akdha ff - the desert's rose - Page 12

nafrat ya mohabbat

Two weeks, two weeks was all it took.

Two weeks of reflection meant two weeks of contemplation. By now, Bhaisa had finally left for Amer as according to them, they didn't wish to overstay their welcome. Yet, the letter from Bhapusa which Raj Bhaisa had left her lingering in her thoughts.

I ask that this war not be the reason why you and Jamai Sa drift apart, Bhapusa had written in his letter.

And coupled with Abdul's words with her on the terrace, Jodha's countenance seemed to have mellowed by now.

"Bhaijaan has always donned this mask of a heartless ruler ever since we were younger. There are so many stories, Bhabijaan, so many reasons why he has to be cruel. It's never just because he chooses to be," he had said to her and while she still found it difficult to reconcile the image Abdul had tried to portray and the image of Jalal she knew, there was that part of her which dared her to search for more.

People are complex, they have hidden depths. Shehenshah may have as well.

She let out a sigh now as she concluded tulsi puja at the site of the plant in the Angoori Bagh. It was the early hours of dawn now, the sun still peeking behind the clouds as the birds chirped.

Holding the puja thali close to her, she turned her focus ahead, her breath caught in her throat at none other than Jalal. He stood poised and strong as he did his daily regimen, with Abdul for company.

While it was not uncommon for him to be out on the terrace, Jodha's reaction for the first time was not aversion but a strange sense of gratitude that he was here.

She did have a pressing topic on her mind which she had to discuss with him after all. That and that she was going to offer him prasad for the first time since their shaadi.

With a determined resolve, she took her step forward, her feet feeling the dewy grass as she moved forward.

It seemed he noticed her with the way a smirk lit up his face as he changed his routine to one that had his biceps bulging through the fabric of his angarkha.

Her forehead creased as she subtly raised an eyebrow at him at something that would have otherwise annoyed her. But not today, she was taking a different approach to interacting with him, remember?

So, instead, she internally rolled those eyes as she lightly snorted, Showoff.

Once she was finally before him, he stopped, regarding her one of those heated looks he always gave her. Despite the relatively cool temperature, sweat ran from his hairline, making some of his hair stick to his face, and down to his neck which lightly drenched his collar

Abdul, now aware of her presence, silently greeted her with a taslim which she responded with a smile before focusing her attention back on Jalal.

He raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking the purpose for her presence before him. Also silently, she turned her gaze down to her aarti thali.

Momentarily, he followed her gaze before staring at her. She nodded at him, nudging him to take aarti until he...chose to slightly lean forward?

She narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. What is he doing? Why is he bowing his head? It seemed it wasn't just her as Abdul, in the background, stifled the urge to burst into laughter.

On the other hand, Jalal accorded her a puzzled look of his own as his hazel eyes stared back at her brown eyes with his hand shoving his hair back.

It was then that it clicked in her head and she let out a short giggle.

He thinks it is tilak.

"Nahi, Shehenshah," she shook her head, her voice soft and accompanied by a suppressed chuckle. "This is aarti, not tilak. Here, let me show you," she added although she knew he had seen this before - once when Maa Sa was in her hojra. Maybe he had forgotten?

Holding the thali in her left hand, she circled her right hand - palm facing down - a safe distance above the flame from the diya.

"You start with this," then she looked up to face him, satisfied that he was paying close attention, as he maintained eye contact, before passing the smoke over her head. "Here, you try it."

She watched intently as he mirrored her steps...or so it seemed as his hand merely hovered over the flame and dangerously so close to it.

What in the Trimurti is he doing? She found herself asking in incredulity while Abdul wasn't even hiding his attempts to suppress how hilarious he found this exchange.

Tch, she found herself withdrawing the thali lest he hurt himself from the flame. Now, she repeated the steps except this time, she attempted to pass the smoke over his head only for his hand to catch hers midair.

Her lips parted from how warm his palm felt and she blinked, her cheeks warmed up from the contact. He let out a grin and it was then...

This son of a-, she immediately cut off her thoughts lest she end up inadvertently insulting Ammi Jaan. He knew what he was doing - he was teasing her...again.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she separated her hand from his. She looked down at the thali again, watching as he took prasad. Abdul was soon with them as he also joined in.

"Here I was thinking I'd be choked from the tension," he quipped as he also took prasad. "Adaab, Bhabijaan."

"Pranaam, Abdul," she responded again to his greeting, this time verbally before directing her gaze to Jalal. "Shehenshah," she left whatever she needed to say hanging as her eyes did all the talking for her.

As if he immediately grasped what she was trying to communicate, he called out, "Abdul, a bit of privacy if you don't mind."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Abdul said nothing as he silently complied, now leaving just the both of them alone in the open space.

He looked down at her as he urged her to state her mission, "What brings you here, Jodha Begum?"

She slowly exhaled as she prepared for what she was about to ask him. Holi was set to come in a few days and it was one of the festivals she looked forward to until she had overheard Shweta, one of her bandhis, bemoan how she might have to miss Holi due to the duties that awaited her in the palace.

Holi was one of the festivals she greatly anticipated back in Amer. It often started with Holika Dahan with Dadi Sa narrating the legend of Prahlada and how, via divine intervention, he was saved from the devious plans of Hiranyakashipu to kill him. Those nights ended with a burning of Holika's effigy out in the square while the next day...those were the days she would hide to escape every attempt from Sukanya, Shivani and Maan Singh to have colours thrown on her.

Was she bound to miss this one as well due to a change in location and culture? Who was she if she allowed this one tradition of hers to die just because she was in a new place?

"As you might know, Shehenshah, Holi is in about five days and-," she momentarily paused when she noticed how attentively he seemed to follow. "During our Muh Dikhai, I had set two terms which you accepted, one being that I'd continue to adhere to my traditions."

Seeing where this was going, he could only laugh at how she was using his earlier words against him.

"I kept my word, didn't I, Jodha Begum? I don't plan to stop you from observing your religious rites and traditions, not now, not ever."

She could only muster a small smile yet remained standing before him. Now, it was time for her new request.

"Do you have any other requests to make?" He raised an eyebrow and...it was not really a request, it was more of her informing him. She may be choosing a civil interaction with him but she'd rather keel over than ask him for permission over this particular subject.

"I've been thinking about proposing, about a trade opportunity and utilizing more of our resources. It is merely a thought for now but I also thought you should know," she responded and he let out what could be an exhale and slight chuckle.

"You're not asking for my permission," he simply said and she gave him a casual shrug.

"I plan to consult Ammi Jaan, I decided to tell you about this because you are my pati and Shehenshah."

Now, they were close enough that she could almost feel his heartbeat if she moved any closer to him as he stared down at her, "Even though I ultimately hold the power to decide that, Jodha Begum?"

She held her breath at that as she looked up at him, of course, why had she believed she could easily avoid getting his approval if she was about to take a major step as this? He was the Shehenshah after all and she was just his begum. Gods, I hate this, she thought as she momentarily broke eye contact.

But then, Jalal chuckled as he took a step back, "I do not plan on stopping you either, Jodha Begum. Even if I said no, you would find a way to override my commands, so, why not?"

She said nothing as she could only muster a smile of appreciation, the last thing she needed was a heated argument or anything that could further fracture what she looked forward to mending.

"Qata nazar," he said, moving on to a point of his. "I heard you won't be participating in the Meena Bazaar, if I might ask: why?"

Jodha paused, a frown on her face as she could only think of the one way he'd know about this - Ruqaiya Begum. She slowly exhaled just at the thought of that woman. It seemed that her victory at shatranj that night had earned her the ire of the Malika-e-Khaas who showed no hesitation in according to her one of the deadliest glares ever.

Besides, word seemed to spread wider than wildfire, which was not surprising for a place such as the harem.

"I have no idea what to present at Meena Bazaar." A partial truth on her part, while she did have nothing to present, that was the least of her reasons.

And he seemed to figure that out faster than she could keep it concealed, "You are quite the resourceful woman, Jodha Begum, you always find a way."

Damn it, she suppressed the urge to bite on her lower lip. For one, she was not about to compete with the other begums or his concubines for his attention as the thought of that was unsettling at best.

"What if I decide to sit this one thing out? It should not make any difference, Shehenshah," she added, hoping it would pose a satisfactory answer although from his current facial expression, it was wishful thinking.

He put on a stern look as his face was fixed into a frown, "It has always been a tradition of ours for the women of the Mughal harem to host yearly Meena Bazaar. It has not changed and I do not intend to change any part of that."

Opening her mouth to counter him, he cut in before she could even let out a word, "I have allowed you to keep your religion, customs and traditions; it would not harm you if you follow the traditions of the Mughal Sultanate."

At that, she shut her mouth, finding no other way to dispute his words. She sighed in resignation as he departed, leaving her alone but not before saying "Khuda hafiz."

There was something about embroidery which had Hamida almost give up midway. Was it that embroidery seemed to be way easier than it actually was or that she was just generally bad at needlework?

Yet, for some reasons beyond her, she never stopped. It was a long-held tradition her Ammi and the women in the zenana back in Persia had upheld and she had every intention to pass down that knowledge to Bakshi.

Speaking of whom...Hamida's face momentarily fell as she thought of her daughter. The last time she had seen the young girl was three weeks ago in this very hojra when she had called her in as well as Jodha, Salima and Ruqaiya to receive gifts from a distant relative in Persia.

Ya Allah, what could possibly be going on with Bakshi?

Initially, Hamida had chalked it up to the young girl still mourning her first husband, Ibrahim but now...

