RAABTA

  Navroz Mela, 1608, Rankatta, Agra. The Nawroz Festivities and fair were arranged in the village of Rankatta near Agra for the year. A few days before the festivals, tents were set up for the royal family, and chieftains also made their way to the village with their wives and daughters. The last to arrive at the occasion was the emperor himself who had stopped on the way, at the tomb of his father, posthumously honoured “Arsh Ashyani”. He however managed to reach it on the dawn of the festivities. Padshah Jahangir adjusted his turquoise gem-studded turban and stared at his reflection in the mirror, while his attendants helped him with the muslin robe. Did he look anything close to the late emperor whom everyone idolised? Did he look convincing enough to himself? He sighed, careful enough not to let the stress show on his face. Ever since he had his senses, Salim felt this way. The pressure of being an heir apparent, added to the constant rebuke and doubt by his own people, and whe

  Winter 1607-08, Akbarabad Fort’s Harem Aitbar Khan Khawaja Sara, in charge of the harem quarters for the ladies in waiting, looked up from the accounts book and skipped a heartbeat. There stood a very familiar face this harem could never forget, only older, perhaps wiser. “Mehr!” He gasped in delight “How are you?” He rose up from his seat and his eyes fell on the bundles of clothes in her hand and the child. “Is she yours?” He smiled “How wonderfully pretty, just like her mother!” Mehr Un Nissa forced a smile. Her habit of small talk wasn’t the best. His smile faded. “I’m sorry about your...” “I am the new Lady in Waiting for the Sultana Begum.” She cut his words short and he stood a little taken aback. Surely he was aware that the Sultana Begum had asked for a room for her new lady, but never in his strangest of imagination could he think it was Mehr Un Nissa. “Why yes! I have been told...” He took the bunch of keys that hung from a nail beside him, which prompted a serva

  Winter 1607, Akbarabad Fort   “Ladies of the Harem please rise to bow to the new Begum!” The guards announced as the crowd gathered to make merry in the happy occasion parted to catch a glimpse of the newly married Sahila Banu Begum. The eminent ladies of the Harem, queens, princesses, and families of chiefs stood in the garden of the Harem, where the fountains smelled of rose water and carpets from Persia were laid down the path, with occasional showers of rose petals on the eminent guests for the evening. Tulips bloomed and musicians played at the Nahabat Khana. This Navroz had started off early for the Royal Family, but the Padshah made no announcement for his Padshah Begum. Rumours flew in the Harem that he now favoured Sahila Banu over his once favourite Jodha Begum. Rukaiya Begum sat on a marble stone platform, at one end of the garden with Salima Begum, delicacies wrapped in silver foils, placed in between them, as dancers performed for the occasion. The new Begum walked a

  Autumn 1607. Akbarabad “Salam Shah Ammi!” Khurram’s voice at her threshold made Rukaiya Begum smile at her son, who arrive bruised and sweaty from his lessons. Alongside him came his diwan Khwaja Waysi and bowed. “How are his lessons coming along Khawaja Sahib?” Rukaiya Begum addressed the man who smiled. “He is ready to go on a war if you ask me, Sultana Begum!” “Very well! Inform the Padshah then.” The Khwaja agreed and left immediately. “My Shehzaade, come here.” She appeared worried as she took the watered clothes from the first aid plate and dusted the dirt off his wounds with her own hands. “I learned defence lessons today.” He smiled at her worried face “I am taking a liking to the sword lessons.” “I am glad.” Rukaiya smiled back “I hope you are ready for Navroz too.” “Ready?” He frowned. “We celebrate Navroz every year Shah Ammi. What’s special?” “It is your first Navroz with your father here and the celebrations will be huge. It is the right time you make app

  Autumn 1607, Akbarabad Fort The harem was buzzing with activities since early dawn; the concubine quarters woke with a crowd gathering at the common bath, the ladies in charge of the kitchens spread varieties of pickles and spices to be dried in the scorching sun, utensils clanked as men rushed to put big bowls and pan out on the kitchen courtyards to start the day’s cooking,   the Royal ladies of the Rajput Zenana made their way to the temples with ladies alongside carrying plates laid with daily offerings, some Turkish women sat at the fountains, enjoying the smell of tube roses and jasmine in the garden, savouring on dates, gossiping while some braided their hairs and massaged perfumed oil on their locks before making their way to the Hamam. Some of the dancing girls were practising in one of the many rooms as the sound of their anklets resonated in rhythm through the air. Cuckoos sang on the royal poinciana trees and the air smelled of spring. Amidst the familiar hustle, she

Summer 1607, Akbarabad Fort The season of summer came in full splendour at the Fort of Agra where the Royal Poinciana were in blood red bloom, the falling petals making a red carpet across the garden of the Jahangiri Mahal; the waters of the fountain were running cool, the cuckoos sang in the afternoon silence and the tulips filled the gardens. Bulbuls sang across the palace and flew to the large shady trees that stood on the other side, towards the old Harem of the deceased emperor. It had been three years since and a lot had changed. Agra was renamed Akbarabad by Emperor Jahangir in honour of his father who had restored the city of Rai Pithora to its lost glory. Mariam Ur Zamani had accompanied Jodha Begum to Lahore alongside the Emperor for a short trip leaving the reigns of the Harem in the hands of Salima Begum. Jahangir, to the pleasure of Rukaiya Begum, had chosen a Persian wife this time, Sahila Banu Begum. She had all the features of her rich Persian pedigree and the wit a