'The Prince of Manswar... former-general Khalil... and Akbar Mahmoud Khan!' These three men had dared to play their future-Emperor as if he were a fool, hadn't they? Now they would be forced to play against one another for their lives, like poor fools - while the entire capital watched! And the money that this scandal would generate, should help fill his depleted treasury handsomely too. 'You will fight each other, in turns, in a duel till death' A snigger rolled up from the depths of his chest 'Hopefully, by the end... I will be left having to deal with only ONE of you traitors!'
'Guards! Take this man back. Make sure the former men-of-Ustaad are thrown out of the palace gates. Let there be stringent checkpoints at all entrances so that they do not sneak in, in disguise!'
'Yes Huzoor!'
'And as for you, Prince of Manswar... you will stay here within the palace walls for the next two weeks...' he clicked his fingers with disdain 'If your father - the King of Manswar - wants to know what's keeping his dear son away for so long... I'm certain you are aware of what to write to him!'
'Yes' Mahendar added, having to bite his tongue till it bled. 'Your Highness...'
'Khalil... Khalil...' the Shehzaade kept the suspense hanging for a good few winks 'Should have done this long ago' His wild glares burned through the general's expressions of shock 'GUARDS... have him thrown in the dungeons!'
Turning away from the howls of violent protests erupting behind him, he then walked a few steady paces towards the lone lady in their midst - so he wouldn't have to shout over the ruckus. 'Harka Sahiba... you will be taken to the Ladies' guest wing... you'll be granted the company of one maid, but no visitors... you will be closely watched day and night... your belongings regularly checked!'
**** ****
As the guards began nudging him onwards, in the direction of the exit, his mind quickly jotted down the scenes surrounding him.
The Shehzaade had stormed off to his throne, at the other end of the hall, out of sight.
And approximately 20 STEPS away, to his far left, Azeez and his men were being restrained. Fortunately, he'd be walking past them on his way out.
'Your only chance, Akbar!'
He began counting each step '1... 2... 3... 7... 10...' By the 15th one, he coughed mildly into his hands and then cleared his throat.
The men of Ustaad were immediately tempted to peep up. The 'cough' routine was a secret code amongst them - a 'call for help'. But of course, they knew better than to peep up and attract unwanted attention.
So, Azeez took it upon himself to be the one to respond. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed at his Sahib.
Akbar stuck his first finger out, from between his fists.
'First point?' Azeez blinked twice. 'Understood... what do you want us to do, Sahib?'
Bending low as if to haul up the chain around his ankles, Akbar peered at the young chap. 'Tejraj... TEJ... RAJ...' he mouthed slowly and clearly to ensure the young chap would be able to read his lips.
'Kunwar Tejraj?' Frowned Azeez. At least that's what it appeared like. 'Alright... understood...' he blinked twice 'Go on, Sahib'
As Akbar came up to stand straight, he stuck two fingers out of his fists.
'Second point? What would you have us do, Sahib?'
'She...' Akbar's lips parted quietly - but a hard elbow on his back from a guard cut him short. 'Argh!'
'Hey... why have you slowed down?
'Is it because your men stand there?'
'I'm aware of your tricks, Ustaad Sahib...'
'Keep walking!'
'Darn!' He'd have to pass on the rest of his message with gestures now. 'The chains' he then grunted, pointing to the floor 'they have got tangled around my ankles and I am unable to walk...'
The split instant that the three guards looked down, Akbar looked back up at Azeez.
He rolled his eyes towards the Shehzaade, once.
And then, rolled his eyes towards the Shehzaade, in a grander manner, once again.
'What?' Azeez scratched his head. He couldn't quite understand why the Sahib had rolled his eyes towards the Shehzaade, twice! 'Anyway... don't waste time... this can be solved later!' He blinked twice. 'Go on Sahib'
With the guards returning their wary attention back to his face, Akbar smiled and then bent low to adjust his ankle-chains again - for REAL this time.
And that is when he stuck his third finger out.
'Third point?'
