akdha ff - the desert's rose - Page 14

our darkest hour (🏜️🌹)

"We are not done, Jodha Begum; we still have much to discuss," he called out, watching how she stopped mid-stride. The silence between them stretched for a long moment, the only audible sounds were the chirps of the birds in the forest and the soft whisper of the wind.

He let his musket hang loosely by his side as he took measured steps closer to her. It was like the calm moment before the storm came in to disrupt every bit of order and sanity. The silence hovering around them only heightened the tension around them.

He watched the way her shoulders squared, her head held high. It took a few minutes before she would turn to face him; her eyes hardened as well. It was then he could tell that Qutb Ibrahim's words affected her as well.

"What do we have to talk about, Shehenshah?" She stared steadily at him, her eyes not betraying any emotions. Just the sight of that had him on the brim of gritting his teeth; how could she hide her emotions from him, of all people?

Jalal took a step close, his face fixed into an unreadable mask of his. "A lot, Jodha Begum," he answered, his voice low and deliberate as he looked down at her. "Qutb Ibrahim's words for starters." He studied her carefully for any change in her guarded expression.

She momentarily looked away from him, her hands reaching for her dupatta as she wrapped it tightly around her. "What about them?"

Despite the guarded expression she seemed to have adopted recently, he caught a note of a slight crack in her armor when she focused her gaze on him. It was latent but still clear enough for him to note - the slight widening of her eyes and the faint hitch of breath. Maybe she was not as detached as he had previously believed.

"Do you believe they are true?" He asked as he stepped closer, his juttis crunching softly against the grass beneath him. "That our union could result in something more - something greater than whatever we have now?"

Her brows knitted together. "Those are words; words from a holy man. That they become a reality is a matter of Fate and-."

Of course, she would attempt to skirt around his question. He smirked, his eyes narrowing. "That does not answer my question, Jodha Begum."

Her frown grew even more, "What answers do you seek then, Shehenshah? My assent? Dissent? They cannot alter whatever is set in stone."

He chuckled under his breath at that. "Here you are evading my question again, Jodha Begum."

It was her turn to step closer, her chin lifting defiantly as she gazed at him. "I am not evading anything, Shehenshah," she countered. "However, I can't seem to understand why you ask my thoughts about Qutb Ibrahim's words."

"I expect honesty," he replied, dropping the teasing undertones for a more serious tone. "Do you believe that our union could lead to something like...love?"

Even the word coming out of his lips sounded foreign, so out of place and so absurd that he almost scoffed at himself for uttering it. Love. What was love to a man who lacked a heart?

And an heir? That was absurd and as distant as the sky was from the ground. Their union remained unconsummated and he doubted Jodha Begum would let him come within that intimate distance without her dagger successfully divorcing his head from his body.

That he'd rather not happen for he'd rather have a willing bride underneath him. It made his conquest over her more significant than if he forced her and most of all, he was not that kind of man.

Jodha Begum, on the other hand, blinked as she was caught off guard by his bluntness. A shift in her countenance arose as she stepped back, breaking eye.

"What is love if our union lacks the basic foundation for it?" She muttered but her words were enough to also kick him off his ground. "The blessings of a saint is one thing, Shehenshah," she turned to him. "But I don't see them becoming a reality - at least not now."

He chuckled derisively as he gazed down at her, "I knew you'd say something like that."

She scoffed as she moved ahead. "Does it matter what I believe, Shehenshah?" She shot back, frustration laced in her voice. "Our union is like a step forward and a million backwards. We are too different for our own good; like oil and water yet for some reason, our union was meant to be."

His defences lowered as her words struck deeper than he believed possible. There was truth in those words of her with the way they breached through the armour he had spent years building around his heart.

"If our union was meant to be, there's a possibility we could make it work."

Could you? That rational part of him jeered at him. Do you really believe that?

Jodha Begum was about to reply when his ears caught some faint sounds which sounded like they belonged to someone else aside from them. His instincts came alive as he wordlessly held up his hand to silence her, his stance taking on that of vigilance as he picked up his musket. She frowned at him as his eyes surveyed the forest grounds.

"Stay back," he ordered, his voice a low growl and there was that sound again - even close now - the sound of twigs snapping and leaves rustling. It left him tense as the sounds of the birds had settled into an unnatural state of quiet.

They had company and only Khuda would tell if it was a friendly one or a company that posed a cause for concern and Jalal was not about to find out the hard way, not when the whistle of an arrow came slicing through the air.

Without thinking, Jalal yanked her forward to his chest, hiding behind a tree. The arrow precisely struck the bark of the tree, embedding itself at the spot Jodha had stood a few moments before.

"It's an ambush," he growled as he raised his musket, ever prepared to fire at the attackers. Yet, even as he pulled the trigger, instead of the expected bang of gunfire, the only resulting sound was nothing but a click.

What the-? He swore as he pulled the trigger again. There was no difference as the only yielded result was a dull faint click. His stomach twisted and his blood ran cold in the realization of what it was, even as he came into eye contact with Jodha.

"Dud bullets...," she muttered, her eyes widened and he cursed softly. Someone in the camp had tampered with his weapon...

He growled, tossing aside the useless weapon to unsheath his dagger, the one gifted to him by his Abbujaan, as he came out of hiding.

He came face-to-face with six men - all dressed in black attires with their faces obscured by a black cloth and their swords glinting in the midday sun as they stepped out of their hiding places.

Jalal could deduce by now that this was not a random attack but a calculated attempt on either his life or Jodha's. Or both their lives, at this point. But who would dare?

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on the dagger as he charged at the attackers. The men parried around him, one with his sword out to get a hit on him but Jalal was swifter and effectively dodged each hit with each strike of his fueled by a growing but calculated rage.

From his peripheral view, he caught sight of Jodha Begum who was also engaged with another in her own battle, her hand wielding a bloodied sword.

He could barely suppress his grin at the thought that some minutes ago, she had stood lecturing him about the sanctity of life. But here she was, one man down while battling another.

While he was fully aware of how formidable of a swordsperson she was, something he had witnessed firsthand that day on the terrace, seeing her wielding the sword so fiercely in real time brought in an inexplicable kind of warmth and pride.

Even as he slit the throat of his opponent, Jalal called out, "You'd also make a great soldier if you were not my begum."

A sharp glare glinted across her face as she parried a strike and drove her blade into the lower left side of the assassin's rib cage. "And you'll make a perfect corpse if you keep on distracting me," she shot back at him, her voice sharper than the blade she wielded.

