Nurjahan's Daughter (9 page)

Jahangir then set about establishing edicts that were to be followed throughout his dominions. With an objective of eliminating the corrupt practices of the powerful nobles in the kingdom, the emperor ordered stringent obedience of his laws. Jahangir also granted amnesty for all prisoners in his empire.

There was jubilation amongst people as the new emperor began his reign on a positive note. His ordinances found immense favour with the subjects, who had long suffered the excesses of the nobles. Tales of his largesse spread through the country.

But there was one person who he continued to treat with disdain. After weeks of travelling, when Sher Afghan finally reached Agra to pay his respects to the new emperor, Jahangir received him coldly.

Sher Afghan bowed low to perform a respectful kornish. ‘May your Majesty live a thousand years,’ he saluted. ‘Your humble slave is at your service.’

Sher Afghan had brought expensive presents for the emperor. There were yards of expensive muslin–a speciality of Dacca, silks, strings of huge pearls and a steed of the finest Arabian breed. Meherunnisa had sent a painting of the emperor that she had done herself.

‘Gift this painting to the emperor. You might succeed in deflecting some of his anger with it.’

As she had anticipated, the portrait seemed to please the emperor more than the other gifts. There was a twinkle in his eyes, lit by the memory of his past romance with the soldier’s wife.

‘So, you have finally decided to accept me as your emperor.’ The imperial tone had softened and so had the frigid look in his eyes.

‘Your Majesty, you are destined to be a great Mughal emperor. How could a lowly soldier like me think otherwise?’

‘Your gifts are calculated to touch my heart. Who is the artist of this skilful portrait?’ asked Jahangir, although he knew the answer. He twirled his moustache thoughtfully, his bejewelled fingers stroking the lines on the paper.

‘The portrait was painted by the wife of this humble servant, Your Highness.’ The Persian braved a smile.

‘Sher Afghan, you once saved my life and I am indebted to you for that. That is the only reason why I have not punished you for taking a conflicting posture against me in the past. I expect your unflinching loyalty and I will not honour you with an appointment at the court till I am satisfied of your faithfulness beyond all doubt. Till such time, you may continue to enjoy the fruits of Burdwan.’

The slight was obvious. The emperor was still angry. Sher Afghan was disappointed, but he did not give Jahangir the pleasure of perceiving it. For long Sher Afghan had desired a return to Agra, but Akbar had consistently refused to heed his request. Many thought this was a conscious decision on the part of the emperor, in order to protect Sher Afghan from Salim’s wrath.

‘I can see that you are wearing the royal ring gifted by me,’ Jahangir pointed at an expensive ring on Sher Afghan’s finger. He had gifted him the ring when the soldier saved his life. ‘As long as you keep it on your finger, no harm will come to you.’

With a nod of his head he dismissed the soldier.

Sher Afghan suppressed his disappointment and made his way back to his father-in-law’s house. Both Mirza Ghias Baig and his son, Asaf Khan, had been granted favours by Jahangir. Over a banquet of delicacies laid out by Asmat, the three men exchanged notes.

‘I was hoping Jahangir would reinstate your position at the court,’ Asaf Khan remarked, reaching out for kebabs.

A shadow of anger crossed the soldier’s face. ‘It doesn’t seem as though he wants me here.’

‘You are lucky to be away from the jealousy and corruption of the nobles at Agra,’ consoled Mirza Ghias Baig. He liked the unpretentious soldier and his blunt approach. There was no trace of cunning in the young man.

‘I don’t mind staying away at Burdwan, but Meherunnisa misses Agra and her family. Sometimes I wonder if the emperor has some ulterior motive in keeping me away from the court. It can’t be possible that he doesn’t know my capabilities,’ Sher Afghan complained bitterly.

The Mirza sighed deeply and reached for his son-in-law’s hand. ‘Don’t fret, it will not be long before he appoints you in the court. The emperor hasn’t forgotten his tumultuous days just before the coronation.’ Turning towards his son, he ordered–‘Asaf, pass the delicious biriyani to Sher.’ He knew Sher Afghan loved good food. ‘Asmat begum has specially prepared it for you. She knows you are partial to the Persian method of preparation.’

‘How are Meherunnisa and my granddaughter?’ asked Asmat. ‘Laadli must be keeping her busy.’

The Mirza missed Meherunnisa. He wished there was some way to bring Sher Afghan into Jahangir’s good books. ‘Why don’t you send Meher to us for some time? Neither Asmat nor I have laid eyes on the face of our grandchild.’

