Escape from Harem

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Escape from Harem Page 18

by Tanushree Podder


  Once there, the emperor seemed to recover. His spirit revived at the sight of the tall cypress trees, well laid out gardens, lofty snow-clad mountains and the myriad cornucopia of colourful flowers. The frothy canals, placid lakes and the saffron fields, dotted with apple and cherry blossoms, brought out a healthy glow on him once more.

  While the emperor recovered, in the capital, the factions of nobles were quarrelling openly, with no thought to administration. Everything seemed to be in a state of flux, requiring just a trigger to explode. Rumours that Jahangir might not recover began to circulate around Agra. When the news reached the emperor, he was furious.

  He summoned the nobles and announced, ‘Send letters of my recovery to the ministers at Agra. They should not be in any doubt that I continue to be the emperor.’

  As the days turned into weeks the emperor regained his health. The cheer was back on his face. The long walks around the meadows and the communion with nature brought back the sparkle in his eyes. Nurjahan was relieved.

  ‘Let us get back to Lahore,’ the emperor announced one day. ‘I am in much better health. I have neglected the affairs of the empire too long. I am aware that you have been doing a wonderful job, but I need to get back at the helm. Things are not well with the country.’

  ‘That is a brilliant idea,’ she said, happy that he had recovered enough to think of the empire. ‘I will send word for the Lahore palaces to be prepared for our arrival.’

  News spread like wildfire that the emperor had recovered from his illness. The courts would assemble and the state would rejoice once more. Prayers were offered at the mosques around the country in thanksgiving to the almighty; there was rejoicing throughout the empire.

  Winter was setting in and the flowers were in full bloom; the fruit trees were laden with their delicious jewels and the forests were ringing with the chirping of the birds. The emperor sighed at the thought of leaving his much-loved Kashmir.

  He made up his mind that at Lahore, he would name his successor and surrender the obligation of the empire on his worthy son, relieving himself of the burden forever.

  ‘It is necessary for me to appoint an heir,’ he confessed. ‘If I were to die without doing so, there will be bloodshed.’

  Nurjahan maintained a discreet silence. There was time enough to influence the decision. For the moment it would be wiser to remain silent.

  Progress was slow. The rocky terrain, Jahangir’s health concerns and the dipping temperature slowed down the pace. To prevent overstraining her husband, Nurjahan was insistent that they would journey for a fixed number of hours each day.

  One night they encamped at a village near Bhimbar. In the morning, the emperor woke up in an excited mood. The forest of Bhimbar had always been Jahangir’s favourite hunting ground.

  ‘Let us go for a hunt,’ he suggested, much to the horror of his physicians who were of the opinion that the emperor had not fully recovered.

  ‘I do not think that would be a wise idea,’ said Nurjahan. ‘We have a long way to go before we reach Lahore.’

  ‘Why are you all insisting on treating me like an invalid?’ he raged. ‘I am absolutely fine.’

  Moments later, his anger dissipated. In a mellow tone, he continued, ‘It has been such a long time since I hunted, Begum. You will enjoy yourself, I promise. The forests here are filled with exciting prospects.’

  ‘Well, I have no desire to hunt,’ she stated petulantly.

  For the first time in many years the emperor did not mind her reluctance to accompany him.

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You must be tired. I have caused you enough anxiety. Don’t worry, I will return soon.’

  Despite severe opposition by the royal physicians and other nobles, Jahangir was adamant. It was a perfect day for a hunt and he felt himself glowing with health. Besides, he was just fifty-eight, not old enough to live the life of an invalid, he declared.

  Nurjahan’s appeals fell on deaf ears as Jahangir rode off on his white stallion accompanied by a few of his nobles. Nurjahan watched the receding figures in a cloud of dust till the thunder of hoofs dissolved in silence, once more. Her heart was heavy with foreboding.

  Jahangir was ecstatic; happy at the thought of an exciting hunt as he rode into the forest. The startled wild rabbits skipped away in fear as the riders approached. The hunters rushed up a forested incline of the looming hill. All of a sudden the emperor’s attendant lost his control over the horse and plunged into a chasm, his frightened screams renting the stillness of the forest. Moments later the emperor’s stallion bucked and let out a terrified whinny as it tottered at the edge of a gaping gorge, which had appeared unexpectedly in their path. Jahangir struggled with the reins and brought the horse to a halt. The shock of the near-death experience shook up the emperor and he felt faint.

