The Rise and Fall of Light - Empress Noor Jahan

“Nature had endowed her with a quick understanding, a piercing intellect, a versatile temper and sound common sense. Education had developed the gifts of nature in no common degree..” -  Beni Prasad, History of Jahangir      

     

“But there was one fatal flaw in her. She was a woman.....And in the prejudice of the age, women had no public role and ambition was the prerogative of men..”  - Abraham Eraly, The Last Spring: The Lives and Times of the Great Mughals

“My darling daughter, forgive your poor Ammi. Have mercy, Allah! One who looks after the king on his throne, will look after this helpless baby in this vast desert”, Asmat Begum prayed and wept as she hid her new born girl, her fourth child, near a thorny desert bush.

Fleeing from Persia, Ghiaas Baig and his wife Asmat had lost everything they possessed. Starving themselves, they could not afford to feed another child. It was a sad decision no doubt, to leave the new born baby, born in a makeshift tent during a devastating storm, in the middle of the hot desert. But they had no choice. The other children were grown up enough to follow their parents back if they were left somewhere. Hence, the only person fit to be discarded was Mehr-un-Nisaa, the new born with eyes as blue as the cloudless summer sky.

What happened next is still hazy. Some opine that in the struggle between affection and affliction, affection won and Ghiaas and Asmat retraced their steps and rescued their baby daughter and decided to take her along for better or for worse. The other, more interesting legend is that another caravan found the discarded baby. They followed the party that had just left....which was Ghiaas and Asmat’s...and on reaching it, they asked around and handed the child over to the hapless parents. Along with a bag of gold coins to provide for her and a sound advice to never discard her again.

And this baby, once left alone to die in the desert by her own parents, would grow up to become the mightiest Empress India had ever seen. Empress Noor Jahan.

I will not bother you with dates. Dates make history boring and troublesome. Just so you can easily visualise the era that I am writing of, this much should be sufficient that Noor Jahan’s life spanned from 1577 to 1645.

At this point, let us discard prose. I am not going to write the major part of this article in prose. Noor Jahan was an accomplished poetess and thus, it will only be suitable to write about her life in poetry. I will take you from the beginning to the end of a mighty empress’s life through verses. My own verses. (And I must admit here, writing prose has never given so much pleasure to me as composing verses).

It is, I agree, a tad bit difficult to portray all incidents in such an eventful life completely in rhyming verse...not because of the scarcity of vocabulary but because a poem thus composed would be unmanageably long. In the end, prose will again come to my aid to fill in the blanks of my poem with important extracts from books of note on Empress Noor Jahan.

And I have a special treat for you in the end....a four liner poem written by the most powerful Mughal empress of India, Noor Jahan, herself. (Research! Research! Phew!)

NOOR JAHAN

Noor Jahan, in Shahdara Bagh, Lahore,

Sleeps forever on plain, cold floor

Mighty Empress of Hindostan

Bereft of all regal élan

Near her lord Jahangir’s tomb

With Ladli, the sole flower of her womb

Calm and quiet in death she lies

Withdrawn from all worldly ties

To penniless parents fleeing homeland,

Born in Qandahar’s scalding desert sand

A great storm raged to declare her birth

A girl heralding neither cheer nor mirth

Mehr-un-Nisaa, Ghiaas and Asmat’s child

Abandoned by them in the terrain wild

Saved by her Maker, the new born girl

Destined to be the brightest Mughal pearl.

In the heart of the bountiful Hindostan

The Mughal court was where her tale began

Through the paths mapped by fate and love

Mehru’s star steadily soared above

The girl once abandoned by her own

Was to be mistress of the Mughal throne

The course of this verse will unfold

Her ascent to power, written in gold

Mehru grew up bright and fair

From humble roots a blossom rare

Excelling in the arts, math, and law

A rider and archer without a flaw

Her zealous mind began to form

Notions on power, might and royal norm.

