The Title

“Everything comes with a price. Your success is determined by how much you are willing to pay for it.”

The sound of footsteps resonated through the Kabul palace.

“Rukaiya Begum!” Her mother’s warning voice couldn’t make her stop; Rukaiya almost bumped into her mother and ran to her room.

“Let her go.” Hamida Banu spoke with a hint of laughter in her voice, “Jalal has sent gifts.”

Rukaiya stopped at the threshold of her room. She had waited almost a year and a half to hear from him. With every message that arrived about his success and Khan Baba’s wars, Rukaiya had grown impatient to see him again. The room was lit up with lamps. It was filled with gifts wrapped in velvet covers of all shapes and colours. She scanned the room: clothes, jewellery, boxes of perfumes of all colours and bottles, books, and paintings. A maid presented herself before her.

“Shehzadi Sultana Begum, I am your maid in waiting. Padshah, send me here at your service.” She approved with a smile. “Did he… send any messages?” She asked, anticipating. The maid shook her head.

Rukaiya’s smile disappeared as she stared at the room full of gifts.

“Send them back!” She retorted as the maid stood disbelieving.

“What?”

“You heard me. Go back with your gifts and tell your Padshah that Sultana Rukaiya Begum is not someone to be lured with gifts. She is the Shehzaadi of the Timurid blood. She can buy all these herself. Tell him to gift something Rukaiya Begum can’t buy!”

She watched the maids leave with the gifts from atop her tower. A gasp ran through the Zenana mahal at her audacity. The news had reached Hamida Banu as well. She was, after all, still the Padshah Begum and such audacity was answerable to the emperor by the zenana head, as per the norms. Rukaiya Begum had rejected her son’s gifts. Hamida only smiled at the worried ladies gossiping.

That night, Rukaiya sat alone in her chambers. Her hair was open, and the breeze played with it. She had removed all her jewellery, and her surma-clad eyes shone in the dark. A fear suddenly crept in. She had heard it all, even when the maids and eunuchs often gossiped in whispers. They had heard of the Padshah’s growing interest in women. He had hired dancers to entertain his nobles. He had slave girls gifted by his subordinates. Concubines. He had even taken a special interest in some of them. They even spoke of how, despite being married, he did not want to take Rukaiya with him to Mankot, where Maham Anga stayed to take care of his needs. She had overheard some princesses talk about how physical unity was important in a relationship. It scared Rukaiya. The gossip worried her. Had he actually changed so much? She wept in the silence in her room, first for Jalal, how could he not miss her? Then she shed tears for her father, her kin and all the women who lived a life dictated by others inside the zenana. Her heart was not so cold, yet she was afraid that this world could change her just like Jalal. To survive in battles, her father often said, one had to be heartless. Her dupatta was wet when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, and she wiped away her tears quickly. It was her mother who sat beside her in the moonlight falling from the balcony of her room.

“Rukaiya, what’s wrong?” She had asked, patting her head gently.

“Nothing.” She lied. Her mother smiled. She understood her girl was growing up. Such gossip didn’t escape the ears of the elder ladies as well.

“You see, child, we women are meant for a life this way.” She said it almost like a whisper, fearing that even the walls could hear her. Rukaiya stared up at her face with a frown.

“What do you mean?”

“The life of a royal, especially a princess of the Timurid blood, will never be easy. There will be battles, wounds, scars…” She paused with a sigh, staring out at the moon, “Scars deeper than wounds. Caused by kins, by our own.” Rukaiya stared at her mother and placed her cold, wet hand gently over her mother’s.

“Did anyone tell you anything?” she asked worriedly.

“There will be other women, Rukaiya.” Every word of her mother’s hurt her like daggers stabbing her heart as she felt uneasy breathing. “There will be other wives. And you can do nothing about it.” Her mother regretted being harsh, especially when she saw the colour of her daughter’s face turn pale.

“Why?” Rukaiya said it almost like she choked. “Why am I not enough?”

