The Loss

"Sometimes it is wrong to assume we understand others' pain until we face it ourselves."

Rukaiya Begum felt a sudden pain in her lower abdomen, and the wet nurse was immediately called to the Pari Mahal of the Lahore Palace. Everyone from the Maids and Concubines to the Royal women waited eagerly in the garden outside the Pari Mahal for some news from the Wet Nurses. They rushed about to and fro, worried. Hamida Banu said a small prayer. It was only six months into Rukaiya Begum’s pregnancy, and the signs were not good. Rukaiya Begum struggled to stay awake as the excruciating pain made her restless. She was given doses of opium mixed with dates to ease her pain. But nothing seemed to work. Fear and pain made her cry, clenching her jaws tightly. It was almost past midnight, after a day’s battle, that Rukaiya Begum fell into a deep slumber. The wet nurses walked out to face the crowd gathered outside with bad news.

“We could not save the child. She had internal bleeding and perhaps some problem in her ovary.” One of the old ladies told Hamida Banu Begum.

“Ya, Allah!” Hamida Banu Begum cried out in sorrow. “How will I face Jalal?”

None of the ladies dared to enquire about the Padishah Begum; they all mourned the loss of an heir, much like Hamida Banu did.

“It seems like the dynasty is cursed.” “The Shahenshah deserves a better fortune.” “It was a girl child.” “How could she be so careless?” words spread across the Harem, but Rukaiya Begum was still in a deep slumber to witness any of it.

She woke up way into the evening the next day and struggled to understand where she was. The nurses came to her attention immediately. Fearing the worst, she inquired in urgency, “What happened?” Her question was met with silence, making her restless “Tell me what happened!”

“Takliya!” Hamida Banu Begum ordered the maids as she walked into the room. She sat beside Rukaiya Begum’s bed and held her hand firmly. Rukaiya Begum stared at her with a pale face as Hamida Banu looked away and shook her head. Rukaiya Begum slowly withdrew her hands from her mother-in-law. Hamida Banu saw her half-sister sit after a struggle on the bed; she offered help, which Rukaiya Begum silently refused. She had expected Rukaiya to cry, mourn her loss, and perhaps even the fact that she could never be a mother, but Hamida Banu saw her half-sitting in her bed, almost like a statue, staring out at the star-studded, clear night sky, in silence. She grew worried as she walked away from the room.

Jalal sat in silence, in his dimly lit durbar hall, alone ever since the news arrived from Lahore. Maham Anga gasped while Salima Sultana Begum was quick to enquire about the health of the Padishah Begum. He had ordered everyone to leave him alone.

Salima Begum walked into the hall with slow, measured steps and stood in silence in front of him.

“What do you want now?” He had asked rudely.

“Pardon me for interfering, Padshah E Hind, but I think we should travel to Lahore and be with...”

“You can go wherever you want.” He clapped his hands to summon his nearest soldier, “Get the procession ready for Salima Begum and her child to leave for Lahore immediately.”

“Padshah, You...” She asked as her throat went dry.

“I have work to do.” He had gotten up to leave when Salima Begum stood in his way.

“I have one more request for you, Padshah.” She spoke as he frowned in silence.

“She is not my child.” She looked up at his frowning face. “She is your daughter, too.”

She did not expect the emperor to react as he walked away, and she went to pack for her journey to Lahore. In all the days she had spent at Agra, Salima missed Lahore terribly. The politics here were harsh, and every step was one on the chessboard. She had found favour with Maham Anga, who was clueless about the contents of her letters to the Padishah Begum. She assumed Salima Begum was never interested in politics. Salima Begum truly felt sad for the Padishah Begum and was unable to understand why the emperor was so rude. She knew he was hurt, but perhaps he never imagined the pain Rukaiya Begum felt. Being a mother, perhaps, made Salima Begum more compassionate.

In the morning, the child of Salima, barely three, was watching some doves soar in the sky. The emperor had walked out of his Khwab Ghar for the morning rituals and spotted the child sitting alone.

“What are you doing here, Shehzaadi?” His question startled the child, who bowed to him.

“I was watching the doves.”

“Aren’t you leaving for Lahore?” he asked politely.

“Yes, as soon as Ammi is ready.” She spoke with her head bowed low.

“What is your name?” He asked. She kept quiet as he frowned.

“Tell me your name, Shehzaadi!”

“She doesn’t have a name!” Salima Begum rushed to her defence, knowing of the Emperor’s mood. “I call her Mehr, but she doesn’t have an official name.” She held the scared child close. Jalal clapped his hands and summoned a guard.

