Escape from Harem

by Tanushree Podder

  ‘Don’t be so happy. We don’t know how they will treat us,’ warned Salamat.

  ‘I am sure the prince will be happy to give you a position in his army. You are a good soldier and he needs good soldiers to fight his wars against the imperial army.’

  He smiled at her confidence but his heart was full of trepidation. In difficult times, people were always looked upon with suspicion. Spies abounded in both the camps and so did assassins. He had nothing to prove his loyalty or credentials. It was just his word. Would the prince and his ministers believe his word?

  The guards at the palace were suspicious of all travellers and strangers. Leaving Zeenat at a sarai, he made his way towards the fort. It was impossible to gain entry into the fort without proper identification. He was stopped at the gate and interrogated by the guards.

  Salamat had to repeat his story many times to different officials before he could manage an audience with an important official.

  For a week the Pathan tried to gain entry into the fort. He used all means he could think of, including bribes and emotional appeal but he could barely manage audience with a few officials.

  ‘It is impossible to reach the court or the prince,’ exasperated, he told Zeenat after another futile attempt.

  ‘Why is the security so tight? Even the emperor is more accessible.’

  ‘I will just have to keep trying.’

  It was days before a kind-hearted commander agreed to take him to Sa’dullah Khan, the prince’s close friend and an important minister.

  ‘You seem to be a brave man,’ said the commander. ‘I can spot a warrior from far. If the minister agrees to take you in the army, you must repay me by joining my contingent.’

  When at last he faced Sa’dullah Khan, Salamat broke down.

  ‘Sir, I have travelled all the way from Agra through the forests and difficult terrain just to seek a job in the prince’s army. I have narrated my story at least thirty times in the past two weeks to various officials.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Sa’dullah Khan looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I do not know whether to believe your story or not.’

  ‘Give me a chance to prove my loyalty, I beg you, sir. There are ways to confirm what I say. Till then, you could keep me imprisoned, if you wish.’

  The desperation in the Pathan’s eyes evoked pity in Sa’dullah. The man seems genuine, he thought. But he could not take a chance.

  ‘Well, I will have to check if what you are saying is true. Till then you will not be allowed to enter the palace or the fort. Once I am convinced, I will give you a job in the army,’ he promised. ‘But if there is even a little doubt, I will have your head for the audacity of seeking the prince’s refuge.’

  Salamat bowed low and thanked the minister profusely. He knew it would not take too long for Sa’dullah to get to the true story. The spies of Shahjahan were scattered all over the capital; there were many nobles who secretly sided with the prince against the emperor.

  ‘Oh, once again we will have to live under tension,’ Zeenat complained, disappointed at the delay.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I am a strong man. I will find some job for the time being. We can take a house on rent till the minister verifies my story and sends for me.’

  After a couple of rounds of the local bazaar, Salamat managed to find a job as a blacksmith’s assistant and by evening he had also located a small house for the two of them.

  For Zeenat, it was a strange feeling to be sharing a room with the Pathan. As long as they were travelling it was different, but now, living in the house, so closely, seemed quite odd to the two of them. There was a strange intimacy in the little everyday chores they shared. The very act of setting up a kitchen required them to shop around for some clay pots, a chulha, and some essential vessels. They made trips to the shops for things like sheets, dhurries and clothes, like most married couples.

  Zeenat cooked, cleaned, and looked after the house while he fetched milk, vegetables, meat and groceries. It felt nice to live a normal life after such a long time. The novelty of managing a house thrilled her; it was almost like being married.

  For Salamat Khan it was a unique experience. Several times it crossed his mind that he could ask her to be his wife but the thought that she might take offence stopped him from doing so. What if I ask her for marriage and she refuses, he debated. It would be awkward for both of us to live in the same house after that. At the same time, how long can we live in this manner? Once I get a job in the army, it could become more awkward if my colleagues were to ask me about her.

  One day, he finally managed to gather enough courage to ask Zeenat to marry him. They had just finished a dinner of biryani and fried potatoes and she was clearing up the place.

