The Fear

Fatehpur Sikri was indeed a paradise in red sandstone. The more Rukaiya stayed in the fortress, the more she fell in love with Jalal’s dream city. Every detail of the curving on the walls and pillars, its domes and arches, gates and palaces, was well detailed and reflected Jalal’s thoughts and ideals. He was later a bit inclined towards secularism. He had built temples in the Rajput Harem. If it was from his soul or just for the sake of Politics that he preached secularism, Rukaiya Begum didn’t understand. All she knew was that she had never approved of him celebrating every festival of every religion himself. The zenana had many more festivities with the inclusion of his other queens, including Holi and Diwali, with the growing Rajput members, and she made sure they were celebrated with equal grandeur as much as Navroz or Eid. But never in these occasions had she or the Turk kins stepped out to celebrate like the Emperor.

She woke to the music of Tansen’s melodious voice every morning, as it echoed in the courtyard of her palace, which overlooked Jalal’s Khwab Ghar. She then attended the Diwan E Khas with Jalal and gave her input on the politics of the land. She would often take a relaxing bath with the help of her ladies and sit surrounded by heaps of books and letters that Abdul brought from the Panch Mahal for her. Her favourite spot became the Turkish Bath that the emperor had built in the area of her palace. The terrain was hot, especially in the afternoons, and the bath had temperature-adjustable water to soothe them. In the evenings, she would take a stroll around the Harem and meet the ageing Mariam Makani for a while, and often before dinner, she and Jalal would discuss Sufism and poetry. Often in the darkest hours of the night, as the emperor engaged in merriment in his entertainment pavilion, she would sit with the faint tune of music coming from a distance and smile contentedly. She had wanted this life, close to him. He had fulfilled her wish.

Rukaiya Begum believed that Padshah Akbar would be remembered one day as greater than his grandfather, Babur. He had smiled at her thought. Jalal had made very impressive strategic moves, sending Rajputs against Rajputs. He also sent troops of Hindus to Deccan, and himself waged war against Gwalior, Malwa and other rebellious regions. She knew Mariam Ur Zamani and her ladies in secret did not approve of the idea of letting Rajputs fight an inner battle, but Maan Singh was too happy to serve his emperor. Rukaiya Begum had been impressed with the newly appointed Khan E Khana, Abdur Rahim, the teenage son of Bairam Khan, who already proved his worth as an able and loyal heir. She had exchanged letters with him on many of his missions.

One afternoon, as she was reading the official letters that had arrived for Jalal, Salima Begum and Mariam Ur Zamani had sought a meeting with her. Shehzaadi Mehr was married with much grandeur to the son of one of the chieftains, and Salima Begum often came with issues concerning Shehzaada Salim. Both Mariam Ur Zamani and Salima Begum were worried about how Shehzaada Salim was growing up spoiled by his kins. At five, the Shehzaada was famous for his tantrums and mood swings. The ladies feared his mood, and the concubines and eunuchs stayed away. With the other children, Shehzaadi Khanum, Shehzaada Murad and Shehzaada Daniel growing up under the care of Mariam Makani, it was only Salim who enjoyed the luxuries of being the heir to the throne.

Rukaiya Begum often dismissed the ladies’ concerns about him getting spoiled. He was just a fruit of the Timurid dynasty, showing his might from a young age, she often said. Salima Begum understood her reasons to dote on Salim, and Salim’s over-fondness of the Padishah Begum, who always saved him from the wrath of his father.

“What had Shehzaade Azeem done now?” Rukaiya Begum frowned slightly as Salima Begum and Mariam Ur Zamani bowed before her. A little healthier than she used to be, Rukaiya Begum sat leaning on her cushion and opened the silver box full of neatly wrapped betel leaves. She filled her mouth with one and stared at the two silent women. “I sometimes feel you see and make much more of what actually happens.” Her voice was that of disapproval, and Mariam Ur Zamani stared at her with a sigh.

“Our concern is real, Padishah Begum.” She spoke softly, “Yesterday, Salim did not like his dinner, and in a fit of rage, he almost ...”

“Why did anyone serve him a dinner he didn’t like?” The Padishah Begum’s words made the concerned mother silent. “Did I not order the cooks to make exactly what Salim wants?” She had clapped her hands for Abdul. The Eunuch arrived and bowed before her, and she ordered in a firm tone, “Make sure today’s dinner is laid with every item Shehzaade Salim loves.”