Never of her ambitions ashamed

For the moon and the stars, Mehru aimed

Enter Ali Quli Khan, a brave young man

Killed a tigress, became Sher Afghan

Asked for seventeen year old Mehru’s hand

And took her to Bengal, an eastern land

Unhappy Mehru, her royal dreams crushed

By marriage and child her free songs hushed

Domestic duties were never her style

Sad Mehru by her own fate beguiled

But one who is destined to be a star

Cannot from her own stage be far

Ali Quli Khan drew his last breath

And widowed by his sudden death

Mehru did to her beloved Agra return

Wherefrom the course of her life would turn

Now Ghiaas and Asmat’s bereaved daughter

A protégé in Begum Ruqaiyya’s quarter

It was Navroze, the New Year’s gala fest

Meena Bazar was decked up at its best

Lovely women selling stuff of dreams

Gems, silks, perfumes; all lavish extremes

Mehr-un-Nisaa, bereaved and sad, walked in

To cheer herself up in the merry din

And then she caught the eye of the man,

Who was born to rule Hindostan

When he returned that night, Prince Salim

Had in his eyes, a romantic dream

Who was that vision in flowing white?

So sad and yet so exquisitely bright?

That porcelain face, those tender arms

Who was this mistress of divine charms?

He swore she was the love of his life

And thus, became Mehru, Salim’s twentieth wife.

Emperor Jahangir, bestowed upon his girl

A title, Light of the Palace – Noor Mahal

Not the first in the king’s amorous life

But she surely was the last royal wife

With patience and sharpness, tact and skill

Shortly Noor’s wish was the Emperor’s will

Jagat Gosini, chief queen, schemed and wailed

But Salim’s promise to Mehru, never failed

Wedded to Mehru, Jahangir Salim

His visage was with love agleam

From duties of the court did hide

Lost in the magical charms of his bride

For Noor Mahal was everything condensed in one

Amongst all the stars the brilliant sun

Designer, perfumer, poetess bright

Goddess of his morn and Queen of his night

And Noor Mahal, she knew in her heart

Despite all her charms, skills, and art

Without her lord Jahangir’s loving hand

Her powers and tantrums would not stand

For the Mughal zenana was on tip toes

To destroy Jahangir’s new found rose

And yet in some years her new role began

Noor Mahal now, Light of the World, Noor Jahan

With Jahangir sunk in eternal opium haze

Given to morbid dark alcoholic ways

Noor Jahan took control of the Mughal durbar

Called in royal ministers from near and far

Threw out the rebellious Mahabat Khan

For the failing empire drew her astute plan

For she was the Queen, the Consort Royal

To her King, Lord and Country, forever loyal

In her husband’s eyes, her heightened appeal

Made her Badshah Begum, wielder of Mughal seal

Co regent of Jahangir, Empress Noor Jahan

Unmatched in title, wealth, might and élan

Never before had the Mughal world seen

Currency minted in the name of a queen

She made grand enemies, she garnered applause

Firm she remained on her King’s cause

Armies and ships did Mehru command

The Mughal world moved on her farmaan

Then came ambassador Thomas Roe

Empress Noor Jahan to him did show

The unparalleled grandeur and majesty

Of Hindostan’s great Mughal dynasty

And Roe, to England, his report did send

 “to a mighty woman’s will all bend”

A faithful wife and a loving mother

Noor Jahan did have her personal bother

For her lord’s rapidly failing health

Death would follow sickness on stealth

Her daughter Ladli, from first marriage

Was the subject of general disparage

She had neither ambition nor skill

Nor Noor’s steely, unbending will

As destiny likes to play around

Once a widow, now mistress of endless ground

In a sweeping move did Noor Jahan

Wed step son Khurram to niece Arjumand

For Ladli, her only and dearest child

She chose Prince Shahryar of manners mild

She made sure that her bloodline would

Remain royal as far as it possibly could

Days at the court and nights by the side

Of an ill husband, tired Mehru did confide

“Without you my world will cease to be

 You know not what you mean to me”

“My dearest wife,” said the drugged king

“Despite my failing health and suffering

I know my court is in the hands of the best

And therefore here I sit and rest”

“Oh Allah! Have mercy on me

My beloved ailing I cannot see

Though I am now the co-regent strong

But the path ahead is winding and long

And in every timid and unsure breath

Mehru is Salim’s in life and death”

Noor Jahan the mighty Mughal queen

Mehru at heart she had always been.