While Hamida understood well enough that grief was not confined to a specific period - as she had learned from losing Humayun to a fatal fall - Bakshi's withdrawal felt awfully suspicious yet, she could not know unless her daughter would reveal to her what really was going on with her.

Besides that, Hamida found her mind veering off to another daughter of hers, Begum Jodha. She exhaled as she knew that the war against Sujanpur would have negatively affected her, and from the words of Salima, it did.

She'd have come to visit and provided some comfort had it not been for the illness which befell her. Safe to say, within the past two weeks, Jodha seemed to have made peace with that as last week, she had come to her with a brilliant proposal.

One which included opening up a port which dealt with textile trade - the ones made from cotton for starters. That and building looms as well. It was a brilliant idea in fact as it lessened the burden on many traders and it also created more opportunities for weavers here in Agra.

However, Jodha had only elected to bring the idea to her, effectively bypassing Jalal.

Hamida let out a sigh as she passed her needle through the muslin fabric. When it came to those two, it was like yoking two equally stubborn oxen who are set in their own ways.

She could only wonder when the two of them would both set aside their obstinacy and try to coexist for once at least.

It took a soft footfall for Hamida to raise her head, it was her bandhi, Faizat. The young woman did the taslim, with Hamida acknowledging her.

"Adaab, Faizat," she greeted in response.

"Begum Sahiba, Begum Jodha wishes to see you."

Hamida's face lightened up at that. Khuda must have heard her thoughts and decided to send her along her way.

"Of course, let her in!"

It took a matter of seconds before Jodha walked him, her hands together as she whispered her regards, then, she took her seat on the divan.

"Ammi Jaan, what are you doing?!" Curiosity got Jodha as she stared at what Hamida was struggling with.

With a brief titter, Hamida replied with a little shrug, "It's just this piece of embroidery I've been struggling with. Needlework is not exactly one of my strengths but it is a tradition of mine."

Jodha's lips parted as if to say "ah" as she nodded in understanding. "I, myself, am a bit terrible at making garlands. It is a fairly easy task but it has always been my weakness."

Hamida then turned her focus to the younger queen, "Yet, it doesn't stop us because it is a tradition. One passed down from generations, like Meena Bazaar."

It was at that moment she noticed Jodha's face change as it fell. Hmm, she could only wonder but decided to drop it as she diverted the topic of the conversation.

"About your proposal, I had to pass it through the subahdar and it will take a while before I receive a word back," she started as she set her embroidery aside. "Once approved, it has to get Jalal's approval as he will issue a farman before your proposal could become a reality, bete."

"He knows, Ammi Jaan," Jodha added in. "I informed him when I offered him prasad this morning."

Never had Hamida's world filled up with hope until now, her face brightened up at the news for if Jodha could offer him what was the sign of goodwill, could it be that-?

"Maybe it is about time I offered the olive branch to him, Ammi Jaan," Jodha said softly. "Maybe we could-. If I am to make Agra my home, why not learn to coexist with the man who rules it, at least."

Hamida's smile widened at that. It was not exactly what she prayed for but she could always start somewhere.

"Yaqeenan bete," Hamida was too quick to nod in the affirmative. Shukriya ya Allah. "Then you must be participating in Meena Bazaar, I believe."

It was not a question but Hamida could detect the way Jodha's face fell...again. The younger queen shuffled in her divan as her eyes were anywhere but staring straight at Hamida.

"What if a queen or bandhi decides to sit this one out, Ammi Jaan?"

"Is it against the rules?" was the resulting unspoken word afterwards. Hamida could tell Jodha had decided to not partake in what she viewed as a competition for Jalal's attention.

"Bete," she leaned forward as she addressed the younger woman. "It is one thing to know about Meena Bazaar, it is another to partake. For years, the women of the harem have always looked forward to an event such as this. Not always for the favour of the emperor but to also display their business acumen."

Hamida knew she had struck gold the moment she noticed a change in Jodha's expression - from a neutral one to one with slightly raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes as if she was now paying attention.

A small smile brightened up Hamida's face as she continued, "Think of it as an opportunity, bete, one where you get to fully immerse yourself in one of the Mughal Sultanate's traditions as against just hearing about it."

And one where you can further mend the bridge of your relationship with Jalal.

"For my sake, bete," she added instead.

She could almost see the gears whirring in Jodha's head as the younger woman slowly nodded, her eyebrows now scrunched up as if in contemplation.

"I'll-," Jodha paused momentarily before looking up at Hamida with a renewed smile now. "I will think of something, Ammi Jaan. Dhanyavaad."

With a smile of her own, Hamida went back to her embroidery as she sighed. Some tasks were difficult but with the right resolve, they were worth being done.

The sun had finally set low on the horizon, leaving a slightly dark atmosphere which was brightened by the lamps hung up in strategic locations. As usual, the bazaar bubbled with women setting up their stalls in excitement.

Meena Bazaar - one of the many traditions Jalal often looked forward to with ambivalence, yet, it was one he had to participate in as well being the emperor and whatnot.

It was one of the many traditions his begums and concubines looked forward to for obvious reasons but aside from those reasons, there were moments where he found himself oddly impressed by the shrewdness most of them displayed especially when they needed to convince him to procure the wares from their stalls.

It was impressive, to say, with the way all sorts of wares were set up from jewelry to clothes to ornaments and decorations. Aside from him were other women aside from his wives and concubines haggling with the traders and some even partaking in the tradition.

Just as he had thought, two of his begums, Begum Nazeema and Begum Ruksaar were the very first to coax his attention as they led him over to their combined stall which sold both jewelry made from pearls and porcelain vases.

"Made by Bengal's best of jewellers," Begum Ruksaar started, Jalal noticing a slight hesitation in the begum's tone as she stated the origin of the jewelry but chose not to address it regardless. "These necklaces were crafted to be worn by royalty, Shehenshah. Here, try them on!"

Jalal looked down at the jewelry with a skeptical and clinical glance. He already had enough royal necklaces back in his hojra yet-. His eyes then veered over to the porcelain vases nearby.

"Aur vah?" He looked pointedly at them, the necklaces making a clunk as Ruksaar dropped them in a bid to answer his question.

Nazeema, however, was the one to answer immediately as she held up one of the vases. White in colour, the vase had golden floral motifs delicately drawn on it with a glossy finish to give it a neat look, "Huzoor, these porcelain vases were imported from China's Porcelain Capital, Jingdezhen. They would make for a more harmonized living space, Shehenshah. If you would not mind, I can get some delivered to your hojra before the day ends."

About to request she go ahead, Jalal's attention was focused on Ruqaiya's stall. A moment of eye contact with her when she greeted him with the taslim and a smug smile which he returned with one of his.

What did she plan to surprise him with this time? The last Meena Bazaar, she had drawn him to her empty stall aside from a shawl from Kashmir which was designed to keep its wearer warm. Impressed, he had bought it.

For this year's, he looked forward to what was next and he did not wish to wait as his legs took him to her stall next.

Greeting him again, her face read one thing alone - pride as her bandhis and khwaja sara made way for him. Jalal allowed his eyes to skin through the wares now, they were dupattas of different colours and designs. Some were intricately embroidered with golden threads, making them stand out even amongst the numerous stoles.

"These dupattas, Shehenshah, have been handcrafted and specially embroidered by Hindustan's very best craftsmen. It is said that they enhance the grace of their wearers and make them stand out," Ruqaiya wasted no time as she unfolded one of the materials, draping it on her hand for his full display.

His face brightened up as he looked at the other shawls, he was impressed already as his eyes picked up the ones he had planned to procure - not for himself this time.

"They look exquisite," he said softly as he made up his mind. "I'd love to have three - one each for three of my most special queens."

"Ji, Shehenshah," she answered as she picked out three, one green, the other pink and the third one of the colour white. She also had them draped on her lower arm as she displayed them. "They are all intricately designed and embroidered with golden threads, Shehenshah."

Then, one of the bandhis folded them before handing it over to Jalal who wordlessly handed over two of the shawls to his bandhis while he spread out the pink dupatta.

He glanced back at Ruqaiya, her eyes staring expectantly at him. He had seen that look on her face when he mentioned "three khaas begums" as if she had suddenly fallen out of favour with him.

He almost snorted at that thought. She'd never fall out of favour with him, not now, not ever. Without any words, he brought the dupatta over her already cladded hair.

Like a child receiving the most invaluable gift ever, Ruqaiya's eyes widened, breaking through the stoic facade she often wore. Her lips parted slightly and her face slightly reddened. The pink dupatta suited her in that look.

"You look at me like I have presented you with the most priceless gift, Ruqaiya Begum," he said and she could only muster a giggle as her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You've presented me a gift, Shehenshah, what could be more priceless than that?" Then, she put on a mischievous grin as she fixed the stole on her head. "Those shawls you've procured are pricey, Shehenshah."

He looked down at the two other shawls neatly folded in the hands of his bandhi before gazing at her, "Nothing, Begum Ruqaiya, is too expensive for my queens. Nothing. Besides, since when has price ever posed an obstacle?"

"Shukriya, Shehenshah," she did the taslim and he wordlessly reciprocated as his legs took him through the throng of stalls.

This Meena Bazaar had managed to leave him impressed, maybe even more than that as the women outdid themselves.

So far, he had managed to pass Begum Mahnoor's stall which had intricately crafted ivory boxes imported from Gujarat. Then there was Begum Mehrunissa who sold calligraphy pens coupled with scrolls in her stall. It would make a great asset for the qasid, he had reasoned, so, he purchased those.