“Oh, you are.” Her mother cupped her face gently with a smile. “You are enough. But… that’s how kingship is. Don’t think it’s because he doesn’t feel for you…” Rukaiya didn’t find her mother convincing enough.

“Just… be happy you will be his first and … never ask him questions.” Rukaiya saw her mother leave. Her words seemed to suffocate her soul and dreams. Never ask him questions.

Jalal paced his room in the dark. He was restless. The news had arrived. The war was won, and Khan Baba had come victorious with the head of the enemy. But his happiness was curbed short by the arrival of the procession that had left for Kabul a few days back.

“Tell him to gift something Rukaiya Begum can’t buy!”

Jalal smiled in his thought. Only his Rukaiya could have the audacity to send everything back like that. He called his nearest guard.

“Tell Khan Baba, I will be leaving for Kabul tomorrow.” Jalal will give Rukaiya what money can’t buy. Himself.

“Nasir, see whose procession is at the gates!” Hamida Begum frowned at the sound of the procession coming from outside the walls of their palace in Kabul.

Her eunuch Nasir wasted no time running to the tallest tower and coming back huffing and puffing in urgency.

“It’s the Shahenshah, Padshah Begum!” He gasped.

“Stop fooling around, Nasir.” It was Rukaiya who had just arrived with a maid carrying a plate full of date palms neatly wrapped to make a sweet dish. She bowed to the mother-in-law and frowned some more at the Eunuch.

“Where will Ja… the Padshah come from?”

“Kill me if I am wrong, Shehzaadi Begum.” Half of Nasir’s words died in the blowing of horns that announced a royal arrival, while Hamida and Rukaiya exchanged surprised glances at each other. He was right!

Jalal’s eyes scanned the Zenana Mahal while his mothers hugged him.

“Such a surprise in your busy…” Bega Begum stopped at his stare across the hall in search and smiled. “Nasir?” Hamida Banu asked, exchanging amused glances with her husband’s senior wife.

“Yes?”

“Where is Shehzaadi Rukaiya Sultana Begum?” Hamida’s eyes travelled to Jalal, who chose to look away.

“She was right…” Nasir stopped at the empty spot “I will go and…”

“No.” The Padshah’s order stopped him “I will go.” He nodded at his mothers and walked away.

Rukaiya’s heart still beat fast in her chest. She had tightly shut the door to her chamber and sat down on the cold stone floor with a smile. He understood her message, didn’t he? For a moment, all the zenana gossip meant nothing to her. He was here. For her.

A knock made her heart leap.

“Open the door, Rukaiya Begum.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. She could feel that. Her hand stopped at the lock. She smiled, remembering all those days in childhood when they spent teasing each other in every way possible.

“I can’t hear you!” She giggled, making him frown.

“I came all the way from Agra, to spend a week here… to talk to this… Door?” He frowned with a lingering smile.

“How will I know why you came from Agra?” She retorted.

“Oh really?” His voice turned sarcastic as her eyes widened and cheeks grew red “You don’t know why I came from Agra?”

“No, I don’t!”

“Rukaiya.” Jalal’s voice of reasoning was back. “Enough now, the whole Zenana Mahal can see this!”

“So?” She giggled again.

“I am the Padshah!”

“I am the wife.” He shook his head, staring at the empty corridor, a little alert if anyone heard them.

“What can make you open the door?” He frowned “Tell me.”

“Where is my gift?” She sat down, leaning against the door.

“What? I send… you… told them to…” He was confused.

“Give me my gift, and you will have this door open every day until you leave for Agra!” Jalal let out a sigh at the closed door. He narrowed his eyes a little at her teasing giggle, then walked away towards his chambers. Rukaiya heard his footsteps fade, a little worried. A few feet away, the mothers exchanged a worried glance.

“Rukaiya should know she is now talking to a king and not her playmate.” Sultana Begum grew worried at how Jalal’s face changed. She did not want his wrath on her daughter at any cost. She had heard how angry he gets nowadays.

“No, it is a wife talking to her husband.” Bega Begum smiled.”Don’t worry.” She reassured.