Good times have a mean, mischievous way

At the height of joy, they wane away

Noor Jahan could now foresee

Her royal career’s declining destiny

Jahangir ailing and now Khurram a rebel

Dumb Shahryar like a useless pebble

In desperate measure did the queen react

Khurram to Deccan, away she packed

That one mistake, she would later know

Caused her great regret and endless woe     

Alienated by now from her own clan

She lost the powerful Khurram “Shah Jahan”

It was finally the time for Salim’s death knell

“Goodbye my soulmate, fare thee well”

Shunned by brother Asaf and father Ghiaas Baig

Exhausted Mehru cringed with heartache.

Tables turn and stories change

All things once lucid now seemed strange

Khurram took Agra and the throne

Mehru, again abandoned by her own

Husband, father and brother, all gone

Left lonely, defeated and forlorn

A prisoner in her step son’s home

Again in a widow’s black monochrome.

Noor Jahan, dowager empress, stood up straight

Walked towards Shah Jahan in regal gait

In a public trial for her apparent “crime”

Of influencing an Emperor’s will all the time.

She stood quiet with her head held high

And took an unnoticed glance at the sky

“Salim, your Mehru is down and out

Without you I am filled with doubt”

“My lord, my master, my beloved mate

The sun has set and closed is the gate

When, beloved husband, you chose to die

Why didn’t you let me beside you lie?

Your Noor Mahal is tired, Salim,

Her life is going all downstream

For the last time, love, for your honour’s sake

I won’t let Khurram my spirit break.”

Then in the durbar which she once ran

Empress Noor Jahan’s trial began

“Punish me, proud king Shah Jahan!

Punish me severely if you can

Yes, I had sent Mahabat Khan

To the far away Afghanistan

It was I who sent you, light of our clan

To perish with your wife in Deccan”

“I have connived, t’was entirely my plan

Reprimand me all that you can

I drew up plans, it was all my scheme

But all was in pursuit of my poor Lord’s dream

A wife to her husband and a queen to her land

Must lend support as the left to the right hand

For King and Queen are like the Sun and Moon

When one wanes the other should come up soon.”

Passionate words from a mighty queen

Once more powerful than any Mughal had seen

Mehru, Noor Mahal, Noor Jahan

It all ended in Agra, where it once began

Accompanied by Ladli, shown the door

Noor Jahan was exiled to Lahore

Jahangir’s last wife, for the rest of her days

Doomed to loneliness for her “scheming” ways.

Thus ends the tale of love, fate and might

The saga of waxing and waning light

Never before nor after Noor Jahan

Came a queen like her in the Mughal clan

Iron fisted ruler, devoted wife

The muse of her beloved Salim’s life

For a girl once at the peak of royal bloom

Mehru lies today in the humblest tomb

Noor Jahan, in Shahdara Bagh, Lahore,

Sleeps forever on plain, cold floor

Mighty Empress of Hindostan

Bereft of all regal élan

Calm and quiet in death she lies

Withdrawn from all worldly ties.

-Pallavi Dasgupta, 6th January 2012, Pune

     ***************************************************************

Did you like my poem? It is very close to my heart. Let’s continue in prose now to fill some blanks.

In popular culture, Noor Jahan has been always portrayed as a scheming, power hungry woman. Well, may be that is true. But what does a wife and a queen do when her husband, who is supposed to be the decision maker and ruler, whiles away his time between sickness, opium and alcohol? Do you think it was wrong of her to stand up against a system that thought of women as nothing else than mere wallflowers, for decorating their drawing rooms and bedrooms? Was it wrong for her to hold up the pillars of an empire that was otherwise doomed thanks to Jahangir’s love for narcotics?

