Nurjahan's Daughter (17 page)

Seated in the garden of the mansion, Laadli told Benazir, ‘My mother will never acquiesce to the emperor’s desires. How can a woman marry a man who murdered her husband? Is the emperor so naive that he doesn’t understand that, or is he so vain as to think that he can win any woman’s heart with his throne and crown?’

But Laadli’s delight did not last long. Appalled, she watched as her mother’s frozen heart slowly thawed and warmed to the ardent lover’s pleas. On the twelfth night, Jahangir could control himself no longer. He fell on his knees and pleaded–‘Don’t send me back, I beg you.’

Taking her in his arms forcibly, he murmured against her black fragrant tresses–‘Meherunnisa, I can’t live without you.’

‘I do not give my heart to form until the course of action is known; I am a slave to love, and the seventy-two sects are known,’ she recited, closing her eyes in ecstasy.

Her pliant body receptive to his caresses, she whispered back–‘Your Majesty, you will have to pay a high price for me.’

Intoxicated by her soft voice and aroused by the sensual scent of roses on her warm body, he promised, ‘I am willing to lay my crown at your feet, just say yes to my proposal, my Meherunnisa. From today you shall be known as Nur Mahal, the light of the palace, if you agree to my proposal.’

With bated breath, Laadli listened from behind a pillar. She clapped her hand on her mouth to stop herself from gasping as she heard her mother respond–‘I shall not acquiesce to being a concubine, even if you bestow that title on me, that is my first condition.’

‘You will never be a concubine, that is a promise. I shall make you a queen.’

‘The second condition is that my daughter, Laadli, will wed your son and your heir.’

Laadli could barely control her revulsion. Why was her mother succumbing, and why was she including her in her list of conditions? In that moment she knew all was lost. She realised that her mother had only been playing a game with the emperor: all she had wanted was a good bargain. It had nothing to do with emotions or mourning or love. Laadli’s heart broke. A sob escaped her throat. She watched helplessly as her fate was sealed.

‘I agree to that condition too,’ the emperor said, ready to acquiesce to all her demands.

‘If you make me a queen, it may cause a stir in the harem. Queen Jagat Gosain, the Shah Begum, will not take kindly to your decision.’

‘You are a hard bargainer, Meherunnisa. Don’t forget that she is much senior to all the women in the harem and I cannot displace her. It is against the rules of the Timurid dynasty.’

Meherunnisa knew she had reached the limit of her bargaining strength and pushing harder could jeopardise all that she had managed to inveigle out of Jahangir, so she gave up graciously.

‘I respect the Timurid laws and will not insist on breaking any of them. I am yours, Badshah, from today, both in flesh and spirit.’

The emperor’s eyes lit up with her words. He embraced her with happiness. ‘My Nur Mahal, we shall get married at the earliest and you shall be my chief consort. Allah is great! He has blessed me with happiness. We will have the grandest wedding ever seen in Lahore. There will be rejoicing and celebrations throughout the land,’ he said, holding her tight, his grip hurting her.

‘Not at Lahore, Jahanpanah, let us get married in Kashmir. It is the most beautiful place on earth and I want our relationship to start from there.’

‘That is a fantastic idea. Why did I not think of it? We will set out for Kashmir immediately. Sharief,’ he called out to his foster brother who was waiting in the garden. ‘Congratulate us, brother. She has agreed, at last.’

Mohammad Sharief bowed low to both of them and expressed his delight at the momentous decision. He was relieved at the development. At
last I will be able to rest in peace,
he sighed, as he accompanied the ecstatic emperor to the barge.

Laadli’s world shattered as she watched the emperor returning to his barge, elated at his victory. Soon she would be the daughter of a queen. At that moment, she hated her mother more than the emperor. For Laadli, her mother was a traitor who had let her husband down.

‘But why does she have to marry that murderer?’ she wailed in her room. Neither Benazir not Firdaus, sitting by her side and trying to console her, had an answer to that.

News of Meherunnisa’s reconciliation with the emperor spread like wildfire. There was consternation in the harem. Would the wily Meherunnisa demand a higher status than she was eligible for? There was much anxiety in the Rajput faction, but the Persian bloc was jubilant.

