Escape from Harem

by Tanushree Podder

  Goblets, cups, bowls and chinaware stood along with crystals, porcelains, vases, enamelled metals and decorations. There were sweetmeats, savouries, and dry fruits, herbs, spices and medicinal concoctions. There were jade and ivory chess pieces that were sculptured in attractive shapes. Jewellery boxes with gold latches, ornate night stands and cabinets carved from the most expensive teakwood with ivory inlays. Each stall had something unique to sell.

  Eunuchs, servant girls, concubines, queens, princesses and attendants bustled about with great energy as they tried to attract customers to their stalls. Nervous giggles of the young girls, combined with the strident banter of the older women, rang through the bazaar.

  Fountains spewed coloured water, lit by clever placement of lamps below them. The sweet smell of the night blooming flowers mingled with the perfumes worn by the women, creating a cloying atmosphere. The narrow pathways meandering through the rose bushes had been covered with bright Bukhara rugs. Colourful-canopied pavilions at discreet corners provided privacy to young couples desirous of getting away from the crowd.

  Meena Bazaar provided ample opportunity for striking up alliances. Eager matrons lugged along their marriageable daughters, in the hope that they would attract the attention of young nobles who invariably accompanied the princes and the emperor.

  A visit to the bazaar was a pleasant excuse for varied activities; trading of the goods being just a façade for them. Most young women were peddling their beauty more than their ware. They lisped and fluttered their eyelashes, pouted and tried every trick to entice the men who enjoyed it all. This was one place where the women wore no veil and it was not everyday that they could lay their eyes on the imperial women.

  The strict purdah in the harem ensured that the women remained invisible through the year, except on the days of Meena Bazaar during the Nauroz. In fact, such was the joy and anticipation of the day that Emperor Akbar had called it Khushroz, meaning the happy day. The discarded concubines, imperial kinswomen, wives of the noblemen, slave girls, servants and eunuchs – it was an opportunity for everyone to find some romance or adventure in their otherwise dreary life.

  However, very few men were privileged to attend the event. The close coterie of the emperor, his sons and a few trusted, high-ranking nobles who had served the emperor well, were allowed inside the hallowed premises of the harem gardens. The checking of the entrants was stringent. Each year, a few daring men tried to bribe their way in. Every year the intruders were caught and punished severely for the offence but that did not prevent the foolhardy fellows from trying their luck. Blinding was a common punishment for these men who managed to lay their eyes on the harem women.

  The premium stalls, near the entrance of the garden, were allotted according to hierarchy. The queens, princesses, concubines and the wives of high-ranking ministers were favoured in the allotment. The rest of the area was grabbed by the most enterprising or the most vociferous of women. By virtue of being an important concubine, Bahar Begum, found herself a stall towards the centre of the garden, next to a fountain spraying cool water.

  She had decided to trade her precious collection of Dacca muslins, which were almost magical in texture. The lightness of the fabric was unimaginable; a 15-yard long and 1-yard broad piece of the muslin weighed only 900 grains. Amongst her collection was a purple turban, a full 30 yards in length, so exquisitely fine that it could scarcely be felt by the touch. There was also a length of the finest muslin which when laid wet on the grass, looked like drops of dew. Called Shabnam, it would make the most exotic turban, fit for royalty. She was keen to sell it to the emperor at an astronomical price.

  A heap of silver trinkets, some gold jewellery, a few embroidered cushion covers and coverlets were lined along with the albums of paintings. Zeenat, excited at the thought of a visit from the emperor, sat on her haunches arranging and rearranging the things on a colourful carpet. Her heart was beating excitedly as she peeped through her luxuriant lashes at her mistress.

  Clad in a powder-blue kameez studded with miniscule silver stars and embroidered with pearls, Bahar looked ethereal, her sparkling eyes mirroring the stars. The diaphanous blue veil with its delicate silver fringe could barely contain the excitement of her animated eyes.

  She looks like a fairy, thought Zeenat admiring her mistress. The emperor will have a difficult time with so many beautiful women vying for his attention.