  The hunters returned to the camp in dejection. Jahangir had taken ill once again. The horror of seeing himself poised on the precipice of death had shaken him tremendously.

  ‘I saw death staring at me, Begum,’ he whispered to Nurjahan. ‘I felt its talons reaching out for me.’

  Through the night the empress nursed her delirious husband. The emperor rambled, calling out for his sons, Khusrau and Khurram, alternately. Nurjahan kept vigil by his side, wiping his forehead with rose-essence-soaked napkins. He clutched at her hand, grasping it in desperation. ‘I don’t want to die, Nur. I have so much to live for.’ He mumbled in his feverish state. ‘Wine, wine,’ he gasped. ‘My throat is parched. Bring me some wine.’

  But when she placed the cup near his lips, he was unable to swallow the liquid. It fell in frothy streaks from the side of his mouth, staining his qaba. Frustrated, he closed his eyes gasping for breath.

  Sitting beside him, Nurjahan read verses from the Koran, her voice trembling with emotion. Jahangir seemed to relax as he heard her recitation; his thrashing head reposed on the cushion for a while.

  By midnight, Jahangir could not hear her nor sense her presence. Alarmed at the silence, she called out his name repeatedly. He was in a coma and she knew the end was near. Badshah Nuruddin Muhammad Salim Jahangir died in her arms in the early hours of the following day, in the twenty-second year of his reign.

  Even before the emperor’s body had become cold, the fight for the crown had begun. Asaf Khan sent his swiftest runner to Shahjahan with the news that Jahangir had died. He also sent his signet ring, as a guarantee of loyalty. While the arrangements were being made for the emperor’s burial, Asaf Khan managed to extricate Shahjahan’s sons from Nurjahan’s clutches.

  A devastating storm shook the empire as news of the emperor’s death swept through it. The war between the claimants of the throne gathered momentum.

  At Lahore, Shahryar declared himself the emperor of the Mughal Empire and seized the treasury. Within a week, he distributed seventy lakh rupees among the soldiers and nobility in order to gain their support. With the rest of the money, he managed to cobble up an army of fifteen thousand soldiers.

  Meanwhile, Asaf Khan declared Khusrau’s son, Dawar Baksh, as the next emperor. It was a ploy to gain more time till Shahjahan reached Agra. The crafty minister surmised that Dawar Baksh, after his crowning as the emperor, would proceed to Lahore to challenge Shahryar. True to his expectations, Dawar Baksh marched towards Lahore to confront Nashudani. In the meanwhile, Shahjahan rushed towards Agra with a remarkable swiftness.

  At the moment, Hindustan had three self-declared emperors, Shahjahan at Deccan, Dawar Baksh at Kashmir, and Shahryar at Lahore. The parched earth waited impatiently for the bloodshed that was inevitable.

  Twenty-six

  Coronation, 4 February 1628, Agra

  Isa rushed in unannounced. Shahjahan had just finished his afternoon prayer.

  ‘A runner has arrived from Kashmir with bad tidings,’ panted the eunuch.

  Suspecting to be a missive from the emperor, Shahjahan asked, ‘Who has sent?’

  ‘Asaf Khan.’

  Anxiety lined the prince’s face as
he paced impatiently.

  The messenger was brought in Shahjahan’s presence. Dishevelled and exhausted, the man was a bearer of the much-awaited news. Jahangir had died. He showed the prince the signet ring given by Asaf Khan as a surety of his allegiance. As usual, Asaf Khan had taken the right steps to help the estranged prince.

  ‘We have to march to Agra without losing any time,’ announced Shahjahan, walking into the harem. Seated across the dastarkhwan, Arjumand nodded her head silently.

  Time was running out. They would have to hurry. At Lahore, Shahryar had declared himself the emperor. Backed by Nurjahan, he had garnered the support of several nobles.