There was love between Jahangir and Noor Jahan. Though one may feel she only used him as an instrument to achieve the status of the “power behind the throne”, on careful study, it can be noticed that after Jahangir’s demise, Noor Jahan doesn’t show any further interest in holding on to authority.

“The Conqueror of the World was the slave of a woman – his consort, Nur Mahal or Mehrunnisa...”  - William Foster, The Embassy of Sir Thomas Roe to India

But in his own words, Jahangir claims no one loved him more than Mehru.

“A few days passed in this manner, and I only imparted this to Nur Jahan Begum than whom I did not think anyone was fonder of me..”  - Emperor Jahangir,(on his continued illness) Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri (Translated by A. Rogers)

However, the way she expressed her love for her husband wasn’t the run-of-the-mill, docile, subservient way. Mehr-un-Nisaa had entered the Mughal harem as the twentieth wife of Jahangir. Surely it was a rank of hardly any consequence. She had a lot of other wives, concubines and mistresses to compete with. So she chose a radically different path. She was a demanding wife. She chose to argue with him at times and not speak to him when such arguments happened. She made sure in some way or the other she was always the centre of his attention. Instead of her giving in completely to him, it was the other way round...she made him give in to her.

“she gave Jahangir to understand that the only way of being pardoned for the affront was to throw himself at her feet...” – William Irvine, Translation, Storia de Mogor by Niccolao Manucci

And yet, disregarding the counsel of all his ministers and friends, the Emperor of India, Jahangir always turned to his wife for advice. She was more of a best friend, philosopher and guide to him. He knew she loved him and was always there by his side and she knew she’d be a non-entity without him. While she did object to some of his annoying habits, Mehr-un-Nisaa was immensely indebted to Salim for having brought her out of a widow’s miserable life and made her the most important woman in the whole empire. And from this gratitude and sense of mutual trust, sprung devoted love.

“He hath one beloved wife..that wholly governeth him” - William Foster, The Embassy of Sir Thomas Roe to India

Jahangir saw in her the talent that everyone else at court couldn’t or refused to see. She had genius, foresight and political and administrative acumen. And she could balance all this with feminine charms. While on one hand Mehru had her own army and a fleet of powerful ships that traded on international waters with China and other foreign countries, on the other hand, she designed exquisite and innovative garments, made perfume out of Damask roses, gave generously to the cause of women and paid off the dowry for poor girls. She commissioned the most painstakingly beautiful gardens, monuments and inns. She was a brave hunter and is known to have shot down tigers on many occasions. She was a poetess and a philosopher of great talent and a patroness for bright young poets. No wonder then, in a palace full of air headed females and a court full of murderous wazirs, Jahangir chose to trust the brilliant and suave Mehr-un-Nisaa.

“Her abilities were uncommon; for she rendered herself absolute, in a government in which women were thought incapable of bearing any part....Noor Jehan stood forth in public; she broke through all restrain and custom and acquired power by her own merit...” -  Alexander Dow, The History of Hindostan

Such was her power at court and hold upon the Emperor that soon after she was declared Badshah Begum (the first lady of the court), she started signing royal decrees with an authority even the Emperor could not invalidate. No other Mughal empress ever had her name imprinted on currency. But Noor Jahan had her’s...in style

“By the order of Jahangir, Gold attained a hundred times its beauty when the name of Nur Jahan, the first lady of the court, was impressed on it !” – Inscription on coin from the latter years of Jahangir’s rule

Upon gaining power, one of the first things she did was to depute Mahabat Khan, Jahangir’s childhood friend and advisor and her own sharp critic to the extreme north western frontier of the empire,Afghanistan (Qandahar) on the pretext of work.