“But...” Salima Begum spoke, exchanging glances with Mariam Ur Zamani.

“You may leave. I have some work.” The Padishah Begum had dismissed the ladies.

The Emperor arrived at his palace late in the evening, from an outpost inspection near Agra. Upon his arrival, the Padishah Begum was immediately called into his chambers, making Rukaiya Begum frown worried.

He was sitting on the carpet, saying his evening prayers, as Rukaiya Begum managed to enter the room noiselessly. Traces of Jalal’s hair, which were hidden beneath his Turban most of the time, were showing signs of greying. She smiled, noticing them. She sat behind him, waiting for him to finish his prayers. He turned, facing her with a rather serious face, put on his turban, and sat down across her on the cushions.

“Shehzaada Mirza has been captured.” He spoke in a monotonous voice that made Rukaiya Begum stare at him wide-eyed.

“Captured?” She had a hint of disappointment in her voice, “But why?”

“Because he rebelled.” Jalal looked agitated “He was all set to declare Kabul independent from the empire. Should have curbed him down when we had the chances...” His eyes stopped at her cold glare.

“He was an infant, and curbing him down meant killing him!” She retorted.

“He is not an infant anymore!” He shrugged, making Rukaiya Begum sigh, “We should kill him now.” He rose from his place and walked up to the window overlooking the Talab. The moonlight shone on it.

“Yes, why not!” Rukaiya Begum rose to her feet, in a calm but cold voice, “Kill everyone who comes in your way to the throne. Mirza, Khan Baba, Kins, Chiefs, stillborns. Maybe one day kill your own children...”

“Rukaiya!” He frowned, turning to her, irked, “I told you many times, I or anyone else would never plot against Khan Baba. No one had any hand in either your miscarriage or the death of Harka Bai’s infants. It is up to you to believe what you want to.” He added rather coldly, “I called upon you to tell you that he will be executed. I can’t keep my promise to you. This needs to be done.” Rukaiya Begum had given him one stare, which he could not decipher, before she walked out of his chambers, without looking back even once.

Deep in the night, Jalal parted his curtains to see that the light in the Sultana’s house was still burning. He frowned, knowing his decision had disturbed her. Back when they were children, Rukaiya had often played with Mirza and doted on him. Her motherly instincts were natural since childhood. He sighed at the memories. Then he spotted Shehzaada Salim making his way up the footwalks of the Talab, towards the sitting area in between. He frowned slightly. What was the child doing at the darkest hour of the night?

Salim had managed to steal a small amount of opium away from the eyes of his keepers and had sat down to inspect the same with great curiosity.  He was about to smell it when he was startled at the sudden pull of his collar and the slap that resounded across the silent courtyard. His father looked visibly angry as the opium fell from his hand, and Salim, red in anger, with tears in his eyes, fumed. Not a teardrop escaped his eyes, nor a sound from his lips.

“Padshah!” Both of them stared at the startled expression of the Padishah Begum, who must have witnessed the scene from her chambers.

Salim, in a reflex, ran to hug her, tightly, and Rukaiya Begum, in the shadow and light, could see his cheeks red from the slap.

“He is a child, how can you...”

“Ask the child what he was doing?” Jalal had stopped her with his angry voice. Onlookers gathered from all quarters by then, and Salim hung on to his Badi Ammi. Rukaiya picked up the small piece of paper, containing something, which was thrown her way by the Emperor. She knew exactly what that was.

“Who gave you this?” Her stern voice scared Salim as he lowered his head.

“What happened?” Mariam Ur Zamani had arrived at the scene and gasped at what her five-year-old had done. He was about to taste opium.

“Did you not hear what she asked?” Jalal fumed at his son, “Who gave you this? Where did you get it?” The child stood quietly. Head bowed. Visibly scared.

“You will be locked up for a day, without any food or water.” The emperor’s words made the women gasp worried “Anyone giving you any food will be executed by my order, is that clear?” His words were met with silence as the soldiers dragged away the Shehzaade to confinement.

“Please, please...” He was pleading, “I am sorry, I truly am!”

Rukaiya Begum couldn’t sleep at night. In the morning, she looked across her palace to the Raniwas of the Rajputs, hoping to get some news about the prince.

“The Padshah left at dawn; he will be back for lunch.” Abdul had bowed to her with the news.

“Did he release Shehzaade Salim?” Abdul shook his head. Rukaiya Begum skipped her breakfast and walked across the courtyard to the Raniwas at midday.

