“It is not what you can do for Love, it is often what Love
makes you do, that defines your relationship.”
The Padishah Begum had ordered the shift of the harem to Lahore. With the news, the ladies of the harem had started packing in
a hurry. They had stopped on their way to Lahore at Jalandhar to celebrate the
wedding of Salima Begum to Bairam Khan, which continued for a fortnight. The
emperor himself was present briefly on the day of the Nikah, and as the Kazi
read out the Nikah conditions, Rukaiya Begum smiled, noticing how the Emperor’s
eyes met hers across the hall. She smiled behind the Purdah, knowing he, too, remembered his own wedding, just like she did at every wedding she attended.
From Jalandhar, where Khan Baba was stationed with his family, the Harem had moved
to Lahore while Jalal went back to Mankot with Maham Anga.
Lahore had transformed since Rukaiya
Begum first saw it. She peeped between the curtains of her caravan to watch the
crowd of eager onlookers on the wide roads. The Fortified walls brought back
memories of happier times. She had been gifted a set of white doves by Emperor Humayun here, and she and Jalal spent a week watching them fly around
the gardens, as she giggled in childish innocence and he stared at her with a
smile. Those days of innocence she missed, and she missed her Jalal. The fort
had been reconstructed by the emperor’s instructions, and the newly built gate
was called the Akbari Darwaza after Jalal’s official name. The arches and domes
of the zenana were bigger and better, and the interiors were well decorated with
Persian motifs. The fort had two large gardens, with fountains, prayer halls,
courthouses and an entertainment area for the ladies.
Once the rooms were inspected by her, she allotted the rooms to all the ladies according to their ranks. Then she
retired to her own chamber, decorated with beautiful arches and Persian carpets
and curtains. She loved the open balcony that overlooked the gardens below and
beyond, which was Jalal’s chamber, which he called his Khwab Ghar (House of
Dreams). She loved how he had named each area of the fort to his own poetic
liking. Nasir informed her that her apartments were called the Pari Mahal of
the fort. She stared at the beautifully curved architecture and the garden of
flowers below her window. Rukaiya Begum sat on the cushions and ordered
Nasir to inform the Emperor of their arrival. It would take him a fortnight to
come, and by then, Rukaiya Begum would get the fort ready for his welcome.
“The Padishah Begum sends her regards.” The
messenger bowed before his emperor and Maham Anga. “She said that the fort had
been transformed into a grand palace, and everyone is pleased with their
relocation. She has asked the Padshah as to when he will decide to arrive to
inspect his Haram?” Jalal smiled slightly, but before he could speak, Maham Anga
spoke for him, “The emperor has a lot of issues to take care of at Agra and Din
Panah. Bega Begum also wants to shift to Din Panah near the Emperor’s tomb.
Padshah has to make sure she settles in properly, and once that is done, he can
visit Lahore in a month or so.” Jalal nodded in silent agreement. As much as he
wanted to see his mother and wife, Maham Anga reminded him of his
responsibilities. That night, Jalal paced his room restlessly. He could imagine
the pain in Rukaiya’s eyes when the message would reach her because she
expected him there. But he was helpless.
Rukaiya Begum sighed and asked the
messenger, “Did the Emperor himself say this?” The messenger stood in silence,
head bowed. She clapped her hands for Nasir and told him to send for Salima
Begum. The eunuch stared for a brief moment and then ran with her instructions.
Salima Begum had arrived in her zenana with her stepson Rahim in tow for a
few days, because Khan Baba had moved to Din Panah with Bega Begum’s troops. She
would soon join him there. Although everyone in the zenana assumed the cold war
was still persistent between the Padishah Begum and the Khan-e Khana’s newly
wedded wife, Salima had apologised for her irrational behaviour much before her
wedding. Rukaiya Begum was happy to see her accept her fate. Salima Begum
arrived with the infant Rahim in tow and bowed to the Padishah Begum.
Rukaiya smiled at the scared child and
offered him sweets. Soon, the ladies were talking about the grand mausoleum that
was being constructed at Din Panah over some wine. Rahim sat on Rukaiya’s lap,
playing with her bangles rather attentively. Rukaiya felt the emptiness in her
heart as she watched the child.
“The Khan e Khana says Padshah Ghazi has
been kind enough to assure him that his position will belong to Rahim when he
grows up.” Salima Begum seemed pleased “And to my son, he would bestow a part of
the Khan e Khana’s land.” At her words, Rukaiya Begum stopped to see her blush
slightly.
“I did not know you were expecting.” The
Padishah Begum spoke matter-of-factly, “Congratulations. You will be sent gifts
in your chamber before you leave.”
“You are kind, Padishah Begum.” Salima was
still blushing. “We will be leaving tomorrow.”
“Can you...” Rukaiya Begum stopped, unsure
of whether to trust her or not.
“You have been kind enough to tolerate my
misdoings, Padishah Begum. If I can be of any help to you, I will be obliged.”
“Just give this letter to Khan Baba.” She
gave Salima a small piece of instruction, without a royal seal: “Make sure no
one knows of this.”
Rukaiya Begum watched Salima leave, with
the child in tow. She leaned against the cushion and sighed.