And there was Javeda Begum whose stall had heavy traffic as the women gathered around. Jalal could only shake his head in amusement at what Badi Ammi's reaction was bound to be once she realized the wares in Javeda Begum's stall were none other than her portraits.

His next stop was at Salima Begum's stall. She was engrossed in a conversation with one of the noble women whom she showed bottles of perfumes and fragrances lined up on a central table.

Salima paused her discussion as soon as she noticed his presence, so did the other woman who politely took her leave.

"Adaab, Shehenshah," her voice was low and graceful as her hand lightly touched her forehead.

"Adaab, Salima Begum," he responded in kind before taking his time to observe her wares again. They were lined in a simple arrangement, nothing too flashy which was very much like Salima. "Tell me, what have you set up for your first Meena Bazaar as my begum?"

Salima's face crinkled a bit around the edges as she smiled at him, she picked out four of the jars, setting them before him, "Before you, Shehenshah, are vials of fragrances made from attaris in Hindustan and beyond. If you don't mind, Shehenshah, I can have you try them out."

With a nod from him, Salima got into opening the vials, the sweet smell of rose water wafted through the air. The tip tickled his skin as a few drops were spread on the back of his hand.

Then, Jalal brought his hand a few centimetres from his nose as the scent filled his nostrils. His eyes shuttered at the sweet smell as the corners of his lips lifted.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at the other vials, his eyes landing on one in particular, "That one, which is it?"

She picked out the vial, also applying it to the back of his hand for him to perceive.

Jasmine and oud.

He almost swore at how heady this particular blend of the sweet-smelling jasmine and the earthy oud made him. The smell of jasmine was oddly too familiar for him to ignore.

Mentally shaking himself out of that headspace, his eyes met with Salima's, awaiting

his feedback. He smiled warmly at her as he wondered aloud, "How did you figure out I'd love this blend, Salima Begum?"

She let out a chuckle, rich and hearty as she replied, "Aside from being my Shehenshah, you are also my husband. A wife ought to know her husband's preferences."

Slowly he nodded, a look of understanding on his face, "I'd take that vial then and I also present you a gift, Salima Begum."

As if on prompt, the bandhi holding the folded dupattas held out one - the green one. Salima stared down curiously as she accepted the gift.

Her eyes widened briefly before softening as she felt the fabric, "Shukriya, Shehenshah."

They need not say any more words as she did the taslim again and with a reciprocal greeting, he was on the way to the next stall.

His eyes wandered about to view the other stalls but he need not look any further as one in particular drew his attention.

This stall had rows of neatly arranged thalis with powders of different colours. With a frown, Jalal noted how curious this particular display was. Who would sell-?

His thoughts was immediately cut off as he noticed a figure standing to her full height behind the stall. A hearty chuckle escaped him at the turn of events as he looked at her.

You have no idea of what to put out, you said?

Her hands adjusted her dupatta as she was joined by three of her bandhis. Like a distant observer, he took note of her every movement as she whispered some directions to the women.

What did Amer's Rose plan to do with these colours? He had no clue and it piqued his curiosity even more. Ever since she had offered him prasad and aarti, he had noticed something different about her - perhaps even a few days before then.

It seemed she had dropped the defiance he often associated with her as her interactions with him, like the one in the Angoori Bagh, became even more civil.

Have I broken her? Was his initial thought until...no, she still retained her thorns regardless as he immediately grasped that she planned to bypass his approval for her proposal and had also asked to sit out this Meena Bazaar.

In fact, it would be incredibly naive of him to assume she changed her mind because of him. She would not be Amer's Rose if she bent according to his will, would she?

With a determined resolve, he made the move towards her stall with one of her bandhis - Moti - subtly nudging her to his presence.

She turned, her dark brown eyes slightly widened in surprise at his presence which she immediately masked as she pressed her palms together with a slight bow.

Silently, the fingertips of his right hand grazed his forehead as he acknowledged her.

She did not even wait for him to ask about her wares as she went straight to the point, her voice soft as she started, "As you might know, Shehenshah, tomorrow marks the auspicious festival of Holi, one of the many festivals celebrated in my culture."

He nodded at her to go on, curious as to what direction she sought to go with this.

"These colours here," she turned slightly to gesture at the powders, drawing his attention to them again. "Are one of the many traditions, in fact, Shehenshah, they are the primary tradition which makes Holi what it is."

He found himself so engrossed that if there were a seat nearby, he'd have sat and have her teach him like he was her student but alas, he had to settle for standing.

His eyes met with hers, blurring out the rest of the world as if it was just the two of them alone in this stall, "Is this why you set up a stall of colours, Jodha Begum?"

She let out a slow exhale as she answered him, "Not just that, Shehenshah. In my culture, Holi signifies the beginning of the Spring with its rich colours and colours have meanings."

"Are you here to lecture me on the meaning of colours, Jodha Begum?"

"Do you want me to?" She asked rhetorically but his answer was clear anyway as she went on. "I learnt that colours can carry multiple meanings, it depends on how you take it, Shehenshah. It is amazing, isn't it?"

He mustered a smirk as his hands reached behind for the dupatta, he then held it forward as he watched her accept the fabric. "A gift," he said as she looked down at it in her hands.

"Dhanyavaad," she whispered her appreciation as her fingers felt through the fabric. "White carries a lot of significance, Shehenshah. Mourning, surrender...and peace."

She paused for a moment, slowly raising her head as she made eye contact with him. Her gaze softened as if she got the message behind his gift, "May I?" She held up the folded fabric to him.

"It's yours, Jodha Begum, do as you will with it."

He watched as she whispered orders to the women beside her to get a basin of water and with no questions raised, they complied while Jodha Begum brought to the forefront a thali holding red gulal.

With an eyebrow raised, Jalal silently observed as she carefully mixed the powder with water until it formed a rich red colour. Then, taking the cloth, Jodha dipped the entire fabric and the emperor could note when the cloth absorbed the red hue.

"Laal, Shehenshah, a vibrant colour that intrigues a crowd. It holds various meanings, depending on who you ask," she spoke up, breaking the long-held silence.

Of course, he knew what red meant. Red was no strange colour to him, he had always been familiar with the hue.

"Khoon, Jodha Begum," he simply said as she drew up the fabric from the dye solution, some of the liquid staining her hand like blood.

"Nafrat, Shehenshah," she said instead, her voice still taking on that soft tone and he could find himself scoffing already. If this was a new way for her to communicate how much she despised him, then-. "Ya Mohabbat."

"Nafrat ya mohabbat," he repeated as his forehead creased.

"Nafrat aur mohabbat ka rang laal hota hai, Shehenshah."

("The colour of hate and love is red")

And just like that, he understood as a grin broke out on his face. If only she knew what she was asking from him, of all people. For a moment her face paled as if she suddenly grasped the implications of what she just did.

"Mohabbat, Jodha Begum?" He emphasized, lying in wait for a sign of faltering on her face. "You do realize dil nahi-."

"Dosti, phar?" She was quick to jump in as she straightened her posture. "Even love can thrive between friends."

"Friends, Jodha Begum?"

It was rhetorical again yet, how was he going to tell her that friendship was the last thing he wanted with her? And yet, she stood resolute as she gave her answer with a slight nod.

"And which shade of red do you prefer? Which way do you want us to go?" He asked again, patiently awaiting her answer.

Without any hesitation or faltering from her, he had his answer right away.

"Whichever way you will it to be, Shehenshah."

There it was, what he needed to hear and with that, his mind was already made up.

closing note: the title was inspired by the closing line of Alia Bhatt's character (Roop) in Kalank. also, Jalal was right (in the serial) when he told Jodha that she might know her colours but she does not understand their meaning. while I understand that she had every right to be angry given that a lot of damage was done to her honour and a simple apology will not take it back, Jalal was offering her a white cloth which is universally associated with peace and surrender. anyway, I rest my case.

This chapter was beautiful! The aarti scene was so much heat and tension, yet I snorted while reading their dialogues; my exact mind-voice was "two stubborn mules they are" and Hamida's words were almost the same in her later scene with Jodha😆 Elated to see Jodha's decision to co-exist - though sooner than I expected.

Loved her proposal for a trade venture this early on - Marium uz Zamani of the history was a savvy businesswoman. Happy to see that Jodha's character here is given depth, especially this early on, before the empress or queen mother title' being more than just another queen in the harem or the favorite wife.

Special and main mention to the colors scene, so tastefully written. Two reasons: 1) Jodha here is much more sensible; behavior realistic for a noblewoman raised with training/teachings of royal etiquette - however stubborn/prideful a queen is, there is some poise and royal etiquette necessary and TDR's Jodha aptly has it - the right amount of pride coupled with dignified grace.

2) Enjoyed his internal contradictions in the closing scene, quoting below in green:

Originally posted by: MideOfTheShadow

"Nafrat, Shehenshah," she said instead, her voice still taking on that soft tone and he could find himself scoffing already. If this was a new way for her to communicate how much she despised him, then- - on one hand he's fretting her hatred😆

"Ya Mohabbat." - "Nafrat ya mohabbat," he repeated as his forehead creased. "Nafrat aur mohabbat ka rang laal hota hai, Shehenshah."

And just like that, he understood as a grin broke out on his face.

If only she knew what she was asking from him, of all people. "Mohabbat, Jodha Begum?" He emphasized, lying in wait for a sign of faltering on her face. "You do realize dil nahi- " - then he says this😏

"Dosti, phir?" She was quick to jump in as she straightened her posture. "Even love can thrive between friends."

"Friends, Jodha Begum?" It was rhetorical again yet, how was he going to tell her that friendship was the last thing he wanted with her - 😁and then this😂

The lines next have my heart admiring

And yet, she stood resolute as she gave her answer with a slight nod.