Jahangir met Mirza Ghias Baig and expressed his wish to get married immediately. There was little time to prepare for an elaborate ceremony, but the elated Mirza Ghias Baig and Asmat got busy with their daughter’s wedding arrangements with enthusiasm. The household bustled with the constant arrival of jewellers, seamstresses and traders who brought the finest of silks from China, the best of muslins from Dacca and embroidered velvets from Gujarat. Cooks were brought in from different parts of the country. The most famous nautch girls, musicians and singers were called to accompany the royal entourage to Kashmir to perform for the festivities.

The wedding was a grand affair. Meherunnisa was resplendent in a royal blue silk qaba embroidered with pearls, her slim legs encased in a matching churidar, and her radiant face covered in a gossamer veil of pure woven gold. Her feet were shod in velvet slippers embroidered with seed pearls and gold thread. She wore the most exquisite jewellery, which had been gifted to her by the emperor: a delicate ornament, crafted out of gold filigree and set with huge blue diamonds and rubies, sat on her head; an emerald and gold choker adorned her neck, along with five strings of pearls which hung to her waist; dangling earrings fell to her shoulders; her arms bore pearl and gold bracelets and armlets; each finger had a ring; and a crescent shaped ornament covered the back of her palm. The bride shimmered with each step she took to walk up to the flower bedecked dais, followed by her maids.

Musicians heralded the arrival of the emperor as he walked to the hall with his sons and Mirza Ghias Baig. Only Khurram seemed to be brooding about something–his handsome face dark with anger. Jahangir wore a pure white silk qaba with gold embroidery and a pearl encrusted, richly embroidered crimson cummerbund, in which was stuck his dagger with its jade handle. A flank of nobles followed the emperor, resplendent in their finery. Dozens of slaves sprinkled rose essence and strewed the path with petals of roses and jasmine, as the bridegroom approached the stage that had been covered with a canopy of gold. Strings of jasmine, roses and pearls hung from the ceiling to divide the men and the women. Sombre-faced mullahs and qazis began the nuptial rituals.

The emperor was impatient for the formalities to be over. He could not wait to hold Nur Mahal in his arms. His heart leapt with pleasure as Nur Mahal whispered her acceptance and the qazi announced that the ceremony was complete. A volley of greetings rose from the spectators. Each noble wanted to be the first to congratulate the couple and offer precious gifts.

With a voice shaking with emotion, Jahangir read out a long ode he had composed for his queen, eulogising her beauty and intelligence, her grace and goodness, her generosity and benevolence.

‘From this day, Begum Meherunnisa will be known as Nur Jahan, the Light of the World. With this wedding I adopt her little daughter, Laadli, who will, henceforth, be known as Shehzadi Laadli Bano,’ he announced to the assembled nobles.

Earlier that day, wedding gifts from the emperor to Meherunnisa had filled the chambers of the harem. Jahangir had been extremely generous. There were caskets full of gold coins, totalling eighty lakh gold asharfis. Eunuchs carried in over five hundred sets of exquisitely tailored and embroidered dresses in muslin, silk, velvet and satin, in various colours, for the empress. There were heaps of priceless pearl necklaces, each pearl the size of a nugget, chokers set with diamonds, rubies and emeralds, gold bracelets and armlets, hundreds of gold rings set with precious stones, countless casks of perfumes, musk and ambergris, satin and velvet slippers embroidered with seed pearls. He had also given her dozens of caparisoned elephants, pure-bred Arabian stallions and palanquins ornamented with gold plating and inlays. Finally came the royal Farman, which endowed Nur Jahan with jagirs of Rampur, Kanauj and Qandahar, along with a command of thirty thousand troops. It was the largest jagir ever given to an empress.

After Jahangir’s announcement, poets read out their compositions in praise of the emperor, nautch girls danced with abandon and the musicians played divine music as the couple was led to their bridal chamber. There were fireworks and joyous celebrations, clothes and food were distributed generously to the needy.

While the entire valley resounded with laughter and merriment, a tearful Laadli sat in a dark corner of her room, weeping inconsolably. She had refused to attend the marriage ceremony despite the pleas of her friends. The sounds of laughter, music and revelry seemed to scorch her soul as she tried to block out the sounds of her mother’s wedding. Firdaus found her lying in a heap on the floor the next morning.

As the days passed, Laadli felt increasingly miserable. Preoccupied with her new husband, Nur Jahan had no time for her lonely daughter. The couple spent endless hours in the beautiful gardens by the Dal Lake and Jhelum river, where distant shikaras bobbed in the placid waves. Jahangir, gazing at the snow-clad peaks of the distant mountain ranges, sighed with happiness.