Maham Anga inspected Bairam Khan’s letter
to the Emperor for the umpteenth time. He had written from Delhi that Bega
Begum was settled, and he would take care of everything, while the
emperor should not delay his journey to Lahore. Maham Anga had seen a happy
Jalal order his men to prepare for a journey. It was odd for Maham Anga to
accept that Bairam Khan himself sent Jalal such a letter. She frowned in displeased.
After a long time, Rukaiya Sultana Begum
ordered her maids to dress her up in her best attire on the occasion of the
Emperor’s arrival. The celebrations were arranged in the gardens, where all the
nobles arrived to pay their respect to the Emperor. The Ladies rejoiced in the
inner gardens of the zenana. The
Padishah Begum was called upon soon at the Diwan e Khas for an appearance, and
she walked up to the emperor and sat behind the veiled balcony of the ladies.
The nobles came forward to pay their respect with bows and gifts. Rukaiya hoped
the court was over soon. To her happiness, Jalal ordered some matters of state
to be taken care of the next day as he was tired from the journey. In her room,
Rukaiya Begum arranged for his refreshments.
Removing the turban from his head, the
emperor felt relieved after a long day. He removed the jewellery and heavy
attire and asked his servants for the arrangements of an early dinner. To his
surprise, the servant informed him that his dinner had already been laid at the
chambers of the Padishah Begum. Jalal smiled. He knew that Rukaiya knew of his
needs even before he did. He walked across the corridors to her chamber, which
was decorated with sweet-smelling perfumes and flowers. Rukaiya sat pretty,
with a feast laid for them in front of her. He smiled in contentment, taking his
seat.
“The padishah begum would be pleased to
inform you that she cooked the meat herself.” Jalal stared at Rukaiya speak,
circling her bangles like she used to as a child. He smiled and ordered the
maids to disperse for the night.
“When did you take an interest in cooking?” He
asked, tasting the meat that was served.
“I am not interested in cooking, but I
assumed the emperor would be pleased if I...” Rukaiya smiled, watching him enjoy
the food.
“Well, you have learnt well. Anything else
you learnt?” Jalal smiled, amused as Rukaiya Begum narrowed her eyes “No, Nothing!”
“I heard somebody reads and recites too
much poetry for her own good.” He smiled, making her frown.
“Such news travels to your court?” she asked, surprised as he laughed. “No, Silly! Bega Begum told me so.”
“Oh!” Rukaiya nodded.
“Can I hear?” his words made Rukaiya’s eyes
twinkle. “Let’s recite some poetry.” He smiled.
Rukaiya’s eyes widened in delight as he
smiled at her happiness.
“You always wanted to read poetry with me, didn’t you?” She nodded at his question. “Go on.”
“Let’s start with Rumi, then.” She smiled.
“Okay, I will tell you two lines, you give
me the next two; let’s see who has a sharper brain here!” Jalal threw her a
challenge she couldn’t refuse. Smiling slightly, Rukaiya said, “You had always
been more intelligent, Jalal. I will lose this one!”
“We will see.” Jalal thought for some time
while Rukaiya studied his face.
He entwined his hand in hers with a smile and
began his recitation,
“In
your light, I learn how to love,
In
your beauty, how to make poems...”
Rukaiya smiled, continuing:
“You
dance inside my chest
Where
no one sees you!”
And together they finished the recitation:
“But
sometimes I do,
And
that sight becomes this art.”
She sat with her book of poems, reciting
them to Jalal. It was almost midnight when Rukaiya Begum stopped, for Jalal was
fast asleep with his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, lovingly watching him sleep. Staring at his sleeping figure made her smile in
peace. Then she ran her finger down his cheeks and kissed his forehead. Before
she knew it, Jalal had pulled her by her hand, and she half lay by his side, as
he stared at her with a sleepy smile.
“You should sleep, you are tired.” Rukaiya
placed her hand on his ruffled hair again.
“Are you...” he asked with a hint of longing
in his voice “, Tired?”
“No.” She blushed softly as he pulled her
into an embrace.”Jalal...” Her unsure call made him frown.
“I think...” She stopped as he kissed her
cheeks
“Go on...”
“I think...we should think of an heir.” She
spoke, unsure as Jalal stared at her like he had misheard what she said, “The
Timurid dynasty needs an heir to the throne.”
As soon as she said it, Jalal
knew it was her words of insecurity. The words were not hers altogether. He had
heard the elder ladies speak too, with Maham Anga suggesting him outright for
other alliances. He ran his hand through the locks of hair falling on Rukaiya’s
face.
“Rukaiya Sultana Begum, are you scared
because you have not conceived yet?” he asked, making her look away.
“No.” Her voice was low with the lie.
“Rukaiya.” Jalal sat up on the bed, making
her look up at him. He cupped her face and smiled, “I promise you, your son will
someday be on the throne of the Timurids. It doesn't matter when.” Rukaiya’s
eyes filled with tears of relief as he added, “And no one will ever replace who
you are. To me and to my people. Not now and not in the future.” Rukaiya hid
her face in his chest and cried tears of relief as Jalal held her with a smile.