He chuckled at her reply as he faced the next attacker. The two of them moved in a synchronized rhythm, equally brutal as well until it was a matter of minutes before their attackers met their swift ends at the couple's blades - aside from one.

Jalal turned, catching sight of the bandit. The man had his fingers poised on an arrow which was perfectly notched on the bow as he prepared to draw back the arrow. It was then Jalal realized the intended target as he yelled out with a sense of urgency raw in his voice. "Jodha Begum!"

Jodha's eyes widened in horror as she turned, frozen like a paralyzed deer. Time seemed to slow down as Jalal moved in front of her, shielding her from the released arrow with his body.

Pain, excruciating pain was what Jalal felt at this moment as the arrow struck him and embedded itself just below his clavicle. He gritted his teeth as pain shot up from the point it struck and radiated through his being like fire.

He swore out loud as he gathered his wits. His eyes were on the cowardly archer who had shot the arrow and Jalal's hand felt for his dagger as he hurled the weapon at him with every last bit of strength he had.

The blade spun through the air before meeting its target, embedding itself in the man's neck. He crumpled to the ground, his arrow and bow falling from his lifeless hands.

For a moment, Jalal found himself swaying, staggering in tandem as his left hand moved to pull out the arrow. "It's poisoned," he rasped, his voice weak as he staggered in his steps.

"Shehenshah!" Jodha's let out a panicked cry as she rushed over to his side, steadying him in her arms before his body would hit the grassy grounds. Her face was etched with a mix of fear and worry as her eyes caught the sight of his wound.

His vision blurred for a moment while the sound of her voice became distant. He could only wonder if he would be able to survive this one, yet by the look of determination on her face, a faint grin grew on his.

While patience was far from his greatest virtue, there was one principle Mirza Sharifuddin Hussain had imbibed from his father, Khwaja Moin Allaudin, namely the patience of the vulture.

Just like the scavenging bird of prey, he lay in wait - ever patient and vigilant in hopes of a grand opportunity falling into his talons. And by the design of Allah, that opportunity came in the form of Jalal going on that pilgrimage to the dargah.

Who was he to squander such opportunity laid out for him? A cold twisted smirk slowly spread on his face as he stood deep in thought until he caught note of a new presence.

It was none other than the Subehdar of Malwa - that is if the oaf was more than capable to even oversee that region - and Jalal's milk brother.

"Adaab, Sharifuddin," Adham greeted, a lackadaisical grin on his face as soon as he made his way in.

How Sharifuddin wished he could get rid of this type of diplomacy where he had to pretend he could stand the presence of the Wazir-e-Aliya's son.

But alas, for the sake of his personal goals and ambitions, he had no other choice than to form an alliance with Adham Khan.

An enemy of an enemy was, after all, a friend. Besides, once he got what he wanted, Adham Khan would be the first to be dispatched by him.

Just looking at him, ya Allah, he had every reason to look forward to the day he'd finally smile down at Adham's decapitated head. One of them being the fact that it was glaringly obvious to all and sundry where the taller man just came from.

Not only is he inept but also... Sharifuddin suppressed a grimace even as he plastered on a fake smile, offering his salutations. At least, Adham Khan should have shown some decency by making himself more presentable before stepping a foot into his hojra looking this dishevelled before him.

It was known to all that Adham Khan's eyes wandered shamelessly and more than a hermit seeking spiritual fulfilment. At least, Sharifuddin was discreet enough to conceal his desires.

Ah, Begum Jodha. The mere thought of her brought in a grin he could barely suppress. It was a merely matter of time before she would finally be his. Ya Allah, he could already see her before him as his bride.

The day he'd claim her both legally and physically was so close he could already taste it with its sweetness lingering on the tip of his tongue. All it had to take was-.

"It must be something exceptionally good to have you grinning ear-to-ear, Sharifuddin," the grating noise of none other than Adham Khan snapped him out of his reverie. And like cold water thrown on him, Sharifuddin clenched his fists to curtail his ever budding rage.

Just wait until Jalal's corpse is brought down to Agra, he swore to himself as the smug buffon lazed on his divan. Sharifuddin could only pray his plans went well so Adham Khan would make the next body on his list of disposable tools. "What better news than the imminent relaization of our goals, Adham? As we speak, Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad's corpse is on its way down to Agra. Is that no cause for joy?"

The taller man flashed him a sharp grin as he helped himself to some sura kept cold in a nearby jug. "You seem to hold a remarkable level of confidence in your informant."

A smirk lit Sharifuddin's face as he retorted. "A few fake bullets will not hurt a wild beast out on the prowl, Adham Khan."

"And if Jalal does not meet a tiger, what is your next course of actions?" Adham hummed, looking down at his cup, swirling the liquid around. Sharifuddin's face fell, faltering in his steps as he found himself dumbfounded. How could he have predicted the unexpected display of wit from the other man?

Adham, encountering his silence, looked up at him with a smirk of his before setting his cup down.

"Mirza Sharifuddin," he drawled, standing up to his height and walking towards him. "It is important to have a backup plan because some plans often fail at initial attempts." He chuckled darkly as he gestured. "Let's say that Jalal takes his musket with dud bullets and doesn't encounter any animal but instead six men."

For once, Sharifuddin could find a semblance of the shrewdness he came to associate with Maham Anga in Adham who had returned to recline back on the divan.

"He's a dead man," Sharifuddin muttered, a twisted glint in his eyes as he stared back at Adham who lifted his cup in celebration. He would let the taller man drink to his heart's delight but deep within, he had already plotted that neither he nor Jalal would escape the meticulous next plot he set for them both.

Nature had chosen this exact moment to be her adversary as the heavens opened their gates with dense fog thickening the forests and bringing with it a layer of obscurity.

In addition, Jodha struggled to maintain her footing on the slippery forest floor which was now a mire of slick mud and water. Nothing - not even her years of training with Sujamal Bhaisa had prepared her for a moment such as this.

Her drenched attire clung to her body like a second skin and for once, Jodha was glad she had left behind most of her jewelry before embarking on this hunting trip, as the last thing she needed was more obstacles.

Then, there was him.

Not once in her 18 years of living could she have seen herself in this position where the great Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad would be dependent on her or that she would have his life in her hands. If this was a few months ago, Kanha knew she'd have his head set before Kali Maa's feet but fate had a twisted and funny way of working. His body weighed down on her as he clung to her while she had to maintain her stance lest she slip through the now muddy forest floors and further aggravate his injury.

His head rested heavily against her shoulder, his breaths shallow and laboured. His eyes, which held a sharp, intense and observant glint, lay half-shut while he'd occasionally mutter some incoherent words. Those fleeting moments served as the few indications that he was still alive. There were moments she feared he was no longer there until he would let out a few words again to dissuade her mind from believing so.