Azeez studied his master's body language closely - but he was being shoved away now 'What are you trying to show me, Sahib?' he squinted harder 'Ohhh... yes... the palms...'
The man was swirling his palm backways, as if unrolling something. 'What? Unfurling? Unrolling? What's he unrolling? Maybe Ibrahim can help me decode this mystery after I'm out of here... but...' his fingers folded up into a thick fist, as he whispered his pledge to the disappearing persona of the Sahib 'but we'll do whatever it takes... WHATEVER it takes, Sahib... to ensure you and Sahiba leave this place, safe and sound! This is the vow of a humble street urchin, Azeez Shah, to you Ustaad Sahib!'
*** ***
Shehzaade's Chamber..
With every passing hour, the Shehzaade found himself losing a few more grains of peace. Nights were the worst - not a single one of them lately blessed with an unbroken spell of sleep. Lengthy walks did not help, nor did the company of a loving wife. If his eyelids ever did drag shut from their swelling weight, eerie voices in his head would soon jolt him awake - endlessly battling with one another as the hours tardily ebbed away.
'He was your best soldier'
'But are you going to allow yourself to be labelled as a partial ruler?'
'Well... he was kith and kin... more than your own family have ever been! Isn't that why you haven't been able to give up the idea of pardoning him yet?'
'Stings your soul, doesn't it?'
'Could you not come up with some reason... ANY reason... to avoid a certain death?'
'But that you loved him like a relative is what makes the sting of the betrayal even more ominous...'
The threads of sanity were barely holding up - showing true signs of wearing out. What if those threads were to snap?
'Huh?' His pupils jumped to a corner. A shadow had just drifted behind him. 'What moved?'
The Shehzaade spun around. Keeping his poise steady and expressions smooth, he briefly scoured the spaces behind him - scouring shadows of articles. And then, the silhouettes of his staff.
'Ohhh...' he heaved, his chest deflating. It was the muslin curtain - merely dancing to a rare symphony of the breeze.
'I warned you' spoke a fresh voice in his head 'You're reducing yourself to a madman... laying awake in the darkness... fearing shadows that don't exist. When Akbar was around, you rarely suffered from such anxieties'
'Get rid of your ego... and get him out of this case... it's obvious... he spoke these lies because of his love for a girl - nothing beyond that. In the very least spare him for political reasons! He will always be of use to you. Besides, no one else can match his skill... at least not yet. In several ways, the 'Ustaad' is irreplaceable and you know it!'
'Irreplaceable?' His forehead abruptly creased into welts from sheer annoyance.
'No!' He cocked his head to a side 'He CANNOT be irreplaceable! No one is indispensable' The Ustaad had served his purpose. He'd find another. Someone BETTER!
As if under a spell, his gaze drifted back to the mirror, seeking out his reflection in it once again.
'The Shehzaade!' Now, HE was indispensable, for he'd soon become the Shehenshah - an Emperor - who'd take this vast Empire to new heights of greatness!
'Shehenshah' He observed his simple Taj sitting on a tray aside, a sharp glow erasing parts of the frown that'd been clouding his features. The lone lion in this treacherous forest of politics, he alone was 'irreplaceable'! 'Yes'
'Huzoor? You have a visitor'
There was a fuss of steps around the thresholds of the doorway.
'Ugh!' Having recognised the stealth in those footsteps, the prince could feel heat pooling around his jaws at the very thought of meeting his first visitor that morning.
'Yes, Farooq Sahib?'
'Huzoor... would you please grant your loyal servant a few moments in private? I must speak with you at once, I'm afraid'
'As always!'
The old man knew how to make his way in.
'Do come in...'
Veins of impatience on his temple split into sight, as the advisor emerged - along with an assistant, balancing two large books in his nervous hands. 'What is it now?'
'Huzoor...' Farooq Sahib offered a swift adab 'As part of the ongoing investigations on Akbar Mahmoud Khan, I've found something that I wanted to show you...'