  Unaware of the effect she was causing on the men, the girl ran around fetching refreshments for her employer. The blush of excitement on her cheeks and the radiance in her dancing brown eyes were powerful enough to draw several nobles to the stall. She looked fresh and innocent with her wide-open eyes.

  They swaggered boldly towards her, intending to make a pass but the cold, tawny eyes of Bahar doused their passion within minutes. Discouraged, they sauntered off towards more amenable women. As soon as they were out of sight both Bahar and Zeenat burst out laughing.

  ‘My dear girl, you are attracting too much attention,’ remarked Bahar flippantly. ‘I am having a tough time dissuading the men.’

  ‘No madam, it is the dazzle of your beauty that brings them here. Like a moth attracted to a flame, they flock here in the hope that you will favour them with a smile.’

  ‘As usual, your way with the words is intended to play on my heart.’

  The truth was that Zeenat looked ravishing in her unpretentious apparel. While most of the women were dressed in vibrant colours and wore exquisite jewellery, she was in a plain ivory coloured dress with just a pearl string around her neck. Her dark, luxuriant hair was tied up with strings of jasmine, the tiny buds standing out like stars in a dark sky.

  There was a commotion as the emperor entered the garden. Flanking him on the sides were the important ministers of the empire. There was an instant clamour for royal attention as women called out from their stalls. Smiling, the emperor walked towards the special stall set up by the empress, Nurjahan. She had displayed some of the most precious jade objects ever seen in the capital. The studded dagger hilts, scabbards, wine bowls and platters were exquisitely designed.

  As the emperor strode towards Nurjahan’s stall, angry women called out to him, ‘Is it not enough that you reserve all your time for the empress? It is on rare occasions that we get to serve you and even now you are making a beeline for Her Majesty.’

  Smiling good-humouredly, Jahangir, raised an eyebrow and dealt with the accusation, ‘Love makes a person do unwise things. Sorry, ladies, I didn’t realize I was being so obvious.’

  Amidst loud laughter and clapping of hands he retraced his path and sauntered towards the nearest stall run by the wife of an important minister.

  ‘I am honoured,’ she saluted. ‘The emperor has deigned to visit my stall. I hope it is good enough to lure Your Majesty away from the empress’s precious ware.’

  ‘The aged can’t wait,’ retorted the monarch drawing laughter from all quarters.

  The woman stung at being labelled old, struck back irately, ‘But we all know that the emperor enjoys old wine in a new bottle.’

  She hinted at the empress. For a moment everyone was stunned; the statement was an outrageous one. The emperor was taken aback. Tension crackled in the air as his face turned red. The woman, realizing she had overstepped her limit, bit her tongue and fear clouded her eyes. She held her breath and pleaded with her eyes. He controlled himself and the moment passed. Laughing, he turned to her, ‘Age also gives courage to some people. I guess Nauroz is a time to forgive most offences.’

  There was an audible sigh of relief. Wanting to dispel the strain, Jahangir said, ‘Well, well, now that you have had your say and I am here to buy your ware, let’s get down to business.’ He began inspecting an ornate brass hukkah inlaid with tiny stones.

  ‘How much are you asking for this?’

  ‘That will cost you two hundred rupaiya.’

  ‘What? Lady, this is daylight robbery. I will not pay a rupaiya more than a hundred,’ bargained Jahangir playful
ly.

  ‘Maybe you do not care to buy the item. By making me an offer of that kind you are clearly denying me the pleasure of selling it to you.’

  ‘Now, you have taken offence. Who says I am not interested in buying the piece? All I am doing is to beat down the price.’

  ‘In that case, Your Majesty will have to seek his bargain from the empress’s stall,’ retorted the woman. ‘She may offer you a better buy.’

  There was a loud titter from the women surrounding them. More than selling their ware, it was the banter that pleased them.

  After much haggling, the price was settled at hundred and fifty rupaiya and the smiling emperor moved on towards another stall.

  Nothing as exciting had happened in the life of Zafar Khan, till he received an invitation to attend the Meena Bazaar. His wife had been allotted a stall in the bazaar. A minor noble, he had won the emperor’s attention with his suave manners and skilful composition of impromptu verses. His wife, Ayesha, was selling illustrated volumes of his verses, which seemed much in demand from the younger nobles and princesses.

