Nurjahan's Daughter (12 page)

‘There must be a mistake. They are on the way to the house of my father, Mirza Ghias Baig, the Itmad-ud-daulah,’ Asaf Khan tried to explain. ‘The emperor is aware of the arrangements.’

‘I am sorry, but my orders are quite clear. I am to escort the women to the harem. They will have to request the emperor for permission to leave the harem.’

Meherunnisa was livid. Was she the emperor’s prisoner? Take
his
permission to go to her father’s place? The audacity of the man! She gnashed her teeth angrily. But the emir was not the man to argue with; he was just following imperial orders.

‘I will seek the emperor’s permission and take you home,’ promised her brother before he rode off in the opposite direction.

As they entered the palace, Laadli looked curiously at the liveried soldiers, the caparisoned elephants with their golden howdahs and the sturdy steed. This seemed to be another world–so different from their house at Burdwan where the rhythm of life was languorous and leisurely. This was a bustling city, full of servants, courtiers, and women, all walking at a brisk pace, bowing and nodding constantly to the nobles who passed by in their palanquins or rode on magnificent chargers. The ahadis, the royal elite guards, clad in resplendent crimson uniforms, strutted around with naked swords. There was a purposeful air all around them.

The women, accompanied by the noble and a few of his soldiers, entered the Red Fort, which stood on the banks of the Yamuna River, through the Amar Darwaza, and progressed toward the inner gates that led to the fort. The red sandstone fort was intimidating, with its ten-feet thick walls and ramparts, which were manned by the elite imperial troops. They were stopped and their identity checked many times before being allowed to proceed on the steep ramp, flanked by high walls and turrets that led to the inner palaces. Just ahead stood the majestic Diwan-e-aam with its silver roof and ornate pillars, its walls covered with arabesque, inlaid with precious gems. The winding path from the Diwan-e-aam led to a beautiful charbagh with fountains and terraced gardens through which one could enter the palaces. At the side of the garden through which Meherunnisa’s entourage passed, there was a shaded path, flanked by flowering gulmohar trees.

Climbing the steps to the palace they made their way to the royal harem, the section of the palace that was most guarded. The large and rambling zenana was buzzing with activity. Imperial guards stood outside the walls of the harem casting suspicious looks at the guests. Here, the nobleman and his soldiers handed them over to the royal harem keeper and departed hastily. The women now entered the inner parts of the zenana which were guarded by giant Uzbek and Tartar women carrying gleaming scimitars. These women were reported to be more ferocious than the royal guards; their expressionless faces appeared to be carved out of stone. Laadli clung to her mother as she looked around the cold and hostile place. They stepped into the inner courts that were guarded by eunuchs, a dazzling lot with their gaudy attires and profusion of cheap jewellery. They ceaselessly argued with the other guards, trying to establish their superiority.

Meherunnisa took in the atmosphere with disdain. She had walked the corridors of the zenana a long time back, her head held high, mingling with royal blood as she waited on Ruqayya Begum. Once again, fate had brought her back to the harem to wait on the same queen, but this time round as a married woman with a child.

There had been not much decline in Ruqayya Begum’s importance, although her husband, Shahenshah Akbar, had passed away making way for his son. Emperor Jahangir’s wives now held more a important place in the harem hierarchy, but kept their distance from the dowager queen. The Mughal code demanded due respect for the dowagers.

Jagat Gosain, Shah Begum after Jahangir’s first wife committed suicide, was virtual ruler of the harem, and her ladies-in-waiting wielded more power than the others in the zenana. By virtue of being the senior-most wife of the emperor, the empress’ word was more powerful than any other law within the four walls of the harem.

Meherunnisa had once been an important figure in the harem: her closeness to Empress Ruqayya had ensured her prominence over the other ladies-in-waiting. As she walked towards the set of rooms allotted to her in the harem, she wondered what changes she would have to face. She walked with a regal air although her heart was hammering nervously. She had to remain calm to allay Laadli’s fears. They were a strange trio–the regal widow, the timorous child and the bellicose servant. The harem women watched them with a mix of ridicule and pity. News of Meherunnisa’s return had already travelled through the harem. There were whispers that the emperor had ordered her to be kept in the harem so that he could reignite the love that had once throbbed between them. The concubines hated her for trespassing into their world and the queens questioned the status of the new entrant.