A flip of his fingers and the assistant rushed forward with the books, gapingly open at two particular pages. 'These are account books... of Akbar Khan's business dealings' His fingertips stalled beside two specific entries, compelling the Shehzaade to have a closer glance at the numbers 'It shows the man has been making plenty through his horse-business. However... he has never cared to reveal any of this to us, has he?'
He paused 'Akbar let us believe he is a simple man all through... while he's been secretly stashing money away!'
An entire stretch passed - the advisor closely observing the glow fade from the prince's profile, bit by bit.
'Well' sighed the Prince at long last, before the prickly silence would sprout anymore thorns 'Farooq Sahib... you speak as if YOU haven't done the same... as if you haven't let us believe you're a simple man all through!'
'Wh... what?' Stammered the advisor through an awkward smile. The Prince had to be jesting! 'Huzoor... I don't quite understand'
'Why so surprised?' The Shehzaade allowed a hint of suspicion to show up in his tone 'You always profess about having no wish for money or power... and yet, you own a glamorous summer house out in the country somewhere, don't you?'
'Wh...' the old man's mind slid into half a daze.
Wasn't it the Ustaad, whose crimes were under scrutiny? Wasn't it Akbar who was meant to be flogged today and sentenced later? Then, why was HE - the royal advisor -repeatedly facing accusations? Worse, the Shehzaade had apparently become even more guarded after the happenings at the court yesterday! 'That cursed Akbar!'
'Anyway...' The Prince ended the short argument with a smirk 'Akbar doesn't reveal all those amounts because he needs that money to bribe others for information... to maintain his safe-houses... and to recruit an army of spies'
'An army of spies?' Farooq Sahib stared on, the daze that'd briefly dulled his foxy mind gradually beginning to lift off. An army of spies! Yes, THAT could be the opening his wits had been scampering for.
'Well Huzoor... Akbar might be using the money to recruit an army of spies' he stifled a cough 'OR, he might be using it to build HIS own armies too... who knows?'
A heavy silence hammered within the pillars of the Prince's chambers.
'Armies!' The prince spun around, his teeth quietly gnashing 'ARMIES, Farooq Sahib? I warn you - THINK before you mumble! Your remarks are beginning to sound absurd!'
'But...' the advisor dragged his attention down to the floor 'my remarks cannot be more absurd than... than... what we saw yesterday, can they Huzoor? Trained soldiers paid by Your Highness, serving you... but, daring to stand against you... publicly... in court. This has never happened before!'
The Shehzaade wore the mask of coldness well. Familiar he was, with such mind games. Indifferent he generally remained, to them. But today, behind that mask, something was unfolding. A word was starting to scurry within the narrow walls of his head. Like an insect. Nibbling away at its sides. And each nibble left a small puncture that ended up oozing further bad blood. 'Armies...' He tried every trick, but it simply wouldn't hold still. 'Akbar's own armies?'
Exploiting the impasse, Farooq Sahib leaned towards the Prince's ear, reducing his voice to a whisper. 'Huzoor... are you aware that there's been an increase in the number of Hindus in the capital ever since this trial has come to light?'
'What?'
'Do you know that Akbar Mahmoud Khan... and his Begum... are beginning to enjoy a lot of support and empathy from the masses?'
'Ha' scoffed the Shehzaade. 'And how EXACTLY did you find that out?'
'From my sources...'
The Mughal heir refused to stir.
'I understand... Huzoor finds it difficult to trust my warnings after the allegations that Akbar Mahmoud Khan flung on me yesterday...' His turbaned head hung low 'but if you send your own spies to make enquiries in the streets outside, they shall return with the same news...' His sentence came to a slow halt.
'And there's more...'
'What?' A fresh burst of agitation jostled his already-frayed nerves. 'Darn!' WHY wouldn't this man stop? All doors to his own mind were meant to stay shut, weren't they? Then, why was this old meddler continuing to gain entry into his head? 'Don't let him go on! Dismiss him... at once...'
He glared at the advisor's lowered head for a hard blink or two.
