Mistress of the Throne (The Mughal intrigues) by Gupta Ruchir Page A

Gauhara, making sure at least someone in the royal family was getting the proper nutrition.
    I started having daily nightmares of my mother dangling off of a cliff as I stood helpless, unable to pull her back up. Slowly my mother’s arm was slipping from me, inch by inch, until the arm was released and my mother fell to the ground, screaming for help along the way. I would wake up from these dreams devastated and crying; but unlike before, my Ami was no longer with me to comfort me when I awoke. The servants tried to play her part, but theirs was not the comfort I yearned for.
    In my grief, I turned to the one person my mother had told me during our stay at Burhampur to look to if I needed anything: Sati. I awoke from my nightmare one day, distraught as always with servants rushing in to comfort me. I realised this couldn’t go on indefinitely, so I wrote a letter to Sati asking her advice:
    My dearest Sati:
    As you may have heard in Agra, Ami is no more. The light of our lives has been taken from us, and there is darkness everywhere. No one laughs or smiles anymore. The songs, festivals, poems, and shows have all ended. Ami took all of our smiles with her when she left this world. There is no hope for anyone now, it seems. We all stay in bed and wish to sleep in hope we may be visited by her in our dreams, but all that I see are nightmares. Nightmares where she is dying over and over again and I can’t help
.
    I can’t help but feel this is somehow all my fault. Maybe if I had done something different, Ami would be with us right now. Aba has lost all will to live. He took off his crown jewels and decorated robes and now wears only white shrouds. He has pulled all the hair out of his beard in grief, and what he has left of a beard has turned white, to match the shroud he wears always. I went to seek his comfort afew days ago and saw him crying out in pain over the loss of his best friend. How could I seek comfort from him? We both lost our best friend, but his grief is at a whole other level than mine
.
    I sometimes open Ami’s cabinet just to smell her scent, which is still in her clothes and possessions neatly tucked in drawers. But, Sati, I opened it yesterday and the smell is fading. Even her scent is fading from her belongings. I’m so sad, no words can describe how I feel. I’ve stopped eating and have lost so much weight. Yet I still vomit, though I’ve eaten nothing. I feel like I’m falling and no one is here to catch me. Please help me, Sati. I need you more than ever. Please catch me, please help me find a way to live again
.
    Yours always
,
    Jahanara
    As I would later learn, Sati received this letter amid the grief that had overcome Agra as news trickled in of Ami’s demise. She reported to me that all the royal children were overcome with dismay and insisted on visiting the Deccan to attend our mother’s funeral, but their demands were put to rest by the news that her body had already been interred before news of her death even reached Agra. Aurangzeb took the news especially hard, and he now regressed to the state he’d assumed as Nur Jahan’s prisoner. He fell into a depression, during which his only companion was the Koran; it was his only comforting potion. I believe that like me, Aurangzeb felt like he was falling; but unlike me he was being caught by the mullahs who were counselling him about the Koran. For me, no such place of safety existed, nor would I have wanted one. As Sati wrote back to me:
    My Dear Jahanara:
    Your pain is pure, and were it not for the greatness of your mother, perhaps it would not be so deep. We all grieve with you at your loss. Losing a parent is never easy, especially one as special asthe Empress. She was a lone star in the midst of a vast darkness. Yet, your mourning must eventually pass, for you must fulfill your role now as both a daughter and a sister. You are the oldest female of the royal family. Your father, the King, needs you as do your siblings. You must not