CHAPTER 50
Part 1
Stopping at a side-table, the Shehzaade let his fingers run around the edges of the empty expensive silver goblet. 'I can't see how you've been lacking in any form of comforts'
The young man's lips parted, dissolving the last flickers of a smile with it. Once again, he'd tried reaching for that glass of hope. And once again, it felt like his master had decided to move it back by an inch.
'Huzoor, why have I been ordered to stay here?'
'10 years, Huzoor!' He looked into the eye of the brother he'd always adored. '10 years you've known me... wouldn't you confide in me first... trust me enough to let me know about these issues, before acting against my best interests?'
'Huzoor...' he took a hurried step forward 'What is the source of these clearly-exaggerated allegations?'
'Source?' The Shehzaade tilted his chin to one side, gently.
Any other day and Akbar would have presumed it was an expression of empathy. Now he was not sure! 'Huzoor... please tell me... who has brought forth these accusations?'
ooo
Akbar heard the shuffle of robes in the adjacent corridors that sent his instincts spiking right up. 'What?' he nearly gasped when he noticed from the corner of his eye, a silhouette walk in. A familiar yet entirely unexpected silhouette. 'Farooq Sahib?' The old advisor?
ooo
'Tch tch tch...' he let his murmurs slither from the back of his throat into his mentor's ears with glee 'Huzoor says his troops have been ordered to care for her needs and safety... but... one can never be sure...'
'Khalil' hissed Akbar, knitting his brows into an aggressive grimace. 'Just stop!'
However, the rogue made it plain he had no intention of backing down. 'I do worry. You see... my friends are there too! Of course... they know to be careful - what with the Huzoor's troops, and your men around... yet, I can't help but worry about Harka Sahiba - will she arrive at the capital, unscarred... like she was, when you left her last'
'I do worry...' tut-tutted Khalil 'after all... I have had the fortune of taking a peek at what lies behind that veil... such beauty - it's intoxicating... haunting... I can understand why other men would be tempted to do so too...'
'And once the Sahiba is here... locked away... no guard... and I mean NO guard... will dare question me when I pay her a visit...'
'Tch tch... pity you'd be able to do nothing to stop me then...' his eyes turned glassy, like a predator's 'Isss... the possibilities with her thereafter... my my...'
ooo
Part 2
The Shehzaade's private hall
Harka Bai trudged her feet on the cold surface of the palatial hall, walled between two columns of the prince's men.
The hall had slipped into an unnerving stillness. Thorny eyes poked at her veiled form from every angle, their prickles stinging at her all at once. A few stared hard, out of plain curiosity, a few others glowered at her shamed persona. Some ogled at her stunning elegance, while others just blinked at her, lacking any emotion whatsoever. And sadly, while the sting from some of those stares and glowers was eerily familiar, there was not a single pair of eyes amidst them that would reach out to her with softness.
THUMP! THUMP!
The solid sound of forty pairs of feet slapping against the ground in unison jolted her into another realm of reality. Her feet brought her to an unsteady stop, her pupils slowly scouring through the rows on both sides of the hall. 'About... twenty people... all men!' A few beads of prayers hurtled across her lips as she tried to make out their faces - and the first ones that her pupils halted at, were the ones she tragically was no stranger to.
'Oh Lord...' her breath almost missed a ragged step.
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It was Kunwar Mahendar, rising from the comfort of his chair.
The prince swiped his hand and a permanent hush descended on the hall.
With frayed nerves, she watched the Kunwar weave his way towards her - his arrival an eerie smog in her already-dim paths. 'Kunwarsa...'
'Harka Bai...' a callous smirk shone on his lips 'your messenger has personally confessed everything about the messages you wrote to various kings... and about your plans to instigate Hindu kingdoms against the Shehzaade's armies.'
ooo
Hardly had the prince's hand rested on his lap, when Heera's ears fell curse to the heavy rattle of iron being dragged upon the hide of polished marble.
SKREEEK!
SKREEEK!
SKREEEK!
'Oh my Lord!' Her hairs stood on end. It was the sound of clangourous chains scraping across the floor - a sound that even the shattering reverberations of large feet slamming upon the ground wouldn't drown. And it grated against her eardrums, numbing her senses one after another. 'Who is this prisoner?'
Filled with dread, Heera slowly turned around and raised her head. Haze had drowned most of her vision, but she fought through the gloom and peered through. Only to welcome her coldest fears.
