THE RISE AND FALL OF ZINAT MAHAL

Zinat Mahal was the favourite Begum of Emperor Bahadur Shah II. This was a remarkable feat for the young Begum considering that she was just one among the many wives and concubines of the emperor’s harem.

‘Thou is like the moon in the night sky

And like the sun at dawn

A day never goes by without me looking out for you’

The Emperor recited, lying on the king-sized bed covered with white silk sheet printed with pink elephant motifs.

‘Wah, wah, Jahanpanah. Your poetry has not dimmed with age.’

‘Oh dear Begum, so has your beauty!’

Zinat smiled at the compliment. She was the most powerful woman in the zenana because the emperor was still infatuated with her, though it has been nearly two decades since they got married.

Over the years she had become a trusted advisor to the King and overthrown his previous consort, Taj Mahal Begum, to become the Padshah Begum. While the emperor was more interested in spending time with poets and artists, Ghalib and Zauq being his favourites, it was Zinat Mahal who looked after the administrative and military affairs of his empire, that had shrunk in size with each passing generation of the Timurid line and now only stretched from the Red Fort to the outer walls of the old city of Delhi.

Bahadur Shah also had over a dozen sons, who were all pleasure-seeking young men with little interest in administration, military, or diplomacy. Yet, they clamoured with each other for the throne, for the title of Badshah, and the meagre pension that the English East India Company paid the titular head of the Mughal dynasty. Zinat Mahal, vehemently pushed for her son, who was only the sixth in line for the throne, considering seniority in years.

The English East India Company had come as traders to Hindustan almost two centuries back but today were de-facto masters and rulers of almost all of it. The Mughal dynasty had been reduced to penury, after the successive defeats in the wars against the Marathas, the plunder by Nadir Shah from Iran, and now by the English. All trade, foreign relations, and military matters of the kingdom had to be approved by the British resident in the fort. There were also many other leaders of the East India Company who resided in Delhi, Mr. Metcalfe the magistrate being prominent among them, and often interfered in the internal affairs of the king and his household, including succession matters.

While Bahadur Shah was resigned to his fate, his wife Zinat was made of more ambitious stuff. She dreamed of being another Nur Jahan, the illustrious wife of emperor Jehangir and once upon a time ruler of Hindustan. But all her attempts to extend the control of Mughal reach were thwarted by the East India Company. They objected to her sending mercenaries or communicating with the other princely states. They halted her attempts to trade with the Chinese and threatened to kill her only son if she interfered too much in the affairs of her own country.

They refused to accept Bahadur Shah and Zinat Mahal’s demand that their son, Mirza Jawan Bhakt, be recognized as the heir to the throne. This was one of the major reasons for conflict between the British and Begum Zinat Mahal, and she was determined to oust them.

‘I must get going, Begum Sahiba. Hope you have a good day’, the emperor announced once they had finished their breakfast of wheat rotis, lamb curry, grapefruit, and dates. Escorted by two soldiers, he went to attend the court where he recited his verses and narrated his philosophy of life to other like-minded courtiers.

She pulled out the book, ‘How to make modern guns’ from under the bed where she had pushed it when the emperor came in and resumed reading it.

‘Begum Sahiba, they are coming to Delhi. They’re coming. They’ve killed all the firangis and kafirs.’

‘Who is coming, Mahbub. Tell clearly’, Zinat asked her Nazir-e-Mahal and trusted lieutenant.

‘The sepoys. They rebelled against their English officers at Meerut, at Lucknow, at Awadh, everywhere. They’ve killed them all and are coming to Delhi.’

Zinat Mahal was horrified. The last thing she wanted was a group of unruly soldiers ransacking her beautiful city.

‘Why are they coming to Delhi, Mahbub? What are their plans?’

‘They are coming to Delhi, Begum’, Mahbub repeated excitedly. ‘They want to crown the Badshah emperor of the whole of Hindustan, they want him as their leader.’

‘Oh…’ She was lost in thought, trying to decide her next move.

The rebels would likely heed to the emperor’s words and accept Mirza Jawan Bhakt, her son, as the heir if they won this war. But the English were more likely to win considering their superior arms, but they would never accept her demand.

‘They’ve to be let into Delhi’, she said to herself.

‘Mahbub, rouse the Indian soldiers in the British army in Delhi. Spread the message that the emperor is planning for war with the East India Company and they should show their true allegiance. Tell them that more help is coming to Delhi, and they have nothing to worry, the kafirs will be defeated and killed.’

