A Journey To Discover Life

Roopmati had watched the troops leave. She had stood behind the chief queen as she traditionally bid goodbye to her sons. She had waited for the Sultan to come to her. He did. He was confident that the sudden advancement of Akbar’s foster brother Adham Khan could be curbed. It was not war, just precaution. He reassured her. Malwa would never bow to the Timurids. And he would not let anything happen to her. To Her. Roopmati felt suffocated by her husband’s affectionate hug. She felt trapped in the scrutinising eyes of all the people in the palace. Angry blaming eyes. She tried to pace herself and sing but her voice cracked in fear. Her melody was drowned in tears. Every evening a messenger would come to the chief queen with the news of war. Roopmati was kept in the darkness. She was not told about anything. She knew the rumours. She was a witch. A temptress who caused doom to the Sultan of Malwa. She was a spy of the enemy planted in his life to destroy him. She wondered if he came back

The next morning the Jahaj Mahal was woken at dawn by the sound of constructions on the roof. The women flocked to the lawn to catch a glimpse of what was happening. A pathway was being cut to the hill. On top of the hillock a pavilion was to be built, the soldiers informed. A pavilion for what? The women contemplated. “Rani Roopmati’s view point of the Reva.” Suddenly all eyes of the palace were on her. Roopmati stood there stunned. Baz Bahadur had called his best builders and chosen the highest point of Mandu to build a pavilion for his new queen. If she stood on its edge and looked at the horizon she could spot a thin silver line right where the sky met the land. The Reva. The queens were displeased. A pavilion for her? What about them? Where did she find the audacity to ask for it? But their surprises were not over yet. By mid-day builders arrived to dig out the lawn. “What is happening?” One of the concubines gasped. “Our beloved flowers are being plucked out. Why are you digging

Roopmati was dressed in her best clothes for the evening in honour of the Prince of Khandesh, as she approached the Mehfil. Wine poured with music as Baz Bahadur found himself humming the songs she presented with a smile on his face. Roopmati looked up at him through her veil and she wore a smile as she sang. Although her face was not visible, Baz Bahadur knew it was on him. A sudden warmth gushed through his veins to his ears. It was then that Mubarak started praising Roopmati as she bowed. He was highly intoxicated and his praises swept from her voice and singing to her beauty, the poetry that talked of her and finally a proposal to take her along and give her more luxuries than Malwa promised. Roopmati stepped back a little shocked at his proposition as Baz Bahadur stood up to make him stop. The Mehfil broke as Baz Bahadur ordered Mubarak’s men to let him sleep his high off in the guest wing and he turned to see that Roopmati had already left. Roopmati felt insulted at the praises o

  A week was enough for the master to be pleased enough with the new student to tell the Sultan that she was ready for her first performance. The Sultan was extremely pleased and rewarded him with a gold chain. As the master bowed to leave, the guards announced the arrival of the chief queen. Sultan Baz Bahadur sat upright. She was his first bride, a childhood alliance his father had forced upon him when he did not even know what marriages implied. Now he only saw her face when she had complaints about the inner palace and its inhabitants. Honestly, he expected her there since Roopmati arrived. His queen did not like changes especially if those changes were threatening to her position. The Chief Queen arrived with her maids, dismissed them at the threshold and came up to her husband to bow and greet him. “What brings you here?” Baz Bahadur asked, with a lingering smile on his lips. The queen could hear the hint of taunt in his voice. She forced a smile. Her marriage to this reckless ar