His blood seeped through, staining his angarkha and her attire a dark crimson; it stood as a stark reminder of the danger they had just managed to stave off and the glaring danger that loomed over them if she was not quick to make her way out of this dense fog.

She felt a faint tug on her pallu. "Jodha Begum...," he rasped, his voice weak but coherent enough to catch her attention.

"Don't talk," she snapped, her voice sharp yet wavering in its stead.

He chuckled weakly and deliriously at her response as if he was not bleeding out, as if his body wasn't currently having a certain type of poison coursing through his veins. "Remember when...you told me it was...out of place to...go out on a hunt...after a pilgrimage?"

She blinked momentarily stunned, her eyes on him as she stared down at him. Of all the times he could have elected to bring this up, why did it have to be this time?

She admitted she had been a bit judgemental, criticizing his decision to venture on a hunt especially so soon after a pilgrimage. But right now, going on an "I told you so" spiel sat at the bottom of her priority list.

"Don't." She said, her tone softer this time as she steadied herself for a moment, and caught herself from slipping. "Save your strength, Shehenshah."

In his stubbornness, however, Jalal persisted. "Do you know why...the tiger rules the jungle?" He muttered, his voice faint amid the current downpour.

She faltered in her steps as she took the time to process his question. Her mind ran out of answers to give as she was instead focused on getting the two of them out of this forest and into the arms of safety.

He answered his question with a bitter chuckle which evolved into a weak cough that almost had her worried. "Because...everyone fears him. Without fear...he wouldn't be termed the king."

Fear.

Was that all that mattered? Was that all he knew? Fear did nothing to stop the betrayal in his ranks, nor did it stop someone from sabotaging his musket with dud bullets, did it? Even now, despite the cold rain, Jodha's body ran hot with rage.

"A pitiful and lonely life the tiger lives, Shehenshah," she interjected with her tears mixing with the rain rolling down her face. Not that he'd notice in his delirious state. "What does the tiger gain when everyone fears him but no one loves him? He is forced into a life of isolation from his reign of terror."

He let out another chuckle which was immediately accompanied by a sharp hiss of pain. "Perhaps..., it is a price one must pay...to maintain control."

She was no stranger to his need for control but the vulnerability that accompanied his words was enough to silence her. Was this the man who hid behind the layers of the responsibility thrust upon him? She found herself lost for words with the question of how she would find herself in a raw and unguarded moment - one without their usual tension and power struggles.

"Save your breath, Shehenshah," she repeated instead. "We are almost there. It's only a matter of time-." She found herself saying as she continued to navigate through the thick jungle.

Jalal fell silent again, the soft but strained heaving of his chest as her only sign that he was still alive but also a steady reminder that his life hung precariously on a balance.

It was a moment as a faint glow of light pierced through the fog. Relief would surge through her as it was accompanied by a loud authoritative voice from one of his courtiers - Atgah Khan.

She could not fully decipher what he said as a result of the rain and distance muffling his voice but she could easily discern the meaning.

"Clear the area...find Shehenshah and Begum Jodha...back empty-handed!"

"Atgah Sahab!" Her voice was shrill, echoing as she trudged forward, unrelenting as she cried out.

"Begum Jodha!" The older man yelled out in response, not before ordering some durbaans in her direction. It was a matter of seconds before the two would be found, Atgah Khan's eyes widening at the sight of the emperor's gravely injured and bloodied form. His expression shifted from relief to horror.

"Gustakhi maaf, Atgah Sahab," she managed to say, her voice trembling as Jalal was carefully transferred into a makeshift stretcher. "I have no time to explain right now but this is a matter of urgency, of life and death. We need to get Shehenshah back to Agra as soon as possible."

The older man nodded without hesitation as he signalled for the soldiers to bring in the hakim. Even as they braved through the storm on their way back to Agra, Jodha again called upon every deity she could think of on the spot, pleading for his life.

The sun had only begun to cast its golden beams down on Agra after a heavy downpour the night before and a beam of gratitude fell on Hamida's face as she concluded her namaz. With Jalal out on pilgrimage to the dargah, it fell on her shoulders as the Malika-e-Azaam to oversee the realm until his return, which she did with as much ease and a sense of dignity combined with duty.

One of her son's informants had returned a few days before, accompanied by Abdul, with information on Abul Mali. While it was no longer a secret that there was a bounty laid out for Abul Mali's head, every resulting information about him was kept confidential and away from the public ears until further notice from Jalal himself.

Respecting Jalal's wishes to keep this discreet, she entrusted Abdul with the welfare of the informant until Jalal's return. For if there was someone whom she could consider a safety net for him, it was none other than Abdul who was known for his loyalty and efficiency with secret intelligence. In a treacherous world which never ceased to test the Sultanate, Abdul stood as a beacon of hope for her son.

Even then, she found herself sighing so often at every news of betrayal. Were they bound to encounter such from every corner? From Abul Mali's mutiny in Kabul to the fact that even Mah Chuchak's character and choice to stay silent was under scrutiny as well.

It was no secret amongst the wives of Humayun that Mah Chuchak was the most outspoken of them, more willing to speak her mind even against Chand Begum, Allah uski rooh ko sukoon de and was even the first to make her way out of the harem after Humayun's passing.

Was it possible that Mah Chuchak was indeed implicit in Abul Mali's treachery and her silence was a form of ammunition in the latter's arsenal? It had gotten to a stage where she could not bear to trust anyone, not even the women she thought she knew within the harem.

A sharp and frantic knock at the entrance of her hojra was enough to shatter her reverie and she stood up instinctively to meet the panicked look of Faizat.

"Begum Sahiba." The woman greeted her in a quick taslim as she went straight to the point. "Your attention is needed at the Khaas Mahal. Atgah Sahab-he arrived at the palace gates with Shehenshah and Begum Jodha. I don't...I think there's a problem...Shehenshah has been injured."

Now alert, Hamida's brows creased into a deep frown, her heart beating in her chest at the recent news as she directed Faizat to lead her to the Khaas Mahal.

With each step arose a surge of anxiety as scenarios began to rush through her mind at the state of Jalal and Jodha's well-being. Faizat had rushed into her hojra with a sense of urgency that she could not help but pray to Khuda.

Words seemed to have spread fast in the harem as some of Jalal's wives huddled around themselves, a lilt of hushed whispers amongst themselves. Even as Hamida finally made her way into her son's hojra, her breath caught in her throat at the sight.

