“Some dreams are once broken, often come back as haunting
nightmares.”
The Padishah Begum received the news of the
birth of a baby boy to Harka Bai at Sikri. She had arranged for a feast and
celebration at Lahore and thanked the Almighty herself for this happiness. She
prayed that the boy was safe. Hamida Banu had herself sent a messenger to the Padishah
Begum at Lahore. The ladies celebrated for a week. The Padishah Begum had given
away coins and clothes to the needy and new clothes to her kin. The Emperor
was on his way to Sikri as well. She had smiled at the happy faces savouring the wine and sweet dishes. She greeted and congratulated everyone around the
Harem. The Timurid blood would be safe on the throne.
Jalal had visited once in the past few months,
giving her the good news of Harka Bai conceiving again. He feared that people
were conspiring at Agra. Hence, Harka Bai’s firstborns died, unnaturally.
Ridiculous rumours were spread about the Emperor killing his own blood.
Nevertheless, when Jalal himself feared conspiracy, Rukaiya Begum wondered if
the same had happened to Fatima. Her heart ached once again, and she had asked
Jalal about the needed measures to protect the pregnant Harka Bai. He had sent her
off to Sikri, under the guidance of his religious teacher and guide, Shaikh
Salim Chishti. His mother had joined her there, with some of the harem ladies.
Rukaiya Begum made sure that Salim Chishti and his family were sent gifts of
gratitude.
As the ladies dispersed late at night and
the Padishah Begum sank to her bed, no one knew that her pillow was wet with
tears of what could have been, and never will be. Her heart ached for someone
to call her own. In this crowd of kin, the battle for the crown and endless
alliances, Rukaiya Begum was alone. In ways perhaps she could never explain to
anyone. She feared someone might see her cry. They would assume she wants to
cause harm to his child. But these tears came, not because someone else had a
child, but because her Fatima was no more. If she had survived, she would have
been eight, almost the age when Rukaiya was married off to Jalal. In between her
silent sobs, Rukaiya Begum fell asleep. Then she had a dream.
In her dream, she saw herself staring at a
child. She looked exactly the way Rukaiya looked as a child. She wore the
sweetest shade of pink and had pearls around her neck. She danced around the
clouds and smiled like the rain. She called out to the child in vain, but her
voice was not heard. The child had disappeared into the clouds.
“Ammi... Ammi...” A voice echoed in her
head. She stretched out her arms in vain. Suddenly, she was standing somewhere
in the valleys of Kabul, watching some horses approach her. On one of them sat
Jalal, smiling at her. They were riding towards her fast. She was not moving
from her place. The ground echoed beneath her feet. And then she saw a child, a
boy, running towards her, in front of the horses. He was smiling. Again, the
voices echoed in her head. Different voices “Ammi... Ammi...”
Rukaiya Begum was startled awake, breathless.
Her throat was dry, and her eyes were wet. Sweat droplets appeared on her forehead. She
held her head as though she felt dizzy. One of the maids rushed to attend to
her with water. She gulped down a few sips and sat staring at the dawn outside.
It had been almost a month since Hamida
Banu had come back to Lahore, and that allowed Rukaiya Begum to leave for Agra.
She arrived in much pomp and grandeur with gifts for the newborn. Before even
reaching her apartment or informing the Emperor, she had arrived at Harka Bai’s
apartments. One of the wet nurses placed the child on her lap.
“Salim,” Rukaiya whispered with a smile,
knowing Jalal’s choice of name for this child. He had decided beforehand
and asked Rukaiya for her approval. Rukaiya was a little scared to hold the
tiny baby in her arms. He had wiggled uncomfortably and let out a wail.
Surprised by the same, Rukaiya had quickly given away the child to the care
of the foster mother. It was only after she had left the
apartment that Harka Bai was informed that the Padishah Begum was here to see
the prince.
Salima Begum and Harka Bai arrived at her apartments to meet her
when they saw the Padishah Begum playing with Shehzaadi Aqiqa. They had bowed, and Harka Bai had expressed her gratitude to the Begum for her blessings. The
three ladies sat chatting over some wine when Rukaiya Begum asked curiously, “Has
his name and official guardianship been announced?”
“Not yet.” Salima Begum smiled, “We gathered
the Padshah must have been waiting for you to grace the occasion.”
“He had told me that perhaps one of the
older ladies should be his official guardian.” Harka Bai spoke.
“Yes, that’s how it works in this house.”
Salima Begum agreed.
Abdul bowed before the ladies “The
Padshah is here to see his Begum.” Salima Begum and Harka Bai exchanged a
glance at one another and left a rather surprised Rukaiya Begum alone, bowing
before the emperor as they left. She smiled and bowed, congratulating him as
he did the same, making her smile.
“I heard his official naming is due.” She
spoke as he sat down on the cushion.
“Is that why you are here?” He asked, frowning slightly, “I thought you came to inspect the new capital.”
“What new capital?” The Padishah Begum
frowned, making him smile.
“Well, before I officially announce this, I
want you to visit the site with me.” He spoke, “I want to make a capital at
Sikri, as it is indeed auspicious.”
“Congratulations.” She spoke with pride, “When can I catch a glimpse of the new capital, then?”
