shaadi - the beginning of the end
"Badi Ammi," he called out with his back turned to the approaching woman. With his sensitive hearing, he already knew she was the one approaching his tent. That and that she would be the first of his court officials to confront him.
"Shehenshah-."
"Badi Ammi, you know you do not have to address me by such formalities," he said softly, turning to grant her the decency of facing her. Unlike the gentle facial expression he was used to each time her eyes glanced at him, he met a stone-cold mask that would have frightened a common man.
"Why?" She questioned, her eyes meeting his despite her insistence on using his title to refer to him. "Why did you agree to her conditions? It is your duty to keep the Mughal laws and customs yet you cave to her demands."
He anticipated this and while he owed no one an explanation for every decision he made, he still needed his Badi Ammi to know his reasoning for why he gave his assent.
"Have you heard of the king who refused the desires of his queen, Badi Ammi?" He asked rhetorically and the white-cladded woman seemed to understand his message. "If I refused her conditions, I would be seen as the king who could not fulfil the request of a little girl."
Of course, Rajkumari Jodha was barely a little girl being a few years younger than him. But against him and the power he wielded, she might as well be.
"She would still follow the Mughal laws and customs regardless of the freedom I have granted her."
"Still I wonder, Shehenshah, why you will put yourself through this?" Badi Ammi continued, her eyes staring into his as if to gauge whatever he was thinking. "You could just cancel this whole wedding and make her your concubine instead."
That was a huge mistake on her part as Jalal's eyes burned with venomous anger so cold it would have frozen her. This was probably the first time the Badshah would see true fear in her eyes. If anyone else had dared utter those words to him, they'd have met a slow and painful death for that suggestion.
Badi Ammi immediately backtracked her statement, "My pardon, Shehenshah. But-."
If she went any further, he was going to lose that bit of control he had over his fury.
"This, Badi Ammi," he started, his expression deathly serious now as he stared at the older woman before him. "This is to form a relationship between the Mughal Empire and Rajputana. Conquest does not always have to be won by war, Badi Ammi."
A lie, on his part. He lived for the bloodshed that came with war, after all, he was raised in the midst of that. But if could convince his Badi Ammi, why not?
She seemed unconvinced, her kajal-lined eyes bore into his soul at that. The room fell silent for a few minutes before she broke it.
"I do hope the Empire will not come to regret this decision you have made, Jalal," she said, finally.
His face lit up in a smirk as he looked away. Has she suddenly forgotten who he was? Every decision of his had the best of his plans to extend the territories of the Mughal Empire.
"You know me better, Badi Ammi."
Giving her another glance, he could sense she still was not satisfied and pleased with his answers, yet, she saluted him with a "Khuda hafiz" before making her way out.
He watched as his badi ammi left his tent, leaving him alone to replay the conversation he just had with her.
"You could just cancel this whole wedding and make her your concubine instead."
Concubine?!
The mere mention of that word roused his rage again. Certainly, he could have taken Rajkumari Jodha as his spoil of war and made her a concubine within his harem. He had done that to many princesses after all.
In fact, he had implied it as a threat to Raja Bharmal the day the old king had accompanied Chughtai Khan to his court.
"You are right, Raja Bharmal, I do not need a political alliance. Now that Amer is a captive of the Mughal Empire, everything within Amer belongs to me."
Everything and everyone, including the treasure Amer held dear to its heart, including the princess Raja Bharmal considered his pride.
Jalal had observed the vivid colour slowly fading from Raja Bharmal's face, indicating that he had clearly understood the implication.
Now, Jalal walked over to his bed, taking a seat as he attempted to calm himself down. Back then, it was just a threat to get a father to accept the alliance Chughtai Khan had proposed. After all, he wanted her all for himself and whatever he wanted was his and his alone.
He couldn't imagine making her a concubine now. It was a tremendous insult to him, to everything that made him the man he was, after all, he hated sharing that which belonged to him.
Besides, was she really going to enter his harem as his concubine if he demanded? He scoffed at the thought as he knew just how much the Rajputs valued their pride.
Hell, their warriors' widows immolated themselves after receiving the news of their husbands' deaths at the battlefield.
For Raja Bharmal, it was either agreeing to that alliance, losing his daughter or having the sands of Amer soaked in blood to protect his daughter's honour.
Jalal knew the king had taken the huge step of coming to his tent to avoid the last option but would rather die than have his daughter handed over to anyone, especially a Mughal.
"You must not know us then, Shehenshah," despite the pallor evident on his face, Raja Bharmal mustered the little courage he had in him as he maintained eye contact with Jalal. "My daughter will not willingly walk into your palace even if you asked. Thousands of people would gladly lose their lives just to ensure that."
And of course, there were Rajput common folks who had made several attempts on his life while on the journey to Sambhar. It was admirable how the Registan ka Gulab had people rallying around her to protect her pride and honour.
He needed to break down that pride by taking advantage of the war in a way she would willingly come to Agra with him. If the people knew she had made this decision out of her volition, they would have no other option than to respect her wishes despite their dissent to this.