The eunuchs bowed, and the Rajput ladies rushed to inform Mariam Ur Zamani. She had walked out of her chambers in urgency.

“Where is Shehzaade Salim confined?” Her words were met with a silent indication of the lady’s hand. Rukaiya Begum stood before the closed doors, guarded by two of the Emperor’s guards.

“Open the door.” She ordered.

“We are sorry, Padishah Begum, but the emperor has...”

“It is my order; if you do not obey me, I will get you executed.”She spoke in anger, “Now open the door.”

The guards obeyed her silently as Shehzaada Salim stared at the light falling from outside into his chamber.

“Badi Ammi.” He smiled hopefully.

“I told you to call her Padishah Begum in public.” His mother protested softly behind the Padishah Begum.

“Look what I brought for my Salim.” Rukaiya Begum smiled, taking out an apple from beneath her veil. “Here. Have this.” The soldiers exchanged glances with each other, and so did his mother and Salima Begum.

“But the Padshah will get you executed, Badi Ammi.” He frowned at the lady, a little scared. Rukaiya Begum smiled. She did not know about the future, but at that moment, this child cared more about her than his own starvation. She shook her head, placing the apple on his lap.

“Let him get me executed. I can do that for my Sheikhu Baba.”  Her words were met with a smile as the boy took a hungry bite of his apple. Locking his doors again, Padishah Begum walked away to make lunch arrangements for the Padshah.

She did not know why Jalal stared at her rather suspiciously thrice during his lunch. Then he asked, “ What did you do since morning?”

“The Usual.” She shrugged, "Why?”

“I thought I warned everyone not to feed Sheikhu Baba. Everyone included you.”

“I...” She stared at him, a little surprised,” How do you know?”

“Because you are feeding me without pleading for his release.” He shook his head “Rukaiya, he needs to know he made a mistake.”

“He knows, he is truly sorry.” She shrugged, “Trust me.”

“You cannot be an advocate for his bad behaviour all the time. Even Mariam Ur Zamani fears he is getting spoiled.”

“She just doesn’t know how a Timurid blood can be handled.” Rukaiya had snapped in a manner very unlike her.

“Then what about Salima Begum?” He frowned, “She also...”

“She told you, didn’t she?” Rukaiya Begum frowned “Now what? You will get me executed?”

“Don’t be naive, Rukaiya.” He had stopped at his morsel “All I am saying is that love Salim; don’t spoil him. He needs to learn conduct befitting of a Timurid heir.”

Rukaiya Begum stared at him in silence.

“I have decided to hand over his lessons to Maan Singh and also send him away for some days to Lahore with Mariam Makani.” He stared at her lack of responses “ I know you dote on him, and also miss Shehzaadi Mehr, but this is for his best.”

“I know.” Rukaiya had spoken softly and sighed.

He had left to explore Agra, on horseback after lunch, smiling at her once, at the gates. It was almost evening when she was watching the doves fly around and the peacocks perched on the rooftops when Abdul came running in urgency.

“Padishah Begum. Padishah Begum.” His wails alerted Rukaiya, whose heart skipped a beat. “The Shahehshah has been hit by an arrow.”

The Emperor was rushed to his Khwab Ghar, where soldiers barred entrance for the crowd of worried onlookers outside, and the medicine men checked on the emperor. He was unconscious. The Padishah Begum had to appear in the Diwan E Aam, trying to calm her racing heart and trembling voice and announce that the Padishah was fit and fine, just escaped with a minor injury. It was needed to show the enemies that they failed. She then ran to his chambers in urgency.  Rahim stood guarding the door, as her eyes met the teary eyes of Mariam Ur Zamani and the worried face of Salima Begum. Rahim did not stop the Padishah Begum. 

She walked across the threshold and into his chambers as the nurses and medicine men ran around him, making medicine, applying balms, and dressing his wound. The arrow had narrowly escaped his heart. He looked in pain, his head was sweaty, and his clothes were soaked in blood. For a moment, Rukaiya Begum’s mind travelled back to her father’s coffin. He had the same kind of blood-soaked ... the smell of the blood was making her feel uneasy.

“Padishah Begum!” She had heard Rahim scream. The splashes of water on her face startled her as she found herself on the floor, surrounded by Abdul and a few nurses.

“Are you all right, Begum?” the nurses asked “You fainted...”

