1621, Dakkan
Jahangir sat in his chambers, in the darkness, sipping the last drop of wine from the cup. The fate of his brother Daniyal haunted him every time he saw Khusrau overtaken by his opium addiction. He was slowly slipping away. Jahangir knew that. Somewhere, he cursed himself for Khusrau’s fate. In his fit of rage and insecurity for the throne, he had blinded his most competent son. There was no denying that he was a popular choice of heir, both for the late emperor and his people, unlike him. Jahangir firmly believed his own health deterioration was the cause of his misdeeds.
Jahangir’s ill health had prompted Nur Jahan to plan yet another vacation for him to the mountains hoping he would recover, but he refused to go. Something made him feel restless. Shehzade Shah Jahan was handed over the responsibility of taking over the expeditions of the south. However, his strange request of taking care of Khusrau disturbed Jahangir. The brothers had never been close. He was aware of that. And the tone of Shah Jahan’s request was more like a condition of going to the Dakkan for his father. Jahangir didn’t know what to do.
Nur Jahan had paid an unexpected visit to Rukaiya Begum’s chamber in the evening. She had heard that the dowager queen was not doing well and meant to visit her for some time now. Ladli Begum’s marriage to Shahryar and their leaving for Lahore had kept her busy. Truth be told, Ladli Begum being away and writing to her made Nur Jahan feel more connected to her daughter than in all the years she was in the same palace. Rukaiya Begum sat up as she arrived and Nur Jahan sat down on the cushion at her feet.
“What are you doing?” Rukaiya Begum spoke with her brows arched “You are the Padshah Begum; you shouldn’t be sitting at my feet.” Nur Jahan smiled at her words.
“If not for you I wouldn’t have been anything.” She said sincerely. “But I am here to talk about something serious in private.” Her words made Rukaiya Begum sit up straight. She was aware of Shehzaade Shah Jahan’s request to the emperor. She could guess the dilemma Jahangir faced.
“Is there anything...” Nur Jahan stopped as if to carefully choose her words, in an attempt not to insult the senior woman in any way “We should be fearing about... about Shah Jahan?” Rukaiya Begum suddenly looked worried.
“Why? What happened?” She asked.
“He has made a strange request to take care of Khusrau Mirza as a condition to go on an expedition.” Nur Jahan spoke very seriously “The Padshah Salamaat is very worried about his sons and given his own health conditions I fear...”
“You think he will harm Khusrau?” A sudden fear crept into Rukaiya’s heart. She had seen these traits in Salim once. And she knew no emperor would perhaps be as merciful of a rebellion as his father was.
Nur Jahan shrugged “Well I hope we are wrong, but if you could reassure his loyalty to the Padshah Salamat and the throne, we can...”
“I will write to him. I am sure he has some reason to feel insecure about his future. Someone must have made him understand that the Padshah and you are against him.”
“The person accompanying him is my brother. Mirza Asaf Khan won’t do that to me.” Nur Jahan looked lost in thought as realisation seemed to dawn on her. Rukaiya Begum smiled a little melancholy smile, placing her hand on Nur Jahan’s head,
“My husband always told me, power knows no kinship. I think he was right, don’t you?”
Nur Jahan sighed. Rukaiya Begum reassured “I will write to him and get a written reassurance about Khusrau from him. He will not lie to me. Don’t decide anything until then.”
Shehzade Shah Jahan smiled at the sealed letter as his condition was agreed upon. The custody of his brother Shehzaade Khusrau was his. He was right; the letter from Shah Ammi was a trick. Who knows what made her write to him that way. Shah Ammi was always so emotional about him. Like the way, he was about his children. He understood where she came from. He had reassured her of his intentions of taking care of his ill brother as his father went on a vacation. He also spoke of his insecurities due to the indifferent behaviour of the Padshah Begum for refusing her daughter. He knew that Nur Jahan held strong opinions on the custody of the blind prince. Putting the blame on her emotions as a mother was easy. This was a moral win over the empress, his first of many, as he anticipated.
