Rejection

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 deserved and not to settle for anything less from anyone. She had a strong urge to write back to Khusrau Mirza, reminding him that it was for Mirza Koka that Ali Quli lost his life, too. She was a witness to it. But the fear of a probe resurfacing, and people again asking questions about the hand of the emperor in it and more questions hurtling her way made Nur Jahan stop. The priority now was to secure Ladli’s future, and being stubborn would barely help.

Asaf Khan walked into the room with Hoshiyar Khan and stopped at the sight of his sister sitting unmindful and disturbed. He stopped Hoshiyar Khan from telling her of his arrival and went to sit beside her, on the edge of the window.

“Is something wrong?” Nur Jahan was a little startled as she had not realised her brother’s presence in the room and silently held out the letter for him to read.

“You sent a proposal to Khusrau?” Asaf Khan frowned “He is rather unwell. You can’t marry Ladli Begum to a man whose life is a ticking clock. She deserves better.”

“I know.” Nur Jahan spoke plainly, “I just wanted her to be married into a royal rank. She has faced a lot of ‘You are not one of us here.”

Asaf Khan sighed. “And you assumed just because you are the Padshah’s coregent, they will forget who her father was?”

“Why are you talking like he was wrong?” Nur Jahan frowned at her brother’s tone. “He was killed, too!”

“I know that.” Asaf Khan shrugged, “But it matters to them...”

Nur Jahan sat in silence “I think I should send a proposal to Shehzaade Shah Jahan.” Asaf Khan was taken aback.

“What? Do you think it will be wise to marry her to a man her sister married?” He frowned “Besides, Ladli Begum deserves to be someone’s chief wife!”

“She deserves the best royalty. And Shehzaade Shah Jahan is the best option. I didn’t want to do this. I even warned her to stay away from him. But...” Nur Jahan looked up at her brother, “I think she likes him.”

“You know better than anyone else that a woman’s choice of a groom is of very little matter in this society.” Asaf Khan reasoned. “You don’t want her to be like Qandahari Begum or Akbarbadi Begum in his harem, do you?” Truth be told, Nur Jahan didn’t. She was well aware of how Shehzaade Shah Jahan respected all his wives but barely visited them, as compared to Mumtaj Mahal, who had all his attention and was mother to five of his six children and was rumoured to be pregnant yet again. She was aware that even if he agreed to marry Ladli Begum, her position would be nothing less than a governess to her sister’s children.

“I know. But for her sake, I have to ask once. She thinks I am the reason she is never happy, Bhaijaan. Am I such a cruel mother?” She asked as her voice trembled a little. Asaf Khan understood where she came from, as a mother. But he had his doubts about the witty empress. He had to look out for his daughter and her relevance in the life of Shehzaade Khurram. Nur Jahan was a good manipulator. Shehzade Shah Jahan could very well give Ladli Begum his attention for the sake of the throne. Asaf Khan decided to write to Mumtaj Mahal about this before Nur Jahan reached out to her husband. He held her cold hands in his, reassuringly,

“You know you provided her with a life even her father couldn’t have given her. She grew up like a princess in this palace.” He reasoned, “Children tend to rebel if they don’t get enough attention from parents. Ladli Begum is not actually blaming you; she is just immature.”

“I hope you are right. And I hope she finds happiness.” Nur Jahan spoke. “Excuse me, for I have to meet the Padshah and tell him about the letter.”

“Do you need to?” He asked, getting up to leave, “I mean...”

“I tell him everything.” Nur Jahan spoke, “Our relationship is based on a trust which I will not break.” Asaf Khan nodded and left.

Ladli Begum was running across the corridor with a smile when she turned a corner and bumped into Shehzaade Shahryr, who had just come out of his grandmother’s chamber.

“What is wrong with you?” He asked, irked, holding his stomach where she had hit. She gasped for breath and spoke with a smile, “Shehzaade Khusrau turned me down.”

“Turned you down?” He frowned slightly “When did you propose to him?” He looked shocked. Ladli Begum looked irked.

“I didn’t. The Padshah Begum did. She sent him a proposal, and he refused.”

“So... why are you happy?” Shehzade Shahryr looked confused.

“Because I wanted her to ...” Ladli Begum stopped with a slight blush, looking away.

Shehzade Shahryar looked at her and shook his head, “You are in love with Shehzaade Shah Jahan. I never guessed!” His taunt met her cold eyes.

“She has to offer him now!” Ladli Begum’s eyes twinkled with hope. Shehzade Shahryr looked at her happy face. “I hope you find happiness and love.” He said, trying hard to sound happy. Ladli Begum was too lost in her own world to notice his voice tremble as she walked away. Shehzade Shahryr suddenly found it hard to breathe. He took a deep breath in and fisted his palms to control his emotions. He had never perhaps acknowledged aloud how he felt for her, in fear of being hurt. Yet, here he was, feeling like his heart was ripped apart and kicked at repeatedly. Would Shehzaade Shah Jahan agree to it? A part of his brain told him he wouldn’t, not with Asaf Khan and his daughter influencing him. A part of his heart wished he had said yes to her happiness. Ladli Begum deserved to be happy.