"And which shade of red do you prefer? Which way do you want us to go?" He asked again, patiently awaiting her answer. ❤️

Without any hesitation or faltering from her, he had his answer right away.

"Whichever way you will it to be, Shehenshah." ❤️

There it was, what he needed to hear and with that, his mind was already made up. ❤️

she had every right to be angry given that a lot of damage was done to her honour and a simple apology will not take it back, Jalal was offering her a white cloth which is universally associated with peace and surrender. - This, this is what I called the necessary royal poise/sensibility Jodha should have had in the show in the colors scene

Kudos to your writing in this chapter mide!!! Enjoyed it every bit. 💖 The way you gave the white-dupatta-staining a different take is wonderful

Originally posted by: Vaaridhi

This chapter was beautiful! The aarti scene was so much heat and tension, yet I snorted while reading their dialogues; my exact mind-voice was "two stubborn mules they are" and Hamida's words were almost the same in her later scene with Jodha😆 Elated to see Jodha's decision to co-exist - though sooner than I expected.

I just know that Hamida is sick and tired of these two already😭😂 but she is glad that their relationship will start healing. however, being that it is akdha and their relationship is still strained, I apologize that this will not last for long because Maham Anga is going to interfere with what little progress they are forming here

Loved her proposal for a trade venture this early on - Marium uz Zamani of the history was a savvy businesswoman. Happy to see that Jodha's character here is given depth, especially this early on, before the empress or queen mother title' being more than just another queen in the harem or the favorite wife.

yeah, I hated how Jodha's acumen in the serial only started close to the end of the serial because as you said, Mariam uz Zamani was a business woman in charge of the spice trade and even helped in transporting pilgrims on Hajj to Mecca. you would think that the creatives would have done this around the middle of the serial or something; like at least, give her the initiative before she takes on the titles of Mariam uz Zamani and Malika-e-Hindustan

Special and main mention to the colors scene, so tastefully written. Two reasons: 1) Jodha here is much more sensible; behavior realistic for a noblewoman raised with training/teachings of royal etiquette - however stubborn/prideful a queen is, there is some poise and royal etiquette necessary and TDR's Jodha aptly has it - the right amount of pride coupled with dignified grace.

my reason for writing TDR was because of the missed opportunities I found in the serial and while it is good in its rights, there were some parts that had me cringing from the secondhand embarrassment. this particular chapter as a whole was one of them in the serial but especially this scene. and I will reiterate that I do understand why she would do that given the way she had to endure the humiliation of being falsely accused of both murder and treason.

however, she could have used a bit more tact with this. I do not want TDR's Jodha to be hung up on her hate for Jalal to the point she loses her tact and royal etiquette (and there's a reason why I have avoided the whole "nafrat" mono/dialogue until this very chapter)

2) Enjoyed his internal contradictions in the closing scene, quoting below in green:

Kudos to your writing in this chapter mide!!! Enjoyed it every bit. 💖 The way you gave the white-dupatta-staining a different take is wonderful

hi, Vaaridhi! I just want to say thank you for the kind words, I really appreciate them 💜😄. my words are in bold btw

opening notes: since I am skipping the miscarriage track (for now), I had to find a way to work the events in the serial around that would lead to Jodha following Jalal to the Dargah and I found myself struggling until this tiny light bulb switched on in my head and voilà!

also, Akbar spent a few months in Umerkot but here, I made it so that he spent a few years (two years, to be precise). and I am sorry for what is about to happen to the little progress Jodha and Jalal had in the previous chapter 🥲🙏🏾

flashback

(Umerkot, 1544)

She found this place suffocating if she was to be honest with herself. Everything about this surrounding was claustrophobia-inducing to Maham, from how small this kingdom they had refuge from was to the different customs the people here followed.

Yet, despite the small size, her dark gray eyes narrowed as her face took on a scowl. Where could the crowned prince possibly hide in a small kingdom like this?

A sigh of frustration left Maham as another door was shut close before she steered towards the next. Room after room, she ensured she searched carefully and still, the results never changed.

How could one possibly lose a child? Especially one who has only entered his second year a few months ago? How could a little child be as elusive as a rare gem?

After hours of wandering up and down the halls of the mahal, a sudden realization hit Maham Anga and she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

If it was where she thought he was, it would take Allah's mighty hand to pull her away from what she'd do if uninhibited. The young boy was curious, way too curious for his own good as he'd accompany the royal family as they held their puja before whatever idol they worshipped.

Once, she had held her tongue the first time she saw Jalal with one of the ladies of the zenana eating prasad from the thali after the Lakshmi puja. It was his first Diwali here and it was the first moment Maham realized that they could not afford to be within this kingdom.

She turned, determined in her step as she took the hallway down her left. It took a series of turns before she'd find the room she had neglected to search.

Within it stood a large murti, of which she had no idea and did not care to know. She was merely a visitor and from the sight her eyes met, it seemed she was starting to overstay her welcome here.

Three out of the four individuals turned their backs to see her at the door - Rani Nirmala Devi with two other women, whose names she wasn't interested in knowing. Rani Nirmala held a puja thali in her hand with the fire burning in the lit diya.

The fourth was the young prince who had made her go on the hour-long quest to locate him. He stood wide-eyed at the murti while his mouth parted in wonder. Maham fought to curtail the frustration currently bubbling down her throat.

She had barely noticed Rani Nirmala standing up from her position until she stood before her with the thali, "Pranaam, Maham Anga. Please, feel free to partake."

Maham frowned, her eyes on the thali as she did not bother to hide her disdain and disapproval before meeting Nirmala's eyes. The woman almost stepped back at the intensity of Maham's glare.

"Jalal!" She called out instead.

The young prince turned to her, wordlessly blinking at her as his focus was broken. He pouted as he looked back at the murti as if he knew this would be the last time he'd ever set his eyes upon it.

And at that moment, as he walked back to be carried in her arms, Maham vowed solemnly that it would be the last time and in good measure. All she had to do was put in a word with Bairam Khan, for the costs of their prolonged stay in this place were beginning to outweigh the initial benefits.

flashback over

Her eyes narrowed as her eyes took in the display of gulal piled up on thalis out in the Angoori Bagh. Her gray eyes did not miss the way some of the Hindu bandhis all put on wide smiles as coloured powders were smudged on their cheeks.

Ugh, not only did she have to get accustomed to these women gaining more courage with the presence of a Hindu queen, but she also had to deal with the fact that Jalal had given this Rajvanshi woman the approval to hold a little fanfare for her traditions.

Maham had been doing so well, in fact, she had granted a stern lecture to the Hindu women as they met her right in the Angoori Bagh, requesting if they could take a leave to spend with their families for Holi.

"You live under the constraints of the Mughal Sultanate," she stared pointedly at their ringleader, Shweta. The woman had dared to request permission from her for this. "I do not care if this is one of your traditional holidays or festivals, you take a step outside this fort and you consider yourself unemployed."

Maham's words did seem to work effectively as the women looked on deflated until Begum Jodha had happened to overhear her words to the bandhis. Unlike the usual colourful attire she would don; she took on a white ghagra choli this time around with minimal jewelry.

Maham's eyes settled on Begum Jodha who silently offered her greetings. It was a shame that she had to reciprocate as the last thing she wanted was to acknowledge the presence of this woman.

"They can take a break, Maham Anga, it is merely a few hours," she said as she maintained unwavering eye contact with her. "Shehenshah has granted me the permit to celebrate my traditions and they are invited to partake. They do not need to go outside the fort, it will take place within the boundaries of this place."

A bold move for a queen who had no qualms about pushing the limits of her boundaries. Maham could only blame this on her foster son for giving her the inch to hold on to her religion.

"She is free to keep on practising her religion," He had said. "She would still follow the Mughal laws and customs regardless of the freedom I have granted her." He had also said and here she was.

Now, the camel has pushed its neck into the tent. How long would it take for Jalal to open his eyes? Was it when the camel eventually pushed them out to the perilous cold? Was that the one thing that would finally push him to realize the foolishness of letting this Rajvanshi retain her religion?

In the Angoori Bagh were clouds of colours as gulal was thrown about from every direction. The previously prim white attires donned by the women now had colours staining them and topped with that was the sound of drums and the women laughing as they sought to run away from the colours thrown at them.

The distant sound of laughter coupled with the drums sounded raucous, causing a severe headache to bud around her temples. It was beginning to worsen to the point she had almost forgotten about Resham's presence.

The eunuch stared in worry as his eyes flitted back and forth between Maham Anga and the Angoori Bagh.

"Huzoor, what are we going to do now?"

She gritted her teeth as her eyes narrowed. Was she going to let Begum Jodha have the last laugh with this? A vicious grin lit up her face before she turned to look at the eunuch.

"I have an idea, Resham," she announced, earning her a slight raise of an eyebrow from her eunuch. The grin was back on her face from the fact that the man seemed to have forgotten who she was. "Just follow my lead. With what I am about to do, Begum Jodha would think twice before thinking to defy me the next time. Chalo."

With short and measured steps, she went closer to the Angoori Bagh, her smirk growing even larger at the anticipation of how badly this was about to end for Begum Jodha. Resham followed behind, faithfully like he was her shadow.

The closer they got, the more foggy the powdered cloud was.

Perfect, she thought.

And then-. There it was! Exactly what she hoped for as she felt the orange gulal on her face and some lading on her attire.