'But...' What if Akbar Mahmoud Khan truly WAS beginning to enjoy the support of the masses?
'So... what else did these sources of yours find, Farooq Sahib?'
'I...' the old man crossed his palms in front, as a bloated display of humility 'I...'
'Go on...'
'I... I... I... cannot...' His lips parted, but the words choked up from shame 'I cannot bring my tongue to repeat such abusive language... not against my own Huzoor!'
'God!' That was more theatrics than his facade of composure could take in a day!
'Please... GO ON!'
Farooq Sahib held fast onto the coral beads dangling from his fingers. 'T... the general consensus amongst the subjects... and even our own nobles in court... is that...' his voice had dropped so low, it shook 'is that...'
'Is that...'
'That you appear hesitant... vague... weak when coming up against Akbar, Huzoor...' the old advisor hastily looked up to meet eyes with the prince 'of course, this is NOT my opinion whatsoever!'
'WHAT?' The pests began scurrying faster within the chambers of his head. And multiplying - their parasitic stings squeezing out enough paranoia to begin poisoning whatever sanity there was left. 'Weak?' What an ATROCIOUS allegation, if the man's words were true!
'No... it cannot be true!' His heart slammed at its chest with such fury that he could feel the heat in his mouth, nearly suffocating him.
But on the surface, everything managed to stay deceptively calm. 'All lies!LIES!'
'Lies?' his eyes grew wide 'Ya Allah... I wouldn't lie to YOU, Huzoor'
'Why, Farooq Sahib... didn't you tell me earlier, that Akbar and his Hindu Begum were considered an outcast amongst most? So, HOW did the facts change, all of a sudden?'
'Unfortunately Huzoor... Hindus will be Hindus! It seems they will support their own... even outcasts!' He shrugged falteringly 'Besides, Durga Sahiba is growing to become somewhat of an iconic figure amongst the masses... we must get rid of Harka Sahiba as soon as possible... it would solve a lot of your problems!'
'If THAT is the case, I'm beginning to see how getting rid of Khalil would solve a lot of my problems too! He is the one who started it all!' As if the suggestion wasn't unsettling enough, he served it to his visitor with a sizzling chunk of sarcasm too. 'Don't you think, Farooq Sahib?'
Removing a kerchief from a pouch, he dabbed the new lines of sweat weaving across his wrinkly forehead. 'Huzoor... Khalil IS a sinner... I wouldn't deny it!' He swallowed, pushing the lump of unrest down his throat 'But, at least, he's not been mobilising Hindu support... he's not the one who's trained armies of men, who dare to oppose you publicly... everything changed after a Hindu came into Akbar's life...' he shook his head from regret 'anyway, I'd advise you to finalise the date of her hanging as soon as possible... it'd be a good warning to those, who dare to double cross you!'
'A good warning to those, who DARE to double cross me?'
Strutting up to the old man, the Shehzaade bore into his face. 'What about YOU then, Farooq Sahib? Mustn't I punish YOU for DARING to double cross me too?'
He didn't air the thoughts lurking within. But the freshly fermented disgust in his eyes did a perfect job of passing the message on.
Till the stillness briefly evaporated, to make way for an unexpected boisterous princely laugh.
'Huzoor?' Farooq Sahib missed a few breaths, the echoes of the master's laughter sending shudders through the length of his spine. 'I only advise you, because I want the best for you'
'Want the best?' The laughter died an abrupt death.
The Shehzaade stationed himself squarely in front of his advisor. Yes, the old man was a good few inches taller than he was, but that would only make it perfect for his clenched fists to grab at his scrawny neck and twist it in one firm clasp if he had to!
Crack!
Alas. His fists were compelled to take out the urge by banging at the wall beside him instead. 'Damn you, Farooq Sahib!'
As it is, he'd suffered huge losses. Lost his best man. Lost his best general. Lost the trust of several Hindus in court. He couldn't afford to lose the support of the all-powerful Islamic advisors too. And that is precisely what would happen if he punished Farooq Sahib.