Rukaiya was bored in her room for the whole day. She peeped a little out of the jaali to find the maids in waiting gossiping. Was Jalal testing her patience? Or had he left for Agra? For a moment, she thought about changing her mind about this play. It was almost midday when a maid came knocking.

“Shehzaadi Begum,” the maid bowed before her as she opened the door in the most graceful manner “Padshah is summoning you to the Durbar.” She frowned a little. The courtroom was one place she could never connect to. It was a room full of intellectuals, leaders, warriors and politicians. The world there was rarely a happy one.

The maids had dressed her up in a gaudy muslin attire and jewellery of all gems and stones, for her first appearance at court. Her hands were painted, and so were her lips. The maids wove garlands to braid her hair with. She stepped out of her room, pulling the veil over her shoulder and head, and walked with the maid towards the Durbar hall. She appeared beside his mother behind the purdah and bowed in dignity to the Shahenshah as per the norms. He nodded his head and hid a smile. Hamida Banu stared at Jalal and then at Rukaiya and smiled.

“Today, I have an announcement to make.” Jalal rose to his feet along with the noblemen. “I know you all have loved and respected my mother as the first lady of my father, she had guided him in all aspects of his life and had been with him through all his struggles. But today, she called upon me to say that she no longer wants to hold the position of being the Padishah Begum of the land.” Rukaiya’s eyes narrowed at his words, and she turned to Hamida Banu, who nodded an affirmative. “So, since the empire and the ladies' house cannot run without a Padishah Begum, I bestow this title upon Shehzaadi Rukaiya Sultana Begum, as she is not only your queen but also a princess of Timurid blood.”

Rukaiya’s throat felt dry as the people in court chanted her name, and he stared right at her and smiled. Hamida Banu’s hand travelled to hold hers reassuringly, but a strange fear gripped her.

“You asked for a gift and he gave it.” Hamida Banu gushed.

A gift? Rukaiya gulped. Did she want such a gift? She was raised from being a princess to the wife of her playmate in sudden urgency, and now, when she had finally settled into the idea… being the first lady of his zenana was tough work. She had observed Hamida Banu Begum closely. With the kind of diplomatic decisions she took for the house and the suggestions she gave her husband, Rukaiya was not sure if she was at all ready for it. She was barely fourteen. And Jalal seemed so happy… Her eyes travelled to him from a distance. Suddenly, she felt like a stranger to them all. Her eyes wanted to tear up, but she controlled her emotions. Maybe she was just having cold feet.

After the court was dismissed, Hamida Banu called her to her chambers and explained her responsibilities as the new Padshah Begum. Her words seemed like a haze to Rukaiya, who stared at her a little pale, in complete horror.

” The ladies… their allowance… decorations… ration… festivals… celebrations… weddings… assigning work…” Every word Hamida Banu spoke seemed like a maze of confusion.

“Tomorrow at dawn, she will start her role as the Padishah Begum. Help her settle in. Then Bega Begum and I will travel to Kutch for a few days.” Hamida had instructed her chief maid, “Send a firman of it to the ladies and to Maham Anga to honour Rukaiya Begum with the title and gifts.” Hamida hugged her mother in happiness. None of them saw how her face turned pale. No one asked her if she was happy. She silently stepped away from the ladies gathering in the garden for the celebrations. Walking across the corridor, her heavy dress and jewellery felt like a chain of a prisoner to her. She had always loved dressing up. She couldn’t breathe in them today.

This new identity was something Rukaiya couldn’t connect to. It was like she was not herself. Jalal, his mother, and everyone else were happily trying to make her someone else altogether. She sat in the darkness of her room and took a deep breath. The floor was laid with a fine Persian carpet tonight, and her room was decorated with perfumes and flowers under the supervision of their mothers. She dressed up again, after bathing, for the Padshah was here, and the ladies giggling around her made her feel uneasy. They sprayed scented water on her clothes and teased her endlessly as to how perhaps the emperor had come for a week’s stay only for her.