  As he strolled languidly towards the end of the garden, the beautiful woman in a nearby stall attracted his attention. Exquisite turbans lay scattered around her, on an expensive rug, brushing shoulders with fine ornaments and jewelled pins. Like a man hypnotized, he walked towards her and, kneeling before her, picked up a turban.

  ‘With eyes so lethal who needs weapons?’ he recited. ‘A mere look is enough to slay the toughest soul.’

  Surprised, Bahar looked at the young man before her. Their eyes met and for a long moment she forgot to blink. There was something magical about the moment as his gaze tore through all external appendages and grabbed her throbbing heart in a painful grip. Robbed of her composure, she blushed and evaded his gaze.

  ‘Who are you? A houri from jannat who has lost her way on this planet, or a vision that has been sent by Allah to rob men of their senses?’

  The words emerged unbidden, from the depth of his soul.

  ‘I am sure you are not selling your verses, sir. If they are for sale I would buy them,’ said Bahar, fighting to gain control over her senses.

  ‘For the moment, I am a buyer,’ murmured Zafar, his voice soft and caressing. ‘Will you sell your ware to me?’

  Bahar blushed deeply at his audacity. She busied herself in rearranging her turbans and addressed him through Zeenat.

  ‘Zeenat, will you please tell this gentleman that I am known for my vile temper and sharp tongue. I shall not be responsible for my actions or words, hereafter.’

  Her words had little effect on Zafar. He remained unfazed and continued to enjoy her discomfort.

  Bahar was bewildered. She had always found herself in control of most situations. This was the first time she felt herself at a loss of words. Her pretensions at anger didn’t fool him at all.

  ‘Please tell your mistress that I prefer women with a mind of their own. I am perfectly prepared for all her missiles and outbursts. Also tell her that she looks more fetching when she is annoyed.’

  Zeenat suppressed a smile as she relayed the messages back and forth, amused with their childish banter.

  ‘Now, if you will tell me the price of this turban, I shall be grateful,’ Zafar’s eyes were dancing with merriment.

  ‘That turban is for the emperor. You may have another, if you wish. But let me warn you, these are very expensive and I will not settle for anything less than two hundred rupaiya,’ Bahar challenged him.

  ‘Two hundred? That’s dacoity. I must complain.’

  ‘Everyone is free to lodge his complaint with the emperor. I am not forcing anyone to buy my turbans, anyway.’

  ‘My heart is set on the lovely fabric. Will you not reduce the price for me? Just a wee bit?’

  ‘Not at all. There is no such turban at any other stall. If the gentleman knows his fabrics, he will understand why it costs so much.’

  Unseen by the two, Zeenat had slipped away quietly, leaving the two to continue their repartee. Zafar made a move to pick up the turban. As he leaned forward, his fingers brushed Bahar’s hand lightly. A current seemed to pass through her body at his touch and she shivered involuntarily.

  For a moment she forgot she was the concubine of Jahangir. She also forgot that she was unapproachable by any man save the emperor. She forgot that she belonged to the royal harem where emotions like love and desire were the sole prerogative of the emperor. The concubines were mere puppets, to be used for his pleasure and discarded; incarcerated in luxurious cages.

  Zafar forgot that he was an insignificant noble whose only recommendation was the ability to compose beautiful verses. He forgot that he was married to Ayesha. He forgot everything except the beauty in Bahar’s eyes. All he wanted to remember was the look in them as she gazed into his eyes.

  ‘I want to meet you again,’ he whispered hoarsely.

  ‘I don’t think that will be wise.’

  Her heart hammered with excitement.

  ‘I have to meet you again,’ he reiterated.

  ‘I am a concubine. I am not allowed the liberty of meeting anyone. The harem is a dangerous place. Once a woman enters it as a concubine, she leaves it only when she is dead.’

  ‘Yet, there are romances and rendezvous within the harem. I know you can arrange it.’ His eyes pleaded.

  ‘What makes you sure that I want to meet you again?’ she teased.