Panic surged through her as she came to face his still figure while the shahi hakim went to work divesting him of his angarkha. Beside him sat Maham Anga, the woman in tears as she held Jalal's hand, murmuring prayers for his recovery. Not even Hamida herself could stop the tears from rolling down as her eyes fell upon the sight of his injury. The thick crimson stained his torso with some even spreading across the bedding.

"Jalal..." she let out, her throat too tight to let out any more words. His face was deathly pale, his body still aside from the soft rise and fall of his chest. What had happened to him?

Her eyes wandered around before they fell on the next figure who stood at a corner away from the chaos. She looked nothing than her usually composed self with her dishevelled hair and drenched attire which was also stained with blood. Even though Jodha was wrapped with a thick cloth, Hamida noted the way she trembled.

Ya Allah, what happened?

"Bete-."

As if on command, Jodha's attention snapped over to her, the younger queen breaking down into tears. Her heart twisted at this yet Hamida maintained an air of composure as she moved over to where she was.

"What happened to you two? You went on a pilgrimage to Ajmer and now...how has it come to this?"

Despite the visible distraught written on her face, Jodha's voice was steady as she replied. "Ammi Jaan, we had gone out on a hunt and then..." She hyperventilated for a moment before going straight to the point. "We were ambushed by a group of assassins and one of them shot an arrow. The arrow was poisoned, Ammi Jaan."

"Poison?!" Hamida gasped, her mind reeling from the shock of this information as her eyes darted to her son's unconscious form.

"Zeher?!" A new voice noted from behind her and it was none other than Ruqaiya. "How is that possible? What did you do to him, Begum Jodha?!"

Hamida winced at the accusatory tone Ruqaiya directed towards Jodha and countered it with a calm enquiry of hers. "But how was this possible? Was there no security available?"

The Rajput queen shook her head frantically at the question, her voice breaking. "It was just the both of us. In a bid to defend us both, Shehenshah fired his weapon only for it to...come out with an empty click, Ammi Jaan. Someone had tampered with his musket."

"Kya?!" Hamida gasped out loud, her face pale as the weight of Jodha's words hit her. This was no ordinary ambush but a treacherous act orchestrated by someone within their ranks. Who would dare commit such a heinous act?

Before she could respond, another voice cut in. It was Maham Anga this time who stepped forward with a respectful greeting. "Malika-e-Azaam, this is troubling news if true." Her tone was calm, awfully too calm and Hamida could not miss the cold calculating look Maham Anga rendered the younger queen. "One cannot help but wonder how a grievous situation must have occurred while the Shehenshah was out with a begum as his sole companion."

Hamida's eyes narrowed at the insinuation. "Are you throwing accusations?" Her tone was sharp as she focused on Maham.

"Nahi, Malika-e-Azaam," Maham replied with a slight bow feigning humility. "But it poses suspicion that Shehenshah embarked on a hunt with Begum Jodha only to return to Agra gravely injured from a situation where his one source of defence was rendered useless."

Jodha's expression morphed from a trembling almost-catatonic state to unadulterated rage as she was ready to retort in her defence. But before she could do that, Hamida stepped in immediately.

"You presume that Begum Jodha had a role in this treachery?"

Maham Anga donned a mask of innocence, steadily responding. "I would not dare presume, Malika-e-Azaam, but Shehenshah's life is of utmost importance and when his life hangs on the balance, some questions need to be asked."

From Hamida's peripheral view, it seemed Ruqaiya echoed the same sentiment. Jodha, on the other hand, shook her head at the accusatory implications and glares thrown at her. A careful observation of the woman's facial and body expressions confirmed Hamida's instincts that she spoke the truth and nothing but the truth.

A situation such as this was extremely volatile with an overwhelming majority aside from Maham and Ruqaiya also echoing this belief. In a court where Jodha was a minority - both Rajput and Hindu - and despite her elevated status, Maham's words had sown the seeds of doubt. Jodha's life stood in danger and Hamida needed to act swiftly to protect the young woman and ensure order in this moment of chaos.

"That would be enough, Wazir-e-Aliya," she said, her voice firm as she squared her shoulders. "This is not the time for accusations. My son's life hangs in the balance, and so does the Mughal Sultanate. This must stay within the four walls of this palace until he recovers."

A wave of dissatisfaction flickered in Maham's eyes but she nodded in agreement. "Ji, Begum Sahiba."

"Also gather the armies while at it. Should our enemies get wind of this, they will want to take advantage of our vulnerability. We need to be on guard should they choose to strike."

With an artificial calmness, Maham Anga simply took her right hand to her forehead before exiting Jalal's hojra. Hamida, then, turned her focus to Jodha with a softened expression. "Bete, it is no longer safe for you at your hojra. You will stay in a spare chamber located close to Jalal's and I will send some khwaja siras over to guard the entrance to ensure your safety."

Jodha held her hands together in gratitude, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Hamida gave her a kind smile before calling out to some of her bandhis, instructing them to escort Jodha to the hammam for a change of clothing and rest.

Now, it left her, Begum Ruqaiya, Atgah Khan and the hakim. The hakim, an older man, did his work, assessing the wound while applying some herbs to curb the work of the poison. Hamida walked over, taking her seat by Jalal's bedside. Her hand gently brushed back his hair as he lay motionless. She could only pray to Khuda that he survived this as the poison seemed potent.

"Huzoor." Her thoughts were interrupted by Atgah Khan, the older man greeting her in taslim. He appeared to be equally weary as a result of embarking on the tedious overnight journey to bring her son safely to Agra. "Do you need me to adjourn any upcoming diwans until further notice?"

She nodded, her fingers rubbing Jalal's temple tenderly. "Atgah Sahab, I also need an investigation conducted as soon as possible. Question all the men who had attended to Jalal, whoever committed this act of treachery still hides amongst us and he needs to be apprehended."

Atgah, in concordance with her orders, bowed and exited the hojra as he went ahead to follow along. She then addressed the hakim who had now paused to look at her. The man shook his head before opening up. "We do not have the the antidote, Begum Sahiba. The treatment I have given Shehenshah can only work as far as delaying the poison's effects for a few days but the antidote can be prepared by none other than the hakim at Gwalior."

Hamida steeled herself as she moved on to the next course of action - a message to Gwalior, requesting the senior hakim residing within the region. Time stood an adversary as each moment stood as a thin line between life and death for Jalal - and the fate of the sultanate.

closing notes (because I have some things to say about the corresponding events in the serial): Jodha's choice to remove the gunpowder/bullets from Jalal's musket was not only reckless but extremely stupid and incredibly naive af because innocent animals are not the only creatures roaming the forests, even apex predators are found in the jungles.

in addition to that, did she not consider the potential consequences should things go wrong? I mean, they eventually did, and it could have been worse if Jalal had succumbed to his injuries. not only would she face the possibility of execution, but did she consider the possible retaliation against Amer as well?

it felt uncharacteristic of Jodha tbh and as a result, I decided to switch this with another event which would still have her put in the spot - not because of a foolish decision of her doing but because of her outsider status in the Mughal court.

