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Gain and Loss

 1612-13 Winter, Agra

Shehzade Khurram thought that time had stopped when he stared at Arjumand at their Nikah and saw her blush at him. He had waited for this moment for so long, it was almost unreal, like a dream. Arjumand Banu felt cold and nervous. She was wearing jewellery belonging to the Timurid heritage, and her clothes were probably heavier than hers. She felt all eyes on her, scrutinising her every move, and was unsure of her survival strategies in the harem. Her mother had constantly confused her more with a list of dos and don'ts. But all her fears were set to rest with his warm reassuring smile and Qandahari Begum’s warm hand on hers. She had found family. 

It was a long celebration after which she was finally alone with Shehzaade Khurram. Her husband. That night Khurram had asked her to accompany him to Mewar. She had readily agreed. He had warned her of danger. She knew he would protect her. The next few weeks went by in preparation for the journey.

Arjumand Banu quickly realised that the Harem was pretty different on the outside and inside. The decorums confused her, titles needed to be remembered and she couldn’t visit Ladli Begum without telling her handmaid and eunuchs first. She now understood how Ladli felt in her initial days. Arjumand Banu was kind of relieved she would be away from the elderly eyes and closer to Shehzaade Khurram than wait for him to come to her. However, when Qandahari Begum said she would stay behind with Perhez Banu, she was scared. She had never handled her own household let alone a troop of moving harem. Qandahari Begum reassured her it was not tough, she was scared too, but she learnt it. 

“The Shehzaade is very patient. He helped me. He will help you too.” She reassured Arjumand. “I would have travelled with you but Perhez Banu needs to be kept out of danger, the Sultana Begum has refused to permit us.” Arjumand hugged her.

 In the few weeks after her wedding, under the scrutinizing eyes of the Harem, she had found a friend in Qandahari Begum and felt like she was family, despite her mother warning her that she couldn’t treat his other wives with trust and honesty. She had also bonded well with Perhez Banu. Qandahari Begum was happy to let her keep Perhez when she was bored. Before they left, Shehzaade Khurram was blessed with the good news that delayed their going by another week. Qandahari Begum was pregnant again. Arjumand Banu wanted to be with her for another week, and Shehzaade Khurram wanted to be with his daughter. Most of the times when he played with her, both his Begums would stare in pride, for they knew how in times heirs were valued, he had loved his daughter perhaps a little more than he would have loved a son.

Rukaiya Sultana Begum had prayed for it to be a son this time. She felt guilty and shallow yet she knew how important an heir was to Khurram’s future. Especially with Dawar Baksh being showered with attention from all quarters.

When it was time to leave, Arjumand Banu went to pay Nur Mahal a visit two days before departure. She hadn’t seen much of her aunt after the wedding. Nur Mahal had hugged her, yet in all the grandeur, titles and decorums, the warmth of her Mehr Phuphi was perhaps lost. She was quick with her goodbye and was showered with gifts. The only words that struck her were 

“I heard Qandahari Begum is pregnant again.” Nur Mahal’s words met her nod “Congratulations to her and Shehzaade but... now that you are going with him...” Nur Mahal smiled at her “We expect some good news from you too. Especially your father will like that.” She blushed slightly and walked away taking her to leave. Soon her father’s words resonated in her ears. “It’s for the family.” Was Nur Mahal saying the same too?  She wondered.

She had met Ladli Begum who had teared up hearing she would be leaving. She sobbed inconsolably, hugging Arjumand Banu.

“Please don’t leave me here alone, take me with you. You promised you will never leave me alone.” Ladli had said in between her sobs. Arjumand felt helpless.

“Ask Shehzaade Khurram. It’s me. He won’t refuse.” Ladli Begum had hopeful eyes. 

It was then that Arjumand Banu realised that for the last few years, she was probably the only constant companion Ladli Begum had. She wanted to ask Nur Mahal’s permission to take Ladli Begum with her for a few days. But she wanted to ask Shehzaade first.

“You can’t ask her like that.” Khurram shook his head as she looked disappointed.

“Why not?” Arjumand asked with a little arch of her brows.