“Summon Maham Anga and tell her that from today, Shehzaadi Mehr is to be renamed as Shehzaadi Aqiqa Mehr Begum, and she is to be duly adopted by the emperor.” His words made Salima Begum look up as he walked away. Before she left for Lahore, a firman arrived in her name that announced a state mourning for the loss of the Emperor’s stillborn daughter, whom he lovingly named Fatima, the “Captivating One," the late Daughter of the Padishah Begum Rukaiya Sultana.

Hamida Banu Begum had walked out of her apartment at the commotion in the hall when her eyes fell on the Padishah Begum, out for a morning inspection of the harem with her maids and eunuchs. It had been a few days since the fateful day, and Rukaiya Begum hadn’t uttered a word to anyone. After that, almost like nothing had happened, she was dressed in an olive green Sharara, in her full authority and walking around the Harem for an inspection.

“Who will clean the Bird Baths?” She was heard asking, pointing to a white birdbath, “Me?”

“We will do it immediately, Padishah Begum.”

“Why do the bushes in the garden look asymmetrical?” She had herself plucked out a twig and thrown it away. She walked through the corridors as the concubines rushed out of their rooms to bow to her.

“The place looks smelly, don’t you people clean up?” She asked, covering her nose.

“Padishah Begum!” Her newly appointed chief Eunuch, Abdul, bowed to her. “Salima Sultana Begum is here with the Shehzaadi.” Rukaiya Begum nodded, ordering him to lead them to the Pari Mahal while she dispersed the maids. As Rukaiya took a lonely walk down the gardens to her apartments, her heart sank. She had expected him here, but he had sent Salima Begum instead. Was he disappointed with her?

“The Shahenshah wanted to come.” As soon as Salima spoke in urgency, bowing before her, Rukaiya Begum knew it was a lie. “He had been caught up...”

“How are you?” Rukaiya’s question was directed to the shy girl hiding behind her mother. “Come here, Shehzaadi.” She patted her cushion with a smile. Salima Begum pushed the child towards her, and Rukaiya held her hands. “You have grown so fast in these few months!” She smiled at the child. “Isn’t it Mehr?”

“My name is not Mehr anymore.” As soon as the child spoke, Salima Begum grew alarmed as the Padishah Begum frowned at her.

“Then what’s your name?” She asked, patting the child’s hand gently, “I remember it was Mehr the last time.”

“The Shahenshah called me Shehzaadi Aqiqa.” As soon as the child spoke, Rukaiya’s grip on her hand loosened, and the child ran out of the room.

“My apologies, Padishah Begum, she...” Salima Begum started as Rukaiya interrupted.

“He named her Aqiqa?”

“Yes, Padishah Begum, he adopted...”

“When?” Rukaiya Begum asked, looking away.

“What?” Salima Begum asked cluelessly.

“When did he name her...”

“The day we left Agra...” Salima Begum sat down on the cushion beside her. “Padishah Begum, pardon me for asking, but are you all right?”

Rukaiya Begum stared at Salima Begum as though she had seen a ghost.

“What?”

“Are you all right?” Salima was genuinely concerned as she placed her hand over Rukaiya’s cold hands. At that moment, Rukaiya held her tightly and cried. Salima Begum placed her hand gently on the Padishah Begum’s back and let out a few tears for her cousin’s sorrow.

“No one asked me...” Rukaiya Begum spoke, wiping away her tears, “What you did today...”

“I am here for as long as you want.” Salima Begum was reassured. “So is Aqiqa, you can keep her here if you...”

“No, Salima Begum, you should leave for Agra when you want to. I don’t want to hold anyone back anymore.” Her voice was distant. And she moved away from Salima Begum’s proximity.

“ The emperor sent this.” Salima Begum left the mourning firman beside her and left.

It was deep into the night when Rukaiya Begum sat opening the firman with trembling hands and blurred eyes.

“This is to declare a State Mourning by the order of Shahenshah E Hind, Jalaluddin Mohammad Akbar, to deeply mourn the loss of the Emperor’s stillborn daughter, whom he lovingly named Fatima, the 'Captivating One', the late Daughter to the Padishah Begum Rukaiya Sultana, for a week.”

Rukaiya’s tear fell on the name “Fatima," which blurred a little in her teardrops. He had cared enough to name her and remember her; Rukaiya Begum knew how dear this child would have been to him if she had survived. Rukaiya Begum held the firman close to her chest and wept for the first time, for the child she never could become the mother of.

Rukaiya Begum has had more than one miscarriage throughout her marriage, but I chose to pen down one for the sake of the story. The name Fatima appears in some documents, while others call the stillborn daughter unnamed, citing that after this incident, Rukaiya Begum’s ovary was damaged and she could not conceive further. The incident is dated between 1561 and 1563, approximately close to the year of the marriage of Akbar to Harka Bai.