'I am in no mood to welcome your advice anymore...' he spat venom 'LEAVE my presence... and pray I do not get to see your face for a long, long, long time!'
'Y... yes Huzoor' stuttered the old man, the skin on his face losing colour till his features were glassy, the blue veins underneath pulsing faster than ever.
'Allah Hafiz' Following a hurried nod, he turned around and walked out as quickly as his feet would allow.
It was the day of the 'flogging' - the day Shehzaade was going to have Akbar punished. The mania of the lonely Prince had been successfully fanned in such a manner that he wouldn't be tempted go 'light' on his best man whatsoever.
If it all went to plan, the outcome of the flogging would render Ustaad a weaker opponent - leaving Khalil a much happier man behind bars!
'THAT should be good enough to bring my secret pact with that rotten man to an end!' Surely, the risk he'd undertaken just now was a solid repayment for that brute's help earlier, in dredging up information about the safe-house, against Akbar!
'A SOLID repayment! Hopefully it'd get him to stop sending his thuggish friends after me again'
Yet, the old advisor knew it wasn't from Khalil that his life was in most danger. It was from the Mughal heir himself. The very volatility and paranoia of this royal that'd been manipulated into destroying Akbar could come back to destroy him too - if he didn't stay away!
'Farooq... you spotted these dangerous Hindu influences gaining power under the Shehzaade... managed to stop most of the disease from spreading... got what you wanted... unfortunately, with each passing week, this case has gotten increasingly complicated... and dangerous... time for you to steer clear, till it all blows over'
The Imperial dungeons and prison fort
Every square inch of those narrow verandahs running around the two floors of the tall tower, was brimming with ladies like the tunnels of an anthill. Women of all ages and traits had abandoned their chores and chambers, and swarmed out in groups - falling over each other, for a single glimpse of the newest resident to join their midst.
Well, many of these women had spent most of their lives here and rarely did anyone ever recall such an 'interesting' resident turn up in their building.
But today, in their midst, being led towards their quarters, was the 'Sahiba of Parnigarh' A partially-blind 17 year old whose beauty was the subject of poetry! A headstrong orphan, who'd turned down the tempting chance to become the 'Chief-queen' of a powerful kingdom Manswar, only to be outcast by her community. A mystical healer who'd raised her voice against the injustices of the army generals to fight for the cruel murder of her sister - thus awaiting a death sentence for it now. But most importantly, the one who'd stolen the heart of the feared phantom Ustaad.
Some stood there, in disbelief. Some out of plain curiosity. Some awed by the very sight of her persona. Some adored her already. Some jealous. But everyone who watched, was vying for the best glimpse they could of this 'Sahiba'.
'Maids and slaves who have no use in the royal harem, stay here...' was what she was told. That and the fact that the largest room in the top floor was where a couple of notable women had spent their last days on Earth. 'Ma Bhavani...'
Her failing vision was reliant on her instincts to keep her poise while she was being escorted towards the tall building on the left. But Heera needed no special powers to sense that she was the sole object of hundreds of ominous stares and murmurs.
Little wonder then that the unfamiliar grounds of the Imperial Fort felt as unwelcoming as a haunted ruin site.
Adjacent to the main palace grounds and accessible through a single guarded entrance, lay the extensive grounds of the Imperial Fort and prison. Dotted with clusters of several odd buildings - its compound walls were thick and tall enough to cordon off the site from the rest of the world. Its barren tones were mellowed in places by patches of grass and dashes of potted green. But those scatterings of beauty were lost amid the harsh stone overlooking it. Understandably, the structures here did not boast the sophisticated artwork and grand masonry of the palace buildings. But it did not help that the place didn't enjoy much care either.
And the situation was quite the same on arriving at what was meant to be her own quarters too.
As sunlight pushed its way in through the lattices, it left a visible trail of thick dust inside crevices and atop window frames. The once-bright colours on the walls were fading - its shades nearly matching the plain grays of the floors. And the dull curtains smelled of old incense and ittar - left behind by its previous residents, no doubt. A modest room of sorts, it was. But a far cry from the promise the Shehzaade had made her
'Born a noblewoman... will be treated like a noblewoman till she lives...'
