Nurjahan's Daughter (33 page)

A
s the baby grew in her womb, Laadli found herself surrounded by advisors. Suggestions poured in from all sides. She had taken to drinking milk by the gallon although she detested the stuff. Her arms were covered with half a dozen amulets procured from soothsayers.

‘You are going crazy with anxiety. Everything will be all right, don’t worry so much. And stop following each and every tip given by those stupid harem women,’ Benazir said, massaging Laadli’s swollen feet. Benazir herself had recently gotten married and lived in Agra.

‘You will not understand, Benazir. This baby is my only reason for living. I will do anything to have a healthy baby.’

‘Tell me honestly, do you want a son or a daughter?’

‘I know that my mother is pining for a grandson so that her reign can continue for another generation. Her craze for power never ceases to amaze me. I want a daughter so that I can bring her up the way I want. Moreover, if I have a son, I will soon have to part with him, whereas a daughter can live with me in the harem, forever.’

‘You don’t envisage getting her married?’ Benazir joked.

‘Of course. She’ll be free to marry whoever she wants,’ Laadli replied seriously. ‘I will not impose any restrictions on her.’ Laadli’s eyes clouded over as she remembered Imraan and her ill-fated love affair. So many nights she had lain wondering if he was alive, so many hours she had spent reliving the happy moments she had passed with him.

‘Benazir, do you think Imraan is alive?’ she asked her friend.

It was the hundredth time that Laadli had asked her that question. Benazir knew where the conversation would lead and tactfully changed the subject–‘Laadli, I saw the baby move. Did it kick just now?’

Laadli, sensing the baby turning inside, nodded happily.

The empress keenly monitored the progress of her grandchild’s growth inside Laadli’s womb. Astrologers and soothsayers made a fortune as her anxiety grew with each passing day. Despite her busy schedule, she found the time for a journey to Ajmer to pray for a grandson. For a while she forgot all about the throne and Jahangir’s successor. She tore herself away from state affairs to spend time with her daughter.

‘Laadli, you should not be running around in this manner. It is not good for the baby,’ the empress scolded her daughter. ‘And did you take the potion sent by Hakim Abdul Khan?’

It amused Jahangir to see his wife so excited about Laadli’s pregnancy. ‘One would think that this is the first time anyone has borne a baby in the harem,’ he joked.

‘Well, this is the first time my daughter has borne a child. And it could be the last,’ there was a tinge of regret in her voice. ‘Unlike Arjumand who is forever pregnant.’

Arjumand had been pregnant at least ten times in the last eleven years of her marriage, although only five of her children had survived. Nur Jahan realised that Shah Jahan and his sons could rule the empire for the next two generations if she did not stop him from ascending the throne. The only option was to install Shahryar as the emperor. If Laadli produced a son, he would be anointed as the crown prince and she could rule over another generation.

Meanwhile, reports of Shahryar’s ambitions reached Shah Jahan at Burhanpur. His father-in-law Asaf Khan warned him that the empress intended backing Shahryar’s claim to the throne. Annoyed at the developments, Shah Jahan began to plan out his next move. He wanted to return to the capital and be near his father to thwart the empress’ designs. Just then, news arrived from the western frontier. Qandahar had fallen to the soldiers of Persia. The emperor could hardly believe the tidings since Shah Abbas, the King of Persia, had from time to time sent ambassadors and expensive gifts to him professing friendship. Qandahar was an important city, strategically located, as the bulk of trade that took place between Hindustan and Persia on the land route, passed through it.

Jahangir commanded Shah Jahan to proceed on a campaign to Qandahar. However, not wanting to remain away from the politics of the capital, Shah Jahan remained entrenched at Mandu refusing to proceed for the battle. In the meanwhile, Jahangir’s health was failing rapidly. Repeated visits to Kashmir and the treatment of royal physicians did him little good. Though outwardly the empress retained a calm demeanour, she realised that she would have to convince the emperor about Shahryar’s suitability for the throne quickly if things were to work out to plan.

The pain struck Laadli as she was strolling around the garden. She clasped her belly and sat down heavily on a bench, her breath coming in short gasps. Benazir took one look at her ashen face and quickly rushed to her side.