'Ma Bhavani! No... NO!' There was her husband, the love of her life, walled between the prince's hard-faced men as they literally yanked him into the hall in wrist-gagging shackles and ankle cuffs. She peered harder till the socket of her eyes hurt - if only for a moment's better glimpse of him.
'Oh my God... Khan Sahib!' Her heart sank deep to the bottom of an unknown abyss in that petite frame that was barely holding up her strength and womanhood. His otherwise trim beard seemed scraggly, and his generally-pristine attire was sordid as a rag. Worse, his head moved away from the light, as if he'd been kept in a black hole for days. She didn't know in what state she'd find him here but she surely hadn't come expecting the revered Ustaad to be treated so shabbily.
The groan of metal came to a grinding halt.
Akbar was yet to identify her presence amongst the crowd, for his vision was still a blink away from adjusting to the lights flooding in through the colossal windows. But, he'd caught the sweet notes of lavender in the air - especially seeing how he had been inhaling nothing but mud, muck, moss and malodour of muggy dungeons for more than a week now.
'Wh...' The rays stung his eyes as he blinked - the thumping in his head making him wonder if this was a dream come to torment him further, or if it was her indeed?
Till her voice seeped gently and calmly towards him, warming his deadened senses.
'Khan Sahib...'
'Heera...' Concealing the numbing pain in his head, he squinted hard. 'Heera... you're here...' He blinked till her face was clear as dew, the blissful portrait an instant balm upon his pangs of angst. His beats leapt to life, pushing his lips into a soft smile. 'My dear... h... how have you been?'
However, a perturbed glance from her was all it took for him to sense that her sight had worsened over time - the turmoil she had been put through responsible for it, no doubt.
'Ai khuda...' Akbar longed to hold her and enquire about her health. He wished he could tell her how much he'd pined for her during the past month - for a sound of her voice and a flash of her smile - so much he would've nearly traded his sanity for either of those. He wished his hands could reach out to touch her for just a fleeting spell, to feel the tenderness of her skin. He wished his palms could hold her frail fingers and give her needed strength.
Watching their exchanges with horror lining her insides, Heera stepped forward, pleading with a broken voice 'Your Highness! My husband has always served at your will, as your most trusted servant... his heart has never wavered... I know him... you would recognise it deep within your heart too... there are enemies who seek to bring a gap between you two... please, I beg you, release him from the dungeons'
The Shehzaade nodded his head slowly, like an unoiled wheel. His gaze was fixated on her husband and there it remained for a moment longer, before it slowly unwound and returned to hers. 'How far will you go to have your husband set free?'
'What?' The prince's question hit her like a slap from nowhere 'How far?'
'Yes... you heard me, Sahiba HOW FAR?'
'I would give up my LIFE for him...' she added 'and my pride...'
'I stand here... a common woman, with no ego' Walling up her mind against the audibly demeaning whispers around her, she strove to humble herself before the prince 'I plead with you... please let him go'
ooo
And THAT is where the soft lullabies of the prince came to an end. 'Because your husband definitely WILL face punishment... HE is the one who's wronged me... and it is with HIM, that I am truly enraged!'
'Wronged you, Huzoor?' Akbar called him out - the anger and pain tempered with a sprinkle of respect 'I have no agenda... no vendetta against you... never have, never will... can you say that for ANY other man here?'
ooo
He cast a short glance at the sullen features of his woman. She stood a few paces apart from him - yet it felt like she was flung far away, as if they existed in different realms. How he wished he could wriggle his wrists from the shackles to reach out to her - just so he could shield her from the treacherous whirlwinds closing in on them faster and faster as the moments went by. 'Heera...' his hands instinctively twitched in the chains, causing the metal to rattle.
But Heera could read his thoughts from the rattle of his chains. And she would allow him to suffer no discomfort for her sake.
'Do not worry for me' her head slowly shook from left to right 'I will be fine. I am the Begum of Akbar Mahmoud Khan - the revered Ustaad and the Mansabdar of Parnagarh'
Through the invisible tears she flashed him a gentle smile - feeding his trampled spirits with a sense of purpose and pride to get him back up.
'Thank you' He smiled back, even if she wouldn't be able to see him do so. His gazes then drifted ahead slowly, her words lifting his spirits up, piece by piece. 'Begum of Akbar Mahmoud Khan - the Mansabdar of Parnagarh! Begum of... Mansab...'
[The images are from the Hollywood movie "Samson and Delilah" (1949 )]
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