‘Kashmir has never been more beautiful to my eyes,’ he declared ardently.

Kashmir was the emperor’s favourite resort, and its saffron fields, undulating grasses specked with nodding blooms of daffodils, irises and roses had never appeared more enchanting to the emperor. The flock of exotic birds hovered around them, their colourful plumes brightening the surroundings. The tall chinar trees stood like sentinels at a distance. Fruit trees laden with cherry and apple blossoms sparkled from a distance. A cup of wine by his side and his Nur Jahan near him, the emperor wanted nothing more from the Almighty. He felt blissful and sated.

‘The placid Jhelum, beautiful lakes, willow-shaded canals, deep green rice fields, wooden bridges across rivers, water lilies and lotus–these are the things that make this place so wonderful. This is a place I never want to leave. When I am in Kashmir, Agra and Lahore seem so miserable that the mere idea of going back to them depresses me.’

Nur Jahan sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to the emperor under the black marble pavilion. ‘The heart is one held prisoner by beauty and perfection, a cry of “blessed” arises from the nightingale’s soul.’

‘Wah, wah, Nur, is that your couplet?’

The empress nodded modestly.

‘I am thankful to Allah for giving me the most beautiful, intelligent woman on earth. What more could a man want? Nur, wine, and Kashmir, I have it all,’ Jahangir sighed contentedly, burying his face in her bosom.

When he looked up, he saw Nur Jahan’s brows knitted in concentration. ‘What is it that troubles my queen?’

‘I do not want to mar the perfection of your day with my problems,’ she demurred.

‘Don’t I have the right to share your worries? Tell me what troubles your mind, begum.’

‘It is Laadli, Your Majesty. She has taken this marriage badly. The child does not understand. She has locked herself in her room and refuses to speak to me.’

‘I noticed her absence at our wedding. The child has lost her father and it is difficult for her to accept me. Don’t worry, she will come around.’ He soothed her brows and kissed her lovingly.

‘She is a sensitive child, not given to expressing her feelings. Sometimes I feel I have failed her as a mother.’

‘Begum, you are a wonderful mother. Laadli is only a child, I’m sure she will soon be happy about our marriage.’

Nur Jahan clung to him ardently and whispered: ‘You are so wonderful. How will I ever repay you for all that you have done for me?’

His voice thick with passion, the emperor murmured in her ears, ‘Just love me with your body and soul.’

While the royal couple wallowed in love, the nobles and courtiers immersed themselves in merriment. Wine, music, romance and beauty, these were the only things on everyone’s mind. News about unrest in the south came as a shock to the emperor and his ministers. He quickly despatched Khurram to quell the rebellion and ordered the grand vizier to make arrangements to return to the capital. The honeymoon was over.

Reluctantly, the royal entourage made its way back to Agra, travelling through the dusty plains, its enormous size slowing it down.

H
er sharp scream rang through the silent corridors of the harem, shaking up the slumbering occupants of the adjoining palaces. Her perspiring body felt cold and numb in the clammy July morning. Images of the nightmare she had had lingered in her mind. She wanted her mother to hold her tight, and comfort her. She didn’t like sleeping alone in the large room, isolated from the rest of the harem by the walls that seemed to haunt her nights with ghostly visions.

Nightmares had haunted Laadli’s regularly in the first year after her father’s murder. Meherunnisa’s constant closeness had helped her. She slept with her daughter, hugging her in the warmth of her breast. Slowly, Laadli had stopped having bad dreams. But now her mother was no longer by her side, the nightmares had returned to disturb her once again.

Firdaus slept on the floor near her but it was small consolation. The old woman, after a few pellets of opium, snored loudly through the night. Wistfully, Laadli recalled Burdwan, when both her parents were always with her. The past four years had been full of changes–a new environment, new friends and new lifestyle. Many adjustments had had to be made, but the constant company of her mother had made it easier for Laadli. Things had altered drastically in the past six months however; ever since her mother had got married to the emperor, she had become a stranger.

Everyday, Nur Jahan’s influence increased as the besotted emperor became increasingly dependent on his wife, leaving important state decisions to her. For the first time in Mughal history, a queen was endowed with so much power. No grants of land was conferred upon any one except under her seal. The emperor granted Nur Jahan the rights of sovereignty and the imperial seal was handed over to her. On all firmans receiving the imperial signature, the name ‘Nur Jahan, the Queen Begum’, was jointly inscribed. She even sat by the emperor during his daily public appearances at the jharoka.