was standing before a tiny mirror hung from a nail in the wall, braiding her hair. She turned around and raised an eyebrow enquiringly.
‘My little one, I have found the right job for you. Bahar Begum is looking for a dependable girl. She ranks high in the harem hierarchy and lives a life of comfort on a generous allowance,’ Humra told her daughter. ‘If she likes you, you won’t need to look for another job in your life. Although she has a sharp tongue and a terrible temper, her heart is generous, I am told.’
‘She may not want me,’ Zeenat said doubtfully.
‘Of course she will. I have already met her and recommended you. Now, if you behave yourself the job will be yours. Not many girls want to work for Bahar because of her fiery temper.’
‘In that case, I am definitely not working for her.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Zeenat,’ admonished Humra. ‘All you have to do is to humour her. You won’t find a more comfortable job in the harem. Bahar is not looking for a servant, she has many of them. She is looking for a companion. It is a respectable job, you fool.’
Pushed and prodded by the ambitious mother, the girl dressed up in her best clothes.
‘They should not be flashy. Concubines do not like beautiful and young girls who steal the show from them. You have to play down your beauty and youth. In the harem, survival depends on knowing the right way of dressing and following the code of behaviour,’ Humra educated her daughter. ‘Most of these women are past their prime. They will never keep a girl who can attract the attention of the emperor, if he ever visits them.
‘And keep your eyes down when she speaks to you. Never make the mistake of looking into her eyes. Bahar is a smart woman, capable of reading a person’s thoughts. It would be good if you could hunch your shoulders a bit so that your bosom does not stick out. Be as inconspicuous as possible,’ the mother instructed although she knew her daughter was too beautiful to be ignored.
That evening, dressed in simple clothes, Zeenat stood uncertainly before Bahar. She felt like a cow at a cattle fair, as the concubine measured her up. She was asked to pirouette, walk, fetch and speak while her prospective employer appraised her. At the end of the test Zeenat stood squirming under the watchful eyes of Bahar.
‘Do you want to work for me willingly or has your mother insisted that you work for me?’
‘I… I… want to work for you, Begum,’ stammered the girl.
‘Are you sure? I have a foul temper,’ the woman warned.
Her face creased into a beautiful smile as Zeenat replied, ‘My mother also has a foul temper but I know how to handle her. Besides, I believe that those who are harsh in the tongue have a soft heart.’
Bahar laughed at her reply. ‘You are a diplomat, girl. You should have been at the court, serving the emperor.’
Shyly, Zeenat lowered her eyes and mumbled, ‘Aren’t we all serving the emperor in some way or the other?’
‘So, you have a smart tongue in a beautiful face! I am pleased with your wit. You could prove to be an asset.’ The concubine looked thoughtfully at the girl.
A torrent of grateful words burst from t
he girl’s mouth. ‘Thank you Begum! Thank you! I will not let you down. I promise!’
‘What are you thanking me for? I haven’t decided yet.’ Bahar was having fun at her expense.
It is going to be fun working for her, she’s clever, Zeenat mused.
‘But Begum, you did say I could prove to be an asset.’ The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
‘Did I? Well, then I guess I will have to employ you.’ The concubine tried to hold her smile and with a stern look on her face said, ‘Let me warn you, girl. I am a hard taskmaster. Don’t complain later.’
‘I won’t. I will never complain, I promise.’
‘The job is yours,’ the concubine finally allowed a smile to cover her face.
Zeenat bent low in a deep salute before rushing back to her mother with the good news.
Bahar Begum’s standing in the harem was a point of envy to many women. Born to a Rajput chieftain, she was brought to the harem at the age of sixteen after the emperor, Jahangir, vanquished her father. The proud Rajput girl took a long time to capitulate to the emperor’s desires but her resistance had an impact on Jahangir. He liked women with spirit. Her sharp wit and still sharper tongue interested him. It took four months of his wooing to gain her favour. From Ambalika to Bahar Begum, the transformation of the girl was a torturous process as she baulked at each step.
During the height of his passion for Bahar, Jahangir allowed her the powers that provoked jealous reactions in the harem. The Rajput faction in the harem was a strong one. Jagat Gosain and Manmati, both Jahangir’s wives, belonged to prestigious Rajput clans. The emperor, born of a Rajput mother, respected these women and gave them high status. The rise of Bahar’s status annoyed the Mughal faction in the harem.
Although Jahangir tired of Bahar in a couple of years, he continued to provide generously for her. Whenever he wanted stimulating conversation, he sought her out. She could handle his depression and amuse him for hours with her witty conversation. And for this alone, she was ranked much higher than the other concubines.
Escape from Harem Page 4