Nurjahan's Daughter (15 page)

From her corner Meherunnisa watched the emperor. As if sensing her eyes on him the emperor turned and their eyes met across the teeming stalls and held for what seemed to be an eternity. She felt herself redden as she held his gaze in a steady manner, not blinking for a moment till another woman claimed his attention. Meherunnisa waited for Jahangir to walk up to her, but he studiously avoided looking in her direction again. Talking in low tones with his queen, Jagat Gosain, who was walking by his side, the emperor turned towards another stall at the end of the garden.

Prince Khurram was loitering around aimlessly, surrounded by his friends, when his eyes alighted on the green-eyed Arjumand, dressed in a golden yellow qaba and ochre churidar. Arjumand exuded an inner beauty that dazzled everyone, and the young prince was no exception. He got rid of his companions and made his way towards her.

Laadli had gone to fetch some refreshments for Arjumand. When she returned, she was surprised to see Prince Khurram dawdling at their stall. He seemed to be hesitating between a gold trinket and a painting made by Laadli. Arjumand stood tongue-tied before him, unable to quote the cost of the articles.

‘Salaam Alekum Shehzada Khurram. Does that painting interest you?’ Laadli asked, diverting his attention from Arjumand’s face.

‘Alekum Salaam Laadli. How much are you asking for it?’

‘It will cost you fifty gold mohurs.’

‘You are a heartless shopkeeper. Such a high price for so little a thing!’ laughed Khurram. ‘I daresay no one will pay you more than ten mohurs for that.’

‘This price is only for Prince Khurram. Others will not be able to afford my paintings,’ quipped Laadli.

‘I’ll take it,’ he said, placing a purse full of gold coins on the counter. Then be turned to address Arjumand. ‘What have you to offer, beautiful damsel?’ Stammering with embarrassment, she appealed to Laadli for help. But Laadli refused to come to her aid. She was enjoying her cousin’s discomfiture.

Blushing furiously, Arjumand pointed to an enamelled wine goblet. ‘That will suit your highness. And it costs just twenty gold mohurs.’

‘Is that all? I will pay fifty mohurs for it. If Laadli can command fifty for her painting, you deserve nothing less.’

Watching the two, and sensing the strong attraction flowing between them, a sudden stab of jealousy struck Laadli’s heart. She quickly packed the purchases to hurry him away from the stall, but the prince hung around, looking for more objects to buy. His eyes constantly sought Arjumand’s, but she refused to meet his gaze. With growing alarm, Laadli realised that the prince was truly enamoured by her cousin. Her only true friend had succumbed to another’s charms.

After that day, the prince sought Laadli only as a messenger to convey his love notes to her cousin. He also borrowed her pigeon, Minna, to carry his missives of love to Arjumand. Laadli complied with his wishes because he was dear to her. She painstakingly gathered the crumbs of his affection, aware that she would never get more than that. His heart would belong to just one woman, and that was Arjumand.

M
eherunnisa waited patiently for the communiqué from Jahangir. Although he had avoided meeting her at the Meena Bazaar, she was sure that he would send word to her through someone. She was right. A couple of weeks later, Ruqayya Begum broached the subject.

‘How long can a widow mourn her departed husband? Meherunnisa, I feel pained at your lonely existence. Can you imagine living your entire life in this manner? You have a daughter to support, too.’

‘With all due deference to your views, Begum Sahiba, I think I can support myself. As for Laadli, I will do my best to provide a decent life and a worthwhile dowry for her when she grows up.’

‘It is not just the matter of financial security. What about your life?’

‘I am fortunate to have your concern and affection. But there must be hundreds and thousands of unfortunate widows like me in the Mughal Empire, who do not have either a decent shelter nor the comforts that I enjoy, yet they continue to live their life.’

‘But they do not have the emperor at their feet. Meherunnisa, my son adores you. He would like to make you the queen of his heart.’

‘Your Majesty, I am flattered to hear that. A poor widow with a child can hardly be worthy of his attention. I still mourn for my slain husband and cannot dream of giving myself to another man.’