  ‘You cook very well. The biryani was delicious,’ he began clumsily. ‘It has been a long time since I ate anything as good.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘My mother always insisted that I learn to cook. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Zeenat,” she would say.’

  ‘And did you make your way into any man’s heart?’ he asked hesitatingly. The words were out of his mouth before he realized. It was too late to retract them and he wondered if she would take offence at his boldness.

  For a moment she stared at him, taken aback at the brashness of his words. They were so unlike him. He was a reticent man. Then she laughed out loud, dispelling his unease.

  ‘No, I never got an opportunity to try doing that. Before I had a chance, my life had changed forever,’ she paused thoughtfully and studied her grimy hands.

  Salamat thought she was referring to her mother’s untimely death. He knew that the memory of her loss was still fresh in her mind.

  ‘Let us not rake up the past,’ he mumbled, his voice gruff with emotions. ‘I am sorry I raised the matter.’

  ‘It is all right. I don’t care any more.’ A few drops of tears had rolled down her cheek before she could check them. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  His heart broke at the sight of the tears on her cheeks. Salamat cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Have you never given a thought to marriage?’

  ‘You must be joking. How can a woman like me harbour happy dreams?’

  He didn’t understand.

  ‘Why? What is wrong with nurturing dreams like any normal woman? Don’t you feel like having a home of your own – a place that will resound with the laughter of happy children and a husband who would shower his love on you? Have you never, ever dreamt of these things?’

  The words burst out of him and he looked relieved. For days he had been rehearsing them in private.

  Zeenat looked stunned. She couldn’t believe him. ‘How does it matter?’ she mumbled.

  ‘It does. It does, Zeenat.’

  ‘Once, long ago I dreamt of a handsome man who would marry me. I dreamt that I would dance every night for him and we would live happily in a world of our own.’ Her eyes had a faraway look in them as she gazed across the small room.

  ‘And then…?’ Salamat asked softly.

  ‘And then a king robbed away my dreams. He was powerful and I was poor. I don’t want to remember those things; they trouble me.’

  ‘I can return those dreams to you once again. Will you let me do so?’

  Salamat Khan shuffled his feet uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He waited for her to say something with bated breath.

  ‘I have nothing to give you in return,’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t want anything.’

  ‘I am a bruised body and a torn soul. You deserve someone better.’

  ‘What if I told you that I want only you?’

  ‘Why?’ the anguish in her voice moved him.

  ‘Because I love you and I care for you,’ his voice was unusually soft. ‘I have spent a long time thinking about it. It hasn’t been very easy to say this but it is true.’

  She looked at his eyes and was surprised to see the intensity of emotions in them. ‘Allow me to take care of
you, Zeenat.’

  All of a sudden her mood changed. She smiled coquettishly and asked, ‘If I agree to marry you, will you stop drinking?’

  He clasped her hands and said, ‘I will do anything you say.’

  ‘Then it is a deal,’ she replied flippantly.

  There was happiness in her eyes as she gazed at him, ‘You know, I had been wondering if you would ever ask me to be your wife.’

  ‘Really?’ he was surprised.

  ‘It is not normal for a man and woman to stay together and not be married, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘Good things always come in pairs. I am sure Sa’dullah Khan will summon me tomorrow.’

  Convinced that the day would bring good news, Salamat Khan left the house early in the morning and made his way towards the fort. True to his prediction, good news was waiting for him. Sa’dullah Khan’s spies had confirmed that he was a brave and loyal soldier who had worked for Zafar Khan. They also confirmed Salamat’s story about the escape and the murder of Bahar and Zafar at Sheikh Chisti’s dargah.

  ‘You are a lucky man to have escaped the imperial soldiers,’ said the minister as the Pathan saluted him. ‘It is not often that anyone can reach here after escaping the emperor’s soldiers.’

  ‘I know, sir. It is Allah’s blessings that worked for me,’ Salamat replied respectfully.

  ‘I have heard that there is a woman with you; a woman from the emperor’s harem.’