  In the meantime, the wily Asaf Khan had removed the two sons of Shahjahan from Nurjahan’s custody and handed them over to a trusted aide. Shahjahan’s path was clear. Once again the prince and his followers hit the road. This time they raced towards Agra. His march to the capital was akin to a victory procession. The crown was his for the asking. On the way, he received news of Shahryar’s defeat at Lahore. Asaf Khan, along with Dawar Baksh, had taken over the Lahore Fort and imprisoned Nashudani.

  Once again the brutal side of Shahjahan came to the fore as he despatched a messenger to Asaf Khan, commanding him to carry out the blinding of Shahryar. He also hinted that the other princes, Dawar Baksh, Hoshang and Tahmurs, should be despatched to their heavenly abode. The obedient father-in-law, who was keen to make the right impression on the new emperor, carried out the death sentences. The last of Shahjahan’s rivals, Shahryar, was executed at Lahore. The path to the throne had been cleared of all contenders. It was also paved with the blood of his brothers and nephews.

  The journey from Deccan to Agra was a celebratory one. Cheering crowds jostling for a glimpse of the new emperor, lined the streets and the countryside. Traders, commanders, and nobles – everyone wanted to curry favour with Shahjahan. They came laden with their gifts and promises of undying loyalty to their sovereign. There was elation and festivity all along the way.

  Even Zeenat felt like royalty with all the gaiety around her. It seemed like the end of their troubles and nomadic existence. She was happy they were going back to Agra after so many years. It seemed like a lifetime.

  ‘At last, we will be able to find some peace,’ Arjumand sighed.

  ‘Will we live in a palace?’ asked her youngest daughter.

  ‘Yes, darling, we will live in a huge palace.’

  ‘And will there be lots of silk dresses and biryani?’

  They laughed at her queries. Everyone had almost forgotten what it was to live a life of comfort, with expensive dresses and good food assured every day.

  Enroute they halted near the banks of Mandel Lake to celebrate the solar weighing ceremony of the emperor. Seven times Shahjahan was weighed against expensive jewels, gold, silver, jade, coral, copper, iron, silks, saffron, rice, salt, and lentils, by turn. These were then given away as alms to the poor and destitute.

  A week later, they reached the banks of the Anasagar Lake on the outskirts of Ajmer, where they set up camp while Shahjahan journeyed on foot to pray at the dargah of Moinuddin Chisti, the patron saint of the Mughals. It was a solemn moment as the new emperor bowed his head in thanksgiving before the saint’s tomb and spread out an expensively embellished silk chadar over it. The emperor then ordered the building of a marble mosque in fulfilment of a vow he had taken during the Mewar campaign.

  That evening they spent time by the famous lake, remembering the happy days when they had all come with Jahangir, enjoying the festivities of their victory over the Mewar Rana. It seemed so long back.

  Two days later, they were on their last lap of the journey. Agra was just a day’s journey away. Excitement reached a feverish pitch amongst the women and the children as the destination neared, but the royal astrologer announced that the stars were not favourable for Shahjahan’s coronation, at the moment. He would have to wait for the opportune moment that was to occur later. For seven days the entourage camped at Dehra Bagh near the capital, waiting for the conjunction of the favourable stars.

  On the appointed day, the emperor entered Agra in a grand imperial procession. At the head of the parade was the band playing kettledrums, tambourines, drums, trumpets, and pipes. The band was followed by a long file of mammoth elephants, richly caparisoned in gold and silver, covered with embroidered velvet, and cloth of gold set with flashing gems, with golden bells and silver chains dangling around their bodies.

  Each one carried on its back an imperial standard. Behind them came a troop of choice horses of Persian and Arab breeds, their saddles decorated with gold and their bridles set with jewels. The horses were trailed by marching columns of soldiers carrying flashing swords. After them came the loftiest elephant with a golden throne strapped on its back, carrying Shahjahan. At regular intervals, gold and silver coins were thrown at the waiting crowds who cheered their new monarch heartily.

  The procession wound its way through the roads lined with the residents of the city who were showering flowers and petals on the soldiers.

  At last the procession reached the fort and the emperor stepped down. The Diwan-i-Aam had been decorated lavishly to receive the monarch of the richest empire in Asia.