‘Yes, Begum Sahiba. It shall be done.’, he smiled as he bowed in obeisance. Only he knew that it was the queen who had been the source of origin of the rumour that the Enfield cartridges were coated with pig and cow fat. Mahbub had helped her send aides and spies to other towns, cities, and interior lands to spread this information and rouse the soldiers to attack their English masters. A brilliant masterstroke, Mahbub had thought.

But when no substantial action had taken place even after many weeks, he knew that the Begum had given up hope. But now it had resurfaced again and was turning into a nationwide tide.

‘No way, Zinat. We shouldn’t be allowing them in Delhi’, Bahadur Shah said when his begum was adamant that he become their leader. ‘You’ve no idea what Sir Metcalfe or Commissioner Fraser would do to us if they found out that we are leading this rebellion. The meagre pension that we get would be stopped and we may even be put to death.’

‘Also, I’m too old for all this fighting’, he said catching his chest, gasping for breath and coughing, after having talked just three sentences in a firmer voice.

Zinat gently massaged his chest, ‘Huzoor, you do not have to do any fighting. The sepoys will do that. You just have to give them your blessings and remain their nominal leader.’

Bahadur Shah was not convinced. ‘But, Begum, how do you think the soldiers will get to here. They have blocked all the gates and stationed troops there. They’ll all be dead even before they can reach the fort.’

Zinat frowned and said after a moment, ‘Leave that to me.’

*

The Mughal kitchen supplied food not only for the royal household but also for the soldiers stationed in the fort and at the gates. Being the month of Ramadan, the kitchen was not operating in the day. But, today, Zinat ordered the kitchen attendants to prepare Rooh Afza that day and supply it to the guards at the gate.

‘It is a very hot day and the poor soldiers standing there out in the sun should be refreshed and kept well-hydrated’, she said.

While the fasting Muslim and Hindu guards didn’t touch the drink, the British guards eagerly feasted on it and even gulped down the share prepared for the Indian soldiers.

They were all drowsy too soon, made unconscious by the drug added to the drink. Zinat Mahal then unbolted the locks of the Rajghat Darwaja and sent a messenger to the rebels, re-directing them to this gate rather than the Calcutta Darwaja that the British resident himself was guarding.

As Kadam Singh and his men rode into Delhi and reached the Red Fort, plundering everything on the way, leaving a trail of mayhem, Zinat Mahal waited for them, to blow the trumpet call for the struggle to free Hindustan from firangi rule.

The rebels crowned Bahadur Shah II as the emperor of the whole of Hindustan and placed him on the famed Peacock throne amidst shouts of ‘Long live, the emperor’, ‘Victory to the emperor’. Zinat Mahal felt a gush of pride and adrenalin rush in through veins. For a moment, they were back in the glorious days of her ancestors.

‘Emperor Bahadur Shah, we owe our allegiance to you and in your name, we proclaim war against the traitors, those kafirs who are trying to destroy our religions. Victory to Hindustan, Victory to the Mughal emperor’, they shouted.

The rebel army was a motley of sepoys and prisoners and criminals released from the jails that had been broken into. They were an unruly lot and once they retired for the day, began intimidating Delhi’s residents and looting their valuables. They hunted the English population and killed them ruthlessly. Any survivors were forced to flee. 

Zinat took in all the news and felt confident that the rebels would soon be able to pack off the foreigners, enforce the Mughal rule, and get her son the throne. She convinced her husband that to enforce peace a bit of force or violence was necessary, and that glory would follow the pain that Delhi was experiencing now.

*

Begum Zinat Mahal hurried through the dark dungeons along with Mahbub to meet the rebel leaders. 

‘Will they listen to us, Begum Sahiba’, Mahbub asked, the light of the flickering lamps on the wall intermittently illuminating their faces.

‘Do they have a choice, Mahbub? We’ve been the ones helping them with their rations, giving them vital information about the location of the English arms and ammunitions, their secret whereabouts, and contact channels. Without us they’ll not win this war.’

‘But, Begum Sahiba, do you think the other princes will not object to your demand. I hear some of them are already in talks with Kadam Singh and have taken charge of the rebellion.’

Zinat Mahal stopped in her steps. For a moment, she was shaken, and wondered whether any of the unworthy princes had beaten her in the race to the throne. 

She had been a powerful force to reckon with in the kingdom, though it had always been from behind the curtains. There had been times when she had wished that she was born as a male warrior rather than as a beautiful queen. That would have helped her be at the forefront of action rather than be the string behind the curtain. If she was more visible to the outside world, nobody would dare eat into the glory that was actually hers. A man, possessing just half her abilities, would writ his will simply because he was a male. 