  ‘Yes sir, the lady was an attendant of Bahar Begum. She was accompanying her when we were attacked. I knew that the soldiers would not have spared her life if she was arrested, so I brought her here with me.’

  ‘Do you know it is a grievous offence to elope with a woman from the emperor’s harem and it is punishable by death in the cruellest manner?’

  ‘Yes sir, I am aware of that.’

  ‘Then, what makes you think that the prince will condone your offence?’

  For a moment Salamat Khan looked confused. Then he replied, ‘The only reason the prince may pardon me for the offence is because he needs good and loyal soldiers, and I am both. Besides, if he heard the lady’s story, he would not find it in his heart to refuse her shelter.’

  ‘I have had a word with the prince. He is willing to give you an audience. You can beg for his pardon in person. But if he is unwilling to harbour the woman, she will be sent back to the capital to face punishment for her offences,’ warned Sa’dullah Khan.

  He led Salamat Khan to the Diwan-i-Khas where the prince was listening to an imperial farman brought by his messenger. It was from his father, Emperor Jahangir. There was trouble in Qandahar and there was a possibility of the prince being sent there to lead a campaign.

  A look of annoyance crossed Shahjahan’s face as the missive was read out to him. He had no desire to travel to the frontiers once again. There was serious consultation between the ministers after the messenger departed.

  Spotting Sa’dullah Khan near the entrance of the hall, the prince beckoned him. ‘And who is the young man with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Your Majesty, this is the soldier I spoke to you about. His name is Salamat Khan.’

  Shahjahan studied the Pathan thoughtfully.

  ‘I have been told that you journeyed through the deep jungles, evading the emperor’s soldiers for many days. It must have been a tough trip.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness, it was a difficult journey.’

  ‘You must be a brave man to take such enormous risks. I have also heard about the tragedy of your master and Bahar Begum. Were you a party to the escape plans of Zafar Khan?’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness, my master intended seeking shelter at your feet. Unfortunately, the imperial soldiers succeeded in murdering him before his plans could materialize.’

  There was a lump in Salamat Khan’s throat as he thought of Zafar Khan. The emotion did not go unnoticed by the prince.

  ‘We are pleased to know that you are a loyal and brave soldier. You risked your life for your master.’

  ‘Your Highness is very kind with his words.’

  ‘In my army loyalty is appreciated as much as bravery.’

  ‘May Allah grant you a long life and may you ascend on the Mughal throne,’ said Salamat Khan touched with the prince’s words. ‘May I have the good fortune to lay my life at your feet.’

  His words brought a smile on Shahjahan’s lips. ‘Are you a poet too?’

  ‘No, your majesty, I am just a humble soldier but my master, Zafar Khan, was a poet. Maybe a little bit of poetry rubbed off on me.’

  Shahjahan tried to suppress a smile at Salamat’s words.

  ‘But you have committed a serious offence by bringing along a woman from the emperor’s harem. It is something that we will have to consider before we agree to grant asylum to the two of you.’

  ‘Reham, Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness. I implore you to listen to her story before taking any decision,’ the Pathan begged, falling at the prince’s feet.

  ‘Go and tell the woman to appeal to Arjumand Begum. If the Begum takes pity on her, we may exonerate her.’

  Salamat Khan was deep in thought as he made his way back to the house. He had heard Arjumand Begum was a kind-hearted lady. The ball was now in her court. If Zeenat’s story moved the Begum, they would get clemency. He shuddered at the thought of the outcome if Zeenat’s appeal was rejected.

  Fifteen

  Her heart beating fearfully, the next morning Zeenat made her way to Shahjahan’s harem. ‘I have heard that Arjumand Begum is a kind-hearted woman. Just tell her the truth and I am sure she will be moved,’ Salamat instructed as he left her near the gate. But she was not sure. She had never met the princess before.

