RAABTA

“Sometimes, the biggest battles were fought emotionally, in the four walls of the Harem, yet none knew of their bravery, or spoke of their sacrifices.” Rukaiya Begum loved being doted on by her husband ever since the news of her pregnancy. He loved her more, or at least showed more care making the entire Harem smile. Despite his busy schedule and workload he always found time to visit the Pari Mahal twice a day. He decided to handle all his state affairs from Lahore until he saw the face of his heir. “Padshah Salamat!” A eunuch had arrived breaking their moment and he refused to speak in front of the Padishah Begum. Jalal walked away from her chambers towards the corridor with him. Rukaiya frowned uneasily and tiptoed to the threshold of her room. “Afghans attacked him. He was stabbed by them in anger and revenge for their loss of his hands. He died midway through his injuries. His wives and children are at Prayag, will they continue the Haj?” Rukaiya’s chest felt heavy ...

“After every storm, there is sunshine, and after every day, darkness.” The Mughal Capital was being established at Agra in much prompt and grandeur, at the site of the Badal Mahal that once belonged to the Chauhans. Jalaluddin Mohammad Akbar had walked the path of his father’s dream successfully, removing every challenge that came his way. After the battle at Panipat, he had given a strong message to the enemies that he was here to rule. At Lahore, however, the world inside the zenana had improved very less. Rukaiya Sultana Begum made sure Salima and her newborn daughter were sent gifts from the Mughal Zenana at Bairam Khan’s outpost near Saurashtra. Rumours were abuzz that the Emperor was having differences with his most trusted general. Ever since the marriage with the Timurid princess, Bairam Khan had tried to establish every stance to the other generals that it was he who was the power behind Jalal’s throne. As the Padishah Begum, she had talked to the emperor’s mother. ...

“A part of our love should live after us, and that’s how our love survives time.” Rana Udai Singh had been out on a celebrating hunt hearing the news of the arrival of a grandchild. He had met a sage in the forests near Lake Pichola and prophesy was made that had worried the entire clan. The news had reached Kunwar Partap in Kumbhalgarh, through Ajbante’s letter. She was in the last month of her pregnancy and confined mostly to her room, perhaps that is why the volume of her letters to him had increased even when he could not reply to all of them. Ajbante Baisa mentioned the sage had talked about a change of capital and impending doom at Chittorgarh. This made Kunwar Partap want to rush back home. Ajbante Baisa was informed by her maid-in-waiting, Kesari Bai that the Maharanisa had talked of the establishment of a new capital at the bank of the Lake Pichola. But why make a new capital when we need funds to raise a strong army and we also have Kumbhalgarh at our disposal? ...

“Home is a feeling, of love and protection, than a place or kins.” A year had almost passed by in a trance for Kunwarani Ajbante Kanwar. She tried to blend with the ladies of the Ranimahal at Chittorgarh. Especially with Kunwar Partap away on most days, she spent her time with the princesses and lesser queens of Rana Udai Singh. She had learnt many things over the past year. The most important lesson was not to show her opinions to everyone. Ranima loved her like a daughter and she was mesmerized by the kind of diplomacy and wit Ranima carried. She had learnt to be diplomatic herself, enough to survive in peace in between the politics of the Ranimahal. She had realised that the Ranimahal was divided by opinions and united by their festivities. In any festival, from Diwali to Holi, to Gangaur, she loved how the whole family came together in celebration.  On all other days, however, she felt cold vibes, between the queens, princesses and princes. She tried to befriend some...

“The knots of destiny were tied, fate sealed, and she knew she had lost her in him, as souls entwined.” As soon as Ajbante Kanwar tilted the bowl of rice at the threshold of the Kumbha Palace at Chittorgarh, she felt a deep surge of emotions inside her. It had been a long journey from the time she had dreamt this dream to a struggle of the mind and heart, and finally, she had seen in his eyes a sense of respect she was looking for, for who she was. Today, the corner of her red veil was tied to his stole as she crossed the threshold into the Sisodia house, her soul knotted to him, for eternity. She felt like all her prayers had been answered.  Ajbante Kanwar was however alert ever since she stepped inside the Ranimahal. From as much as she had heard of the Ranimahal, from her mother, newcomers were often tested here. It was a game of tactful survival and diplomacy; she had to make sure Kunwar Partap was proud of his decision. Her words and moves were to be accounted for v...