The Feast of Roses by Indu Sundaresan Read Free Book Online

were too many uncertainties. But there were times, rare enough, when they all came to pass. And if they did . . . Mahabat shuddered. If they did, the new Empress could very well decimate Mahabat’s and Sharif’s standing at court.
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    Empress Jagat Gosini paced the rich Persian carpet in her palace in short, quick strides.
    She had waited patiently these last two months for Jahangir to visit her. Each day the reception room of her palace was swept clean, the rugs taken out and dusted, the shades drawn over windows by ten in the morning to keep in the night’s cool. Each day her eunuch went to the royal kitchens to command the Emperor’s favorite dishes made afresh— kheers with new milk, coconut burfis flaked with thin foils of silver, or rice biryanis cooked in mutton broth. Wines waited in gold flasks, and the hukkahs grew warm with live coals. The Empress knew Jahangir’s desires to the littlest detail. And until this marriage, he had never failed her yet. Within a week of his other marriages, Emperor Jahangir had come to her palace to pay a visit, acknowledging her place in his zenana. It had been years since Jahangir had spent a night in her palace, slept by her side, years since she had woken to the sight of him first. But this total lack of attention was unprecedented.
    Besides, the other wives also called upon Jagat Gosini. She made sure that they knew, even as they stepped into the harem, in whose hands the real power in the zenana was vested. It was easy to do. A word dropped in their ear by the slaves. Or if they would not heed the servants, a visit from an aunt or a cousin. But Mehrunnisa had ignored her. She had deliberately stayed away. This much Jagat Gosini knew for sure.
    The Empress stopped at the window and looked out. The monsoons were here. Since yesterday, rain had battered the city of Agra, coming down in thick sheets, until the Yamuna River outside her palace was a roiling sea of water. Jagat Gosini would have been happy at this break in the heat, happy that she could breathe again without drawing dust into her lungs, but now she leaned against the windowsill, shaking with anger. She had heard about the jharoka . Who had not in the empire? Mehrunnisa had actually dared to stand by the Emperor during his morning audience. Did he not know, did she not have any sense of how highly unbecoming it was to the dignity of a Mughal woman to show herself thus in public? How could Jahangir allow this?
    Jagat Gosini wrapped her hands around herself and with both hands pinched the soft underside of her arms, just below the sleeve edge of her choli, until the pain brought tears to her eyes. Why had she not thought of asking Jahangir to let her stand beside him at the jharoka ? Why had she not even thought of this? Because this she had not been taught. How could she have dared to think that it was even possible? And why was it Mehrunnisa who had claimed this privilege, and not another woman in the zenana , one she hated less?
    Jagat Gosini had not wanted Mehrunnisa in the harem ever since she had first met her in Ruqayya’s gardens that summer afternoon in Lahore. Then, Mehrunnisa must have been only sixteen or seventeen. Jagat Gosini had gone to visit Khurram during Ruqayya’s afternoon siesta. With the Empress napping, she had thought she could spend some time with her son. He had been alone, with only Mehrunnisa to look after him. And she had sent her, Jagat Gosini, away with a sly, “The Empress will soon awaken, your Highness, and ask for the prince. You must go.” Then she had let her hand fall possessively to Khurram’s curly head. As though he had belonged to her.
    All the rage she had not dared direct at Ruqayya had gone to Mehrunnisa. A few days later Jahangir had been mooning about Mehrunnisa like Majnu, as if she, Jagat Gosini, had been nothing. As though she had not borne him Khurram. She had tried to step back from this rage. As a princess should. As a daughter of one king,