I also removed the Ruqs-slapping-Jodha-thrice part because as much as Jodha deserved them, it was still embarrassing to watch 😭😭😭. anyway, thanks for reading, voting and commenting. I really appreciate you guys and as always, hope you have a lovely day and week. in addition, happy new year!

hi! I absolutely agree and it is particularly glaring when you realize that Sujamal, her cousin, had once been wounded by a cheetah in a hunting trip so she should know that any animal can show up - prey or predator.

now, that you mentioned this…😅🥲. this was an oversight on my part but it is safe to say that this was done somewhere offscreen 😂. all jokes aside, I’ll try to take note of this when it’s time for me to finally edit TDR. thanks for bringing this plot hole to my attention 😄❤️💜

Wonderful chapter! Loved the logical approach in the tiger attack. But more than everything I loved the leads' dialogue about the Ajmeri holy seer's prediction. I wanted that on the show. But I also wanted to see their reflection on Sheikh Salim Chishti's statement that their union would bring the heir (the early days when Chishti sahab visits Agra himself and Jalal and Jodha were newlyweds). But maybe not as it was too early.

But it will be great if there will be some genuine talk between Jalal and Jodha in TDR after she saves him from the tiger-attack injuries and he is conscious. She saves him resisting everyone's accusation/opposition and with such proficient medical knowledge. I always wondered that there might be questions from both sides - Jalal saved her putting his life at stake, and Jodha despite hating him put her best efforts to carry him in the rain and making the medicine until Gwalior Hakim arrived. The show just jumped directly to Sukanya's wedding with just some taunts bw them😕. Especially what was Jalal was trying to say to Jodha in the end before passing out in the jungle? ( in the show, right after his worry about his mother and wives)

This chapter was great! Please update soon❤️

hier kommt die sonne (🏜️🌹)

here comes the sun
it is the brightest star of them all
and will never fall from the sky

- sonne (translated) by rammstein

hier kommt die sonne
sie ist der hellste stern von allen
und wird nie vom himmel fallen

sonne by rammstein

opening notes: this chapter was one of the chapters I anticipated drafting when I first made the outlines. I'm so glad to finally draft and post this for reading.

Word spread quickly around the palace, spreading rampantly across every corner of the harem like an uncontrollable wildfire and reaching Sharifuddin's doorsteps.

His hands clasped behind his back, a scowl marred his face as palpable rage filled him at the news delivered to him. Bakshi had walked in, tearful and trembling, blissfully unaware of the thinly veiled frustration which marked Sharifuddin's expression.

That man refused to die, Sharifuddin seethed under his breath immediately, and Bakshi exited their hojra. His teeth ground together, and despite his palpable rage, a smug grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

Jalal might be alive but his life hung on a balance, each second dragging like a slow-swinging pendulum between life and death. And this realization brought inexplicable delight to Sharifuddin who anticipated the minute the Shehenshah would finally succumb to his injuries and pave the way to Sharifuddin's ambitions.

It is only a matter of time, he shut his eyes at the thought. Finally, his plans and his goals were about to be fulfilled. His train of thought was however interrupted by the sounds of footsteps approaching. Adham Khan strolled into his hojra with a smug expression on his face.

He wordlessly greeted him before finding his seat and reclining against his divan. A blend of fury and curiosity filled Sharifuddin at the sight of Adham pouring himself a cup of sura.

It was barely sunset and the oaf dared to help himself to some alcohol.

"Well?" he asked sharply, his eyes narrowing at Adham who took his time savouring the wine.

"Word has it that the shahi hakim has sent for the hakim at Gwalior." He stated. "It seems that the key to Jalal's survival lies in this physician's hands, Sharifuddin."

"Gwalior?" Interesting, Sharifuddin mused as his smirk deepened and darkened. "So, Jalal's life lies in the hands of one man. It means his reign and legacy ends here, Adham Khan. With him out of our way-."

"As we speak, Sharifuddin," Adham cut in amid his words. "A messenger has been dispatched to Gwalior. Do you know what that means?" He maintained eye contact even as he brought the cup to his lips.

The implications were obvious and Sharifuddin let out a growl of frustration. This hakim from Gwalior held the key to Jalal's survival and should the man reach Agra...Sharifuddin clenched his fist so hard to the point his knuckles paled. It meant his plans would be all for nothing.

It seemed Adham was not done, his tone evolving into bitterness as he continued. "We might also be compromised. Malika-e-Azaam has ordered an investigation and should she find out one of your men had replaced Jalal's weapons with duds..."

Ya Khuda, Sharifuddin swore as he processed this. His eyes narrowed as his mind began devising plans.

"We must ensure none of these come to fruition," Sharifuddin said. "That hakim must not step a foot into Agra and I will ensure my informant does not let out even a single word."

Chuckling, Adham slammed his cup down on the end table as he stood to his height. "I have some men who will take care of the messenger." He mentioned in a disturbingly casual tone as if he was discussing the weather. "The roads hide different dangers and anything can happen: dacoits, wild beasts, you name it. Gwalior is such a long route and travellers might..." He paused for a dramatic effect. "Just disappear. Things do go wrong."

The men exchanged conspiratorial glances at that, their minds simultaneously running through with a shared interest in their devious scheming. "We must act fast," Sharifuddin ordered. "You send your men to intercept the messenger and make the job clean and rapid so it doesn't leave any trail leading back to us."

"Consider it done," Adham nodded reassuringly with a mock bow. "And you, Sharifuddin? What do you plan to do"

A sinister smile flashed on Sharifuddin's face as he turned to view Adham. "I will handle my informant."

Adham laughed, a cruel sound echoing off the walls of the room. Sharifuddin maintained his menacing smile as his mind created multiple schemes on how he would deal with his insider. If there was one thing he learned, it was the fragility of alliances and that he could not afford loose ends.

From the privacy of her chambers, rest stayed the furthest thing from Jodha's mind. Instead, it became a luxury she simply could not afford. How could she rest when, in the next chamber, Jalal's life remained in danger?

As a result, here she was, her hands working on a medicinal paste she had learned from the vaidyas back in Amer. The scent of turmeric and amla filled the room as Jodha effectively measured the ingredients before grinding them into a fine powder and mixing them with water.