The rooms assigned to Meherunnisa were ordinary and stood far away from the queens’ apartments, signifying her inferior position in the harem hierarchy. In the harem, as well as the emperor’s court, proximity to the royals was an indication of a person’s significance. Meherunnisa wrinkled her nose with disgust at the sight of her humble quarters. Within the four bare walls of this apartment lay their future. Her mind was already buzzing with a hundred ideas that could help secure her position in the harem.

As soon as they had settled, she paid a visit to Ruqayya Begum along with her daughter. Laadli was dazzled by the richness of the objects that were scattered in the luxuriously decorated apartment. It was all crimson and gold, splashed with hues of green and blue. A profusion of gems, gold embroidered hangings, Persian carpets, jewelled censors and silver filigree lamps, tinted crystal bowls, jade cups, and enamelled gold goblets covered the room. The begum sat amidst a heap of soft silk cushions embroidered with pearls. Near her stood a carved stool, on which were jade bowls containing almonds and nuts. By her side lay a golden spittoon and a gem encrusted paandaan. The queen was ecstatic on seeing her protégé after so many years.

‘Meher, my child, it is so nice to see you again.’ Her eyes narrowed curiously. ‘And who is this lovely lady?’

Meherunnisa bowed courteously and pushed Laadli towards her. Scared, the girl stared at the corpulent matron silently.

‘Come here, child,’ the begum patted a cushion near her. ‘Don’t be afraid. Here take some of these.’ She offered Laadli sweets from the silver bowl lying near her.

Laadli remained where she was.
Queens are supposed to be slender and beautiful houris, not fat and bovine. My mother would make a much better empress.
The thought had come unbidden to her mind, but she never forgot the day when she had, for an instant, imagined her mother as an empress. Laadli would wonder what had sparked that thought in her mind.

Harassed servant girls ran around serving khus and rose drinks to everyone. Realising the queen’s affections for Meherunnisa, they favoured her with special attention. After a while, the attendants dispersed, leaving the two women to converse.

Unnoticed by the chatting women, Laadli sneaked out to the adjoining garden, separated from the apartments by a latticed wall. A marble courtyard–with fluted columns rising from its tiled floors–ran all around the lush garden. A host of flowers and fruit trees lined the garden’s central canal, which terminated into a beautiful marble fountain. On one corner stood a pavilion with its entire roof covered in striking frieze, overlooking the river. A cool breeze blew into the chambers, laden with the smell of the frangipani trees that lined the path.

Laadli walked up to the dovecotes that lined the edge of the garden and looked at the playful white doves. She thought about all the stories Firdaus had told her about the harem and the queens. She had been fascinated, thinking the harem to be magical, glamorous. But none of Firdaus’ stories had prepared her for how
intimidating
the harem was. She wasn’t sure she liked the reality: she would have preferred to have them remain stories to be heard within the confines of a happy home. She felt claustrophobic: she wished she could roam around the unfettered world outside the walls of the fort. The cheery streets that had been her first glimpse of this city. The women here frightened her; their disdain of her tore into her soul, stripping it of all confidence.
If only I could live with my grandparents,
she thought wistfully.
How does Ammijaan remain so unruffled and poised?

Things did not improve with time for Laadli. Her mother and Firdaus were busy with their official duties, and she was lonely. No one had ventured to make friends with her, and she had no one to speak to. Although there were many girls her age in the harem–the daughters of concubines as well as those of the ladies-in-waiting–Laadli kept away from all of them. It was not only because she was shy, which she was, but that the memory of her father and her home at Burdwan was still fresh in her mind. She still had difficulty sleeping sometimes; nightmares of her father’s murder tormented her. She remembered what Firdaus had told her mother that fateful night, that the emperor was behind her father’s murder, and she did not like to think of herself as being in the same palace as him.

Preoccupied with her own problems, Meherunnisa did not notice her daughter’s unhappiness. She was concerned about their economic status. The queen was generous with her and gifted her clothes and jewels, but that was not enough.

‘I have been thinking, Firdaus,’ she told her faithful nurse one day, ‘there must be some way we can make money so we can live more comfortably. I have to start earning money.’