Regardless, a prisoner she was, and expected nothing further. If anything, the first emotions thrumming through her veins were pangs of guilt. Seeing how her Sahib had it far worse. Infinitely worse.
'Imagine being housed with murderers and deranged psychopaths instead... imagine having nothing to look at - not even something as basic as light... imagine being restrained in shackles... physically tortured and tormented!'
'NO!'
And to think that SHE had brought this tragedy upon him!
Heera opened her eyes, slowly.
'My love' Her gazes escaped through the window 'Where are you?' He couldn't be too far. Probably locked up in one of those buildings in the distance, in an underground dungeon somewhere.
'MENN NN NN!'
Her grim trance was abruptly broken by a coarse voice scraping against her ears.
'Drop the trunks in that corner...' hollered the head-guard
'Open everything... thoroughly check their contents...'
'Whatever appears suspicious... bring it over'
'Anything that resembles a weapon, or poison...'
And it seemed it took the group of guards not more than a few fiendish moments thereafter to tear their way through her belongings. Locks were cracked open. Contents of trunks toppled. Bags tossed about as if they were dead rubble. And clothes strewn across recklessly.
Heera decided it best not to look at the demeaning scene. There was nothing she could do to stop it, and there was no point in giving them the pleasure of having her watch on helplessly. Instead, she thanked the Heavens above that the idol of Ma Bhavani was away from the carnage, and safely tucked in Gauri's hands. Because, if there was one recourse she could turn to, amidst the angst in and around her, it was the Goddess alone.
'Sahiba'
The head-guard pranced up to them, all of a sudden, and positioned himself opposite the young Lady. 'I understand...' he cleared the gurgling sounds of mockery in his throat 'you must find it unsettling... humiliating... to have us men go through your personal belongings... but' he shrugged 'we don't intend to be disrespectful... we are only following the Shehzaade's orders'
Heera dressed up the anguish on her features with a smile.
'It's alright... I understand...'
'Daroga Sahib...' A soldier butted in 'I found something... hidden inside... a poison ring...'
'Confiscate it...'
'And then this...' he handed a parcel over.
'What's in it?'
Heera peered hard, trying to make sense of the parcel's cloudy outline.
'I asked - WHAT's in it?'
'Herbs' Gauri answered for her mistress 'Our baisa is an herbalist'
'Oh I see...' nodded the head-guard, his stare poking its way through the Sahiba's veil. 'Men...' he then signalled at the verrandah outside 'bring it in'
Soon thereafter, a planter was dragged indoors and placed beside Heera's feet.
Splosh hhh hhh!
The entire parcel was thrown into the dirty pool of moss, right in front of her face -rendering all of those life-giving medicines useless.
'What books are these?'
'Oh God... no!'
Darting her chief maid a heavy glance. Heera pulled her eyelids down to a shut, unaware of what she must say. And afraid of what would come thereafter.
'Sahiba!' The question was thrown back at her face once more, in a tone that was louder. And uglier. 'WHAT books are these?'
'Books... on various subjects... medicine mostly...' she dragged the syllables out 'please... I request you... they are harmless papers... nothing but...'
Flappp ppp ppp!
Off went the book flying outside the room, much like a blow to her face.
Then the next.
And the one thereafter.
Till none of it was left.
No books.
No scrolls.
No quill.
Nothing left to read, no written words to give this scholarly young lady company.
All along, she'd managed to wall in her emotions. But on hearing the last flutters of papers vanish into nothingness, the cracks showed, letting a few tears quietly flee down. Well, it wasn't mere bundles of sheets that were being destroyed. Some of it were blessings from Vaid kaka - carrying priceless nuggets of information that'd taken years of research to amass. Some of it cherished gifts from dear Bapusa. Memories aplenty. And they were all gone now...
Anupamaa
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