They might not work to fully counter the effects of the poison but hell would have to freeze over before she'd spend an extra second sitting idly within the four walls of this chamber while Jalal towed the line between life and death in the next. The herbs, at least, would help prevent any further bleeding until the hakim from Gwalior arrived.

She had just finished preparing the paste when Ammi Jaan walked in with Maham Anga and Begum Ruqaiya in tow. Standing in respect, she greeted the three women with the two of them only dignifying her with a response: Ammi Jaan gently acknowledging her and Begum Ruqaiya formerly greeting her with the taslim. Maham Anga, on the other hand, wrinkled her nose in suspicion as her eyes fell upon the medicinal paste.

"What is that?" She questioned, her tone clipped as she regarded her with a look of suspicion and disdain. Ammi Jaan's focus curiously veered to the mortar as well.

Jodha fought to suppress the surge of anger that brimmed as a result of Maham's interrogation. It was no secret by now that the older white-veiled woman hated her but her insinuating that she had something to do with Jalal's current predicament further cemented that fact.

Even now, Maham's eyes bored into the medicinal paste, viewing it as if it was poison itself.

"It is medicine, I have-."

"Medicine?" Begum Ruqaiya interjected as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone was just as sharp as Maham's. "What do you know about medicine, Begum Jodha? How do we know that this will work and not further complicate issues?"

Maham, ever swift to cast a vote of non-confidence when it came to her, chimed in as well, "Haan, we cannot afford to trust any concoction from a naive little girl especially when Shehenshah's life hangs on a thread. Besides, how do we know that this concoction does not contain a sort of lethal poison?"

Jodha's eyes flashed with rage and hurt with Ammi Jaan swiftly turning to Maham Anga in disbelief. Even Begum Ruqaiya was taken aback as she stared back at Maham Anga.

"I know my work, Maham Anga Ji," she replied with unwavering conviction. "I have studied Ayurvedic medicine under the vigilant eyes of Amer's best vaidyas and I swear to you that this is no random experiment in the wild. I have seen this paste work several times; it will help in preventing further bleeding until the hakim arrives."

Still, it did nothing to quell Maham's suspicion as her steely gaze lingered on her. "Yet, You expect us to believe you, Begum Jodha? You have always been at odds with Shehenshah from the beginning yet here you are..."

Jodha's eyes watered at the insinuation, her hands trembling as she clenched her fists; she had come to expect this, except that Maham did not bother to dress her accusations in subtle implications anymore.

Before she could further respond, Ammi Jaan intervened on her behalf. "That is enough, Maham Anga," she stepped in, sending a stern look to the white veiled woman before calling one of her bandhis into the chamber. "Faizat, get me the shahi hakim."

It was a matter of time before the elderly man came in, his posture bowed in deference to the women. "Adaab, Begum Sahiba, Wazir-e-Aliya, You summoned me."

Ammi Jaan picked up the paste, passing it over to the man. "Hakim sahib, please, examine this paste. Begum Jodha prepared this and we need your confirmation."

The man took the mortar, staring down at the paste with clinical observation. The room fell silent as the man wafted the scent of the medicine before dipping his fingers to feel the consistency. Jodha held her breath for a moment, her heart rate accelerating as she awaited his judgment.

After a moment, the man exclaimed, "Subhanallah, Begum Jodha, this medicine is indeed well-prepared." Then, he turned his attention to Ammi Jaan. "The herbs used are known for their healing properties, Malika-e-Azaam. However, I cannot guarantee that this will fully cure Shehenshah but this will greatly help in stopping the bleeding. It might come with its side effects but they are as rare as they come."

With expressed gratitude, Ammi Jaan nodded and the hakim left the hojra for Jalal's. Maham's lips pursed into a thin line, her mind broiling in rage. Paying her respect, she turned on her heel.

Begum Ruqaiya, on the other hand, still viewed her with suspicion despite the hakim's confirmation. "You had better pray that your medicine works, Begum Jodha, or else..." She left the rest of her words hanging before also making her exit.

Ammi Jaan made her way over, her arms around her as she consoled her. "Mujhe maaf kar do, Bete. You do not deserve any of these accusations."

Jodha gave a numb nod, a pang of bitterness and hurt hit her squarely in the chest. It seemed that regardless of her genuine concern, she would have to constantly prove herself before the court.

"It is nothing, Ammi Jaan." She added with a tight-lipped smile. "All that matters is Shehenshah's recovery and I will do everything in my power to ensure that."

A beam of happiness lit up Ammi Jaan's face. "Shukriya, Bete, Allah aap ko khush rakhe."

Jodha nodded with a silent prayer in her mind as she pleaded to Kanha on Jalal's behalf.

His journey from Gwalior to Agra had been smooth for the most part, aside from an interesting but dangerous encounter he had happened to witness on his way.

The moment one of his apprentices had rushed in with a message he claimed was from Agra, the old man spared no hesitation as he packed his satchels with the vials, jars and herbs essential for his work.

Once he was done with his preparations, he mounted the horse provided by the messenger, flanked by two of his apprentices following behind him on foot.

Taking the quickest route, as directed by the messenger, they embarked on a pathway surrounded by dense forests.

They had not ventured that far when a group of men, all draped in the imperial uniform, emerged from the thicket with their swords glinting as they held it up. Such an experience would have proven fear-inducing as the leader barked at him. "Hold it right there! What do you carry with you?"

The hakim and the messenger halted their houses upon their command and the older man studied the group impassively. Having lived a long life, the hakim could tell these men were up to no good. He had witnessed such incidents where mercenaries would dress up as soldiers and poise themselves strategically to carry out their nefarious acts of preventing aid from being delivered to the royals or nobles within the city.

Calmly, he assessed this group: they were all poorly coordinated men who were more brawn than brain. "I carry with me medicinal herbs and spices," he replied which had the leader walking up to him.

"Let me have them," he commanded and the hakim, feigning compliance reached out for a pouch. The messenger beside him stared in panic but with a look of assurance from the hakim, he kept his composure.

Because of events like this, the older man had made it a habit of his to carry two pouches: one with the actual antidotes and another with imitations with the pouches kept in different locations. Such a strategy always worked for him each time he needed to travel from Gwalior to neighbouring regions.

The leader, not bothering to make any further inspection, simply pocketed the pouch with another man piping up. "What do we do next?"

"What now?" The leader rendered him a glare. "What do you think-?!" As if things could not get more bizarre, the mercenaries began to bicker among themselves about who was the leader.