Meherunnisa was raising the ante. Succumbing to the emperor without any assurances from his side would put her in the same position as that of an ordinary harem woman. At most, she would be regarded as a concubine. But Meherunnisa dreamed of being the Empress of the Mughal Empire. Nothing less would do. She had waited for many years for her dreams to materialise, and she was in no hurry to ruin them by walking into the emperor’s bedchamber. She would bide her time till his desire for her overcame him enough, to make her his empress. Queen Jagat Gossain was the Shah Begum, and nothing could change that, but Meherunnisa could still become an empress.

In his chambers, Jahangir paced the floor, irritated with Meherunnisa’s obstinacy.
I will not be spurned; she has to yield,
he decided. He was emperor, and could command any number of women to subjugation; he was not going to beg Meherunnisa. Yet, he faltered. She was special. She held his heart. The emperor sought solace in the arms of other women, but Meherunnisa’s face refused to leave his mind.

‘What can a man do if a woman denies him her heart?’ he asked Mohammad Sharief, his trusted minister and stepbrother.

‘If it is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman, he can force the Qazi to perform a nikah, but the emperor is no ordinary man and she is not an ordinary woman. I have no solution to your dilemma, Your Majesty.’

‘That woman has the nerve to snub me! What a paradox: I am revered by entire Hindustan, hundreds and thousands of beauteous women want to share my bed, but I am obsessed with one woman who won’t respond to my love. If I just wanted to possess her physically, I could have brought her to my bed, but I desire more. I feel tongue-tied in her presence! Isn’t that ridiculous?’

‘You could offer to make her your concubine,’ suggested Sharief, after a short pause.

‘You think I haven’t done that already? I have sent several missives proposing a place for her in the harem, but she has rejected them all. Her spirit amazes me.’ The emperor’s looked balefully at his stepbrother. ‘Sharief, I want that woman at any cost.’

‘At the cost of offering her marriage?’ asked Sharief.

‘Yes, if that is what she wants.’

‘Mughal emperors have always married for political or economic gains. Right from Shahenshah Akbar’s times, the policy has been very clear. In Meherunnisa’s case, it is neither a politically beneficial union, nor is she from a royal family.’

‘She may not be royalty, but she belongs to a reasonably good family. Her father belongs to a noble family from Persia. And he is one of the most intelligent and able ministers of the empire. Her brother, Asaf, is an important emir. Do you know that he has studied Sanskrit and Hindu scriptures in great detail? As for her younger brother, Ibrahim Khan “fatehjung”, he is one of the ablest generals in the empire.’

‘That may be so. But do not forget the fact that Mirza Ghias Baig was under a cloud of suspicion during Shahenshah Akbar’s time when he was caught accepting bribes. Have you forgotten that he had fallen from royal grace? Your Majesty also seems to have forgotten about the unfortunate eldest son of Mirza Ghias Baig. Was Mahmud not executed by your order because he had conspired with Khusrau to have you assassinated?’

‘There could be one black sheep in every family. Just because one of his sons tried to assassinate me, I can’t paint the entire family with a black brush. The Mirza was accused of taking bribes, but he has been warned and he is not likely to jeopardise his position by resorting to such folly in future.’

‘What about Sher Afghan’s unfortunate murder? I am sure that the lady fends you off because of that incident.’

‘That was most unfortunate. I wish the fellow had agreed to divorce Meherunnisa as I had suggested. Let us not discuss what has been. It depresses me to think of all those unpleasant things. Tell me what should I do to make her accept my love?’

‘Speak to her. Tell her how much you love her. How can any woman spurn the genuine feelings of an emperor?’

Jahangir shook his head, ‘I wouldn’t be able to bear her rejection.’

‘There is another solution. Why don’t you speak to her father, Mirza Ghias Baig, or even her brother, Asaf Khan? Put in a word through her family. It could have a better impact.’

‘That is a very good idea. I shall summon Asaf Khan and speak to him.’

Not wanting to lose any time, the emperor immediately summoned Meherunnisa’s brother. Asaf Khan was an important member of his court and an intelligent man.

‘Asaf, I wish to speak about a private matter for which I need your counsel,’ the emperor began hesitantly. Asaf Khan instantly understood that the emperor was referring to Meherunnisa. Every member of Meherunnisa’s family knew about the emperor’s love for her. Both Mirza Ghias Baig and Asaf Khan were aware that the family could benefit greatly if Meherunnisa accepted the emperor’s proposition. They tried to coax her, but she remained adamant. Only her father understood that his clever daughter was angling for the crown.