Ladli Begum had taken a liking to Lahore. She didn’t have to answer anyone there and could cook what she liked, or do what she wanted to without asking for permission. Shahryar treated her as an equal. He was in many ways similar to the father she barely remembered but always heard of. He respected her opinions and discussed work with her. Although expeditions, wars, administration and politics were of very little interest to her, Ladli Begum was happy in this newfound freedom. Occasionally she would step out of the fort, with a handmaid or guard in tow and explore the bazaars. She couldn’t imagine doing so in Agra under her mother’s watchful eyes. She had started writing letters to Mumtaj Mahal again. She was upset after a few days old children died, and it was Shahryr who pushed Ladli Begum to reconnect with her. Mumtaj Mahal was glad to receive her letter and knew that Ladli was happy. She had found a home. Shahryar used to bring home gifts for her every time he was out for expeditions for weeks, leaving her in the Lahore fort. She didn’t mind the time alone. Ladli Begum painted wrote letters to her mother and often sent her some paintings along. Shehzade Shahryr was in awe of his mother-in-law. She helped him look after his provinces and expeditions and take major administrative decisions. Although he was praised for those, Nur Jahan was happy to help. Sometimes that scared Ladli Begum. She warned him against taking too much help from the empress and not letting her control their lives. Shehzade Shahryr often dismissed her fear.
“Do you think she can control our lives, Begum?” Shahryar laughed in between the morsels of a hearty meal one day. “We are at Lahore while she is at Agra. She can’t decide for us.”
“I know my mother.” Ladli Begum looked at her husband with a disapproving glance “She will make you do what she wants you to do, without you even realising that!”
“I envy that kind of a brain.” Shahryar shrugged. “I think you should too.”
“I just don’t want her to complicate my life again. I am happy here. Aren’t you?” Ladli Begum held his hand across the table. Shahryar smiled at his bride. Indeed he was happy. He had a reason to come home and every time her hug made him feel like the luckiest person alive. He had doubted her love when she confessed it. Today, almost a year on, there was no doubt about her loyalty as a wife.
“I was thinking...” He spoke in between the morsels. “Now that we are settled here and I occasionally have to visit my province at Dholpur... we should think about starting a family.” He looked up at his wife, hoping he was not pushing her... “But if you want to wait then we...”
“I thought you would never ask!” Ladli Begum blushed, “I can do some company while you are away.” Shahryar nodded at her “I wish it was a girl like you.”
“You don’t want an heir?” She asked with a slight frown.
“I am not expected to be an emperor or anything.” He shrugged. “There is Khusrau, Pervez and Khurram to sort that out.”
Ladli Begum smiled “I think you will make a very good king. Kind, caring and...”
“Those are not traits of a good king at all.” Shehzade Shahryr laughed. “You will be nothing close to your mother for sure!” Ladli Begum got irked by his teasing and stared at him coldly as he laughed on.
Jahangir had reached the foothills of the mountains when the messenger on horseback stopped their procession. His heart skipped a beat. With trembling hands, he took the sealed letter of “emergency” from Mirza Asaf Khan.
Nur Jahan had stepped down from her horse and rushed to be by his side.
“Overdose of opium.” She murmured as he stood silently. They exchanged a glance. Nur Jahan clenched her jaws.
“Send the message to Agra for national mourning on the death of Shehzaade Khusrau. And tell Mirza Asaf Khan and Shehzaade Shah Jahan to meet us immediately at the lakeside fort.” She ordered.
“Come; let’s get you on a palanquin.” She held on to Jahangir’s arms firmly. “You aren’t fit to travel by horse.”
He looked at her as if he was weak and helpless. Nur Jahan knew the time had come to take some tough calls.
“How could he... lie to his Shah Ammi?” Jahangir asked as Nur Jahan looked grim. She knew if there was anyone else in the world more upset than Khusrau’s family and the emperor today, it would perhaps be the lady who always took pride in raising Shehzaade Khurram well.
Ghiyaz Begh had recently lost his wife and was in mourning when he anticipated that his children were having deadly fallout as the news of Khusrau’s death in the hands of Shah Jahan spread like wildfire. Scared of the worst, he immediately wrote to Nur Jahan requesting her to be forgiving to her brother and to Asaf Khan ordering him to be loyal to his sister. Asaf Khan was reminded by his old ailing father of how because of her, his daughter was married into the Timurid house and he had no option but to agree. Nur Jahan forgave him for the sake of her father and ordered him to return to Agra leaving Shah Jahan alone in the Dakkan.
