Autumn 1607. Akbarabad
“Salam Shah Ammi!” Khurram’s voice at her
threshold made Rukaiya Begum smile at her son, who arrived 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 to 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
appearances alongside him and establish your public image as an heir apparent.”
“ But… Khusrau?” He looked unsure.
“Pervez?”
“Khusrau is drowned in opium to get over
the pain of losing his sight. His rebellion made him lose public favour. Pervez
is busy in Dakkhan to grace the occasion. He is under the guidance of Mahabat
Khan. So, it’s your turn; you need to do it for me.” Khurram nodded at
Rukaiya’s words.
“Also, after the fair and festivities, and
giving away coins and clothes to the needy, there will be a feast at the Turkish
Harem. I will arrange it myself.” She smiled.
“A feast?” Khurram frowned “You will
arrange it?” He knew how the Dowager Queen kept to herself and barely arranged
feasts in the harem since the demise of his grandfather.
“Yes, my child, it’s been a long time since
we have had a feast in the Turkish harem for our noble ladies and their
families, and I think they need one. I also invited Asmat Begum with her
granddaughters. We also need to talk about celebrating your coming of age with
the emperor soon.” His face lit up at her words, as his cheeks felt warm, and he
blushed slightly.
“What is her name? Did she say?” She asked
teasingly as his cheeks felt warm.
“Arjumand.” He said, “Her name is
Arjumand.”
Rukaiya Begum smiled, watching him leave in
a hurry. She was happy her boy had grown up and happier that he had taken a
liking to a Persian girl and not another one from the other zenana. It was time
she took the reins of the Timurid dynasty back where it belonged, just as her
grandfather had dreamt of it. If not Jahangir, who already seemed smitten by Jagat
Gossain, then her Khurram would back the lost glory of Babar that Jalal
willingly gave away for alliances she never approved of, with the sons of Hind.
Rukaiya frowned, lost in her thoughts. She still had her hopes. Her thoughts ran
wild as she pulled the hookah pipe closer to her mouth. It was time she put her
pawns to play. She needed to see Khurram with Arjumand herself, consult Salima
Begum and speak to Jahangir about their engagement before Jagat Gossain found him
a match.
“Jodha Begum is here to see you.” A lady
bowed hurriedly as Rukaiya nodded slightly.
Jagat Gossain appeared, clearly unnerved as
she stood in front of Rukaiya.
“There is a feast at the Turkish Harem on
Navroz, and there is no invitation sent out to me?” She asked, slightly raising
her brows as Rukaiya Begum smiled.
“I
know it’s not what brought you here, Jodha Begum, tell me what did.” Rukaiya
stared at Jagat Gossain’s smile fade.
“Fine, if you want to talk, we will. Tell me
what I hear is not true!” Her voice sounded agitated.
“It really depends on what you heard,
Begum.” Rukaiya Begum spoke calmly.
“You can’t be doing this! You can’t be
actually thinking of such things to get back at me!”
“Get back at you?” Rukaiya sat up, alarmed
with a clear displeasure in her voice. “Mind your tone there, Jodha Begum, I am
still the late emperor’s chief consort!”
“Why else would you employ her, of all the
people, at your service?” Jagat Gossain looked like she was on the verge of a
breakdown.
“Who are you referring to, Jodha Begum? As far as I know, I haven’t employed anyone recently.” She shook her head calmly.
“Oh, don’t be so naïve, it doesn’t suit you, Sultana Sahiba.” Jagat Gossain smiled slightly “That girl Mehr, you want to lure
towards the emperor. I am very well aware of your plans. I know why, of all the
people, you decided to give her a chance.”
“Oh, do you? Because, as far as I know, I
think somebody made Azim Koka believe that Ali Quli was about to rebel, and he
should be protecting his foster brother. Who was that Jodha Begum?” Rukaiya
Begum’s confident words made Jagat Gossain stare at her in disbelief. There was
no way Rukaiya Begum could have known of her meetings with Mirza Koka. She was
making wild assumptions to get it out of her. The Dowager Queen was smart
enough.