It was only natural he'd go through all this trouble by marrying her. She'd have the honour of being his begum but, at the end of the day, he was the one she would answer to and he was going to be the only man who would have her underneath him in every sense of the word.
His assent was not a sign of weakness or anything. It was him giving her a semblance of control while reminding her of the control he was going to have over her.
Speaking of which, he smiled as he remembered the little gift he had sent to her tent during the muh dikhai. What was her reaction going to be once she read that letter? He could only let out a lupine grin at the thought of her reaction.
Seething in rage, Jodha wished she had given in to her urge to burn the accursed wedding dress Jalal had sent to her via Maham Anga.
"Jodha," Moti was at her side, attempting to calm her down yet it was in vain as angry tears rolled down her face.
On the bed laid the source of that anger - a letter from none other than Badshah Jalaluddin Mohammad. The nerve he had to have sent it to her, in fact, how had he managed to do that during the muh dikhai?
Unless-
She stared back at the letter, reaching over for it as she picked it up from the bed. Her eyes then travelled over to the lamp burning bright. Moti's eyes widened in worry as she stepped in to stop her friend from inadvertently hurting herself.
Feeling Moti's arms around her waist, Jodha broke down in tears - not of despair but of rage, her head falling close to her shoulder.
"He is doing this deliberately, Moti. How did he even get the letter into my room?" She looked down at the paper, the words deeply seared into her head.
Every part of you is mine, every breath you take, how you live and die is mine to decide.
Pulling herself together, Jodha parted from the maid as she picked up the tray bearing the wedding dress the Badshah had gifted her. Her face was stone cold as she turned to Moti, her friend staring at her in confusion.
"Jodha, what are you doing? This is your gift, it would be disrespectful to reject-."
"I do not want it," she replied, her eyes urging Moti to collect the tray which she did reluctantly. "I am not wearing that devil's gift."
He thinks my life is his to control; that he can decide how I live and breathe and die. Not now, not today, not ever.
"Lay out the ghagra choli Dadi Sa and Maa Sa ordered from Jalor, I will wear that instead," she nodded towards the box where the aforementioned outfit was laid.
If Moti's facial expression showed confusion initially, this one held bewilderment, her eyes widened before they veered over to the red outfit. The bridal clothes were made from Gujarati silk with golden accents lining the bottom of the ghagra choli.
Jodha looked up to meet the puzzled look on her friend's face. Granted, that dress was meant for what would have been her wedding to Raja Suryabhan.
"Moti," she called out, tenderness replacing her previous tone. She walked over to hold her hand as she sat her down on her bed.
Her eyes veered off to the discarded letter on the bed before facing her.
"Trust me with this one, okay?"
"Haan, Jodha," she nodded way too sharply for Jodha to discern that she was still struggling to come to terms with her decision to wear that instead of Jalal's choice of wedding garb. "But what would Rani Mainavati say- ?"
She was taking a bold step by refusing his gift but he did not have to know the details behind her choice.
While Maa Sa might become scandalized by her choice to wear this instead of his gift, she would proudly take that over having his bloody gift on her body and end up displaying his ownership over her.
She was going to do this on her terms, not his.
The wedding day came with different outlooks from both parties. For Jodha, she wished she could get it over with and face her bleak future while for Jalal, it marked the first step of his victory over the Rajkumari.
Now seated on the mandap after partaking in some of the wedding rituals. There were a lot he did not understand, his questions impressing the Pandit who patiently asked his questions.
Badi Ammi fought the urge to roll her eyes, her displeasure with this wedding was no secret to the Badshah considering how she had - he would rather hold it right there than soil his good mood.
The only thing he could look forward to was his Jodha in his gift seated beside him as they completed the rites that would eventually tie them together.
Badi Ammi had complained to him why they had to follow the Hindu customs with him subtly reminding her that they were in Hindu territory.
"We would follow their customs here, Badi Ammi, but when we get to Agra, everything will be done in concordance with our customs."
That had managed to pacify her but Jalal did not need a messenger of Allah to know of her insistent disapproval as the spicy taste of halwa remained on his tongue despite it being a week since the announcement of his wedding to the Rajput princess.
Soon, the hall fell silent and instinctively, he glanced up, peeking through his sehra and there she was, accompanied by two bandhis, her sisters and Rani Mainavati.
Mashallah, he thought, his eyes gazing at her form. It took him a few seconds to realize she wasn't dressed in his gift but instead in a wedding garb of her own choice.
His gift to her was a lehenga choli made by the best artisans of Agra. It was exceptionally special that he would amputate the limbs of whoever dared to replicate such a dress yet, here she was before him in another attire of her choice.
From his astute observation, he could tell that Rani Mainavati had protested against her wearing this but his Rajkumari had stood her ground regardless.
Had his letter to her rattled her this much?
Oh, what was he going to do with her? It was barely their wedding yet she had managed to defy him and openly at that.
She looked even more lovely of sight in the signature Rajput style, decked in golden jewelry and her hands marked with mehendi. He would have loved to gaze at her face but her ghoonghat barred him from that luxury.
Badi Ammi had stopped her on the way, offering to tie a taweez around her arm with the explanation that it was to ward away the evil eye.
