1608, Akbarabad
Jahangir was
strolling through the garden path late at night, unable to sleep. The torches
burned bright, and the jasmine smelled like heaven in the moonlit night. He sat
down beside a fountain, restless and wary. Today, the court session had worn him
off. The expedition to Mewar had been unsuccessful for Mahabat Khan, and he was
disappointed in his most competent general. The Rajputs at court deemed him
incompetent for the terrain of the Aravallis. So Abdullah Khan was appointed on
his behalf, while Mahabat Khan was to leave for Dakkhan to be with Pervez. The
emperor was worried about his second son. After a first successful expedition,
Pervez seemed to lack the zeal needed to win wars. He had sent the best mangoes
from Barhanpur to please the emperor, but that did very little to the number of
unsuccessful missions he carried out, and the opium addiction was on the rise, as
reported by Jahangir’s spies. Perhaps Mahabat Khan, who knew the Dakkhan well, could help him and motivate him toward a life desirable to his status. Lost
in his thoughts, unable to sleep, he sighed and stared at the clear sky.
Innumerable stars shone in the night sky like a veil over it.
A faint sound of
anklets caught his attention in the otherwise silent night. The anklet seemed
to follow him around the corridors of the garden and stopped when he grew
alert. The sound was moving away slowly now.
In a reflex, Jahangir took out his dagger and tiptoed into the empty corridor leading to the
Zenanas near the Jahangirmahal. He
saw a shadow move in the distance.
“Stop!” He said as
the shadow increased in pace. “Stop, or I will throw the weapon in your hand. I don’t
miss targets.” The shadow did stop. From the looks of things, the person was
wrapped in a pashmina shawl.
“Show your face.”
Jahangir frowned, nearing the shadow carefully. The shadow didn’t move an inch.
“I said, show me
your face!” As his voice grew louder and firmer, alert and scared that it would
grab the attention of the guards, Mehr Un Nisa turned and placed her finger
over her lips to tell him to hush his voice.
Jahangir’s eyebrows
arched as her face was visible in the light of the corridor torches.
“Mehr...” He heaved
a sigh of relief “Why are you...”
“I wanted to talk
to you.” She spoke almost in a whisper, “About my grievances.” She was quick to
add.
“Grievances?”
Jahangir seemed amused. “Then be present at court tomorrow.” He said about to
turn back towards the garden.
“No! Stop.” Mehr Un
Nisa whispered a little firmly, “Why do you keep sending me gifts?” She frowned.
Jahangir smiled
faintly. He knew what would bring her to him, and it worked.
“Because I want to
get back what I lost.” He spoke, carefully putting his dagger away in the
pouch.
“How can you be
so...” Colour flushed from Mehr’s face as her heart skipped a beat.
“I meant the
respect... The respect you had for me once.” Jahangir cut her words short, interrupting with a faint smile, “What did you think I wanted back, Mehr?”
“Do not send me
those gifts. I beg you. You are going to make my life difficult in the harem
once again. “She
sighed, looking away. “I have just started working. The Sultana Begum has been
very kind to me. I don’t want to lose my job.”
“Did
anyone say anything?” Jahangir frowned with sudden concern, taking a step
towards her and stopping at her cold glance.
“Nobody
dares to say things to my face, of course. But they speak behind my back.” She
spoke under her breath.
“When
did you start getting affected by what people say?”Jahangir frowned.
“I
am a mother to a child. I don’t want her to grow up thinking her father was
murdered by the people she grew up around, and her mother was a mistress to the
emperor.” Mehr Un Nisa clenched her jaw.
“You
still think I...” Jahangir looked disappointed.
“I
said she will think...” Mehr Un Nisa corrected.
“So
you realise that I didn’t...” Jahangir asked with hope.
“This
isn’t about me. I am not here for me. Ladli shouldn’t look at me as a
mistress...”
Jahangir
felt irked. “How can you belittle what we had like this, Mehr? You think I
treated you like a mistress? Didn’t you know I tried to....? I tried so hard!
Arsh Arshiyani was not ready to accept us... I did try...”
“I
am not concerned about the past anymore, Shahenshah E Hind! That Mehr Un Nisa is
long dead and gone forever. Your constant shower of kindness now is what
concerns me. I don’t want to be called someone’s mistress. I am the widow of a
very honourable man. And your precious gifts do very little to increase your
respect and a lot to decrease mine. I am not a child to be lured by gifts.”
“Those
are for Ladli. To give her the life she deserves. The life she would have had
at her father’s.” Jahangir corrected.
“Ladli
will grow up with self-esteem and understand the value of things. Things only
her mother is capable of providing for her.” Mehr Un Nisa said firmly. For a
moment, Jahangir realised that ever since he became emperor, no one ever spoke to
him in the tone she dared to use. Perhaps because, subconsciously in her mind,
she was still speaking to Salim. Her
Salim.
“Fine.
I will stop. But what do I get for it?” Jahangir asked, crossing his arms
against his chest.
Mehr
Un Nisa let out a sigh and stared at him.
“I
want something! Everything can’t happen on your terms here. I am the emperor.” He
shrugged.
“I
can say that I am grateful for what you did for my child, and perhaps I don’t
hate you or blame you, will that do?”
“What
about you, Mehr? Can I do nothing for you?” Jahangir looked into her eyes, and
his heart raced once again.
“Make
sure Mehr Un Nisa is not remembered for being your mistress. Make sure years
later, she is respected for being who she is. Not cunning. Not manipulative.
Not ‘cursed’ with opinion.” Mehr Un Nisa stared at his grim face “Can you do
that?” She shook her head. “I guess not!”
Mehr
Un Nisa walked away into the shadows from where she came. Jahangir stood in the
corridor watching. Then he sighed.
Jahangir
sat down thinking, Mehr’s words playing in his head, making him feel helpless.
It was true, this world was perhaps not kinder to women like her; ones who wore
their heart on their sleeves, or said what they felt without a veil over it, or
had a clear idea and opinion about things. The world would perhaps never call
him out for being a coward when she needed him to stand up for her, or when
Nadira was executed for loving him. Every word stabbed his heart as, finally, realisation dawned with the first light of dawn.
“I
know exactly what I should do, Mehr. I am not sure you are ready for it yet.” He
walked away towards his chambers.
