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.