Rukaiya Begum was shocked and saddened. Not only was Jalal’s favourite Khusrau no more, but her Khurram was also held responsible for that. The gossip that went around the fort was that it was the insecurities of Shah Jahan that made him kill his brother with an opium overdose. Rukaiya Begum felt lost. She felt like abandoning every relationship she held close to her heart once and for all. She was wrong. Once again, someone she chose to dedicate her life to had caused her pain. She had failed as a mother. She couldn’t make him anything lesser than how his father and forefathers were. Rukaiya Begum felt like she was taken back down the years to the day she had stepped into Jalal’s chambers to be blamed for sparing her cousin and to hear of his execution. She thought at that moment that she never truly knew or understood the men in her life, be it her husband, Salim or Khurram. What she feared more, was the fate of Shah Jahan. He seemed fearless in his rebellion. He had even sought help from the Rajputs, they said. Rukaiya Begum had never felt this betrayed in her entire life. She wrote down a letter, accusing him of lying to her, and being someone she would perhaps be ashamed to call her son, but she tore it away in trembling hands and tears. It was all her fault. She had pushed the poetry-loving Khurram to this. But wasn't society all about the survival of the fittest? If she hadn’t then perhaps he couldn’t have survived. But killing his ailing helpless and blind brother? Had he no mercy or humanity left in him? Had she reduced him to that? Rukaiya Begum’s vision blurred, and her forehead burnt with a fever yet she didn’t want any help. She sobbed in her room all day, as she heard voices in the corridors, blaming Khurram as a killer, much like she once held resentments against Salim. Was it possible that she was wrong? And perhaps they are wrong too? What if Khusrau did overdose himself? Rukaiya Begum’s heart was at war with her mind.
Mumtaj Mahal looked worried as a royal firman arrived, with the seal of the empress, containing an order, at Burhanpur. It was written that the actions of Shah Jahan had prompted them to start an investigation with charges of murder against him. What shocked Mumtaj Mahal more was that her husband was not bothered about it. He had made arrangements for Khusrau’s body to be sent to Lahore to be buried and not a teardrop fell from his eyes. He had read the firman and went about his day like nothing happened. Mumtaj Mahal felt like a stranger to his attitude. She decided to talk to him.
“Your father decided to abandon me midway and go join his sister.” Shah Jahan replied to her queries scornfully. Never in his life had he talked that way to her. Mumtaj Mahal looked shocked.
“What do you mean by that?” She asked, “Aren’t you serving the emperor and empress too?”
“Sit down.” Shah Jahan gestured at the couch in his chamber. The only lamp flickered as the shadows danced upon the walls.
“I have decided to become independent.”
“What do you mean?”Mumtaj Mahal frowned.
“The Padshah is not well. Sooner or later he will be dead.” Mumtaj Mahal’s throat dried at his cold unemotional voice “Pervez is controlled by Mahabat Khan and so is the young Dawar Baksh. I fear Nur Jahan will side with Shahryar. It won’t be a problem defeating him...”
“What if the Padshah survives?” She asked scaredly, “What if he finds out your intentions?”
“Then we have to fight him too.” Shah Jahan shrugged as Mumtaj Mahal got agitated.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you so aggressive against Nur Jahan ever since you refused Ladli? Did you not want to refuse her? Did you do it because of me or my father?” Mumtaj Mahal’s eyes swelled up in tears. “You didn’t expect her to choose someone and be happy, didn't you?”
“What are you saying, Begum?” Shah Jahan looked irritated “Ladli has very little to do with this. Although I agree, Nur Jahan’s support has shifted from me to Shahryar over it.”
“ You killed him, didn’t you?” Mumtaj Mahal fell back two steps as she spoke “You and Abbu killed Khusrau!”
“That is none of your business.” Shah Jahan spoke angrily.
“It is!” Mumtaj Mahal cried “It is! My children’s future depends on it. You are jeopardising them for your own passion.”
“I am not! They are my children too!” Shah Jahan looked perplexed “I am trying to secure their future, and I want you with me.”
“Then promise me that my children will be safe.” She asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I promise.” Shah Jahan spoke. At that moment, his heart sank a little for in truth, he couldn’t assure that; in truth, he had said those words to two other women who meant something to him and didn’t mean it. He inhaled as Mumtaj Mahal walked away in silence.
A part of her, that thought her husband was perfect, was proven wrong that day. Mumtaj Mahal felt like she never completely understood him. A part of her was perhaps guilty of loving him a little less. She didn’t know why but she wished she was as brave as Nur Jahan was and protected her children. For today, his words were not promises, just words. She understood that. She feared for her children more than anything else now.
Ladli Begum was shocked when Shahryr brought the news of Khusrau’s death and the involvement of Shah Jahan in it. She had made sheer khurma and was waiting for her husband to return home, to give him the happy news that she was pregnant. Instead, she was shattered by the news. In a brief moment of silence, she decided to visit Mirza Koka’s daughter, the grieving widow, staying in another corner of the fort. Shehzade Shahryr warned her against it but Ladli Begum was stubborn. She had one chance to bury a past none of them were responsible for and she would take it. Shehzade Shahryr stood proud at the memorial gathering for the late prince as he saw her right across the field, holding the hands of their widow, in hers. He was wrong. She was no less than her mother, in weirdly different ways.
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