Just as suddenly, all activities ceased as time came to a standstill. The cloudy powder mix cleared to reveal a Maham Anga with orange gulal on her face and attire with the women watching in horror. Their faces went pale despite the colours marking it and some even pressed a palm to their mouths, including Begum Jodha.

The Rajvanshi queen's eyes widened in realization of whom she had just crossed and it was at this moment Maham knew she had to play her role as she looked down on her stained attire.

Good job, Begum Jodha, you just made it easier for me, she said internally as her hand slowly moved to her face, smearing the gulal all over.

"M-Maham Anga," the usually bold begum now stumbled over her words as she began to plead. "I didn't mean to- it was not intentional on my part, I swear."

Sending a glare across to Jodha, she said nothing as she advanced towards the mahal but it would seem that fate had chosen to work in her favour this time as Jalal happened to have been passing by and from the look on his face...it was safe to say that this Holi was definitely going to end on a tragic note for Begum Jodha.

Once again, for clarity...

If she found Lady Fate or whoever was in charge of writing her destiny, Jodha swore she was going to strangle the hell out of them - that was if she did not end up dying first.

As to how they ended up here...

It all started with the setup, Jodha placing the thalis of gulal on the table in the Angoori Bagh. This was one of the few joyous moments she could find here in Agra, that being that she'd be celebrating her first Holi so far from home.

At first, a hit of nostalgia struck with a bittersweet feeling for the people back home. How were they doing without her? How were they handling the aftermath of the Battle of Sujanpur?

Letting out an exhale, she moved away from the table to meet Moti and Reva, now joined by the Hindu women she had seen previously getting reprimanded by Maham Anga.

The threat the Wazir-e-Aliya had given them unsettled her to the core given that these women had faithfully served the Sultanate even before she set foot upon these soils. Just a day or even a few hours would not hurt the empire, so she had intervened on their behalf, having them observe the festival within the fort instead.

She had not missed the glare the older woman sent her either but Jodha had made up her mind that nothing would muddle up an auspicious festivity such as this and it had initially gone well.

The sun, high up in its place in the sky, bathed the earth with its warm rays. The day was off to a good start as the sounds of the dhols filled the air as well as laughter as the women started to smudge gulal on each other's cheeks.

Reva was the first person to smudge some powder on her, pink gulal as she said with her eyes sparking with happiness, "Happy Holi, Jodha Bai."

Jodha laughed, the sound melodious as she took some of the green gulal to her friend's face, "Merely Jodha, Reva. Happy Holi to you too!"

Laughter filled the air, mixed with the rhythmic sounds of drums and the colourful cloud of thrown colours. It was just like in Amer with the current theme.

That was until one of the younger bandhis, Gayatri, who was no younger than her, took in a handful of orange gulal from the thali, throwing it in the direction of whom she thought to be Reva.

If only it was indeed Reva as the cloud cleared to reveal none other than...Maham Anga.

All activities ceased as a collective gasp filled the air. The initial jovial vibe was now replaced with an uneasy silence as lo and behold stood the Wazir-e-Aliya and her eunuch behind her with a vivid orange on her face and austere attire.

Shit! It was uncharacteristic of Jodha to swear but this was one of the few times she'd do that internally as she pressed her hand against her mouth while the other subtly urged Gayatri to immediately get behind her or somewhere where Maham would not realize she was the actual culprit.

Better it is me than you, was her rationale with time standing still as Maham Anga slowly brought her hand up to her face, smearing the powder all over.

Jodha was not blind to the potential outcome the younger girl was bound to meet if Maham knew the truth, hence her move as she immediately stepped in.

"M-Maham Anga," she started, putting on an act just as convincing as she could. Her heart pounded as she thought of the impending consequences of what just happened. "I didn't mean to-, it was not intentional on my part, I swear."

She found herself praying to Kanha and to every other god she could think of on the spot, that Maham Anga would really think she had thrown the gulal at her and that she would realize it was really unintentional as well.

There was no response as the older woman accorded her a steely glare with her piercing gaze. No words were said as Maham Anga took a step forward and this was the moment Jodha felt really tempted to curse her fate as the air grew uncharacteristically cold with that same presence.

Coupled with that was the sound of juttis on soft grass interrupted the tense silence.

Oh Kanha, Jodha knew there was no way she'd come out unscathed from this encounter. Not with the rapport she believed they were starting to build, not-.

If there was one thing she had learned from her stay here and the words of the women in the harem, it was the fact that Jalal never tolerated any form of insult against his Badi Ammi - perceived or otherwise.

Oh, she was so screwed.

And screwed she definitely was as his usually guarded look was replaced with one that had this place turn even colder - pure unadulterated fury with the way his eyes narrowed with a clenched jaw and clenched fists.

"Shehenshah-."

It was too late as Maham Anga wasted no time, the older woman looking at her colour-stained hands and attire.

"Look at me, Just look at what Begum Jodha has done to your Badi Ammi," she said, her voice carrying a tone of defeat.

The other bandhis said nothing, their minds still struggling to recover from the shock while Gayatri could only blink back her tears as guilt etched on her face.

The only thing Jodha could do was to send her a reassuring look but that didn't change the fact that Maham Anga continued with her complaints, "You granted her the permission to continue with her religious practices, Shehenshah, but it is no excuse for her to disrespect ours which she has just done with this act of hers."

What?! Jodha wanted to protest, she wished she could, in fact. It was unintentional - a mistake as no one had anticipated Maham Anga and Resham would cross their path or even walk into the Angoori Bagh and yet-.

"I had taken a vow, Jalal," Maham's voice wavered. "A vow after the death of my husband that I would never put on any colourful dress but your queen has disrespected the sanctity of the vow I had made years ago with this very act of hers."

Frantically, Jodha shook her head, her lips slightly parted as she attempted to defend herself but with the way Jalal's venomous glare fixed on her, it seemed any attempt of hers was only going to fall on deaf ears.

Things could only manage to get worse with Maham Anga letting out a quivering gasp and a few tears escaping her, "Never in my life have I felt so humiliated by anyone, especially your queen. I wish I could fall on a dagger to escape from this shame, this humiliation Begum Jodha has bestowed upon me."

Jalal's expression darkened, silence permeating the air aside from Maham Anga's sobs. His silence exuded danger topped off by the glare he sent her. His hand seized hers in a tight iron grip as he pulled her through the garden.

Looking back, she could note the moment when Maham Anga flashed her a cold smirk as she used her white cloth to wipe the orange powder off her face and it became all clearer - it was a setup.

Yet, how could she defend herself from the anger of the man who was not only physically stronger than her but also held her in an inescapable grip?

The colours lay abandoned in the Angoori Bagh as the garden got even smaller and the stark echo of footsteps against stony floors hit her ears.

It took her turning to realize where he was taking her, the imposing walls of the mahal stood out, mocking her in earnest.

Jodha felt her heart pounding audibly as Jalal pushed open the door to one of the chambers and pulled her inside. The door slammed behind them and he released her so abruptly that she would have lost her footing.

Finding her grip on the nearest wall, she immediately turned to him, her mind now in overdrive as she started to explain herself, anything to appease him, anything to escape unscathed from his wrath.

"Shehenshah, please, I can explain. I swear, I did not intend to disrespect anyone, I had-."

"Khamosh!" His deep voice echoed through the empty halls, the pointer finger of his right hand was directly in front of her and his chest rose and fell with rage.

A few tears slid down Jodha's face as this was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at her. Not even their conflict-tinged interactions resulted in something like this.

"Shehenshah-," she let out a whimper as his left hand painfully gripped her jaw.

"Not a word from you, Jodha Begum," his voice then went low, not any louder than a whisper as he visibly struggled to contain his anger which threatened to boil over. "Not even a f*cking word from you or main Khuda ki qasam khata hoon, I'll wring your f*cking neck."
("I swear to God")

She fell silent, not letting out a single word in the face of his fury.

This was unlike the calculated anger she had come to associate with him - icy cold like the Himalayas. No, this one burned hot, hotter than the heat of the desert she grew up in and it made the pace of her heartbeat accelerate in her chest.

"I had agreed to your terms, letting you practice your religion and your culture here in Agra," his eyes stared at her wide ablaze as he spoke. "Never in the history of the Mughal Sultanate has an Emperor allowed his wife to retain her religion nor has he allowed her to celebrate Holi, Jodha Begum. Not once, not since the reign of my dadajaan, not during the time of Timur and Genghis Khan. But I thought 'why not?' to fulfil my word to respect your religion and traditions with the hopes that you would respect the traditions of this place and yet-. Yet, you chose to dishonour the very foundations of the Mughal Sultanate."

Jodha met his gaze, her voice unwavering as she lost the will to explain herself, "I do not wish to explain myself. I take responsibility for what has taken place and whatever punishment you have for me, I will take it without any complaints."

He chuckled darkly as he took a step closer, almost caging her to the cold bricked walls within this chamber. "You think your words will change anything? Erase the humiliation Badi Ammi just faced at your hands?"

A moment passed and the room charged with laden tension that a knife could pierce through it. The only thing that filled the air was the sounds of their ragged breathing.

"You should be thankful that the ulama has not gotten a word of this or else-," he left the rest of his words unsaid, a symbol of the potential grave consequences. "And as for your punishment..., I will leave you here. Maybe a few hours of staying within these four walls will get you to reflect on what you just did. Perhaps you will finally understand the consequences of your actions regardless of what your intentions might have been."

With that, he turned on his heels, the sounds of his juttis on the floor sounded heavier with each step he took as he made his way out of the dark empty room leaving her alone. The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the silence.