  The ceiling and the forty pillars of the Hall of Public Audience were draped in gold embroidered velvet, cloth of gold and silver brought from Persia, and the famous flowered brocades of Gujarat. Enamelled balls set with jewels were hung from the arches, on chains of gold. In the middle of the hall, a space was fenced with a golden railing. Inside this sat a dazzling golden throne embellished with diamonds and gems. A beautiful brocade canopy covered the throne. On either side of the throne stood two jewelled umbrellas with tassels of pearls hanging from them. The courtyard in front of the hall was covered with awnings of embroidered velvet borne aloft silver poles. The ground was covered with the most exotic Persian and Kashmiri carpets of various hues and patterns.

  The onlookers held their breath in amazement at the dazzle around them. The hall was adorned with tapestry of embroidered velvet, European screens and gold tissue from Turkey and China.

  The entire court anxiously waited for the astrologer to declare the auspicious moment while the astrologers watched their sand hour-glasses keenly. At last they gave their signal. The auspicious moment had arrived. The emperor who was waiting behind a screen entered the hall and mounted the throne amidst rapturous exclamations of the courtiers.

  Abul Muzaffar Shihab Al-Din Muhammad, Sahib-i-qiran-i-Sani, Shah Jahan Padshah Ghazi stepped on the coveted throne on a winter morning at Agra. He was thirty-six and had to step over the bodies of many brothers to reach it. Shahjahan became the fifth Great Mughal to rule over the vast country. At once there was a loud burst of joyous notes from the imperial band and the nautch girls began to dance. People hugged each other in joy and congratulatory praises filled the air.

  All noise ceased as the court announcer mounted a rostrum and read the khutba public proclamation of the emperor’s name and titles, prefaced with the praise of God and the Prophet, followed by the names of the emperor’s ancestor who had earlier occupied the throne. With each name he read, the emperor bestowed a robe of honour on the announcer. Then came the part where he announced the lofty titles of the emperor. For these he was rewarded with gold and silver.

  Huge platters full of gold and silver coins, pearls and jewels were showered on courtiers present at the ceremony. They bowed low and shouted ecstatically, ‘Long Live the Emperor’. In return the emperor rewarded them with robes of honour.

  From behind the marble screen, Arjumand and her ladies watched the entire coronation, their smiles as bright as the jewels they wore. It was a day they would remember all their lives.

  Arjumand beamed proudly as the women felicitated her. They had sacrificed many years for this moment.

  For Zeenat it was an overwhelming experience. She had never been important enough to sit near royalty in the court. Awed, she watched the mighty generals, grand royals, pompous em
irs and umrahs and the commoners crowding the enormous hall. Shahjahan had not forgotten the royal nobles and soldiers. Those who were with him during his days of turmoil and hardship were rewarded with lofty titles and jagirs.

  Gifts and riches poured in from the rajas and nobles as each of them approached the new emperor with offerings. The emperor in turn gifted them with a promotion, jewels, and robes of honour or estate, according to their merit. Poets composed verses with the numerical value of the letters, which when added together would express the date of the accession. The most beautiful of the chronograms were chosen and the poets rewarded generously. The chronogram would be handed down to posterity as a mark in the history of the Mughal Empire.

  It was noon by the time the constant stream of nobles had been granted audience.

  The same day, coins were struck in Shahjahan’s name to establish his supremacy in all matters.

  Formal letters were sent to the minor rulers of various provinces to announce the accession.

  Clad in a striking robe embellished with precious stones and pearls, he appeared at the jharoka to show himself to the vast multitude of people gathered on the banks of Yamuna, who had been arriving in a steady stream through the early hours of morning, braving the freezing weather. A wave of greetings went up in the air as the crowd hailed their new sovereign.

  And then the emperor made his way to the harem. The women scattered rose petals on his path and showered gold and silver coins on him. The most exquisite tapestries had been brought out and hung on the walls; bright Kashmiri carpets covered the marble floors. There were fresh flowers in the jade and porcelain vases that lined the courtyard. Silver incense containers were placed in the empress’s chamber, and the ladies lounged against bright silk cushions embellished with pearls and sequins.

  Touched with their warm welcome, Shahjahan honoured the women with titles and gifts.

 

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