“Because she is Nur Mahal’s daughter, not a part of my harem. And taking her along means additional security just for her. And god forbid if something happens to her, we will be answerable to Nur Mahal. Given her influence on the emperor, perhaps even on him. Mewar isn’t that safe.”

“Are you trying to say Phuphi will go against us? That’s not possible.” She protested. Shehzaade Khurram smiled. 

“I am saying it’s not safe to take her along. Nur Mahal is her mother. If Ladli is in danger then...” Arjumand looked disappointed. Khurram smiled walking up to her. 

“Look, you are new to the harem. I understand your emotions. I understand you are close to her. I also care about Ladli Begum, you know that. But I can’t jeopardise such an important mission or my position for her.” Khurram shrugged “You have to understand me, Arju.”

“Stop calling me that.” Arjumand sighed. “I understand. It’s just that she is all alone.”

“She will find someone soon. Like I found you.” Shehzaade Khurram teased. Arjumand Banu blushed a little.

“Enough about others now.” Shehzade Khurram pulled her closer “How was your day?”

Ladli Begum had run through the empty corridors back to her room and fell on her bed weeping. Of course, he couldn’t jeopardise his position for her. Who was she? She cursed herself for hearing their conversation in secret. It hurt her more.

“They are all the same. All the same. I don’t want to be here.” She sobbed to herself, hidden away from everyone she cared for and trusted. 

Arjumand Banu had expected to see her before they left. Her doors were shut. So she slipped a note in, hoping to get an answer.

“I am leaving Ladli, take care and write to me. I will keep persuading him. He will agree someday. I don’t get the politics of kins just as you don’t. I will miss you. Forgive me.”

Ladli Begum tore away the paper and watched the procession leave from her windows. She didn’t know why but she expected Shehzaade Khurram to come and have a word with her. But then, wouldn’t that perhaps jeopardise him too? She fumed.

Rukaiya Sultana Begum was feeling suffocated in her mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was happy that after a long wait, Shehzaade Khurram had his wedding with Arjumand Banu. She was happy Nur Mahal took care of the wedding very gracefully and she seemed like the missing piece of the puzzle Jahangir’s harem needed. She was happy that Qandahari Begum decided to stay back with her daughter and be with the lonely Rukaiya Begum, and she was pregnant again when Shehzaade Khurram left for Mewar with Arjumand Banu. But some things bothered her. Things she couldn’t share with anyone else.

As much as she loved and adored Mehr Un Nisa, she seemed to be far more intelligent than she expected. Within a year, she had her say in Jahangir’s decisions and most often the Padshah now consulted her instead of the elder ladies. Rukaiya Begum was unsure of her thoughts on Shehzaade Khurram. He was his father’s favourite heir. But what about Mehr Un Nisa? Would her choices affect Khurram’s future?

Shehzade Khurram had taken her to leave, leaving his pregnant wife in her care along with his daughter. Perhez Banu was a god-sent angel. Rukaiya Begum spent most of her free time watching her play or learning new things. She had made plans for her education and grooming so early that it made Qandahari Begum look surprised. The child could barely sit up then. Rukaiya Begum wanted to make sure that the princess was fit to be an emperor’s daughter. 

Amidst all this happiness, there was uncertainty about Khurram being posted at Mewar. Rukaiya Begum remembered vividly how anxious the harem was when Salim returned from Mewar wounded. As much as she trusted her son’s ability the mother in Rukaiya was always alert for the messengers and sealed messages that came in from the West. Salima Begum had taken ill. She was attended by several medicine men, fakirs, and doctors but none could help. She only had a few days left. Rukaiya Begum felt numb. She went to her sister’s chambers, read out the Quran to her and even sat beside her bed, hands tightly held. Yet she couldn’t bear to watch Salima Begum slipping away. It felt like a whole era ended with her. It was like she was leaving Rukaiya Begum alone. Mariam Ur Zamani was there too, and Rukaiya Begum could see tears in her eyes. 

No matter how far they had lived, how different they were from each other, they had a bond, an experience of living through glory and failures together, for so long. She hadn’t realised how precious this sisterhood of unsaid care and respect was until Salima Begum was gone. Rukaiya Begum was taken aback by the hug she received from Mariam Ur Zamani and unlike all other formal hugs, this one felt real. They had both lost a loved one. Such an enigma was Salima Begum; she was barely disliked by anyone. 