His eyes focused on her with each step she took closer to the mandap. Her hands bunched up her ghagra as she took her time to take her seat beside him.
The smell of jasmine and a foreign sweet-smelling spice hit his nostrils, causing him to stiffen for a moment before he immediately kept a lid on his control. How did she manage to affect him in ways he never expected?
His face turned to behold her; she looked very much like the goddess the people worshipped as she sat up, her shoulders straight as she faced the Pandit who had commenced the wedding rites. He could tell from her stiffness that she was doing this out of duty to her people.
It mattered not. She was where he wanted her to be regardless.
Everything about this wedding had her wishing it would get done and dusted so she could retire to her bed and doze off.
Just as she had predicted, Maa Sa complained about her choice to wear her current ghagra choli, berating the same stubborn spirit she had told her to hold on to earlier. After resigning to the fact that her daughter was not going to change those wedding clothes, Maa Sa brought her out to the mandap.
And there was Maham Anga who had offered to tie the holy thread, taweez, around her right upper hand before she could climb up the mandap.
"This is to protect you from the evil eye," the older woman had said while giving her a venomous look that would rival a black mamba to shame. The kajal lined around her eyes only served as a glaring warning for the Rajkumari to be wary of this woman. "May Allah protect you from the evil eye."
You are the one this taweez and your Allah should protect me from, she internally scoffed at the pretentious mask the woman cladded in white donned before her. What was that woman's deal with her anyway?
Then, she had to face her dreaded future, the man himself sat before the Pandit, his face concealed by his sehra. Her legs felt even heavier the closer she got to the mandap, her ghagra bunched in her hands as she took her position beside him.
Then, the wedding rites officially kicked off with the Pandit asking for the groom's father. Jodha swore she almost heard a hint of sadness in his tone when he replied that his father was no longer among the living.
Ha, so he does have feelings.
Standing in for his father, Adham Khan, his foster brother took the aarti thali performing aarti in the most lackadaisical manner that was simultaneously insulting and hilarious she would have burst into laughter if not for how serious of an occasion this was.
Then, the jallad beside her had to bring up his clan, being of the Timurid dynasty when the Pandit asked that they pray to their ancestors. She did not miss the side glance he gave her when Maham Anga decided to throw in another sneak diss of how deep his roots were in Hindustan.
So are mine but I digress.
It was only a matter of time before the Pandit started the next ritual which she dreaded a lot. She wanted no form of body contact with him of all people yet, his hand waited for hers, his face bearing that infuriating smirk.
Hesitantly, she drew out her hand, the limb slightly trembling just at the thought of-. She'd have rather drowned herself in the deepest river than have him touch her at all.
But alas, Maa Sa had to be the one to take the initiative of placing her hand on top of his to pour the water from the tulsi plant into the sacred fire. It was at that moment she felt a slight spark, so small it was unnoticeable. Her breath hitched in her airways as his big hands closed in on hers.
Her head sharply turned to look at him, her eyes watching in horror through her ghoonghat. He was doing this deliberately to rile her up. Her hand slipped away as she went back to face the Pandit.
Then next was the pheras, the couple walking around the sacred fire seven times as the Pandit read out the vows. It was at that moment Jodha took the time to observe the faces of the crowd.
Maa Sa had a finger catching a stray tear as she stood beside Dadi Sa, Sukanya and Shivani who all tossed flowers at the couple.
That is not the tears of joy being shed.
Then there was Maham Anga who observed the rituals with a lack of interest as if this was the last place she wanted to be.
That makes you and me both, she thought.
The vows she took next had her ill to the stomach, again, making her wish there was a river nearby so she could drown herself in it.
I am fortunate to have a husband like you.
The gods have blessed me with a man like you
More like the gods were laughing at her misfortune if this was the man she was "blessed with".
"Shehenshah," the Pandit spoke up again, the jallad's attention focused on him. "You have to tie the mangalsutra and the sindoor to the bride's maang. Then, the both of you can be pronounced husband and wife."
She swallowed at that, his hands on her ghoonghat as he unveiled her. Those hazel eyes met with her dark brown eyes as his hands reached for the mangalsutra. She averted his gaze, staring off at the walls as he tied the sacred necklace around her neck. Then, he picked up the sindoor, his other hand now pulling back her veil as he applied it to her maang.
Her eyes watered as memories flooded her mind, memories of the man whose hazel eyes stared back at her through his reflection, his posture still and unmoving in the lake.
"Is it possible for the goddess to send mixed signals, Moti?" She had asked previously but as she sat here on the mandap, it all became clearer.
Gauri Maa had not sent her any mixed signals - this was her destiny. It was finally done. Her fate was sealed and she was in her personal torment.
notes: unfortunately, I could not post the whole chapter because the forum seems to think I am posting spam contents 🥲. I do not know exactly what it is that triggered the algorithm and filters, so, it might take a while before I can post the other part of this chapter. if it helps, you can read the full part on Wattpad (jodha akbar one shots) under the same username as here on this forum.
update: this took a while but I was finally able to upload the full chapter.
Edited by MideOfTheShadow - a month ago
comment:
p_commentcount