“Whenever you wish to.” He smiled, “But I
think you will prefer arranging for the Child’s naming first.” She had nodded
in agreement.
The naming ceremony was indeed special, for
this child was the fruit of the bravest clans that ever set foot on the soil of
Hind, the Timurids and the Rajputs. The Rajput ladies made merry at the
apartment of the Rajput Princess, singing and dancing to their own traditional
songs while the Turkish Haram witnessed a flow of music, wine and opium along
with a feast of meat. There was a
ceremonial weighing of the child, and gifts were distributed among the needy.
The Padshah Akbar had himself taken his
child for a ceremonial public viewing at his Diwan E Aam and had named him
“Nuruddin Mohammad Salim” amidst the cheers, announcing a title of “Mariam Ur
Zamani” for his mother. He had also announced that his nursing and upbringing would be
under the care of Salim Chishti’s daughters, while his official guardianship
would be formulated by Salima Begum. Salima Begum had been surprised at this
decision, as she stared at the Padishah Begum, who had nodded at her with a
smile.
“He is the child of the Timurid tree; none
but a Timurid can be his guide.” She had said to Salima Begum in a whisper.
That night, the royal couple sat with wine
and dates at the Turkish Sultana’s house, content with the events of the day.
“Placing the capital at Sikri will take
some time, perhaps a year or two; till then, Salim will be kept here under my
watchful eyes. Once we shift the capital, he can grow up in the care of the
Chishti family, but not miss home as well.”
“Have you planned the city?” Rukaiya Begum
asked, staring at his contented face.
“Yes. There will be a Diwan E Aam, Diwan E
Khas, Khwab Ghar, Talab, a separate area for the Rajputanis, A library, A
masjid...” He had eyed her for reactions and continued “... A garden for the
Harem, A bath for the Turkish ladies, your palace opposite to mine...a...”
“I will be moving to Sikri?” Rukaiya
Begum’s surprised voice made him smile.
“It will accommodate the entire harem.
Besides, the Padshah needs his Begum close by.” He made her smile.
“I can’t wait to see the new capital.” She
smiled excitedly.
“Well, now it’s just an empty cliff.” He
spoke matter-of-factly, “But once it’s ready... it will be the best capital of
the Timurids.”
He smiled at her and asked, “So how did
it go with Shaikhu Baba? I forgot to ask.”
“Shaikhu Baba cried on my lap, and I was
scared.” Rukaiya looked confused, making him laugh.
“I am thinking of going on a foot
pilgrimage to Ajmer.” His words made Rukaiya raise her eyebrows. “It is for the
prayers there that we are celebrating.” She nodded, “Can I come along?”
“No.” He said softly, “I want you to
stay here and look after everything. The Khan E Khana will be in charge.” She
nodded affirmatively.
She stood up from the cushion and walked to
the balcony from where the moon was visible. “But he felt like the purest I
have felt in a long, long time. He made me feel happy even in his wails.” Her
words were fading away when Jalal walked up behind her, holding her waist and
pulling her close. Rukaiya was surprised and did not move an inch.
“He is going to be pampered too much, I am
afraid.” Jalal spoke with a hint of a smile, “By you and me.”
“He deserves it, doesn’t he?” Rukaiya
smiled at Jalal, her eyes shining, “He is a dream we have dreamt for a long, long
time.”
“Not exactly the way we dreamt it...” Her
stare stopped him.
Jalal had cupped her face and touched her
nose with his. Rukaiya shuddered suddenly. It had been years since he was this
close, and it felt like eras had passed by. Decades have passed. And they were
not the same anymore. At least, she wasn’t.
“Jalal...” Her voice had fear, “I...
can’t...” it trailed almost into a whisper.
“Rukaiya Sultana Begum.” He smiled
softly at her, “You remember once I told you that what matters is over the
years, our relationship doesn’t change?” She nodded in silence.
“My love for you is not counted by what you
could give me or not. It had never been that way in the last eighteen years
that I have been married to you.” A lone tear trickled down Rukaiya’s eyes,
as Jalal thanked his god in secret, that his Rukaiya was still the girl he had
loved for her heart and soul, as she rested her head on his chest and smiled in
his embrace. It was indeed a night of happiness and reunion.
The
Persian texts often hint at a conspiracy headed by Mahamanga against the birth
of the heir of Akbar. Although nothing was clear, the constant
miscarriages and deaths of the infants of the royal ladies are indeed
suspicious. While some chronicles hint at Akbar himself being involved in the
death of the twins, Hasaan and Hussain, others claim that it is far-fetched. His
second child, a daughter, three months younger than Salim, was born to a concubine
and handed over to Mariam Makani. Murad, the third surviving child, was the son
of one of his lesser queens. Fatehpur Sikri was founded in 1569, after the
birth of Salim. It was built around 1572 and was the capital of the empire only till 1585, when Akbar moved to Lahore, due to the feuds in Punjab. The city
was fully abandoned in 1610 by Jahangir. The main attractions of Fatehpur Sikri
also include the house of the Turkish Sultana, believed to be Rukaiya Begum,
opposite the Emperor’s Khwab Ghar, and closest to him and the Panch Mahal.