After the mournings, Mariam Ur Zamani and Rukaiya Begum had sat in silence in the empty chambers of the late princess and Rukaiya flipped through the pages of her scribbled poems, amazed. She read some out and Mariam Ur Zamani decided to hand the precious copies to the emperor to be copied and preserved.

The entire Harem mourned.  The flags were half-mast. Jahangir himself held the mourning ceremonies, as a son would for a mother. 

Nur Mahal accompanied him to the charities and distributed clothes. She even paid a visit to the elderly ladies. Although she had never personally been close to the departed Begum, seeing Sultana Begum so broken made her sad. She made sure that the medicine men would check up on her. 

“How about we get an artist to paint a portrait of you?” She had suggested seeing Rukaiya Begum rather absent-minded when she visited. Rukaiya Begum smiled faintly and shook her head.

“Has he decided to make you the official Padshah Begum?” Nur Mahal was taken aback by Rukaiya Begum’s words. She shook her head.

“No Begum, I don’t know who is spreading such rumours, first about me controlling his decisions and then this.” Nur Mahal looked disturbed “I am afraid something is amiss.”

“What makes you say so?” Rukaiya Begum looked concerned at her words.

“I have been helping the emperor with his accounts.” Nur Mahal said as Rukaiya Begum was pleasantly surprised. “But they don’t tally.”

“What do you mean?”

“I fear some people may be hampering the accounts and taking in revenues themselves.”

“Do you know who they are?” Rukaiya Begum asked.

“I guess so.” Nur Mahal nodded “But I am yet to have proof.”

“Fair enough.” Rukaiya Begum spoke thoughtfully “Did you tell the emperor?”

“Not yet.” She shrugged “I have to gather some more information just to be sure...”

“ Even if it's kin, don’t hesitate.” Rukaiya Begum said thoughtfully “If you want me to talk to him I can...” Hoshiyar Khan had entered the chambers in urgency and made the women look up.

“Sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency.”

Nur Mahal and Rukaiya Begum sat in silence as Mariam Ur Zamani paced the room. A medicine man came in and bowed.

“I am sorry.” The ladies looked up at his words “She miscarried...”

Rukaiya Begum said a soft prayer as Mariam Ur Zamani sat down and asked “But is she all right?” Her words were met with silence.

“Speak Up!” Nur Mahal’s voice of authority made the medicine man shake his head. “We had to remove her womb.”

“Does she know?” Jagat Gossain asked entering the chambers with a soft bow to the elderly ladies. The man nodded and left.

The room was filled with suffocating silence. Nur Mahal was the first to move. 

“I will go pay her a visit.” She said looking at Jagat Gossain who nodded “I will go write to Shehzaade.”

“Don’t tell him everything in the letter.” Mariam Ur Zamani suggested. Jagat Gossain nodded and left.

Rukaiya Begum sat back and sighed. Mariam ur Zamani walked up to sit beside her. It wasn’t the first time such a loss was witnessed in this harem. Yet, every time it was still fresh, like the wounds they couldn’t forget themselves, of Aqiqa or Hassan and Hussain.

Nur Mahal walked up to the threshold of Qandahari Begum’s chamber and stopped. She knew the feeling the girl faced. Only, she was too small perhaps to accept that she can never be a mother again. Sighing, she entered the chambers and everyone bowed. Qandahari Begum looked weak as she tried to sit up and stopped at the gesture of her hand. Nur Mahal sat down beside her bed.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly. Qandahari Begum had tears in her eyes. 

“I want to see the Shehzaade.” She said weakly, “I want to be with my family.” Nur Mahal looked up at her words with a nod. 

“Soon.” She reassured “As soon as you get a little better you can travel to see them. Is there anything else you need?”

“My... daughter....” Qandahari Begum took Perhez Banu from the wet nurse’s lap and hugged her tighter than usual. She cried. Nur Mahal patted her head gently and said “If you need anything ask me.”

Asaf Khan was at the court when Hoshiyar Khan called him to Nur Mahal’s chambers. He had come and bowed when she said rather plainly “Write to your daughter. She is our only hope for Khurram’s heir. We can’t let Mahabat Khan bring Pervez or Dawar Baksh against the emperor.”