Shehzade Shah Jahan was perplexed. He had never imagined being proposed to the hand of Ladli Begum. He had practically seen her grow up. What troubled him more was Mumtaj Mahal’s constant reminder to be gentle with his rejection, as though she knew what her sister felt for him. He sat alone, with blank paper and ink in the pot and couldn’t decipher what to say. His memories took him back in a flash to all the times he had laughed with Ladli, shared things with her, and their last meeting at Burhanpur. He was aware of the fact that Khusrau had rejected her, and was thankful for it because he knew Ladli deserved to be happy. But never did he even imagine she could have perhaps liked him. Somewhere, Shehzaade Shah Jahan felt guilty. Guilty of the way he perhaps behaved with her, which made her fall for him. He should have kept his boundaries. But he didn’t. Ladli was a friend. A sister whom Mumtaj Mahal loved dearly. She was the reason for their first conversation and the excuse for their every meeting. With a heavy heart, Shehzaade Shah Jahan wrote, not to the empress but to his father, that he could not accept the proposal because he had never seen Ladli Begum more than a stepsister. He had emphasised the word sister even when he didn’t wish to. Of course, he cared for Ladli Begum and respected her. But not like she expected him to.

Nur Jahan sat worried as Jahangir handed her the letter. He patted her shoulder gently and murmured, “Don’t worry, she will be fine.”

“How can I tell her what Shehzaade Shah Jahan said?” Nur Jahan spoke to her husband, tears in her eyes, “She will be devastated.”

“Do you want me to?” His offer surprised Nur Jahan. Never had he been opinionated or interfered in matters concerning her daughter. As much as she would have loved Ladli to bond with the Padshah, she knew the void she felt in the absence of her father was irreplaceable. She didn’t want to push either her husband or her daughter to a forced bond other than the formal exchanges of letters or gifts.

 “Are you sure?” She asked. Jahangir smiled. He had never been very close to any of his children, no matter how much he tried. This is why when he saw Pervez with his children, especially his daughter Nadira Banu, or Shehzaade Shah Jahan with his, a sense of emptiness filled his heart. He hadn’t shown any interest or affection towards Nur Jahan’s daughter yet, but somewhere today, he cared like he understood her pain.

“I want to try.” He spoke as Nur Jahan hugged him, letting all her fears disappear, even though it was momentarily, in the warmth of his embrace.

Ladli Begum was surprised to see the Padshah Salamat himself walk into her chambers without any notice. Her chamber was in a mess; there were canvases and paintings everywhere, jewellery and perfumes scattered over the dresser, clothes peeping out of her trunks, and her bed unmade. She grew conscious as she bowed.

“You could have called me to your chambers, Padshah Salamat. How can I be of any service?” Her words made Jahangir smile faintly.

“Is this how they teach you to speak, like in grooming school?” He wondered aloud, a little amused, “Where can I take a seat?” His words startled her as some of the handmaids were quick to arrange cushions over the best seat in the chamber. Jahangir sat down as she stood in front of him, head bowed. “Come and sit here.” He said. Ladli Begum was taken aback. She nodded.

“I know we never spoke, and this might be awkward for you, child.” He said unmindfully. Ladli Begum shook her head. “And I know you hold me responsible for the death of your father.” She looked up at his words as he added, “He was one of the finest human beings.” Ladli Begum agreed with a nod.

“I apologise, Padshah Salamat. I believed what I heard.” Ladli was quick to defend herself, “But my mother reassured me...”

“It’s alright!” Jahangir stopped her “I would have thought so too if I were you.” He suggested, “In fact, as a child, I had this pair of pet doves. They were my absolute favourites. One fine day, one of them flew away and never returned. The emperor was out with a hunting party then. For a good few years, I believed that my father had shot and eaten my pet dove.” He laughed slightly, “I was more rebellious and misunderstood than all of the other children.”

Ladli Begum sat in silence. Jahangir cleared his throat.

“I am here because your mother couldn’t gather the courage to. Shehzade Shah Jahan wrote to me.” Ladli Begum looked up at the emperor’s gloomy face. Suddenly, she felt like her heart had stopped beating. She could barely speak as her lips parted. He didn’t utter a word.

“Although it is against the code of conduct, you should read this yourself. You deserve an answer. And a closure.” He handed over the folded letter, which she took with shaking hands. Silence filled the room. Ladli Begum could feel her own heartbeat in her chest.

“I am here if you want to share your thoughts with a random stranger.” Jahangir spoke, “Besides, you perhaps know him more than I.” He sighed. Ladli Begum gulped. “I am fine. I don’t need to read this.” She handed the folded paper back to the emperor, who was taken aback.

“You don’t want to know?” He asked, surprised.

“A ‘No’ was enough closure.” She said dignifiedly “He may have his reasons. I may find them as excuses. I have high regard and respect for Shehzaade. I don’t want to replace those with anything else.” Jahangir smiled, surprised at her words.

“You know, you are like your mother in more ways than one. Yet you two never understand it.” Jahangir spoke, “I have immense respect for you, Ladli Begum.”

“You are kind, Padshah Salamat.” She spoke as her eyes sparkled.

“If you ever need anything, no matter how big or small, come to me, instead of your mother,” Jahangir said. “Do you understand?”

“I am glad you came today, instead of her.” Ladli Begum smiled faintly.

“So am I.” Jahangir rose, making Ladli stand up and bow before he left, with the letter in his hand. Ladli Begum sank back into the cushion, her face hard to read, her eyes shining with teardrops.

“Begum, the scented papers you ordered.” One of the handmaids walked in. She ordered those papers to write to Mumtaj Mahal every week. “Take them back.” She said, “I don’t need them anymore.”