Princess Ladli Begam's
CHAPTER XI: WISHFUL THINKING
At first, I didn't want to tell anyone about my pregnancy. I kept these signs alone, too early to say that I was pregnant. But a healer said that to me, and I bribed him to shut up in my disgrace. He had to tell Mother that the Princess had a fever, and had to rest in order to get back in shape. But then, when I thought all the situations were under control, Nazeer Khan knew. I had forgotten that he was very experienced in the zenana of the sultanate. Nazeer Khan had seen so many pregnant women, had known the signs, and now, he had seen those marks in my body.
“Daughter, are you ..” She watches my whole body, guessing, but being careful when talking.
“Shut up, Nazeer. We have to do something about this.”
The mistrust came to him. He was aghast instead of playing, fell in place and curled up at the foot of the cot. “For the love of God, what have you done, Princess?”
I clenched my hand on her lips, hinting to keep her quiet. “Mom won't know, okay? It's just you and me.” And we also set up a strategy. I'm gonna drop this shit any way. Nazeer brought me dozens of pineapples, and I spent them in the room alone. He also brought some medicine from the village healers, which he paid very dearly, because they knew that Nazeer was a eunuch in our house, and they're gonna be talking about who's pregnant. I drank a pot of wine, almost vomited, but there was no progress. One day, Nazeer once brought me a water mossy with mosquito larvae. He told me that this water can abort the womb. However, when I drank it with great difficulty, this baby didn't come out either.
Months rolled in a matter of time, and my pregnancy could no longer be covered up. I began to despair in this abortion, thinking that God had indeed placed this child in my mortal womb. Jafar doesn't know, because we haven't met since his hatred for me was spilled that night. Shah Jahan has returned to Agra from Kashmir, I heard he has not been very fond of entertainment since the Meena Bazaar. My stomach is starting to bulge like a young watermelon, and everyone will know that I'm pregnant. The problem is, people will also ask, who is the father of Princess Ladli Begam's son? And my mother came with wrath. He walked into the room hurriedly, broke through Nazeer Khan and slapped me as hard as his hand could.
Mom's holding my blouse. “See what happened to you, Ladli! What have you done?” His breathing was stingy, while anger burned his face. “You have conceived an adulterous child! You know what the Qur’an His Majesty said? The adulterer woman and the adulterer man descend a hundred times, and let not the mercy of both prevent you from living the law of God. You'll die if Shah Jahan finds out!” He was crying, but furious over his control. “And you're married! Think punishment. Your body will be buried to the chest, and will be stoned until you die. The Qadi sultanate would do that when Shah Jahan ordered it. And what will people say about this?”
I shut up, didn't answer. He left me saying. “Evict the boy, Ladli. If you love me and Arzani, drop your shit.”
“Have I tried, but it didn't work.”
“We will call a healer.”
“No, please. Let me give birth to it.”
“Are you crazy? You're going to die.”
“Maybe I'm crazy and I'm going to die. But let me die and Jafar will see me die with his love.” I erased my stomach, it was peaceful, but gripped later. “I wouldn't tell the sultanate even if Jafar was his father.”
Mom came back to me. He slapped me in a row, crying at the slap. “You fool, Ladli! You're nuts! Why did I give birth to a child like you?” He stays in his attitude. His hands were shaking, and my lips were bleeding. I can't feel bruises on my face, because my heart is still burning. “This is not a dream, Ladli. You'll be killed when Shah Jahan finds out that you're pregnant with an adulterous child. Abort her!”
“No!”
“Oh yes Allah.” Mother wailing. “For the love of God, Ladli. It's for our family.”
I wiped the bloodstains off my lips. It felt very painful, for a moment, but the pain was bland by the pain of the soul. I may have gone mad, and this boy will look upon his birth as the end of his mother. I will have the same fate as Arjumand, but my death leaves a lasting disgrace in our family. Let me be stoned, but this adulterous child will live as part of my whole blood. I sighed, feeling heavy instantly. My breath was broken, and I cried there. Everything feels very heavy, not worth living by a young woman who is expecting love and romance. But here I am, and I face the incarnation of wishful thinking that turns into a dream.
He came to me. His murkana melted, changing his boundless affection. She held me in love, a roar in her tone, and she peeped my cheeks as she continued to wail. Her tears stuck to my cheeks, her hair was a mess in my tear lane which created an uneven groove. The blouse stuck too long, causing wrinkles and deep skin folds on my face. I sobbed, occasionally wanting to fall and become unconscious, but Mom hugged me nonstop.
“My body hints to my soul that I can't. I have suffered greatly. There has been so much shit and tempest. But I always tell my heart that God's love is above everything else. I worry about things, I don't know what to say, and I choose my own path because I have no purpose. When God gave Jafar to me, that's where my happiness was. But everything seems inconclusive due to all the events. And now, I feel my body trembling. I want to die, Miss.”
“Oh, Ladli.” Mother blaring. Her crying became. In the corner of the room, Nazeer Khan cried sedu sedan. I don't know where Arzani is, but I think he's hiding behind a grid of veils.
“What should I do now?” isakku.
“Remove that content, Honey. Collapse it.”
“I can't.”
“You should. Your head is on the verge of a sword, Ladli.”
“No, Mom. Someone had to tell Jafar this. She should know that I'm pregnant with her seed.”
***
Then, slowly, this family has received well my pregnancy. I have seen a change in their originally indifferent attitude to care. My mother gave me honey, prepared fresh milk from our dairy cows in the backyard. Nazeer Khan harvested a lot of fresh fruits, and he also bought fish oil at Shahdara market. My ingredients were perfectly preserved in the end. I feel this baby kicking around a lot, telling me he's still okay. At first, Arzani didn't want to touch my stomach. He stayed away as often as I said his name. As I approached, he blurred, his face grim, happiness not lodged with him, more like a thought on suffering. I was sad at first, but then he came innocently, asking in a soft tone.
“Will I call him sister?” ask him at that time. When my stomach was touched, he was afraid when contractions came to me, but I told him I was fine. Arzani called himself brother, prepared everything he needed, acted as if he was old enough to understand. One thing, Jafar never came, either openly or sneaking around. As long as the letter never arrived, he may have forgotten me from his life. The men have an amazing attraction, and I think he has lured another woman. Nazeer Khan never told me anything about him, despite how much I stuffed him with questions and pleas. Has this news reached him? Does she understand that I have her child? Neither Mother nor Nazeer Khan were reluctant to speak, and I had no guesses about this.
One month, two months, three months, I was tired of counting, and this content had then reached its time. People know, but they don't want to open the conversation. But I know also that every dinner, every night they sleep, every little gathering happens, every trader offers a price, my story has spread like a firefly. I ignored the sneer all right, because this kid is right. Why should I cover it up? Although this secret will be locked very tightly, how long will it be stored? Perhaps, when the first cry after labor is deafening, people will know that a baby has screamed in the natural world, and the baby is from the house of Sultan Begam. Soon, just waiting for time, this news spread like wildfire. He had crept in the sultanate, spread by greedy lips and market gossip on the nobles and a handful of Sultan's families. The news itself has been added in such a way, exaggerated by the spice of lies, in order to be more enjoyable for its listeners. Sultan Begam kept a man for his son. Princess Ladli hired a few men as his satisfied. And so it is, now no one knows the truth.
Then, on the one hand, when labor day is at the other end of the line, and I often count fingers to estimate the time elapsed and exhausted, death comes knocking at the door.[]
