Part 2
Two Days Later
"What kind of a mother are you, if you can't even do so much for your own son?"
Salim's words pounded on her head increasing the already existing guilt exponentially.
"How am I at fault if my mother is not a Muslim? I have practiced my religion as religiously as can be. Why should I suffer for something that YOU haven't done or YOU aren't? Mariam-uz-Zamani, I am ashamed to call you my mother." Saying so, Salim stormed out of Jodha's chambers.
He had come to meet her, no, to pour out his frustration to her. Salim was on the verge of losing his right to the throne, because his mother was a Hindu.
Jodha collapsed. "Salim, please. Listen to me." She screamed her voice out behind a retreating figure. "Salim, mere bachche, listen to me!"
Which slowly dropped to a whisper, "I love you a lot, my son. No one cried and wept more than I did when you were taken away from me. It hurts me when you call someone else your mother, and call me, by a title that was mine only because of you. I don't want these titles more than you. I am already so lost. You don't even want anything from me anymore. I tried making everyone happy, once upon a time. Aur ab, humare jigar ke tukde ko humne dard ke atirikt kuch nahi de paaye. Shehenshah doesn't want me to convert, which I need to do, if I need to preserve your right. Ammijaan wants me to convert. But, how can I go back on something that is the only basis for my continued existence in this palace?"
"My marriage, my entire equation with my husband developed on the fact that I continued to believe in the ideals and principles I was brought up with and I continued to worship the God I had been taught to believe in. We fell into sync, where I respected his religion, he believed in mine. How can I just give up on so many years of trust and understanding?"
"While on the other, Salim, you were our symbol of love. You were born to me after so many hardships, that I promised myself when I lifted you in my arms, that I would do everything in my capability and beyond to give you everything in this world. And, now, I am. ... just..."
Jodha wept copiously. "Why is this happening to me?"
A while later, when Jalal came to meet her, she was in the same position, sprawled on the floor with her head resting on the luxurious empty bed. He squatted down next to her only to find Jodha awake, but lost. He gently stroked her hair, soothing her. She cozied up immediately, and shifted to his awaiting embrace mumbling. "What did I do to deserve this? Why is it not possible to keep both my husband and son happy? They complement each other in my life. My son came into this world and only then was my relationship with my husband fulfilled, and only due to my husband, is my son here today. Then, how can you make me choose?" Her tears had dried up. She was drained.
Jalal didn't offer any words of kindness or sympathy. Jodha didn't deserve sympathy or pity. He would insult her with those. He offered her silent comfort and support. He couldn't allow her to convert. He knew she would never be happy ever. Even if Salim ascended the throne or got the titles he deserved, he knew Jodha Begum would never be happy if converted to Islam.
Poets and philosophers lie. Pious men in history lied when they said, choose the right path. Nobody ever chooses the wrong path. And, there aren't three wrongs and one right to choose from. That would be so easy! Everyone would choose the one option that is right. Choosing the right, right path is not difficult, but impossible. Choosing between two rights is difficult. Choosing between what is good for your son and what is good for your wife is difficult. Choosing between your children and your love is difficult. He pondered over the matter.
"Do you realise, my son, that Jodha Begum is more than your mother? What do you call her? Mariam-uz-Zamani. That title has significance. She is the Empress of India. Do you think we could come off as rulers who give in to blackmail? Why are we divided on this? Aren't you for the people, like I am, like Jodha Begum is?"
Before Salim could answer, Jalal gestured him to listen, "Mallika-e-Hindustan being a Hindu, is an encouragement to the Hindu subjects of our country to fearlessly practice their religion and a warning to some bad eggs in our own community that, they cannot force someone to follow their ideals. She being a Hindu, and I a Muslim, is a symbol of solidarity, a symbol of secularism. All of us are alike. We believe in different things. It doesn't mean they are less, we are more. Who is that Shah-i-Iran to tell MY Queen what to do and what not to?"
Salim was lost in thought. "Sheiku?"
"Yes, Shehenshah."
"Am I making myself clear to you? Do you understand that this is more than the three of us?"
"Yes, Shehenshah. Of course. I got swayed for a while by people and circumstances. I came here to apologise for my misbehavior earlier. You are my Emperor and I have no authority to question the sanctity of your marriage with Mariam-uz-Zamani. I beg your pardon and I am ready for any punishment."
Jalal didn't say anything. He just smiled. "No punishment, Sheiku."
"I will take your leave now, Shehenshah."
"I wish you would call us your parents instead of your rulers." He murmured.
Jodha was in front of Kanha in her room. She was sitting morose and empty.
Salim came in after the announcement and Jodha barely registered. He removed his shoes and walked towards Jodha. He sat beside her and saw that the lamp wasn't lit. He went forward and lit the lamp. "I haven't prayed with you in a while, Mariam-uz-Zamani. Let us pray together today."
After the prayers, Jodha gave him the prasad, and he said, "I was in a fit of anger that day. I shouldn't have said those words to you."
"Are you still angry with me, Salim?" Jodha asked.
"No. I am not. I would have been if you had thought of converting to Islam. I am proud of you because you held your ground."
Buddy me for PMs.
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