Now alone, Jodha slid down as she found herself on the cold tiles. All that was left was nothing - just her and the tortuous silence. What was meant to be a symbol and celebration of hope and a new beginning was nothing more than a symbol of her current isolation. Fate had dealt her another deadly blow.

Quite an eventful note the day before ended and she could only thank one person - the person being Jodha Begum - for that. And Maham Anga perhaps.

Knowing the older woman, Ruqaiya could tell that Jodha's absence from the harem and the abrupt end of the Holi celebration in the Angoori Bagh had Maham written all over it.

Regardless, it took care of one major obstacle in her pathway as her lip tilted into a small smile.

Her reason for this newfound adrenaline rush was due to the message Malika-e-Azaam had gotten just before the sun would set down the horizon. It was a message alerting them to the presence of Pir Allah Rakha. The revered saint from Ajmer Sharif had made his way down to Agra.

However, the words left by the saint also created this sense of wracking nerves as Ruqaiya made her way out of her hojra. They were not just words but they were warnings - warnings about the dark shadows which tailed after Jalal.

Ruqaiya fought to suppress the urge to fiddle with her dupatta as she accompanied Malika-e-Azaam out of the harem.

As per the words of Pir Allah, Jalal was to embark on a pilgrimage to Ajmer if he hoped to avert this ominous prediction and he had to be accompanied by a begum of his with the first light of the dawn singling out the woman who was to embark on this journey with him.

Along with Ruqaiya were several other women from the harem, Begum Mahnoor, Begum Ruksaar, Begum Mehrunissa and a few others with each of them clad in soft hues. They quietly followed behind Malika-e-Azaam who held up a lamp as she led the way through the dark corridors of the mahal.

Their footsteps made soft contact with the tiled floors with whispers filling the air. Each woman held secret hopes of being the fortunate one to accompany Jalal to the dargah as they neared the chamber.

Glancing at the Malika-e-Azaam, a slight smirk played on her lips as she said to the older woman, "Ammi Jaan, it is a wish of mine that I will be the one to accompany Shehenshah. If you will grant me your blessings, I will be honoured."

Despite the written worry on her face, the older woman offered her a kind smile, "It is in the hands of Khuda, bete, but I ask that He grants you the wishes of your heart."

Amin, she said internally as she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

From behind her, she could hear the distinct whispers of the other women, Begum Ruksaar's voice being the most distinct, "It would be a great honour to walk beside Shehenshah on a journey like this. That and to pray at the shrine of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti? It has been a lifelong wish of mine."

"It is said that those who have gone to the dargah have received exceptional blessings over their lives," Begum Mahnoor added with clasped hands. "Perhaps this journey will not only bring blessings to Shehenshah, but also to the one fortunate to accompany him."

It all came to a standstill as they reached the door to the chamber, only the sound of breathing filling the air as the women stepped back for the khwaja sira nearby to unlock the door.

As it opened, the women all stepped inside. The room was dark aside from a tiny bit of light which crept through the window ahead. But aside from that, Ruqaiya, along with the other women, noticed a lone figure lying on one of the beds within this chamber.

Putting two and two together, Ruqaiya's eyes widened as she stared at the woman.

Begum Jodha?!

While she was aware that Jalal had taken the Rajput queen to an isolated chamber for throwing gulal at Maham Anga, little had she anticipated that it would be in this room he kept her in.

Realizing that she had company, Begum Jodha raised her head, her face weary and her hair slightly dishevelled. Her attire, which looked to have been previously white, had spots of various colours on it. Ruqaiya could also note traces of gulal which lingered on her skin.

Not wasting any time, Jodha stood to her height, her voice contrite as she rendered her greeting.

Malika-e-Azaam's eyes widened at the sight, concern mixed with her initial surprise at seeing Jodha here, "Bete, what are you doing here?"

"I-I lost my way, Ammi Jaan," the younger queen stammered with a contained smile.

Lost her way? Ruqaiya almost wanted to burst into laughter as it was obvious to everyone in this room why she was here but Ammi Jaan chose to let it slide for a reason unknown to her.

Stepping forward, Malika-e-Azaam extended her hand toward Begum Jodha, "Bete, you need to be careful around these places, you are still fairly new to navigating these spaces. I am glad we were able to find you here."

It was just at that moment that light, this time brighter than the previous, shone through the window, creeping into the chamber. Instinctively, the women all turned in the direction.

However, as the light grew brighter, it did not touch Ruqaiya, Mahnoor, Ruksaar or any of the women who were aware of the prophecy which had led them into this chamber in the first place.

The dawn's first light fell on Begum Jodha, her tanned skin glowing softly and almost ethereally. The women fell silent, their eyes widening in the realization of the significance while Begum Jodha stared in confusion at what just happened.

Ruqaiya found that familiar rush of latent rage and jealousy boiling over as her gaze darkened, a flash of disbelief passing through her face before she immediately composed herself. It seemed Khuda had chosen Begum Jodha to be the one to follow Jalal on this pilgrimage to Ajmer.

Malika-e-Azaam, on the other hand, had her gaze softening as she was by Begum Jodha's side. Holding the younger woman's hand, there was a wide smile on the older queen's face.

"It appears, after all," she murmured with a sense of acceptance in her voice. "Fate has made its choice. That being you, bete. Come on, let's get you prepared for the trip."

Ruqaiya stood silently, her eyes hardened into a glare as her fists clenched at her sides. It seemed she had some people to visit once she was out of this suffocating chamber.

closing notes: as much as I am not really a fan of how this particular scene (from the Holi to Mainavati publicly berating Jodha to Jodha trying to self-delete) played out in the serial, I love how her Id and Superego (not me using Freudian psychodynamic theory here) read her to bits. that scene, in particular, was one of the driving forces behind this fanfic as a whole because how are you going to live in a different land from yours and not, at least, take the time to learn the culture of the place you are in

journey to the dargah (🏜️🌹)

opening notes: this was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter but I had to splice it cause why not?

Her clenched fists were one of the primary signs of her holding in her temper as she walked down the path to Jalal's hojra. Ruqaiya's face hardened at the recent events, her expression grim at the thought of her hopes quelled, no thanks to the presence of the Rajvanshi begum. She also decided that her next stop would be at Maham Anga's.

It was no thanks to the old snake's mechanisms that she was in this predicament. If only she had just allowed Begum Jodha to hold her little Holi festival in the Angoori Bagh, she would not find herself in this position.

Her mind raced even with the oppressive silence that weighed in the air, belying her calm and collected composure. The memory of the dawn bathing Begum Jodha with its first ray of light viciously mocked her as it reminded her that the place, that should be hers by all rights and means, had gone to an outsider no less.

Ruqaiya bit her lower lip to curtail the growl of frustration which boiled deep at the thought of this stranger. Even since Jalal had brought her into this harem, it seemed her control over everything revealed cracks which displeased her.

It was a matter of time before she would come face-to-face to the guarded entrance of Jalal's hojra, ignoring the protests of the men as she made her way inside, only to meet an empty room.

It was unlikely Jalal was out in the Angoori Bagh as she had passed by the gardens and not seen him. Determined, she breached through the entrance only to be greeted by the scent of sandalwood. She hesitated for a while, taking a deep breath as she stopped to consider the series of actions she was about to take and their potential implications.

He was not only her Shehenshah and shohar, he was also the man she had known ever since they were young kids growing together in Kabul. Their bond had always been built on mutual understanding and a respect for intellect and strategy. However, her impatience won over whatever voice of reason existed in this room as she swept into the hammam.

Contrasting with her internal turmoil was her gaze finding him in the pool, reclined with a composed exterior. He appeared calm, relaxed to be exact with his eyes half-closed as if the world had ceased to exist.

Ruqaiya could tell that he was aware of her presence, he always was. She would be surprised if he was not. A man who prided himself on being a light sleeper would always have his ears out even if it was for a feather falling from the sky.

The fact that he did not acknowledge her presence and relaxed without a care in the world further infuriated her.

"Jalal!" Her voice cut firmly through the haze, harsher than she had intended. On a normal day, she would have offered her pleasantries but today had no space for that as she laid out the frustration she had managed to keep hidden until now.

Jalal opened his eyes, his lips curling into an amused grin as he flashed her his teeth with such casualness that toed the lines of him being dismissive. "Ruqaiya Begum," he drawled with a voice so smooth it grated on her nerves. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Pleasure? He spoke of pleasure as if this was merely a trivial matter to him. Her demeanour hardened as she regarded him with a piercing gaze.

"Pleasure, Jalal?" she repeated his words, not even bothering to hide the scorn in her voice as she drew closer to the pool. "What pleasure is there this very lovely morning?" Sarcasm marked her tone, mixed with another emotion - one that she dared not place a name to it.

Jalal was clearly unfazed by her tone as he only raised an eyebrow, leaning back as he spread his arms out against the tiled borders of the pool, "Then what complaint has brought you here to this place? Is it something to do with the harem or something serious that I need to look into?"

She hated how he could so easily be nonchalant about something such as this. Yet, that did not stop her from taking even a step closer, "If you must know, Jalal, as per the words of Pir Allah Rakha, you are to take a pilgrimage to the dargah at Ajmer Sharif with one of your begums. Do you want to know which one of them has been decided by fate to accompany you, Jalal?"

She looked at him, searching for any sign of displeasure and to her dismay, there was none as he did not even blink.

"Jodha Begum," he simply said with a tone so calm it had her almost grinding her teeth.

She felt the rug pulled from underneath her, taking in a shaky breath at the fact that he could act this way with no consideration of how she felt at this moment. "Don't tell me you've accepted this without any question?"