‘Laadli is too young to travel right now, and the journey is long and arduous. The weather is also not favourable for the long journey. They will come as soon as Laadli is a little older. To be frank, I cannot live without that little witch.’

After dinner, the men moved to the outer room where freshly made paans and hookahs lay waiting for them. The Mirza brought out an ivory chessboard and laid out the pieces with care. It had been a long time since he had played the game with his son-in-law. But Sher Afghan was distracted and he lost every game. Finally, he gave up the effort and reclined moodily on the divan.

‘Tell me what is on your mind, Sher. It is obvious that you are upset about something,’ the Mirza asked gently.

‘I heard some rumours while I was in the court. Some jagirdars were discussing the rebellion in Bengal and my name was mentioned a couple of times. I wonder why they were clubbing me with the rebel faction.’

‘That is a dangerous rumour. I would counsel you to take care. If such gossip reaches the emperor, the consequences will be dire.’

The Mirza had also heard the strange rumblings in court. Jahangir was sending his foster brother, Qutubuddin Koka, to Burdwan as the governor, ostensibly to control the rebellious faction which had renewed its activities. But there were undertones to the appointment that befuddled Ghias Baig.

The next morning, as Sher Afghan took his leave, the Mirza cautioned his son-in-law. ‘Sher, I would give you a word of advice even if you don’t seek it. An old man sees things that a young man cannot. It is better that you keep away from the court. You have made many enemies with your blunt tongue and undiplomatic ways. They would take great pleasure in discrediting you in the emperor’s eyes. Jahangir is also unpredictable in his behaviour. It is better to avoid getting entangled with ministers who can influence the emperor.’

‘I understand what you mean. I’ll be careful.’

Sher Afghan knew exactly what the old man was warning him about. As emperor, Jahangir could demand and command anything he wanted. God forbid, if he still nursed an ardour for Meherunnisa, Sher Afghan’s very life could be in peril.

It was a worried man who returned to Burdwan. Tired, Sher Afghan fobbed off Meherunnisa’s persistent queries about her parents and the capital. But it was difficult to neglect Laadli, who clambered all over him and refused to leave him alone even for a moment.

It wasn’t until after his bath and rest that a little of his old humour crept back into him and he smiled reassuringly at his wife.

‘My daughter has grown while I was away. Let me see how tall you have become,’ Sher Afghan said standing next to her. The little girl squealed delightedly and stood on her toes as he measured her. ‘Has my Laadli grown fat, too?’ he said, pretending that he could not lift her on his shoulders. ‘Oh, yes, I can’t carry her any longer.’

‘Abba, take me riding on Sultan. Ammi has not allowed me to ride for a single day since you left for Agra,’ Laadli complained from her precarious perch on her father’s broad shoulders.

‘Don’t you begin your sessions of complaints, little girl. Go and play outside while I speak to your Abba. Your grandfather has sent some new dolls for you, have you seen them?’ Meherunnisa asked, trying to distract the girl.

Eager to see the new dolls, Laadli skipped away after warning her father–‘Don’t go anywhere. I will be back in a minute with my dolls.’

Sher Afghan smiled indulgently at her and promised not to move till she returned.

‘It is nice to be back home, begum. I missed you and my little girl. It is so quiet and peaceful here.’

‘It might be good for you, but I am bored of this place, I wish we could go back to Agra. Is it just as I remember, or has it changed? Did the emperor mention anything about giving you a position in the court? Did he like the painting?’

‘It was a good idea to gift the portrait to that vain man,’ said Sher Afghan. ‘He loved that gift more than anything else.’

They continued to discuss the trip as they moved to sit around the dastarkhan. Laadli had returned, and was sitting on her father’s lap, toying with a piece of meat, refusing to eat the food Meherunnisa was pushing into her mouth. She was excited to have her father back after so many months.

‘Is the emperor a good man?’ she asked suddenly, taking her parents by surprise.

‘Why do you ask?’ Meherunnisa and Sher Afghan asked simultaneously.

‘Because Hamida was saying that he had got one of her relatives flogged just because he broke the emperor’s favourite china cup. I keep breaking so many cups. Will the emperor get me flogged if I go to Agra?’

‘Of course not. No one can touch you as long as I am alive,’ said Sher Afghan, embracing his daughter protectively. ‘You must not listen to servants’ gossip.’

The couple exchanged a troubled look over their daughter’s head. Almost everyone at Agra knew the story of the servant who had broken Jahangir’s favourite wine cup. The fellow was flogged mercilessly and put in prison till his wounds healed. After which he was given 5000 rupees and asked to travel all the way to China to procure a similar cup.