‘But how will you earn money inside the harem?’

‘I have an idea that could work. I can sew clothes for the women.’

Meherunnisa had always been a skilful seamstress and she thought her natural talent for designing could be put to good use in the harem. ‘That’s a good plan–and I could help you with the work.... But...I am not sure the women will give you the opportunity. They don’t know about your skill.’

‘I have a plan that will get me all the orders I want,’ Meherunnisa’s eyes were bright. ‘I will first make a dress for the begum. If she agrees to wear a dress made by me, the others would do so too, and my importance as a designer will be established within the harem.’

Firdaus was doubtful about the plan, but she didn’t want to dampen Meherunnisa’s eagerness.

The next morning, Meherunnisa approached Ruqayya Begum. ‘The festival of Ab-é-Pashan is around the corner and everyone will get new dresses made for the celebrations. If Your Highness permits, I would like to create a beautiful dress for you.’

Ab-é-Pashan was celebrated at the court with great elegance to herald the coming of the monsoon. The princes and prominent nobles took part in the festival and delighted in sprinkling rose water over each other. It was customary for the nobles to present the emperor with bejewelled golden flasks containing rose water, jujube tree flower juice and the essence of orange flowers on the festival day.

‘My dear Meherunnisa, it is so nice of you to offer to design a dress for me. You go ahead and make new clothes for yourself and Laadli, don’t bother about me. Anyway, I don’t wear clothes of new fashions. I am quite happy with my old seamstress because she knows my requirements and understands my body’s limitations.’

‘I am not talking of new fashions, but why sacrifice beauty for comfort? I can design a garment that can be both comfortable and beautiful. I am just begging for a chance to show my skills.’

‘Well, why don’t you design something for my niece? She is young, she can carry off beautiful garments,’ the begum said dismissively.

Meherunnisa knew that the begum could not be convinced so she approached Ruqayya Begum’s niece and found the young girl quite willing to try out a new seamstress. Nazneen was a beautiful, slender girl of eighteen–an ideal model for Meherunnisa’s venture.

‘I think apricot would be the right colour for your complexion,’ Meherunnisa decided as she took the girl’s measurements. The girl was delighted with the novelty of Meherunnisa’s ideas and willingly cooperated with her.

Meherunnisa was excited at the thought of designing an attire for the girl. She worked feverishly: the right fabric had to be acquired, silk thread in the same shade had to be bought for the embroidery, an appropriate design had to be worked out for the dress. The final result was an exquisite creation in silk, with a liberal use of sequins, corals and pearls.

Distracted by her project, Meherunnisa barely noticed that Laadli was getting more uncommunicative. Seated in a corner of the room, the child refused to go out and make friends or play with the other children. Insecure and friendless, she spent more time with birds and flowers than with human beings. It was left to Firdaus to take care of Laadli, but the old lady had found several friends amongst the other servant women of her age and spent most of her time gossiping with them. The harem had a way of corrupting the inmates and Firdaus was no different. She succumbed to the avaricious and indolent ways of the zenana.

Ab-é-Pashan celebrations began with great pomp. Every festival was an opportunity for the harem women to show off their elaborate dresses and expensive jewellery. When Nazneen, clad in her new ensemble, made an entrance at the poetry contest in the evening, the harem women sat up and took notice. Her flame red veil, covered with tiny golden stars, was woven from the sheerest of silks. The apricot qaba that fell to her knees was a vision in fine satin. It was elaborately embroidered and fringed with seed pearls. The flame red churidar with its striking diagonal stripes in yellow was designed to reveal the slender contours of her legs and hips. A thick rope of gold and coral adorned her slender throat and the lobes of her ears were ablaze with a diamonds and coral creation, a combination that had never been tried before.

A murmur of appreciation ran through the crowd and they began enquiring about the designer of the fantastic dress. The harem women were partial to shapeless tent-like robes, fashioned from heavy materials like velvet and brocade with expensive gems and gold fringes. The dress Nazneen wore was a complete contrast: it showed off her narrow waist, slim legs and arms to an advantage. The tight-fitting bodice, the slit that travelled up to the navel and the transparency of the material, all added to a sensuousness that the garments the other women wore lacked.