Jalal merely shrugged as he took on that mask of impassivity, "Who am I to question Allah's will, Ruqaiya Begum? If she is the one chosen to accompany me to the dargah, then, so be it."

With a derisive chuckle, Ruqaiya only stepped back, her eyes hardening with bitterness as she spat, "Even if she hates you so much, even after the fact that she dishonoured our traditions the previous day, you deem her fit for an honour as this?"

His eyes hardened as he abruptly straightened his posture. It seemed her words had finally struck a nerve but at this point, she could not care less.

"You meant to punish her by locking her away in isolation in that room but somehow that Rajvanshi princess gets to entangle her way into matters which hold great significance, doesn't she?"

If Jalal was not already at his wits' end, he was now as he finally snapped. "Bas, Ruqaiya Begum, bas!" They carried a tone of finality. "I will not hear another word about this, especially not from you. This is the will of Khuda and you will respect that, no arguments."

Knowing that any attempt to change his mind would only breed more conflict, Ruqaiya brought her right hand to her forehead. "If that is what Shehenshah wills, then, so be it. Khuda hafiz."

Turning on her heels, her footsteps echoed against the cold tiles of the hammam as she made her way out. She found her eyes prickling with tears but willed herself to hold them back as she held her head high, making her way out of the hammam and out of Jalal's hojra.

How naive of her to have believed she'd have Jalal demand someone else accompany him to Ajmer Sharif. How silly of her to think their bond was so strong - unbreakable, in fact - that he'd let her go with him instead but alas.

There was one more stop she had to visit and it was that of the person who started this whole drama - Maham Anga.

Hamida was met with the sight of the bandhis picking out certain attires for the pilgrimage. It was quite a journey from Agra to Ajmer, one which could span for days.

Such was no light journey to be taken by a common man, much less royalty.

In the middle of it was Jodha, the young queen also in the midst of preparation while she guided one of her bandhis - what was her name again? Reva - to add one of her attires to the luggage.

Unlike how she had first seen Jodha this morning, her bahu was freshened up with her hair brushed and styled into a braid, her clothes crisp and the gulal washed off her skin.

Her presence in that chamber had been unexpected but the thought of her son locking up his queen for a perceived insult unsettled her. Jalal had not even given Jodha the benefit of the doubt as he only locked her in isolation.

If Pir Allah Rakhe had not shown up, Hamida could not help but shudder at the thought of how that would have ended up. Her son, after all, was not the type to grant people short-term punishment for any perceived slight he deemed as something serious.

Now, she knew his capacity for cruelty and extreme retaliation, with Jodha being at the unfortunate end of it this time.

It unsettled her; the fact that her son, in his furious instinct to protect the honor of Maham Anga, had left Jodha in such a state without offering her a chance to defend herself.

Hamida had not missed the signs of the emotional toll this took on the younger queen, even when she had attempted to explain away her presence in that hojra as her having lost her way. The sight of Jodha on that bed, lying wearily as if the weight of the world rested upon her slender shoulders, ignited that maternal part of her.

Letting out a sigh, Hamida realized there was still a lot Jodha Begum had to learn despite the obvious progress she seemed to gain in her stay in Agra.

Regardless of why Jodha may have ended up in that room, Fate had specifically chosen her to go on this journey to Ajmer Sharif. How could Hamida ignore the soft glow Jodha emitted as the first ray of light fell upon her? Her heart skipped a beat at the sacredness and sanctity of the view, it was as if one of Allah's messengers had graced their presence then and there.

Yet, as Hamida took her first step into the chambers, she could not help the worry that filled her heart. A journey such as this required a certain level of preparation - not just physical but that of the mind.

As much as she felt joy that her bahu would be within physical proximity to Jalal, there was this part of her that knew that whatever progress those two had made just reverted to square one as a result of the recent events.

Ya Allah, are they bound to be stuck in this vicious cycle? She wondered to herself as she walked in. It was then that Jodha noticed her presence, pausing in her steps with a smile on her face.

"Pranaam, Ammi Jaan," her voice carried a soft lilt as she greeted. Her eyes held a mix of slight joy and uncertainty that Hamida could only wonder what exactly had Jodha endured in that empty room.

The older woman approached her, offering a reassuring smile as she brought the younger queen to take a seat beside her on the bed behind them. With a simple nod from Jodha, the bandhis left the hojra leaving the two women.

"Jodha bete," Hamida began, taking her hands in hers. "As you already know, Pir Allah Rakha's prophecy has chosen you to embark on this journey, a calling that can not be ignored or trivialized. It is one that one partakes with full preparation."

She watched as Jodha listened intently. "Aside from this pilgrimage averting an ill omen, it is of deep-rooted history in Jalal's life and past. It is not merely a destination, it holds a significant history for him as well and you are about to play a part in this."

"I have heard stories, Ammi Jaan. My rishta with Shehenshah was fixed when Bhapusa went up to Ajmer to negotiate the release of my brothers," Jodha added in.

Smiling softly at her, Hamida reached for Jodha, her fingers pushing back some loose strands to the back of Jodha's ears. "Then you are aware of what this journey entails. You are not merely a wife or a queen, bete, you symbolize the bridge between Rajputana and the Mughal Sultanate."

Jodha nodded in the affirmative, "I understand, Ammi Jaan." Her eyes softened, causing Hamida to place a hand on Jodha's shoulder, meeting her gaze with warmth.

"It goes beyond that, bete," she added, letting her hands fall to her lap. "Jalal has-. From a young age, my son has been raised to view rigidity as a form of power. To be a heartless warrior who views mercy as a form of weakness but his first pilgrimage to Ajmer brought him a form of peace, Jodha. It was also his journey to Ajmer that had you two cross paths."

A look flickered on Jodha's face as she shifted on the bed. It was so brief but enough for Hamida to take note of.

"Bete, I know that your relationship with Jalal is still unstable but I need you to understand that this is a journey of faith, one where you will see Jalal in a different light. Think of it not as a duty but one where you immerse yourself in another Mughal tradition and honour the history we share."

Jodha's face lit up with a small smile as she nodded slowly, "I will, Ammi Jaan, with your blessings."

"I pray that Allah protects you and that He grants you the desire of your heart, bete. I pray that you retain your strength on this journey." Hamida said, a surge of relief running through her and from the determined light in Jodha's eyes, she knew that the Rajput queen understood the significance of this journey.

Words, unfortunately for Ruqaiya, spread like wildfire as hushed whispers from the women flew from every direction she took from Jalal's hojra to Maham's. From the saint's prophecy to the light of the dawn making Begum Jodha its highlighted choice of a companion to the Badshah, no detail was left out from the muted gossip in the harem.

A deep frown marred Ruqaiya's face as her footsteps echoed sharply against the floors. Her jaw clenched with a cold glare in her eyes with each step that took her closer to her destination.

It should have been her that light fell upon, not Jodha - not that Rajvanshi queen. It was bad enough that Jalal treated this like a trivial matter, Maham Anga, on the other hand, was going to explain herself to the Malika-e-Khaas.

It was a matter of minutes before she reached the Wazir-e-Aliya's chambers, Ruqaiya taking the time to put on a stoic facade as she found herself face-to-face with the guards. With a nod from her, the eunuchs moved aside to let her in.

Maham seemed to be in a deep conversation with none other than her dumb brute of a son, Adham Khan. It was of little wonder to Ruqaiya why Jalal still allowed this idiotic mass to hold a position in his court being that Adham was one of the most painfully incompetent individuals Ruqaiya will ever encounter in her life.

Not to mention his wandering eyes which shamelessly flitted around some of the begums during the two Diwans - and that was if he did show up. Once, Begum Mehrunissa had been an unfortunate recipient, causing the queen to wrap her dupatta around her shoulders - not that it stopped him anyway.

How he managed to survive for so long without Jalal running a sword through his body was one miracle of its own.

Maham, with a wave of the hand, dismissed her son, who silently left but not before sending Ruqaiya a leer which almost had her sick to the stomach.

Now that they were alone in the quarters, Ruqaiya calmly greeted Maham with a taslim which was promptly returned with a sly grin.

Of course, Maham Anga knew why she was here and that was immediately confirmed. "I believe you are here because Begum Jodha will be following Jalal to the Ajmer Sharif dargah."

Ruqaiya's patience frayed at the edges but she maintained her composure. She was not about to let what took place at Jalal's hammam repeat itself in front of this cunning snake.

"I see the word has spread fairly quickly in that case," she grinned instead as she slowly paced about the older woman's hojra, feigning interest in whatever new ornament might have existed. "I do have to ask you something about that."

The woman feigned innocence as she lowered her gaze, "And what has it to do with me, Begum Ruqaiya? If fate-."

"You know exactly what I meant," Ruqaiya hissed as her eyes narrowed at Maham Anga. "You wanted Begum Jodha humiliated so you strategically placed yourself in the Angoori Bagh, knowing that you would land within the crossfires of the gulal thrown around. Like the actress you are, you put on an act before Jalal knowing that he would not tolerate any perceived insult against you and no thanks to you, she was kept in the very room where the first light of the dawn shone upon her."

Infuriatingly enough, Maham casually shrugged, "I was not about to let that Rajvanshi woman bring in her traditions and infiltrate the very foundations of the Mughal Empire. Unlike you," she mocked. "I am doing something to clip her wings before she uses the little freedom Jalal has granted her to undermine our power. It is called making use of opportunities, something you need to learn about."

At the insult, Ruqaiya's eyes blazed as her voice lowered, "You fear her, don't you?"

Maham's expression wavered before it was immediately masked with her responding with a clipped tone, "And what reason do I have to fear that woman? She is merely a nuisance to the fabric of the Mughal Sultanate."