“Don’t you think you are risking a lot taking names out of instinct like that?” Asaf Khan shrugged “It can land you in trouble.”

“I know you need Shehzaade Khurram; you know the emperor needs him too. So does Sultana Begum. Now an heir to him will only strengthen...”

“You are rooting for heirs?” Asaf Khan asked surprised, “Weren’t you all about equality?”

“I still am. Unfortunately, the world isn’t. The empire isn’t.” Nur Mahal sighed “Once Sultan Raziya took the throne. We all know what happened.”

Asaf Khan nodded, “I will tell Begum to write to Arjumand.”

“And... don’t tell her that Qandahari Begum can no longer conceive.”

“She... what?” Asaf Khan asked, shocked.

“I didn’t tell you that.” Nur Mahal said coldly. “I need to go see someone.” She walked away from her brother.

Ladli Begum was sitting in her room, staring out at the fort walls and the river at a distance. Hoshiyar Khan announced her mother’s arrival prompting her to sit up.

“How are you?” Nur Mahal smiled at her daughter as she nodded.

“I am alright.” She said, Nur Mahal, sat down beside her.

“Have you been writing to Arjumand?” She asked.

“No. Did you want to tell her something, unofficially?” Ladli Begum asked a little suspiciously.

“No. I just asked because... you used to talk to Shehzaade Shahryr, now you don’t.”

“I don’t like him. He broke my trust.” Ladli Begum said rather plainly.

“You aren’t also communicating with Arjumand or Shehzaade Khurram.” Nur Mahal said.

“I don’t want to disturb them. They are... happy.” Ladli Begum looked away.

“But you are all alone.” Nur Mahal frowned.

“I am fine.” Ladli Begum shrugged. Nur Mahal took a long look at her daughter’s face. She smiled faintly.

“I was reminded today how precious it felt when I first held you in my arms. After a few mishaps your father and I...”

“How is the Padshah?” Ladli Begum interrupted, “Heard he wasn’t feeling well.”

“He is fine, it was just a fever.” Nur Mahal smiled. “He asks about you, your studies...”

“How are you?” Ladli Begum asked, looking into her mother’s eyes.

“I am happy... I feel that I can be the face of changing things. It makes me feel powerful and responsible, I...”

“How are you?” Ladli Begum asked again. “I am asking about you, not Nur Mahal.” Her mother stopped at her words. Her smile fainted. With a sigh, she held her daughter’s hand in hers and said “I wasn’t very well.” 

“I heard. But nobody knew why.” Ladli Begum shrugged.

“It’s my old problem again. The pain in the lower abdomen. You could come to visit, ask me?” She stared at her daughter.

“I am not sure I was supposed to.” Ladli Begum said softly “I am glad you are all right. How are you now?”

“I... tired, probably.” Nur Mahal shrugged.

Ladli Begum smiled faintly.

“That’s better. That sounds more human.” She said,

“What do I sound like otherwise?” Nur Mahal frowned.

“Some epitome of perfection.” Ladli Begum shrugged, making her mother laugh a little.

“Can I stay the night with you here?” Nur Mahal asked, “The moonlight looks magical.”

“Are you allowed to stay with me?” Ladli Begum asked. “Have you sought permission?”

“A mother doesn’t need to. Tonight, let me just be your mother first, for once.” Nur Mahal cupped Ladli’s face. Silently, Ladli lay down on the carpet, her head on her mother’s lap as she caressed her hair.

“Do you want to hear stories like old times?” She asked. Ladli nodded.

“Which one?” Nur Mahal smiled “The one where your father killed a tiger?” It was always her favourite bedtime story when she was smaller.

“No.” Ladli shook her head “The one where Nur Mahal killed a tiger.”

In Jahangir’s own words, we know of the Mewar expedition, Nur Mahal’s illness, and Qandahari Begum’s miscarriage. However her not being able to conceive is fiction for the sake of the story. We know that after Perhez Banu, and Qandahari Begum’s miscarriage, all of Shah Jahan’s children were from Mumtaz Mahal. The surviving ones were Jahanara, Dara Shukoh, Shuja, Roshanara, Aurangzeb, Murad and Gauhara.
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