Noor Jahan wanted to marry off her daughter Ladli Begum to her step son Khurram (later Shah Jahan), for he was the brightest of Jahangir’s sons. But it was the meeting of the ethereally beautiful Arjumand and Khurram which made her tweak her plans slightly. Arjumand was her own niece. So she pushed forward their wedding. For her own daughter she had to suffice with the rather idiotic and alcoholic Shahryar. This arrangement would make sure that Mehru’s bloodline would be a part of the Mughals for at least another generation.

Noor Jahan had already garnered Khurram’s support long back. But, with wife Arjumand in the picture, Khurram wanted his right...the Mughal throne. He did not want to remain merely the support behind Noor Jahan’s sovereignty. Also, Noor Jahan was now inching steadily towards Shahryar as he was her own daughter’s husband....Arjumand was merely a niece...Ladli was her own blood. In this conflict of interests, Noor Jahan persuaded Jahangir to send Khurram into the troubled lands of the Deccan. He would either die fighting the rebels and if at all he survived, he’d be made a small time “subedaar” of some region. Ladli had to be empress after her...not niece Arjumand.

“In a single empire there was no room for two such masterful spirits as Nur Jahan and Shah Jahan. Each had known the other too well to be under any delusion. The issue was perfectly clear – Nur Jahan must either soon retire from public life or supersede Shah Jahan by a more pliable instrument.”  - Beni Prasad, History of Jahangir

But as luck would have it, Khurram rebelled. Some say it was wife Arjumand’s idea that he should fight for his right. At this juncture, another calamity struck Mehr-un-Nisaa....the man who had helped her to become the formidable power she was...Jahangir, left for his heavenly abode.

In a quick succession of events, her brother Asaf Khan put her under house arrest, Shahryar was killed, Khurram took the throne, styled himself Shah Jahan, and Noor Jahan was tried at court for her various “schemes” and attempts “to take power in her hands by unfair means” and “ influencing an Emperor’s free will”.

By now all Mehru wanted was to leave. She had no further desire or energy to remain the centre of attention. She defended herself in her trial and when she was exiled, she requested to be exiled to Lahore, where her beloved husband Jahangir was interred. With the small pension given to her, she commissioned Jahangir’s mausoleum and a little distance further from that, her own, in Shahdara Bagh, Lahore.

For a woman who wanted nothing but the best for herself, who challenged convictions of her time, lived unapologetically and had supremely refined and expensive tastes, who defied the defined perimeters for a Mughal queen and a woman, who held in her dainty hands the reigns of one of the mightiest and wealthiest empires in the world, Noor Jahan’s tomb is surprisingly unremarkable, threadbare and simple. No marble domes or proud minarets or inlay of expensive gems for her resting place....just a simple structure made of bricks where she lies in eternal sleep with her daughter Ladli Begum.

Before I leave you to ponder...here are a few lines composed by Mehr-un-Nisaa...the light of the world – Noor Jahan

Dil basurat na dahum naushuda seerat maloom

Banda-i-ishaam wa haftad wa do millat maloom

                                             Zahida haufi-qiamat mu dar dil-i-ma  

Hauli-i-hijran guzra na dahum qiamat maloom

(I give not my heart to form (surat) if the disposition (seerat)  be known

I am a slave of divine love!

O Ascetic! Cast not the terror of the Judgement Day into our heart

We have lived through the terror of separation and we can see what Judgement Day may be like..)

                ****************************************************************

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Ref:  Encyclopaedia of Indian Women Through the Ages: Simmi Jain

        History of Jahangir : Beni Prasad

        The Last Spring: The Lives and Times of the Great Mughals: Abraham Eraly

        The Embassy of Sir Thomas Roe to India : William Foster

        Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri (translated by A.Rogers)

        Storia de Mogor by Niccolao Manucci (translated by William Irvine)

        The History of Hindostan : Alexander Dow

        The Feast of Roses: Indu Sundaresan