knows that I am an excellent soldier and the royal army needs my services. Yet he has banished me from the court by sending me to this godforsaken place. I suspect he treats me this way because I have married you.’
At last the truth was out. The words had tumbled out before he could stop them.
‘How can you say such a thing? I have never been unfaithful to you in all these years of our marriage!’ Her face paled at the allegation.
‘Begum, I do not suspect your fidelity, but I do have my reservations about the emperor’s intentions. The fact remains that I am in his bad books and he has sent his foster brother, Qutub-Ud-Din, to act against me. I am sorry if I said the wrong thing. I am disturbed by the goings-on.’ Sher Afghan was distraught.
Meherunnisa felt sorry for her husband. She suspected he was right about the emperor’s intentions. Her father had told her of the rumours that Jahangir had tried to convince Sher Afghan, through intermediaries, to divorce Meherunnisa. If the rumours were to be believed–she had never discussed the matter with her husband–the emperor’s treatment of Sher Afghan was obviously a reaction to the soldier’s refusal to do so.
‘Let us shelve all problems for tomorrow,’ she said soothingly. After we return from the outing, we can think of a solution to the problem. There is no point in ruining such a beautiful day.’
At that moment Laadli ran in with her toys and tugged at her father’s hands. He towered above the girl and Meherunnisa was amazed at the tenderness that suffused his face whenever he looked at his daughter. He would readily give his life to fulfil the wishes of his daughter, she thought. As he smiled tenderly at the child, Meherunnisa knew he would not refuse to accompany them for the outing.
‘Abbajaan, please come with us. I will not go if you don’t come,’ Laadli said.
‘Well, then, I cannot refuse! I guess my meeting will have to wait till tomorrow,’ he said, the cloud of worry temporarily absent from his face.
His daughter skipped all around him excitedly. ‘Can we take Sultan? I would love to ride him.’
‘No, we will not take Sultan,’ Meherunnisa said sternly. ‘I don’t want you riding near the river.’
‘Oh, let her be, begum. I will take care of her.’ Turning to his daughter, he said, ‘Don’t worry, we will take Sultan with us.’
As Meherunnisa had predicted, Laadli had taken after her father with regard to her height. At four, she was taller than most six-year-old girls. She was a natural when it came to horse riding and wielding the dagger. From her mother, the little girl had inherited a flair for music, poetry, and painting.
Burdwan’s exotic vegetation and verdant landscape was a balm for the tired souls. The swaying palms, tall teaks, trees laden with jackfruit and papayas, banana trees with their long leaves fluttering like flags in the breeze and the wild flowers that dotted the countryside, were a poet’s dream. The picturesque setting erased all the troubling thoughts from Sher Afghan’s mind.
Tents were pitched and Firdaus got the makeshift kitchen fires going. Amidst the clatter of utensils, the servants began preparing lunch under the shade of a massive tree. Sher Afghan supervised the setting up of a rope swing while Laadli jumped around excitedly, adding her instructions. It was going to be a beautiful day. After a long time Meherunnisa felt a sense of total happiness, with no dark clouds smearing her horizon.
She set up her easel near the waterfront and laid out little pots of paints all around her. A boat appeared like a speck on the placid water of the river, its sails stark against the indigo sky. It had been a long time since she had painted. Busy with Laadli and household responsibilities, she had almost forgotten how to wield the brush or compose verses. ‘Now that Laadli is almost four, I should begin taking some time off to do the things I love. All I have done for the past few years is
At last the truth was out. The words had tumbled out before he could stop them.
‘How can you say such a thing? I have never been unfaithful to you in all these years of our marriage!’ Her face paled at the allegation.
‘Begum, I do not suspect your fidelity, but I do have my reservations about the emperor’s intentions. The fact remains that I am in his bad books and he has sent his foster brother, Qutub-Ud-Din, to act against me. I am sorry if I said the wrong thing. I am disturbed by the goings-on.’ Sher Afghan was distraught.
Meherunnisa felt sorry for her husband. She suspected he was right about the emperor’s intentions. Her father had told her of the rumours that Jahangir had tried to convince Sher Afghan, through intermediaries, to divorce Meherunnisa. If the rumours were to be believed–she had never discussed the matter with her husband–the emperor’s treatment of Sher Afghan was obviously a reaction to the soldier’s refusal to do so.
‘Let us shelve all problems for tomorrow,’ she said soothingly. After we return from the outing, we can think of a solution to the problem. There is no point in ruining such a beautiful day.’
At that moment Laadli ran in with her toys and tugged at her father’s hands. He towered above the girl and Meherunnisa was amazed at the tenderness that suffused his face whenever he looked at his daughter. He would readily give his life to fulfil the wishes of his daughter, she thought. As he smiled tenderly at the child, Meherunnisa knew he would not refuse to accompany them for the outing.
‘Abbajaan, please come with us. I will not go if you don’t come,’ Laadli said.
‘Well, then, I cannot refuse! I guess my meeting will have to wait till tomorrow,’ he said, the cloud of worry temporarily absent from his face.
His daughter skipped all around him excitedly. ‘Can we take Sultan? I would love to ride him.’
‘No, we will not take Sultan,’ Meherunnisa said sternly. ‘I don’t want you riding near the river.’
‘Oh, let her be, begum. I will take care of her.’ Turning to his daughter, he said, ‘Don’t worry, we will take Sultan with us.’
As Meherunnisa had predicted, Laadli had taken after her father with regard to her height. At four, she was taller than most six-year-old girls. She was a natural when it came to horse riding and wielding the dagger. From her mother, the little girl had inherited a flair for music, poetry, and painting.
Burdwan’s exotic vegetation and verdant landscape was a balm for the tired souls. The swaying palms, tall teaks, trees laden with jackfruit and papayas, banana trees with their long leaves fluttering like flags in the breeze and the wild flowers that dotted the countryside, were a poet’s dream. The picturesque setting erased all the troubling thoughts from Sher Afghan’s mind.
Tents were pitched and Firdaus got the makeshift kitchen fires going. Amidst the clatter of utensils, the servants began preparing lunch under the shade of a massive tree. Sher Afghan supervised the setting up of a rope swing while Laadli jumped around excitedly, adding her instructions. It was going to be a beautiful day. After a long time Meherunnisa felt a sense of total happiness, with no dark clouds smearing her horizon.
She set up her easel near the waterfront and laid out little pots of paints all around her. A boat appeared like a speck on the placid water of the river, its sails stark against the indigo sky. It had been a long time since she had painted. Busy with Laadli and household responsibilities, she had almost forgotten how to wield the brush or compose verses. ‘Now that Laadli is almost four, I should begin taking some time off to do the things I love. All I have done for the past few years is
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