‘Can you make it to your chamber or should I summon the women? Shall I fetch the hakim?’

‘No, no, the pain is still not so intense. I like it here, it is so cool and pleasant.’

‘Let me help you inside,’ insisted her friend.

A fresh wave of pain hit her even as she tried to get up. With a whimper, she sat down on the marble bench once again. Drops of perspiration ran down her temples as she fought the excruciating pain. Benazir ran back to the harem and came back with a few servants. Between them, they helped Laadli to her feet and carried her back to her rooms.

When Nur Jahan heard the news, she hurried to her daughter’s side. Meanwhile, the hakim had also arrived. It was almost noon when the puny baby finally emerged from the comfortable darkness of the womb and announced its appearance with feeble wailing. To Laadli’s delight and Nur Jahan’s disappointment, it was a girl.

Once the baby was bathed and dressed, the empress carried her to Jahangir. He peered at the screwed up, red-faced baby cradled in his wife’s arms and smiled gently.

‘It is too early to be sure but I think she looks like you, Nur,’ he declared. The emperor said it to placate his disgruntled wife because he knew how disappointed the empress must have been on learning that it was a girl. The empress was not amused. It had taken a lot of planning and plotting to get Laadli impregnated. It might not be very easy to cajole Laadli into sleeping with Shahryar once more. There was not much chance that she would have another baby.

‘What are you going to call her?’ asked Jahangir.

‘I think Laadli has already decided on a name. I can’t imagine how Laadli was so sure that she would give birth to a daughter.’

‘That daughter of yours has a mind of her own. She may seem to be a meek person, but the girl has inherited your stubbornness.’

Suggestions for the child’s name came from all quarters but Laadli stuck to her decision. She would call her daughter Arzani. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful name? I have always liked that name. When I was a child I would often pretend my name was Arzani. All my life I have hated my name. Laadli is so unimaginative and commonplace. My mother wants me to be an empress–imagine an empress called Laadli Begum!’

As the days flew by, Arzani grew up into a chubby and happy child. Laadli took her role as a mother seriously. She missed Firdaus tremendously–her old nurse had died after a prolonged sickness a few months back. Shahryar often dropped into her chamber to meet his daughter. He adored the little child because she had restored his pride. Thoroughly pampered and spoilt by her doting parents, Arzani won hearts easily with her childish prattle and lovely looks. Even Nur Jahan, despite the initial reserve, soon warmed up to the child. Jahangir, who loved children, spent much of his spare time playing with his foster daughter’s child. At two, she was already picking up the nuances of playing chaupar and sat with her grandparents when they played the game.

Increasingly, however, Nur Jahan had no time for other activities. With growing alarm, she realised that Jahangir was losing all interest in governing the empire; he spent all his time writing his memoirs or studying the paintings produced by his artists in the ateliers that were running at great costs to the treasury. Whenever she insisted on his attending the court or spending time on state matters, the emperor would find some excuse to keep away. ‘In any case, I rarely take a decision without consulting you, Nur. All I need is some peace to do the things I love.’

The loss of his son seemed to play on his mind. ‘I am to blame. If I had not agreed to send Khusrau with Khurram, he would be alive today. Khurram is ruthless; he will remove any obstacle to his attaining the throne.’

‘You can’t blame yourself for the turn of events. It was destined to happen,’ Nur Jahan soothed, trying her best to console her guilt-ridden spouse.

As the emperor spent more time away from the court, Nur Jahan involved herself completely in the affairs of the empire. Ever since her father passed away, there had been a void in her life. She missed his wise counsel and sincere advice. Now she turned to Laadli for suggestions, using her as a sounding board much of the time. Her daughter was the only person she could trust.

‘The Afghans are on the path of revolt in Bengal once again. I wonder what can be done to check their growing unrest?’ the empress contemplated aloud one evening.

They were seated in the garden watching Arzani play. The child was running after the peacocks, trying to grab their colourful feathers.

‘I think it is because we have been following a wrong policy for many years. Whenever the emperor decides to punish an emir, he banishes the fellow to Bengal. As a result they don’t try to solve the local problems. Instead, they while away their time collecting enough revenue to bribe the emperor to get back in his good books.’

‘So, what is the solution?’