  ‘I know you do. It is there in your eyes.’

  ‘Of what use is a meeting?’

  ‘I do not know that. I just know that I have to meet you again.’

  She sighed resignedly. ‘I will send you a message through my eunuch, Shaukat. And now, you must leave before people get suspicious.’

  They made a pretence of bargaining over a piece of jewellery, which he finally bought. Without a backward glance, Zafar left the stall and walked towards where Zeenat was standing.

  ‘Shukriya,’ he salaamed her.

  There was twinkle in her eyes as she sauntered back to her post at the stall.

  Bahar was leaning over her cash box counting the money she had made. Almost all her turbans and jewels had gone save for the one she had put aside for the emperor. But the emperor had been too busy buying things from the other stalls.

  ‘He is gorgeous,’ commented Zeenat, helping her put the coins together.

  ‘Who?’ the concubine feigned ignorance.

  ‘He is an attractive young man and I know you are also interested, Begum.’

  ‘But I am pledged to the emperor. I don’t have the liberty to dream. Besides, it is futile to dream of unattainable things.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible. We both know that there are many romances that go on in the harem.’

  ‘We also know what happens, ultimately, to the lovers. Haven’t you seen the gallows in the basement? No Zeenat, it is stupid to entertain foolish romantic notions when one is living in the harem.’

  ‘What is the purpose of living a life bereft of dreams and romance? Why should a concubine be destined to perish silently within these walls? If I find love, I’ll give my life for it,’ said the girl, a faraway look in her eyes.

  Zeenat refused to believe that her life had ended the day she was summoned to the harem for the emperor’s pleasure. A faint hope that someday she would find romance and fulfilment flickered in her bosom, unfazed by the realities that surrounded her.

  ‘He wants to meet me again.’

  ‘Aren’t you excited?’

  ‘Ah, the foolishness of youth!’ remarked Bahar, smiling at Zeenat. ‘You live in a world of dreams, dear girl. I hate to shatter those dreams but you must learn to face the truth. Life has very little to offer to the women incarcerated within the four walls of the harem.’

  ‘It is better to live with hope and enjoy whatever moments of happiness and love we can steal than to live a long and lonely life of denial.’

  ‘Unwise words spoken with youthful recklessness.’

  ‘But you will meet him
, won’t you?’

  There was excitement in Zeenat’s eyes as she looked at Bahar and they both smiled. ‘Yes, I will.’

  The evening passed slowly for the two of them as they sat through the entertainment programme arranged at the harem. While lithe dancers gyrated to ethereal music, Bahar’s mind hovered around the crazy moments spent with Zafar. A delicious shudder passed through her body as she recollected his touch.

  She glanced at Jahangir, who was seated beside his empress, his eyes glazed. He was nodding his head in tune with the rhythm while Nurjahan fed him with titbits from the ornate silver salver by their side.

  Nine

  Time flew for the lovers. Six months had passed since their first meeting at the Meena Bazaar. Love notes could no longer satisfy them, nor sate their passion for each other. The desire to meet each other took them through dangerous paths. Bahar cherished the stolen moments of their meetings like precious pearls. Her faithful eunuch had been resourceful enough to arrange a few meetings at various corners and gardens of the harem and outside. Sometimes they met at the dargah beyond the city walls, and sometimes in the public gardens. As the ardour of the lovers increased, so did their disregard for safety.

  One evening, Zafar flouted all caution and stole into the harem garden along with his bodyguard, Salamat Khan. The two of them had bribed some eunuchs to gain entry. Many of the eunuchs indulged in treacherous acts. They took bribes to allow daring lovers into the harem. At the same time they wouldn’t think twice before double-crossing the lover for a reward from the emperor.

  When Zeenat warned Zafar about such deceitful acts of the eunuchs, he refused to heed to her word of warning.

  ‘I am ready to die for Bahar,’ he said, recklessly. ‘I can’t live without her any longer.’

  ‘Your death will not serve any purpose.’ Zeenat chastised. ‘She will prefer you alive.’

  Clucking her tongue she left the two together, under the shadow of the thick bush at the back of the harem garden.