As the night grew old, she removed all the jewellery they made her wear and put out the lamps as the maids slept outside her chambers. Tonight, she did not feel like dressing up for Jalal. She stared at the stars in the dark night sky and sighed heavily. The night was completely silent, and something in her was disappointed. She had no idea where he was at all. And she knew that in the morning, along with starting her role as the Padishah Begum, she had to meet the expectant eyes of their mothers as well, as his wife. They would be disappointed to know he was not there.

The door creaked, and Jalal frowned at the darkness that engulfed the room. He assumed she would be as excited about her title and new position as he was when he wore his father’s turban for the first time. Nervous but excited. But Rukaiya never liked her room to be dark. He reached for the nearest lamp when she turned to him.

“Let me do that.” He stopped to watch her carefully light the lamps of the room if those were some precious discovery of hers. He looked around at the decorations and eyed the jewellery she had removed. She walked across the room as the scent of her flowers and scent tickled his senses. He stared at her face in the flickering light for some time. Unreadable and calm.

“Your life will change tomorrow.” His words made her hand stop at the lamp. She smiled faintly.

“It changed the day I married you…” She stopped. She noticed his gaze travel to her and the twinkle in his eyes.

“I knew you would love my gift.” Rukaiya’s eyes met his. For a brief moment, Rukaiya felt that the person standing before her was a complete stranger. Her friend, playmate and husband once understood things she did not even speak of.

“Yes.” Her voice grew softer “I loved your gift.” She smiled at him and looked away at the lamp flickering.

“Come. Let me tell you about places I visited.” 

He sat down on the bed, dragging her by her wrist to take a seat beside him and started talking about the politics of the land. Rukaiya sat leaning against the cushions, listening. Nothing seemed to register in her head except how his eyes sparkled as he talked of those.

“How…” she interrupted, making him stare at her. “How are you?” He frowned at first at her words, then smiled, pleased. He held her hand in his and stared back at her.

“How are you?” He repeated her question, making her look away.

“I wait… for you… It’s difficult…” She tried hard not to make her voice shake. “… Can I come with you?” She looked at him with hopeful eyes. He saw a teardrop appearing in the corner of her eye.

“You know that is not possible now, and besides, you have to understand and take care of the harem here…” He stopped as she took her hand away from his grip.

“I understand.” She smiled, “I am glad you are here.”

“Me too.” Jalal smiled at Rukaiya. “I promise that once things are less turbulent, I will…”

“It’s okay, I understand, Jalal. I do.” She smiled faintly as he smiled back, glad.

“You looked beautiful at the durbar today.” 

His words made Rukaiya stare at him, a little uneasy at his different gaze. As Jalal leaned in to pull her in an embrace, Rukaiya realised that perhaps tonight was the night she became a woman; the night that perhaps put some of her insecurities to rest as she saw him sleep beside her in a contented smile. The fourteen-year-old Rukaiya’s heart had transformed. She was probably now, in all senses, his wife.

The night was her dawn of realisation as well. She had no idea her scent could stir his senses or that whatever she asked for, in the heat of those moments, was granted easily without much of a thought. She smiled at the pain she felt in his expression of love. The night had given her a weapon, perhaps, a weapon she could use to survive in the politics of the zenana. His love for her. For a moment, even her own thought disgusted Rukaiya. She watched him sleep peacefully beside her. Then she remembered her mother’s words, and her heart didn’t feel disgusted anymore. A woman’s smile, charm and beauty were her deadliest weapons; she had often heard the ladies say. She was going to use hers to survive in his heart. What was wrong with that? She was now waiting for dawn to start a new journey, clueless about how it would affect her, Jalal or their relationship.

Although no contemporary documents exist to point out who was made the chief queen at what time during Akbar's reign, a lot of emphasis is made on how Hamida Begum had control of the harem. However, Rukaiya Begum enjoyed the position of authority within the Timurid Harem and hence was assumed to have been made the Padishah Begum or chief consort of the Mughal Empire in the first year of Akbar’s reign and remained so till the first year of Jehangir’s reign after Akbar’s demise. She maintained the Mughal Harem system from Lahore and remained there for most of her life.