“You have no proof of such treason, Sultana
Sahiba.” She spoke in a softer tone. “You should know what you accuse of.”
“So should you, Jodha Begum, you are talking
to the former Padshah Begum. I have been doing this since I ever knew what life
was. And as for proof, I don’t need one. I am helping someone who was put in
trouble in the first place by my kin. And as far as employing her goes, I was
not sure of it, but I am now. I am sure she makes a difference to this harem still,
I want to see how far and how much.” Her words made Jagat Gossain fume.
“He is the emperor now. If you think he is
going to repeat the mistake of falling for a mere commoner…”
“Oh, maybe he won’t, but what about MY dear
Khurram? He can fall in love with anyone he wants to. And there is a saying…”
Rukaiya Begum took a drag from her hookah pipe and spoke, as Jagat Gossain
stood stunned. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“You simply can’t drag Khurram into this.
He is… he is…” Jagat Gossain looked lost.
“He is my son.” Rukaiya Begum spoke, “And
unlike many, I don’t use my king as my pawn. You underestimate my mind, Jodha
Begum.” She shook her head.
“You will not win over Khurram this time.
You will see.” Jagat Gossain turned to walk away.
“I don’t need to try to win over my own,
unlike you, Jodha Begum. Your nature drives them away from you. First the
father, then the son. You can sit with all the power in the harem, but you will
never be powerful enough.” Rukaiya Begum stood up “And as far as playing games
is concerned, I am not interested. All I want is for Khurram to have a bright
future, and I think we both are on the same page on that.”
Jagat Gossain took one last glance at the
Dowager Queen and walked out of the room. She needed to be more careful next
time and not let her emotions get the better of her. She had indeed
underestimated the Dowager Queen’s spy system on her movements. If the news of
her treason reached the emperor, it could cost her a lot, for she knew no matter
what people believed, Jahangir’s interest in Mehrunnisa was still persistent.
She now needed to know what Mehr thought of the man, whom she was made to believe, who killed her husband.
Arjumand was humming a tune as she braided
her hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her own smile made her blush
slightly as she stared at the mirror for a few seconds. She had not realised
the slight tap on her door, as Mehrunissa entered the room with a dress she had
specially designed for her beloved niece. She stopped looking at Arjumand, humming to herself, lost in thought and smiling. Her heart skipped a beat as an
unknown fear crept into her heart. She had been familiar with that scene and
her mother’s worried face. Ladli pushed through the curtains separating the
bedside from the dressing area, making Arjumand stop, alarmed and smile, hugging
her cousin. Mehrunissa put the dress down on the bed and smiled, “This is for
you, a gift for Navroz.”
“This is beautiful, Phuphi!” Arjumand
gasped. “This is better than the jewellery Bade
Phuphi gifted! I will wear it to the fair.”
“I will be glad. I am thinking of opening a
stall for clothes.” Arjumand smiled at Mehr’s words. “That will be very nice. I
will help you and Dadijaan with her perfumes.”
“That will be helpful indeed.” Arjumand sat
staring at Mehr’s reflection as she ran her fingers through Arjumand’s half-done braids, tightly putting them together.
“So what were you humming?” Her question
took Arjumand by surprise.
“Huh?”
“You were humming something. A tune
perhaps?” Mehr smiled.
“A Sufi poem.” Arjumand smiled. “Hafiz”
“Hafiz?” Mehr raised her eyebrows “Who
suggested that?”
“Shehzaade Khurram.” Mehrunnisa’s hands stopped at her braids as she saw Arjumand trying hard to hide her blush as Ladli dragged her away to play. Placing the ivory comb down on the dressing table, Mehrunnisa looked at her own reflection in the mirror, with a frown on her face that refused to go.