‘I heard that the emperor is a changed man now. Many of the nobles I met were full of praises for the emperor’s new laws,’ Sher Afghan said, picking a paan from the silver salver offered by Meherunnisa, who greedily devoured all the information that her husband supplied. Her eyes widened with interest on hearing of the ordinances and the Chain of Justice. The new emperor was taking steps in the right direction by winning the hearts of his people, she thought. The hot-headed and wayward Prince Salim had matured into an able emperor.

But his position as emperor was not stable. Raja Maan Singh and Aziz Koka had not given up their hopes of crowning Khusrau. When Jahangir, who had spies scattered everywhere, learnt that the two were plotting another coup, he acted instantaneously, imprisoning Khusrau in the palace. Some nobles close to the emperor advised him to blind his son, but Jahangir was reluctant to order such a dreadful sentence.

The rumour spread, however, that the emperor was seriously contemplating blinding Khusrau. When the prince caught wind of the news, he decided to escape from the palace; he knew there were forces within the palace that would readily help him in his getaway.

Soon a plot had been contrived. Approaching his father, the prince sought permission to make a trip to Shahadara. ‘I wish to pay my respects to my revered grandfather. I have wronged you, dear father, as I have wronged my grandfather. I wish to atone for my sins and beg forgiveness at his tomb,’ Khusrau said, with all appearances of being deeply repentant.

Jahangir was delighted and readily allowed the journey under the escort of a few soldiers. The young prince’s followers, who were lying in wait for the convoy, swooped upon the small band of the emperor’s soldiers. The prince was free once again to plot a coup.

Khusrau gathered a considerable force of loyal soldiers, captured an imperial treasure convoy, and set out on the path of rebellion. When the emperor realised that Khusrau had tricked him, he was incensed. News arrived through imperial spies that Khusrau was pressing forward towards Punjab. An imperial farman (order) was immediately issued by Jahangir, ordering all jagirdars, road keepers, and ferrymen in Punjab to be vigilant. Khusrau was not to escape. They were promised a substantial reward if they captured the prince and handed him over to the emperor. The Governor of Lahore was alerted. Acting on imperial orders, the governor refused to open the gates of the city to Prince Khusrau and his band of soldiers. Jahangir, seething with anger, set out in pursuit of his son. History was repeating itself. Once again an emperor was riding against his rebel son.

After he was denied entry into the city of Lahore, Khusrau retraced his steps. To do so he had to cross the Chenab river, but no boat was available to the prince. With the emperor’s army closing in, a frustrated Khusrau tried to flee in the opposite direction, but Jahangir’s army had cut off his escape route. Just three weeks after his escape, the unfortunate prince was captured. Khusrau was brought manacled into the presence of the emperor who had set up camp in the garden of Mirza Kamran.

Retribution followed swiftly. Two of Khusrau’s principal followers were inhumanly tortured: they were sewed up in raw hides–one in that of an ox and the other in that of an ass–and then, seated on the bare backs of asses, they were paraded through the city of Lahore. As the fury of the hot summer sun intensified, the hides dried up, tightening the enclosure and suffocating the men. One of the men died, the other barely escaped death. Surprised that he had survived, the emperor pardoned the man. The next day, about 300 of the prince’s followers were either hung from trees or impaled on stakes set up along both sides of the road. Jahangir, mounted on a splendidly caparisoned elephant, rode ahead with his nobles, followed by his wretched son riding on a bare elephant. General Mahabat Khan, Jahangir’s trusted minister, rode with Khusrau, calling out the names of the writhing victims. The anguished prince covered his eyes, unable to bear the sight of his suffering followers.

Not content, Jahangir decided to punish each and every man who had helped Khusrau in his rebellion. ‘I have to set an example so that no one dares to oppose me any more,’ he told the protesting women of the harem.

One by one the men were hounded and executed; no one was spared. Among those who were brought to trial was the Sikh Guru, Arjun Singh. While fleeing from the emperor’s troops, a desperate Khusrau had begged for shelter from Arjun Singh, at Tarn-Taran. The holy man, moved by compassion, gave the prince Rs 5,000 and asylum in his camp, for a couple of days. When Jahangir learnt of this, he summoned Guru Arjun Singh and fined him Rs 200,000. The Guru refused to pay the amount, stating that he had not committed any treason but only helped a desperate man asking for mercy. The emperor, however, charged him with high treason: the Guru was tortured brutally for five days, after which he succumbed to his injuries.