The older man only raised an eyebrow as he tailed behind the messenger who had discreetly bypassed the soldiers and taken an alternate path without drawing the attention of the men. The journey from Gwalior to Agra spanned a day and, aside from that one incident, held no further complications.

He met a contrasting scene between the outskirts which were uncharacteristically bustling as if their leader was not battling for his life and the mahal which had a sombber cloud of despair hanging over him. It was then he realized that the palace had chosen to keep this a secret from the public.

Atgah Khan, one of the ministers on Shehenshah's court, was the first to greet him in taslim as he wasted no time in directing him to the Shehenshah's chamber.

"Huzoor, I encountered something strange while making my way-."

"Gustakhi maaf, Hakim Sahab, time is of the essence as Shehenshah's life hangs on the balance." Atgah Khan cut in, his tone was apologetic but firm. "Once things are resolved, I assure you, I will ensure your concerns get addressed."

He nodded as he understood the urgency, following the minister into the Khaas Mahal. He was met with a small crowd of people: Malika-e-Azaam, Wazir-e-Aliya and a face he could recognize despite his old age. They stood anxiously, with varying expressions conveying hope and relief at his arrival.

Stepping into the chamber, he acknowledged them with a greeting before getting straight to work. He wasted no time as he examined the unconscious emperor, from his pale skin to the wound on his clavicle to the faint pulse.

Without hesitation, he prepared the antidote he had brought with him from Gwalior before administering it. As the antidote took its effect, he caught sight of a small mortar nearby with its contents partially used.

His eyes lit up in recognition of what it was - a turmeric-amla paste. "Who prepared this?" He asked softly as he lingered on the medicine.

"I did." That familiar face stepped out, her posture in a polite demeanour as she clasped her hands together.

A gentle smile lit up his face as he nodded in approval. "This was well-made, Rajkumari Jodha Bai." He noted when the room went into a murmur of surprise at his familiarity with her identity. "Turmeric to prevent infection and inflammation, amla to bolster the body's defence mechanisms. Your quick thinking has helped prevent further damage from the poison."

Malika-e-Azaam stood amazed, stepping forward, equally surprised and impressed. "Have you happened to meet Begum Jodha before today, hakim sahab?"

The older man turned to her, his smile unwavering. "Many years ago, Begum Sahiba, I had travelled to Amer and during my stay in the kingdom, I remember teaching a group of royal women Ayurvedic medicine." He turned to her, a note of pride in his expression. "The then-Rajkumari Jodha Bai was among them - and an exceptional student."

The younger woman blinked in surprise, her face fixed as if trying to place a face to him. "I remember you." She muttered as the realization dawned on her.

"Your knowledge has proven invaluable in buying enough time for Shehenshah and I hope you continue to keep up at this, Begum Jodha Bai."

"Khuda ka shukriya," Malika-e-Azaam held out her hands in prayer. "He has sent us Begum Jodha and ensured her efforts do not end in vain." Then, she turned to him. "Shukriya, Hakim Sahab, words are not enough to describe my appreciation."

The hakim observed the look of disdain the Wazir-e-Aliya had on her face at the compliment and he frowned to himself. Interesting, he slightly narrowed his eyes but chose not to comment.

He then nodded to acknowledge Malika-e-Azaam before turning his attention to Shehenshah whose symptoms started to impressively improve. The antidote was already working. "It will take time for the poison to be out of his system, Begum Sahiba but Shehenshah's pulse is stabilizing which is good news. I will spend a few more days monitoring his progress."

Relief swept through the room before Malika-e-Azaam requested the guards show him his chamber. Still, as the hakim made his way to his designated hojra, his thoughts lingered on the ambush he had encountered on his way here, wondering who had specifically sent those mercenaries. Was he the target - or was it the aid he was to render the Shehenshah?

A haze of limbo had fallen over him blurring the line between when he had succumbed to the darkness and his current state. His body felt heated, his head throbbed that even a single thought felt like shards of glass piercing through his skull and a dull ache radiated through his clavicle.

Was he dead? He thought, his eyes slowly opening only for him to shut them just as fast. Even the dim light of the dawn seared his vision as if he were staring directly at the sun. How long had he been out? How did he end up here?

His senses, which were typically fast to respond to his environment, dimmed as the world around him became distant. Memories slowly rushed in - memories of him and Jodha Begum in the Basawad jungle, her fiercely berating his choice to go on a hunt immediately after their pilgrimage, their conversation transitioning into Qutb Ibrahim's blessings, the ambush in the jungle, the poisoned arrow hitting him and...

This place felt familiar - the soft surface he lay on engulfed his weakened body and slowly, his ears picked up the sound of water drops. The scent of herbs mingled in the air, soothing his pain and weariness and his heated body cooled the moment he felt a wet cloth gently press on his forehead. Instinctively, he turned his head as if pleading for that relieving sensation to remain.

His eyes slowly opened again, his vision blurring as he could make out a feminine figure. As his vision took its time to focus, he could note the lack of jewelry and the distinct attire she had on. Even without her luxurious lehenga choli, she never failed to command his attention.

She turned to him again with the cloth in her hand, about to press it to his forehead when she froze at the sight of him awake. A flicker of surprise flashed in her dark eyes as she came face-to-face with him. "Shehenshah," she whispered and another wave of warmth, different from his feverish heat, passed through him.

His mind was still yet to reach the point of passing a coherent thought but that did not stop his voice from hoarsely breaking the silence. "Jodha...Begum..." Her name tasted foreign yet familiar on his tongue.

He strained himself to let out another word but his head throbbed with the room starting to spin again. He parted his lips again, hoping to say something to her - anything - but despite his will to fight back that incoherence, the darkness seemed to overpower him as he slipped back into unconsciousness that dragged him into its depths and the world faded back to black.

It would seem that minutes or hours passed as Jalal awoke again, this time, the oppressive fog that clouded his mind finally cleared and the sharp pain in his head faded into a dull ache. His body felt less heavy and his body temperature subsided to a steady decline.

He felt a soft hand slowly trace his features and his head turned to the direction. "Jodha Begum," he murmured as his eyes cracked open. To his disappointment, however, the face that came to meet him was none other than Ruqaiya's.

It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment when her facial expression evolved from something unreadable to this soft look on her features.

"Ruqaiya," he rasped as he attempted to sit up. He blinked, disoriented as he tried to gather his thoughts. Had his vision of Jodha Begum been a hallucination induced by his feverish mind?

He frowned as Ruqaiya placed her hands on his shoulders gently, her face devoid of her playful demeanour or the anger she had displayed days before his journey to Ajmer Sharif. Instead, it softened with relief written on her face.

