Confrontations

It was that very night, tired from her day-long sobbing and hungry from her intermediate fasting over the heartbreak that seemed to cause a pain otherwise unknown to her heart, that Arjumand Banu was startled by the excited voice of her mother, eagerly telling her to open her door, for some good news was to be shared. Her entire existence and purpose in life changed as her mother hugged her tight and told her that the Emperor had summoned her father to discuss their engagement. Their Engagement! She’s with Shehzaade Khurram.

“But... what about his marriage?” She had asked with a frown.

“That is not your concern now. We have to get everything done. Your clothes need to be made ready, befitting of being a royal princess and the jewellery...” Her mother’s eyes sparkled.

 “Had Phuphi lied to me?” Arjumand cut her thoughts short.

“Your Phuphi doesn’t lie.” Asaf Khan entered his daughter’s bedroom.

“Please, we don’t need to talk about his other wedding now!” Diwanji Begum almost pleaded with her husband. “She is so happy.”

“And I am happy too, as her father. But as a minister to the emperor, knowing how the palace life is, I want her to be ready for the future.” Asaf Khan scorned his wife. “Now leave us alone. I need to talk to her.”

Diwanji Begum left, dragging little Abutalib Shayesta Khan, their heir of just eight, along with her, giving one last disapproving glance at her husband.

“My child.” Asaf Khan lovingly placed his hand over Arjumand Banu’s head “He will indeed marry the Qandahari princess first. Timurid Shehzaade, unlike commoners, needs to marry for alliances and political profits more than for companionship.” Arjumand Banu sighed as he continued, “Your Phuphi didn’t lie. She was trying to protect you. I know your mother is not exactly fond of her, but Mehr has seen a lot in that harem, and she has learned from her.” Arjumand nodded slightly.

“And remember, even though she will be his first wife, you are his first choice. Use that wisely, for us.” Arjumand stared at her father’s hopeful smile as he said, “My future depends on how important you are to him.”

Arjumand Banu couldn’t sleep that night. In the flickering light of the lamp, she remembered all the times she had heard that she was “only a woman” and “what could women do?” She had stood in a corner every time her parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts showered their heir Shayesta with more pampering gifts, saying he was “their future”. Yet today, her father’s future depended on her. She had to keep the Shehzaade “pleased” even when she was hurt by the fact that he was indeed going to marry someone else. Her parents didn’t want her to displease him with questions, yet she thought she had the right to. Arjumand sighed, staring at the veil of stars in the night sky.

Perhaps this is why she loved Ali Quli Phupha, and Mehr Phuphi perhaps admired them. They never showed any discrepancies between genders, nor did Mehr ever try to please Ali Quli with anything but the truth. Could she ever be like that with her husband, or did he, being the blood of Timurid, come into the way? Arjumand sat wondering about the Harem. Did any queen in the Timurid dynasty question their husband, the emperor, or even perhaps correct him? She didn’t know when, lost in this thought of the weight of expectations she suddenly carried from her family, she fell into a deep slumber.

Rukaiya Begum was awake all night too, twisting and turning in her soft bed, uneasy. She could not share the news of a marriage alliance with Shehzaade Khurram when she broke the news of the engagement to him. She was happy when he hugged her, and her eyes sparkled in joy at how her boy had grown. But a hidden fear in her subconscious mind found its way to her nightmares and kept her awake. What if the boy didn’t understand the importance of alliances like she didn’t, once upon a time? Or worse, hold grudges against his own father over it and do something that would perhaps end his future chances? She had to talk to him, she gathered. “Just not today.” She whispered to the night sky.

The next morning, Khurram was flooded with congratulatory gifts from all quarters. He had just finished his wrestling lessons and was back in his chambers when he stopped, startled at the crowd gathered there. Approaching with a frown, he realised that Jodha Begum was here, waiting for him to come back from his lessons.

