RAABTA

  1618. Nur Jahan sat looking lost, with a piece of paper in her hand, containing the royal seal. She sighed as the breeze gently blew the satin curtains of her chambers and looked out at the gardens below. Shehzade Khusrau had just sent his apologies to the Empress who had offered him her daughter. His reason disturbed her. He had clearly stated that since his first wife is the daughter of Mirza Koka it would be emotionally unfair to her to marry the daughter of the man who killed him. It’s been more than a decade, and somewhere Nur Jahan had totally dismissed the idea that Ladli Begum was not her daughter alone. Sometimes her name and position were not enough. Today she was reminded of that. A trail of memories haunted her today. His blood-soaked body, his smile. When he played with Ladli he was always a child. She had loved him. She hadn’t stopped ever. No matter what Ladli thought of her feelings. She was aware of the respect she deserves and not to settle for anything less from

1617, Burhanpur. Nur Jahan had arranged for the grandest feast Shehzaade Khurram had ever seen in his honour. Jahangir was immensely proud of his son’s success. In between his sips on the third cup of wine, Nur Jahan carefully regulated the quantity, he had smiled at his son, sitting across the carpet from him, as the aroma of the delicacies filled the air. He had just arrived to pay his respect to the emperor and empress and brought with him the good news of the well-being of his newborn daughter, Roshanara. He also announced that Mumtaj Mahal was pregnant again, and the Pir Baba they met had predicted her next, son, to be some sort of trouble. Jahangir frowned a little as Nur Jahan dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “A newborn can’t be any sort of trouble. We just need to take care of his upbringing well. Of which, by God’s grace, Mumtaj Mahal is fully capable.” She was reassured as Khurram agreed. Ladli Begum sat in front of the mirror, adjusting the neatly tied braid. She

1616, Agra Mahabat Khan was summoned to court at Agra as soon as the Padshah arrived back from a long vacation to the mountains. If sources were to be believed then he looked frail and ill. Rumour was that the serious illness had decreased but not vanished from his body. Was he incurable? Mahabat Khan wondered. Upon his arrival at court, he was immediately called closer to the Padshah where he sat reclined beside Nur Jahan. Mahabat Khan bowed to them. Jahangir stared at Nur Jahan as if to urge her to go on. So she cleared her throat and asked in a clear firm voice of authority, “Do you think you have been transparent with the accounts so far Mirza Mahabat Khan?” The courtroom was engulfed in awkward silence and exchange of glances. The empress was questioning one of the Padshah’s strongest men. The men shook their heads disapprovingly as the emperor sat in silence. He was giving her too much authority for a woman . Mahabat Khan looked up at her face and was quick to look away, his brow

 1 613, Agra Jagat Gossain smiled happily as the court witness narrated the incident to her vividly. She was proud of her son. Padshah Jahangir received Shehzaade Khurram with joy as he introduced Kunwar Karan of Mewar to the court. The prince of Mewar had accepted his friendship; he was even ready to convince his father Rana Amar Singh to sign a treaty. Khurram had indeed done the impossible. Jahangir had forgotten protocol and hugged his son in pride. He then requested Nur Mahal to give the prince of Mewar a troop of elephants as a token of their friendship. Jagat Gossain was reassured that the newly prominent empress who dared to attend the court with Jahangir was not a threat to her son. If the rumours she heard were right, then Nur Mahal wouldn’t conceive either. Her Khurram could be declared the heir soon. Jagat Gossain sat looking out at the waters of the Yamuna in silence. He had visited her briefly, as part of the protocol and wished to stay in the Turkish Harem. She wasn’t su