A Teardrop on the Cheek of Time: The Story of the Taj Mahal by Michael Preston Diana Preston Page A
Authors: Michael Preston Diana Preston
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receiving Shah Jahan’s note. They were probably strangled. *
This ruthless removal of one half-brother, two nephews and two cousins eliminated any close Timurid rivals for the imperial throne. A chronicler sympathetic to Shah Jahan excused his actions on the grounds that it was a question of kill or be killed: ‘Self-preservation, that first principle of the human mind, converted frequently the humane prince into a cruel tyrant, and thus necessity prompted men to actions which their souls perhaps abhorred.’ The dilemma was neatly encapsulated in a Moghul proverb – Taktya Takhta? , ‘throne or coffin?’ However, this violation of the Timurid code of protection for princes and the earlier murder of Khusrau were deeds that would rebound on Shah Jahan.
For the moment, though, Shah Jahan’s future and that of his large family seemed assured. Their journey turned into a triumphal progress as governors and local chieftains of the provinces through which they passed hurried to make obeisance and present gifts. English clerk Peter Mundy, who was in India at the time, French jeweller Tavernier, who first arrived in 1638, and Venetian traveller Niccolao Manucci, who reached there in 1656, all wrote highly coloured accounts of supposed dramas along the way, which hybridized into a number of far-fetched tales. According to one such, the King of Bijapur attempted to prevent Shah Jahan from leaving the Deccan to claim the throne but Shah Jahan surreptitiously swallowed goat’s blood, which he spewed up in front of the king in a colourful simulation of death. Mumtaz then asked leave ‘to carry her husband’s body to be buried in his own country’. It was granted her and ‘in a coffin covered with black’ the very much alive Shah Jahan was smuggled northwards, ‘with all the trappings of woe, and followed by all his people weeping and lamenting as they went’. As the supposed funeral cortège approached Agra, Asaf Khan met the party and ordered the coffin to be struck open, whereupon ‘the fictitious defunct’ , Shah Jahan, ‘raised himself and appeared before the eyes of all the army’ .
Whatever the case, on 24 January 1628, a date deemed favourable by his astrologers, Shah Jahan and his family passed into Agra in a magnificent procession of swaying elephants, ‘scattering mountains of coins left and right’ to the mob, whose cheers were half-drowned by the booming of the imperial kettledrums. As Asaf Khan had promised, ‘the high and low of this ageless city of Agra gave him a reception the like of which had not been extended to any ruler before’ . As the khutba had already been read in Shah Jahan’s name in Lahore, all that remained was for him to mount the throne in the halls of public and private audience within the fort. The chosen date was 14 February 1628, the seventy-second anniversary of Akbar’s succession to the throne and the 145th anniversary of Babur’s birth. Among the lofty titles to which Shah Jahan laid claim were ‘King of the World’, ‘Meteor of the Faith’ and ‘Second Lord of the Auspicious Conjunctions’ – a direct appropriation of the title once proudly used by Timur. Shah Jahan took equal pride that he was the tenth ruler in direct descent from the great Timur.
In a ceremony that literally glittered, jewels sent by Mumtaz and other women of the harem were poured over the new emperor’s head. Shah Jahan dispensed silken robes of honour, jewelled swords, flags, drums, and piles of silver, gold and gems to his nobles and received their gifts in return. He appointed his father-in-law Asaf Khan, who was bringing the young princes from Lahore and was therefore not present, his chief minister – the role Asaf Khan’s father Itimad-ud-daula had fulfilled for Jahangir – and made Mahabat Khan governor of Ajmer and commander-in-chief of the imperial armies. Then, retiring into the silk-hung harem, Shah Jahan rewarded the thirty-five-yearold Mumtaz, ‘that Queen of the Age’ who
This ruthless removal of one half-brother, two nephews and two cousins eliminated any close Timurid rivals for the imperial throne. A chronicler sympathetic to Shah Jahan excused his actions on the grounds that it was a question of kill or be killed: ‘Self-preservation, that first principle of the human mind, converted frequently the humane prince into a cruel tyrant, and thus necessity prompted men to actions which their souls perhaps abhorred.’ The dilemma was neatly encapsulated in a Moghul proverb – Taktya Takhta? , ‘throne or coffin?’ However, this violation of the Timurid code of protection for princes and the earlier murder of Khusrau were deeds that would rebound on Shah Jahan.
For the moment, though, Shah Jahan’s future and that of his large family seemed assured. Their journey turned into a triumphal progress as governors and local chieftains of the provinces through which they passed hurried to make obeisance and present gifts. English clerk Peter Mundy, who was in India at the time, French jeweller Tavernier, who first arrived in 1638, and Venetian traveller Niccolao Manucci, who reached there in 1656, all wrote highly coloured accounts of supposed dramas along the way, which hybridized into a number of far-fetched tales. According to one such, the King of Bijapur attempted to prevent Shah Jahan from leaving the Deccan to claim the throne but Shah Jahan surreptitiously swallowed goat’s blood, which he spewed up in front of the king in a colourful simulation of death. Mumtaz then asked leave ‘to carry her husband’s body to be buried in his own country’. It was granted her and ‘in a coffin covered with black’ the very much alive Shah Jahan was smuggled northwards, ‘with all the trappings of woe, and followed by all his people weeping and lamenting as they went’. As the supposed funeral cortège approached Agra, Asaf Khan met the party and ordered the coffin to be struck open, whereupon ‘the fictitious defunct’ , Shah Jahan, ‘raised himself and appeared before the eyes of all the army’ .
Whatever the case, on 24 January 1628, a date deemed favourable by his astrologers, Shah Jahan and his family passed into Agra in a magnificent procession of swaying elephants, ‘scattering mountains of coins left and right’ to the mob, whose cheers were half-drowned by the booming of the imperial kettledrums. As Asaf Khan had promised, ‘the high and low of this ageless city of Agra gave him a reception the like of which had not been extended to any ruler before’ . As the khutba had already been read in Shah Jahan’s name in Lahore, all that remained was for him to mount the throne in the halls of public and private audience within the fort. The chosen date was 14 February 1628, the seventy-second anniversary of Akbar’s succession to the throne and the 145th anniversary of Babur’s birth. Among the lofty titles to which Shah Jahan laid claim were ‘King of the World’, ‘Meteor of the Faith’ and ‘Second Lord of the Auspicious Conjunctions’ – a direct appropriation of the title once proudly used by Timur. Shah Jahan took equal pride that he was the tenth ruler in direct descent from the great Timur.
In a ceremony that literally glittered, jewels sent by Mumtaz and other women of the harem were poured over the new emperor’s head. Shah Jahan dispensed silken robes of honour, jewelled swords, flags, drums, and piles of silver, gold and gems to his nobles and received their gifts in return. He appointed his father-in-law Asaf Khan, who was bringing the young princes from Lahore and was therefore not present, his chief minister – the role Asaf Khan’s father Itimad-ud-daula had fulfilled for Jahangir – and made Mahabat Khan governor of Ajmer and commander-in-chief of the imperial armies. Then, retiring into the silk-hung harem, Shah Jahan rewarded the thirty-five-yearold Mumtaz, ‘that Queen of the Age’ who
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