‘We’ll have to find out, Mahbub. They’ll pay a heavy price if they concur with any of the princes and appoint them the crown prince’, she said, resuming her stride across the narrow aisle.

She could hear animated voices as she reached the secret war room. 

‘That bewakoof woman, what does she know about war and patriotism. All she wants is that her good-for-nothing son gets the British pension. She’ll stab you from behind, Kadam-ji. Mark my words. Don’t concur with her.’

Mirza Mughal. The Begum stopped outside the door. Yes, Mahbub was right. They had beaten her to it. 

‘Mirza-ji, we’ve had her help. But we know that she’s not man enough to play in the next round. What can a female do in real combat? We understand that you’ll be our leader since Huzoor is old and weak. You are our prince and future emperor. But Begum mustn’t know. We need her to help us with the rations, to supply food from the kitchen, and to entice British officers.’

Zinat Mahal was furious hearing this. Hadn’t she been the one who planted the seeds for this rebellion? How dare they say a woman, that too a woman like herself, is of no use.

She stomped back to her palace, angry. She had made the wrong choice. She should have sided with the British army, provided them with information, and, who knows, they might have heeded to her and made her son, Jawan Bakht, the heir, as a reward for her services, unlike how these ugly ruffians were treating her. 

For a moment, she was overcome by sadness and a feeling of being belittled, of being powerless even to do this little for her son. She flung herself on to the bed, tears flowing down her cheeks. A few minutes later, she wiped them resolutely, ready to tip the scales of the battle.

She didn’t have to look far to find Mr. Metcalfe, the English magistrate. He was in an agitated conversation with her husband. The emperor’s face wore an expression of steely determination, something she had never seen in them. For the first time, she thought she heard him say ‘No’ to any British official. He was shaking his head vehemently and gesticulating angrily. Though reluctant at first, within days after the rebels captured Delhi and made him their leader, he seemed to have become an active crusader and participant in their cause. 

‘No Begum, it is not for the throne. It is for the freedom of the land that gave us everything, made us what we are. I will not back down now.’ He had told her later when she tried to raise doubts about the rebels, their aim, and what they as the royal family stood to gain or lose from this rebellion.

As Metcalfe was walking out of the court, Zinat sent a Khwaja Saha with the message that the Begum wanted to see him.

‘What does the Begum want to tell me?’, he asked curtly. The two of them never shared a good rapport.

‘The Indian sepoys have turned Delhi into a massacre ground and I cannot see it burn to ashes before my eyes. I assure you my help and support in ending this uprising.’

Metcalfe looked at her suspiciously, they had always suspected the Begum’s motives.

‘The company will reward you, accepting your wishes, if your work proves to be useful to us’ he said simply.

Zinat nodded, taking it as an acceptance to accept Mirza Jawan Bhakt as the emperor’s successor. She sent a note along with a Khwaja Sarai to be delivered to Mr. Metcalfe secretly.

After the Muezzin announced the end of fasting for the day, the sepoys grabbed a quick meal. They were planning something big today. In batches of 50 sepoys, they started climbing the circular wall of the English barracks built on the fort premises. Begum Zinat Mahal had helped them find the place where the English army stored their ammunition. 

They used ropes and ladders to try to climb up the high walls. Mr. Willoughby, the officer-in-charge, was terrified and did not know what to do. He had strict orders from Mr. Metcalfe that under no circumstances the ammunition should fall into the hands of the rebels. Mr. Metcalfe had said that he received intelligence from a reliable source within the royal family that the rebels will try to get their hands on the ammunition. 

He looked down horrified at the sepoys climbing up, armed with swords and daggers. He could see only one way to execute the orders that Mr. Metcalfe had given him. He blew up the entire stock of ammunition. 

An explosion shook the ground under Delhi and the darkening Delhi sky was lit up with a huge ball of fire. All who saw it were terrified. Both the sides had lost it today.

So too had Begum Zinat Mahal, who watched the lit sky from her palace window. 

***

Glossary

Begum – Title for a Muslim woman of high rank, or for married Muslim women

Jahanpanah – Equivalent to the term Your majesty

Zenana – Inner parts of a palace or house where the women reside

Sepoy – An Indian soldier serving in the British army

Padshah Begum – First lady of the Mughal Empire

Firangi – Britisher

Kafir – Non-believer

Nazir-e-Mahal – Chief officer of the harem, usually a eunuch

Badshah – King

Ramadan – The holy when Muslims fast from dawn to dusk

Rooh Afza – A summer drink

Darwaza – Door

Bewakoof – fool