He bowed in courtesy as the Begum smiled at him, and was quick to wipe off the sweat and dirt from his hands and face with a wet towel his servant presented him, before approaching the queen.

“Congratulations on your wedding!” Jodha Begum smiled, placing the trays of gifts before him. Khurram acknowledged it and offered the Begum a seat, but she dismissed it.

“I am happy you agreed to marry whom your father chose.” She smiled, “Just like your father obeyed his and married me. You will not regret this.” Khurram shook his head in silence. Jodha Begum frowned a little. She didn’t understand why Khurram was so silent about the wedding. Did he not know?

“And on your engagement...”

“Pardon me, Jagat Gossain Begum! I have to go to my archery classes; I will come and meet you some other time.” Khurram asked a little restlessly.

Something in her made him feel uneasy. Even though she was his biological mother, Jagat Gossain’s affection for him made him feel uncomfortable, perhaps because he could never reciprocate it. He had seen his sisters bonding with their mother, even though they spent most of their time in the care of Salima Begum. He somehow always felt distant. Jagat Gossain did try, perhaps a little more than she should have, but not being able to reciprocate the love he felt for Rukaiya Begum, for his biological mother, perhaps made Khurram feel more ill at ease.

“Sure, Shehzaade, I will take your leave then.” Jagat Gossain walked away as her ladies followed her, and Khurram sighed. It was then that he heard the classes disperse across the garden, at Salima Sultana’s quarters, and he knew he had to meet someone. He quickly changed into his cleaner clothes.

Arjumand felt different today in class. Not only was the Munshi nicer to her, but the Princesses also tried to befriend her. She suddenly became the centre of attention for the class and felt all eyes were on her, judging her, studying her and scrutinising her every move. Salima Sultana Begum was kind enough to smile and pat her head gently and told her to get used to such attention. When she finally left the class and stood in the gardens all by herself, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Arjumand!” Khurram’s voice rang through the afternoon silence of the garden, where only the bulbuls sang, and the fountain danced. She stopped on her way back, without turning back to look at him, as she felt his presence approach her. Never before had Arjumand been so unnerved by his mere existence at the same time and space as hers. “I had been looking for you.” He said, letting out a gasp.

“Why?” Arjumand tried hard so that her voice wouldn’t tremble, and failed miserably.

“I wanted to see you.” Khurram’s words came out with ease, like he had the experience of talking to ladies that way. Suddenly, all the grievances of the previous day came flowing into her mind and filled her heart. She was about to turn and question him, but instead, her father’s words made her stop.

“What’s wrong?” Khurram asked, narrowing his eyebrows, “Aren’t you happy?”

“I... I am... Shehzade... It is an honour to...”

“Arjumand!” Khurram walked across from her backside to face her as she stopped and looked away “Promise me something today.”

Khurram took her cold hands in his as in a reflex, and Arjumand looked around to see if anyone spotted them. Khurram, however, seemed unaware of the fact that they could be seen or even judged.

“Shehzaade... someone will see us...” Arjumand tried to remove her hand from his, but his grip on her wrist tightened.

“Let them!” Khurram seemed irked “Are you even hearing me out, Arjumand?” She looked up at his eyes, a little pale, as if she had perhaps angered him.

“Promise me, you will stand by me, support me when I am weak, correct me when I am wrong and always speak to me, as a wife should, and not speak to the title I hold. And I promise you nobody will ever take your place in my heart.”

Touched by his words, Arjumand’s fears melted into tiny pearl droplets and filled her eyes, startling Khurram as though he had upset her. Letting go of his firm grip on her hand, he held her shoulder and asked in a softer tone, “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“No Shehzaade... I...”

“Khurram!”

“I am so happy.” As the words came out of her red-painted lips, Khurram, in a reflex, embraced the woman he had chosen to be by his side, against all odds. Arjumand’s heart skipped a beat as she could hear his heartbeat and hugged him tighter in the embrace, not scared anymore.