Cocking an eyebrow, Ruqaiya noted the defensive posture the Wazir-e-Aliya took on, "Merely a nuisance yet you are the one scheming against her, Maham Anga. How much of a nuisance is Begum Jodha that she has the almighty Maham Anga quaking?"

Maham scoffed at her, a hardened look on her face now, "I have nothing to fear about that woman, you, on the other hand, Begum Ruqaiya..., your position is not as secure as you'd love to delude yourself into believing."

"And what do you mean by that?" she questioned, an edge in her voice as her eyes narrowed.

It was received by a sharp hiss from Maham as she held out her hand, "Think Begum Ruqaiya, think back to a few months here in Agra. Think back to the last time Jalal had embarked on a pilgrimage to Ajmer."

Ruqaiya found herself at a standstill as memories flooded her mind, it had been after Jalal had received a letter from Mirza Sharifuddin, with Abdul reading out the contents about the Mughals' victory over Amer.

"Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad had gone on pilgrimage and when he returned, he came with a little surprise on the side, Begum Ruqaiya - a new bride!" Maham's voice went loud, emphasizing the last word. "For the first time, Begum Ruqaiya, Jalal returned to Agra with a new bride without any announcement of his shaadi, not even you were privy to his intentions to pick up a new wife."

Just like that, Ruqaiya's chest slightly heaved as she clenched her fists, suppressing the rage she had managed to keep latent. Her nails dug painfully into her palm from how tightly clenched they were as Maham continued.

"Not just that, Begum Ruqaiya, for the first time, a Mughal Emperor gave his wife the freedom to retain her religion and went as far as having a mandir built within her chambers," she paused for a moment, regarding her with a cold calculating look. "That is no insignificant move if you ask me."

Like daggers to the chest, Maham's words twisted deep into the cool mask Ruqaiya had built. "Let us not forget the resulting events after - Begum Jodha winning the shatranj game, her using the farman to gain the favour of a great percentage of the subject and Jalal buying all her wares at the Meena Bazaar. Tell me again, Begum Ruqaiya, that this is nothing to worry about."

"First, it starts with a game of shatranj, Begum Ruqaiya. Then, it is your harem before it is your position in the Mughal Sultanate. Who knows what next it would be? The envied Mariam-uz-Zamani title as well?"

Her heart pounded as she recalled the words Maham Anga had once told her - those words came back like a lingering nightmare. Her voice trembled with barely restrained fury, "Hell will have to freeze over before I allow that Rajvanshi woman to usurp my place within the harem, Maham Anga."

The older woman let out a chuckle as she stepped back, "Oh, Ruqaiya Sultan Begum, now, you are finally talking. It might not be too late, it will only be a few days as Begum Jodha and Jalal will return from their pilgrimage. You are a smart woman, make use of whatever strategy you have to secure your position as Jalal's childhood friend, Zan-e-Kalan and your rightful place as the Mariam-uz-Zamani."

She let out a deep breath as she was finally able to gain control, letting down her guard with a smirk on her face. "You will see soon, Maham Anga. We will not need to worry about Begum Jodha."

With a final glance, she did the taslim before wordlessly leaving the older woman's chambers and her footsteps echoed down the corridor.

(bonus scene)

This was one of the nights - one filled with grandeur and colours as the grand halls were alive with music, dancing and laughter. It was a night of triumph, a long overdue night to celebrate the victory over Sujanpur and Jalal had spared no expense on ensuring this night was celebrated with grandeur.

The performers, some of whom were courtesans from the South Wing of his harem, danced gracefully to the rhythm of the music in the middle of the hall. Their silken attires moved fluidly with every movement they made.

Cladded in his regal attire, Jalal watched from his takht over the festivities with an edgy glint in his eyes as he had them out for a lone figure. A few weeks back, before the Battle of Sujanpur, he had requested Atgah draft a royal khat just for this moment.

It was like the calm before the storm with Jalal's cold gaze out on the prowl. Not only was this night a moment of celebration, but it was also a night of reckoning as his mind took him back to Sadar Bazaar.

He surveyed the crowd - his courtiers, the soldiers and all whose presence could be noted within this hall - just for a glimpse and there it was! It took the performers moving aside to reveal the soldier.

A dark shadow grazed Jalal's face as his eyes found that insolent soldier. Oh, how could he forget such a face, such arrogance as the man called him a "kafir" with unmistakable venom in his voice? That and the blatant abuse of the power he had given him.

The smirk Jalal held was barely noticeable as he stood to his height, lifting his hand to signal silence and the hall fell into a hush with their attention focused on him.

"I welcome you all to this evening - a celebration of our victory over Sujanpur," he began, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "In addition to this night being a celebration of our collective strength, we also honour the loyalty and the courage of those who serve the Mughal Sultanate."

The crowd murmured in shared agreement as they took in his words.

Jalal, on the other hand, focused his gaze on that soldier who sat blissfully unaware of what fate currently awaited him. It was sinister: the way this was hilarious to the emperor.

"However," he continued, a shift in his tone as it got even colder and more vengeful. "There are some who abuse the privilege and authority that comes with wearing the uniform. Instead of protecting the people, they use their power to prey on the vulnerable."

The hall went silent as the soldiers and his advisors exchanged glances, including the man whom Jalal's gaze was locked on. That very man had held that old merchant to extort him, that very same man had sneered at him as he twirled his dagger at him.

The soldier, now realizing that the Shehenshah's gaze was focused on him, shifted uncomfortably at his seat with the wide deadly grin Jalal presented him with each step taken close to him.

Jalal's smirk widened as he placed his hand on the trembling soldier's shoulder before asking him in a low voice, "Do you remember me?"

The man looked up at him with a sign of visible confusion on his face before shaking his head and Jalal tsked, mockingly shaking his head at that answer.

"I know I look different now, perhaps you need me to refresh your memory?" He asked softly, although his intentions were anything but. "You are the guard who patrols the Sadar Bazaar, right?"

The man swallowed as he nodded, it seemed recognition crept in, "Ji, Huzoor."

"Tch, I knew you looked familiar," Jalal said, mockingly. "I am sure you also remember the merchant whom you harassed as well and the cobbler's apprentice you had called a kafir?"

The man's eyes now widened as his face drained of colour. Jalal's smirk widened as the man suddenly stood to his height, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.

"Don't even think about it," Jalal threatened with his sharp voice slicing through the air coldly. "At each point of the entrance are men stationed with an instruction to dispatch anyone who attempts to leave this jashn before this night is over. One step and you will meet your end."

That was a lie from him as he gave none of his men such instruction and the man before him was still going to die either way. However, that seemed to work as the man stood rooted to the spot.

Slowly, Jalal advanced towards him, "When you joined the forces, you swore an oath to protect the people yet you chose to defile the honour of the Mughal Sultanate by abusing your power and you called me a kafir at that too. Did you think retribution will not catch up with you that day?"

The soldier, now aware that he had no way to escape, fell on his knees, his mouth gaping open as he stumbled over his words. "S-Shehenshah, p-please, I had no idea...I did not realize..."

Jalal had a merciless glare as he regarded the soldier, "Did not realize what? That I would be there to witness you abusing your power? That I would happen to be the one you insulted at the Sadar Bazaar?"

He halted in front of the soldier before pulling him up by the collar, just as he had done to that old merchant. "You beg before me so pathetically yet I cannot help but ask if you had granted mercy to that merchant you assaulted?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper yet enough to spread through the hall with chilling clarity.

The irony of the soldier pleading before him was not lost on Jalal who only tightened his grip on the soldier's collar.

"I do not show mercy to anyone who abuses their power to prey on the weak, nor do I tolerate insults," he added with a chilling finality in his tone.

Swiftly and without any further ado, Jalal pulled out a dagger from his sash before driving it deep into the soldier's side. The crowd let out a collective gasp, no one daring to move, while the soldier's eyes widened with a strangled cry escaping his lips.

Without flinching, Jalal twisted the dagger even further, watching as blood trickled from the corner of the man's lips before finally pulling it out. The man staggered backwards, his hands feeling for his bleeding side.

The emperor straightened as he stepped back. Even if he called for the hakim, there was nothing that could be done to save his life, not when the dagger had punctured a major organ - the lungs.

It was a matter of minutes as life ebbed away from the wheezing soldier whose body had crumpled to the ground. He laid with his eyes wide open in horror of his last moments in this world.

Nonchalantly, Jalal signalled for the body to be carted away from the hall before turning his focus to the crowd. "Let today serve as a chilling reminder to all who wear the uniform. Anyone who abuses their power will meet a fate worse than this," he said with an air of finality, his gaze lingering on his soldiers and courtiers who stayed silent - even the performers. This was one way of him tying up one of the many loose ends before he embarked on his pilgrimage to the Dargah.

Jalal returned to take his seat on the takht and with the wave of the hand, the hall got back into their previous activity. However, despite the music picking up from where it left and the courtesans resuming, an undercurrent of fear lingered in the air at what just happened as it served as a recurrent reminder that Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad was no one to be insulted.

closing notes: this bonus scene ties in with the scenes from "shattered view" and "my disaster", I did not know how to conclude this as I really hate loose ends, so I thought "why not tie this loose end in this chapter?" and here we are. at first, I was reluctant to add this because it felt a bit ??? but then I remembered that Akbar irl had his milk brother defenestrated for murdering Atgah so maybe this bonus scene isn't so out of character.

also, I won't be posting updates next Thursday but the following Thursday after will have our program scheduled as always. as always, thanks for reading and I hope you all have a nice day and lovely week 🥰💜