“Jalal!” She had sat up on the cold floor and saw the emperor struggling to breathe. The known fear gripped Rukaiya Begum. “Jalal!” She ran to hold his stone-cold hand in hers and rub it with tears in her eyes.

“What happened?” “Let us inside, please.” There was a commotion at the door.

“Jalal.” She saw him frown slightly as if he was trying to respond to her call.

“Padishah Begum.” The oldest medicine man spoke in a kind voice, “He needs rest.” 

Rukaiya sat down on the floor beside him, her hand in his, her eyes not leaving him for a moment. She monitored his breathing in her fear, prayed every time he winced, and rubbed his hands and feet as the nurses did.

“Padishah Begum.” Abdul had called in vain for the umpteenth time in two days, “You should go and eat something.”

“Not unless he opens his eyes.” She was adamant. 

Deep inside, Rukaiya went through her entire life and regretted the way she sometimes fought with him, hurt him or perhaps questioned her trust in him. She regretted not giving him an heir. And she feared the worst. Losing him was not an option. He was the only one left in the world whom she still called her own. The Almighty couldn’t be so cruel to her.

On the third day, Jalal opened his eyes to see Rukaiya Begum, kneeling by his side, on the floor, her hand in his. He moved a little, alerting her as she jumped in her place and stared at him, looking at her.

“Jalal?” Her voice choked as the medicine men came by immediately, “Oh, Jalal!”

He was declared out of danger, prompting a celebration in the Haram, and Rukaiya Begum sat by his bed, running her fingers through his hair, as all his other Begums came to see him and enquire about his health. 

She then walked out to have a bath, dress and eat, then step into the Diwan E Khas, to talk to his chiefs.

“We need to know who did this.” She spoke as the men agreed.

“We are on to it.” Rahim spoke sincerely, “We have been inspecting the body of the paid killer. He had killed himself.”

“Any leads?” She had asked, frowning.

“Not yet, Padishah Begum, but as soon as we....”

“Then do it quick, and redirect all issues to me for the month. The emperor needs to rest.” The men had bowed and left.

Maan Singh had arrived in urgency, in a few days, from his expedition to Mewar, to enquire about the Emperor’s health.

“Did you succeed in making a peace talk?” The emperor asked, half lying in his bed. He shook his head.

“They want war...” Maan Singh clenched his jaw, remembering the words used by Kunwar Amar Singh, the heir to the throne. He dared to raise a question about his pedigree.

“Then we will give them that," the emperor spoke, “Send me the details of what you need and...”

“I thought I said all issues were redirected to me this month.” The emperor stopped with a slight smile at the Padishah Begum’s words as she appeared on his threshold with freshly cut fruit and nuts. “No one informed you, Kunwar Maan Singh?” Her tone was that of disapproval.

“Yes. I am truly sorry, Padishah Begum. I was here to enquire about the Padshah’s health. I should leave.” He had bowed before the lady and left.

“Actually, I asked him...” Jalal had stopped at her glare as she sat down in front of him.

“You are not yet fit, and you are talking about going to war again...” She looked disappointed.

“I will be fit soon, given the amount of nursing care I am getting from you.” He smiled.

“Do I also need permission to worry for you?” She frowned.

“Not at all. In fact, you have been doing that all your life, and the more we get older your worries increase.” He had smiled, amused.

“I fear...” Rukaiya Begum had looked away to hide her tears and insecurities “I fear losing you, Jalal.”

“I am not leaving you so soon.” He held her hand and smiled at her, “Don’t you worry.”

“But you are still not permitted to talk of wars unless you are absolutely fit.”

“As you say, Padishah Begum.” He smiled, “Your wish is my command.”

Prince Salim was a chief concern for his father, for the way in which he conducted himself from early childhood. Some historians attribute his nature to the over-pampering nature of the emperor and his kin, as he was the sole heir to the throne. From a very early age, he was addicted to opium and wine. Rukaiya Sultana Begum was extremely fond of Salim. When the zenana was shifted to Lahore again, towards the end of Akbar’s rule, she had taken Salim and his wives with her to Lahore. When the father and son had a fall out, she sent Salima Begum to talk sense to the prince. He also fondly remembered Rukaiya in his memoir. The attack on Akbar with the arrow, as conducted by his brother-in-law, is mentioned in the Akbarnama. It is dated around 1574, and Maan Singh failed in making a peace treaty with Mewar in 1574 and 1575. He had to wait to attack Mewar, however, because of the rebellions in Bengal and Deccan.