‘Well, it is simple. Send the most trusted and able minister to Bengal with a promotion. Let it not seem as though it is a demotion. Promise him a higher rank and riches if he can quell the Afghan unrest.’

Nur Jahan was impressed by Laadli’s suggestion. Her meek, self-deprecating daughter had grown into an astute politician. Motherhood had brought a lot of confidence and poise to Laadli’s personality. The empress felt proud. Years of sitting behind the fretwork screen of the Diwan-e-aam, watching the emperor take decisions, had taught the girl many things.

‘She will make a better empress than me,’ thought Nur Jahan, ‘because she is not as rash or ruthless as I am.’ To her credit, the empress was objective about her own faults.

She watched appreciatively as Laadli rushed to pick up her daughter who had taken a tumble on the grass. Picking up the girl, Laadli smothered her with kisses and wiped away the tears that were threatening to run down the plump cheeks. Reassured by her mother’s voice, the child resumed chasing the birds across the garden.

‘I have always underestimated her,’ thought Nur Jahan. ‘I can easily handle state matters with a little help from my daughter.’

The empress began consulting Laadli for most matters, taking her opinion seriously. It was Laadli who restrained her mother from making rash decisions, and advised moderation when Nur Jahan lost control of her temper. Gradually, the daughter became her mother’s most trusted advisor. They sat together for long hours, discussing the merits and demerits of petitions, debating matters of promotions and transfers of the nobles, granting of jagirs and juggling resources. In Laadli, Nur Jahan found the perfect foil–intelligent, mature, calm and even-tempered.

Soon the two had a new problem to cope with. Shah Jahan had decided to make his move towards seizing power; if he did not do it now, he thought, he could be left out in the cold. His first step was to seize the jagirs of the empress and Shahryar. The emperor was livid when he learnt of the revolt. In anger, he transferred Shah Jahan’s jagirs in Punjab to Shahryar.

‘It is time Shahryar was given a chance to prove his worth,’ suggested the empress one evening as they sat in the jharoka watching an elephant fight. Two massive bull elephants decorated with colourful tassels, ribbons and jewellery, were brought to the courtyard, their mahouts sitting atop. Nobles, commoners and royals surrounded the courtyard to watch the event. The harem ladies were seated behind the fine marble jaali, bejewelled and excited as they wagered on their favourite elephant. Jahangir gestured for the fight to begin and nodded absently at Nur Jahan, riveted by the elephants.

With a tinge of impatience in her voice, the empress repeated her statement–‘Shahryar must be sent on the battlefield to keep him away from the bad influences that surround him. He has to learn the lessons of war just as everyone else.’

‘Let him enjoy life. There is time enough for him to go to battles.’

Trumpets blew and cymbals sounded as the mahouts urged their animals forward for the attack. The creatures, majestic in their bearing, charged at each other. A roar of excitement went up around the courtyard as the bigger beast engaged his trunk with the opponent. Jahangir clapped excitedly. ‘I will place my bet on the bigger brute. He has the advantage of height as well as girth.’

‘I will back the smaller one. Size doesn’t necessarily offer an advantage. It is one’s tactics that matter,’ Nur Jahan said, throwing a disdainful look at the emperor who was bending forward in excitement, his tawny eyes alight. It was evident that he was in no mood to discuss important issues with her. Familiar with his moods and whims, the empress withdrew diplomatically; she knew when to let go. With the crowd’s roars rising every minute, it was not possible to capture the emperor’s attention.

But the empress did not give up easily. That evening, as the couple walked in the garden, inspecting the rose shrubs, she broached the subject once more.

‘There is an important matter that needs your attention,’ she began.

‘Begum, why is it that you want to discuss dull and uninteresting matters just when I begin to enjoy my walk?’ Jahangir looked at her petulantly.

‘Jahanpanah, state matters need to be discussed at some time or the other. You have such a busy schedule that I barely find a moment to put forth my suggestions.’ It was Nur Jahan’s turn to complain.

It worked. The emperor, guilt-stricken, turned to her and smiled–‘I was jesting, begum. Unburden your mind and tell me what is bothering you.’

She decided on a direct approach. ‘I want Shahryar to be sent for the Qandahar campaign.’