  Compared to the massive harem of Jahangir, this one was unpretentious and not so huge. However, the modest palace was done up beautifully. The prince was reputed to be a skilled architect. The fluted columns, the smooth marble floor and the ornate cornices, the walls embellished with motifs and embedded stones, were a novelty in the city where most buildings were made of red stone favoured by the Mughal. Everything looked gorgeous to the nervous girl. There was a peaceful ambience all around.

  Some of her nervousness dissipated. ‘I will be happy here,’ she mumbled, more to reassure herself.

  Even the eunuch, who allowed her in, seemed to smile, unlike the ones guarding Jahangir’s harem. Arjumand’s household appeared to run on well-oiled wheels. Zeenat could not discern any discordant notes around her.

  The subdued décor of Arjumand’s apartment impressed her. Unlike the extravagant glitter of the emperor’s harem, this one was modestly decorated. The muted colours of the draperies, the absence of the clutter that was normally visible in palaces, reflected the personality of the woman.

  Arjumand was seated near a window, embroidering a piece of silk with colourful threads. She smiled as Zeenat bowed low before her. The girl was surprised at the lack of the usual crowd of serving women near the princess. Most women considered it a matter of status to surround themselves with at least half a dozen women, at all times. Near her, seated on the floor with a heap of coloured silk skeins, was a serene looking dignified woman. Zeenat later learnt that she was Satiunnisa Khanum, a highly cultured and noble lady who was Arjumand’s constant companion.

  ‘Do you like it here?’ the voice was soft and gentle. Some of Zeenat’s nervousness melted instantly.

  ‘It is beautiful,’ replied Zeenat, ‘so peaceful and quiet.’

  ‘I prefer peace, too. Come and tell me all about yourself.’

  ‘I have come to beg you for mercy,’ Zeenat appealed. Her large eyes were clouded with uncertainty. ‘There is not much to narrate but I will do my best,’ she promised.

  ‘There is always a story behind every life,’ there was a dreamy look in the emerald green eyes as Arjumand looked out of the window at the beautiful garden across the courtyard.

  It didn’t take much time for Zeenat to narrate her entire story. Breathless with emotion and anticipation, she rushed t
hrough the happenings. Her eyes were observing the changing expressions on the princess’s face.

  ‘Your Highness, I place our lives in your hands. Punish me if you desire but please spare Salamat Khan’s life. He is an innocent victim of circumstances.’ The girl cried falling at Arjumand’s feet.

  ‘Rise, you fool, I am not about to inflict any punishment on you. It is only the Almighty who has the right to punish human beings. We are mere puppets in his hands. The tragic events that you have suffered are punishment enough.’

  Tears streaming freely, Zeenat continued to bend low on Arjumand’s feet. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. May Allah give you all the happiness of this world!’ She sobbed, ‘Kindly allow me to serve you till I die. I promise to serve you with all sincerity.’

  ‘Don’t rush me, girl. Is it not enough that I have decided to grant asylum to you and your lover? Go and set his mind to rest. He must be dying with worry.’

  ‘Thank you Your Highness, I shall tell him about your munificence,’ said Zeenat, bowing herself out. There was a glow of happiness on her face. With a sigh Arjumand watched the girl leave.

  ‘She is very beautiful,’ commented Satiunnisa, who had heard the entire conversation.

  ‘I thought so too. The poor girl has suffered a lot.’

  ‘Life is not always fair.’

  ‘Sati, tell the fool to come back to me after two days,’ instructed Arjumand. ‘I may offer her a job.’

  Outside the fort, Salamat Khan was pacing anxiously. Zeenat rushed out towards him, her dress flapping around her. ‘She has agreed,’ she cried. ‘She has asked me to come back after two days. I am sure she will give me a job too.’

  That night, Arjumand spoke about Zeenat to Khurram. They had just finished making love and the two of them lay satiated in each other’s arms. A fine line of perspiration glowed on Arjumand’s brows. Khurram lovingly wiped it away with the back of his hand. ‘Your beauty distracts me from my work, Begum. No one has the right to be so beautiful.’ His voice hoarse with longing, the prince caressed her lissom body.