‘Your Majesty’s desire is my command. I shall do anything in my power to satisfy the desire of my emperor.’

‘This is a delicate matter concerning your sister, Meherunnisa. I wish to marry her but she refuses to agree to my proposal.’

‘My sister still mourns for her husband. A mere widow, she can hardly refuse you, sire. She must be delighted by your proposal; it is just that her grieving heart deters her from accepting it. I can assure you of that, Your Majesty.’

‘How long must she mourn? It is well over three years now! My patience has its limits. You must convey my impatience to your sister.’ The emperor paced the floor agitatedly.

The very next day the emperor presented a Khilat to Mirza Ghias Baig, in the Diwan-é-aam. In the presence of all the nobles he announced, ‘Mirza Ghias Baig, we are very pleased with your selfless services to the empire and now we wish to reward you. From today, you shall be known by the title Itmad-ud-daulah, the pillar of the empire.’

The Mirza bowed low before the emperor and accepted the honour humbly. He had guessed the reason for his promotion. In fact, most of the nobles knew the reason for the emperor’s generosity towards the Mirza.

As the days passed, the emperor continued to pine for his beloved Meherunnisa, but she kept him away with the excuse that she was still mourning for her dead husband.

On the other hand, the affair between Prince Khurram and Arjumand Bano progressed at a fast pace. The young couple met clandestinely and exchanged vows of love.

‘I can no longer live without Arjumand,’ Khurram confided to Laadli. ‘She has become the orbit of my world. Sometimes I wonder if it is possible to love someone as much as I love her.’

His deep sighs and lovelorn looks moved Laadli, but she could do little to help him beyond carry their missives. It was the emperor who held the fate of the young lovers in his hands. Without the imperial permission, Prince Khurram could not marry Arjumand.

‘Why don’t you ask the emperor for his blessings?’

‘He wants me to marry the daughter of the Shah of Persia because he wants our relationship with them consolidated. Has he forgotten his own romantic escapades, I wonder.’

‘Marry the Persian princess and then ask for Arjumand’s hand,’ Laadli suggested pragmatically. ‘You have to please the emperor to obtain his blessings. As long as he does not refuse the match, there is hope for the two of you.’

‘You’re right. I will broach the topic tonight when the emperor retires to his private chamber,’ Khurram said determinedly.

That evening the prince approached his father and begged him to grant permission for his marriage with Arjumand. Jahangir was relaxing in his quarters, a wine glass and hookah by his side, and an open book of verses before him.

‘Princes cannot decide their marriage. It is for the emperor to decide who they should marry.’

‘But I love Arjumand. I cannot live without her.’

‘You must learn to be patient. We have decided that you will marry the daughter of Mirza Muzaffar Husain Safavi of the house of Shah Ismail of Persia so that our relationships with the Shah can improve.’

‘If I agree to marry the Persian princess, will you allow me to take Arjumand as my wife?’

‘Don’t place conditions on us. We will think about the matter after your marriage with the princess.’ And the emperor dismissed his angry son. The fact was that Jahangir was annoyed with the Baig family. Every time Meherunnisa turned him down, he found it difficult to control his rage or the urge to punish her family.
Khurram will not marry Arjumand till Meherunnisa agrees to my proposal,
decided the emperor.

Four years had now passed since Meherunnisa had come to the imperial palace at Agra. The emperor’s impatience grew, as did his temper tantrums. He was no longer content to pass his time at the court or harem. Neither hunts nor animal fights amused him. He found no solace in alcohol or dancing girls.

His stepbrother Sharief noticed the pinched look on the emperor’s face. He
has been drinking too much,
he thought,
he has to be distracted.

‘I have found some nice hunting spots just a few kilometres away from Amber. The dense forests there are full of rare wild beasts and birds. Would the Shahenshah like to indulge in the sport?’

‘Hunting no longer interests me, Sharief. My soul is shattered with grief. I can neither sleep nor eat. There is so much restlessness in my heart that I can’t find peace. My mind knows no joy. It is all because of that woman who refuses to understand my feelings. Could she really have transformed into such an unfeeling person? Has she forgotten the vows of love we exchanged?’

Jahangir’s face, lined and weary, invoked pity in his companion.

‘Jahanpanah, sometimes it is better to wait than to push a matter. Do not fret over her obstinacy. Leave it to the Almighty to take care of the affair.’