"Jalal." her lips trembled as she ran her fingers to feel his face. "I thought...I almost lost you. I don't know what I would have done if...," her voice broke as she leaned forward, her hands tracing his face as if reassuring herself of his presence.

He nodded weakly, his eyes flickering between her and the space Jodha had occupied hours ago. "What happened?" He asked, his voice hoarse. Had Jodha Begum brought him to Agra that night? How had she done that?

"You were shot by a poisoned arrow, Jalal," she answered his question before hesitating for a moment as if struggling with the decision to reveal more than what she let on. "But the hakim from Gwalior came in time to administer the antidote. And...Begum Jodha..." She trailed off.

"What about Jodha? Is she...?" His gaze flickered to the doorway as if expecting her to appear at the entrance before focusing on Ruqaiya.

Her expression stiffened, a distant look forming before she quickly blinked, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "She was here earlier," she responded, her tone betraying an emotion she fought to keep hidden from him. "She left for her khwabagh the moment the hakim arrived."

So, his eyes hadn't deceived him after all. He let out a sigh, exhaustion catching up with him. Turning his head to the side, his eyes caught sight of a mortar set aside on the end table beside his bed.

"B-Begum Jodha," Ruqaiya answered his unspoken question, initially hesitant. "Made the medicine while you were unconscious; it helped stop the bleeding and prevent the poison from causing more damage," she added.

Wordlessly, Jalal sighed with a small unnoticeable smile on his face. What more was he going to discover about Jodha Begum? She continued to surprise him in ways he could not have anticipated.

The moment Jalal faded back into unconsciousness, Jodha was quick to call for the hakim who rushed in with Begum Ruqaiya and Ammi Jaan to monitor his progress.

The old man noted his observations, stating that it was nothing to worry about as it would take time for Jalal to recover from the days he had been unconscious, which was three days.

Ammi Jaan, upon hearing this, chose that moment to accompany her back to her hojra. The women of the harem rejoiced at the news of Shehenshah's recovery, terming it an answer to their prayers.

Eventually reaching her chambers, Jodha was met by Moti and Reva. The two women were elated to see their mistress and best friend. Reva held close to her a puja thali, passing it over to her.

At the far end stood Kanha's murti, the idol staying as serene as possible while holding his bansuri to his lips. Around his murti were the diyas which filled the room with the soft glow of their light.

"They have not gone out not even once while I was away," she said softly, her heart warming at the sight. Turning to the two women, she collected the puja thali from Reva. "Dhanyavaad," she muttered in appreciation. "Thank you for keeping the diyas lit during my absence."

Kneeling before the mandir, she held the thali away from her, preparing for puja before she was joined by her dasis.

"Jodha," Reva stepped in. "We only prepared the puja thali but Malika-e-Azaam ensured the diyas remained alight while you were absent."

Pausing for a moment, Jodha let the words settle as she stared at the lit diyas. Ammi Jaan had kept the lamps lit in her absence? A warm beam lit up on her face at the information. She did not expect that the older woman would take it upon herself to light the lamps in her abscence.

Without any further ado, she commenced the puja, her lips moving as she chanted the familiar prayers softly. Yet, as she prayed, her mind kept on drifting to the few days that had passed when she and Jalal had walked through the dense, mist-covered Basawad jungle.

How could she forget the way he shielded her from the arrow - and twice at that? The first time, she had been incensed that he'd cut her off and dared encroach on her boundaries; the second time, he had laid down his very life to save hers.

It felt like she was still back there navigating her way through the densely thick and foggy forest. Vulnerability seeped through his strained words and struck deeper than a dagger.

"Perhaps..., it is a price one must pay...to maintain control."

Was it possible that something had shifted? Jodha frowned as her mind tumbled in disarray. On one hand her relationship with Jalal remained strained, each step a precarious swing between fleeting reconciliation and misunderstanding and on the other hand was the man who had bared his soul to her, even if it was unintentional on his part. Could their relationship possibly evolve beyond the bitterness which came to define them for so long?

Even with her prayers concluded, she remained kneeling before Kanha and deep in her thoughts until her ears picked up the soft rustle of fabric. Turning, she was met with none other than Ammi Jaan, the woman greeting her in taslim.

Jodha stood to her height as well in reciprocal. "Pranaam, Ammi Jaan," she slightly bowed in reverence before resting her hands at her sides.

The older woman approached, also acknowledging Moti and Reva, with a bundle in her hands. It appeared wrapped in a light olive green velvet fabric with gold tassels bordering the cloth.

"Shukriya, Ammi Jaan," she started. "I am aware that you had kept the diyas light while I was away and for that, I am grateful, Ammi Jaan."

Ammi Jaan only smiled, relief and gratitude reflecting in her eyes. "Nahi, Bete, I should be the one thanking you," she countered, the words causing Jodha to slightly shake her head but Ammi Jaan was not having any of that. "Not only did you accompany Jalal to Ajmer Sharif but you also saved his life and for that, I am eternally grateful."

Shaking her head again, Jodha took measured steps, standing in front of Ammi Jaan. "I only did what was right, Ammi Jaan. I am thankful that Shehenshah has recovered now."

The older woman's eyes brimmed as her face lit up. "Khuda brought you into our lives to bless us, Bete," she said softly as she extended the bundle toward Jodha. "Here... this is for you."

Her hands trembled as she accepted the gift, slowly unwrapping it to be met with a beautifully bound Quran which had its cover intricately decorated in gold patterns and beautiful calligraphy.

Lost in words, Jodha looked up from the Quran, her voice trembling as she sought for the right words to say. "I... I am honored, Ammi Jaan."

The older woman nodded again in acknowledgement. "Just as the Gita is sacred to the Hindus, Bete, the Quran is a source of guidance to us Muslims. May it serve as a source of guidance to you too. You have been sent to us by Khuda for a reason and I pray He continues to bless you and grant you the wishes of your heart."

Jodha's smile widened, her heart swelling with gratitude, as Ammi Jaan left her hojra. Cradling the Quran to her chest, she was left in contemplation before taking a glance back at Kanha's murti. He beamed back at her and a sense of calm befell her.

closing notes: someone on the forums once said that the shahi hakim doesn't know his work because of how he was too quick to administer the paste to Jalal without testing how effective it would be and, look, I agree. how can you be a healer and just slap anything on a person without gauging it and then give a surprised Pikachu face when it comes with side effects? 😭🙏🏾

also, I had some exams to do which explains my reason for going AWOL for two weeks but I am back now and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. part two is coming up next week 😄

I recently started reading this one and I'm currently at the wedding part. Please tag me when there's an update next :)