The History of Humāyūn (Gulbadan Begam) 4: Section II — Under Humayun
The History of Humāyūn (A. S. Beveridge) 4
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Contents
Section II — Under Humayun
4.1.1
In Babar's history the man holds the interest and lifts the eyes over his shortcomings to his excellence. No character demanding admiration attracts interest to Humayun, but yet his story is one which it needs a master-hand to unfold. A Tolstoi could depict his faults and merits; his qualities and defects rolled a tide of retribution over him and those bound to him as surely and visibly as it does over Anna Karenine and her associates. From the historic standpoint, Mr. Erskine has told the tale in a way to hold his readers, and it befits this humble introduction to build up only such framework as will support details, some of which concern the ladies of the time, and others of which may interest readers who are not Orientalists. In order to realize how fully the fate of the ladies was involved in that of the Emperor, it must be remembered that his occupation of Hindustan was unrooted, military and the sport of war. When we in Britain have to lament a reverse of arms, we do it in safe homes and we brace ourselves to what will come next, in the familiar surroundings of the daily tradesman, the usual postman, and the trivial comforts of the hearth. Even Colonials had a refuge under the flag at measurable distance from their outraged homes in 1899-1900. But when the Timurids were defeated in 1539-40, and driven from Agra and Dihli and Lahor, there was no refuge open to all. Their head, Humayun, had none; a brother took his last.
4.1.2
Like the Israelites, he and his followers then wandered in deserts and hungered and thirsted, dwelt in strange lands, pursued and attacked, exiled and humiliated The course of events was less historic than biographical was individual and not national There were no nations behind Babar and Humayun there were only ruling families who came and went as they could or could not get the upper hand of other houses and there was the dumb mass whom the earth nourished and labour of whom fed in luxury of life and strength of alien arms whatever dynasty had just struck hardest home conference about it, and about the murder in his name, but not by his act, of Humayun’s favourite, Shaikh Bahlul Gul-badan, like the good sister she was, makes excuses for her brother, and those who have not her bias of affection, can add others and stronger. Hindal was nineteen, a good and successful young general; he was supported by men of rank and age, some of whom had come from Gaur, and had seen Humayun’s army perishing in that sink of fever and corruption, and Humayun buried within its walls. There was no ruler in Hindustan; Shir Shah was between Humayun and the capital. The mirzas were lifting up their heads again, and a chief was needed. Hindal was perhaps always the best of Babar's sons in character, and certainly so when Humayun had become the changeling of opium.
4.1.3
He had the Friday prayer (Khutba) read in his own name, and on his behalf, Nuru-d-din Muhammad, a son-in-law of Babar and grandson of Sultan Husain Bayq'ra, murdered Shaikh Bahlul. The motive of the crime appears to have been desire to place the death as an impassable barrier between the loyal brothers.
4.1.4
The news of Hindal's rebellion stirred Humayun to move from Gaur. His march to Agra was broken off tragically by the rout at Chausa, where he lost 8,000 of his best Turki troops by sword or river. Here Ma'suma was widowed, and here a terrible blank was made in the royal household by the loss of several women. Bega's (Haji Begam) capture is known to all the histories, and so, too, is her return to Humayun. Shir Shah promised safety to all women found in the camp, and there is no reason to doubt that he did his best for them. But there had been fighting round their tents before his guards arrived, and some of Humayun’s amirs had perished in trying to defend them. It came about that there were losses of women and of children as to whose fate no word was ever heard again. Amongst them was Shad Begam the wife of Qasim Husain Sultan Mirza. The next name in our begam’s list takes us far back. It is that of Bachaka, a servant (khalifa), and one such and so named had escaped from Samarkand with Babar's mother in 1501. The one lost at Chausa had been a servant in Babar's household, and may have been she of the memorable siege. Next are named two children, a foster-child and Bega's 'Aqiqa of six years old. Two of Humayun's of low degree also disappeared. When Humayun had been rescued from the river by a lowly water-carrier, he made way to Agra, and there had a conversation with Gul-badan about the loss of 'Aqiqa.
4.1.5
The princess was then seventeen years old, and a comment of his, which she sets down, lets it be known that she is now a married woman. Humayun told her he did not recognise her at first, because when he went away with the army (1537) she wore the *taqi*, and now wears the *lachaq*. The *taqi* is a cap, and the *lachaq* — a wife's coiffure — is a kerchief folded crossways, tied under the chin by two corners, and capable of much more elaboration and ornament than this simple description would lead one to suppose. This is Gul-badan's nearest approach to informing her readers of her marriage, and she never mentions her husband as such. He was her second cousin, Khizr Khwaja Khan, Chaghattai Mughal, and of the line of the Great Khans. His father was Aiman Khwaja, and his mother a cousin of Haidar Mirza Doghlat. One ancestor was that Yunas whose fate as a chief of nomads was in such entertaining contrast to his taste as a lover of cities and books. Khizr had many other noteworthy kinsfolk, but to tell of them would lead too far afield. It is useful, however, to say that Gul-rang and Gul-chihra had married two of his uncles, and that his brother Yasin (Hasan or Ais) -daulat, the Fair Sultan, became the husband of Kamran's Habiba. He had two other brothers in India, namely, Mahdi and Mas'ud. Their father and one at least of them came from Kashghar to Agra just after the death of Babar.
4.1.6
Shortly after this interview Humayun took the field against Sher Shah, and Kamran, deserting his post, left Agra and led off his 12,000 troopers towards Lahore. Under his escort went an immense convoy of women and helpless people, and he wished to take Gul-badan also. She was extremely unwilling to go and only partially resigned herself when she saw that it was Humayun’s will. She bewailed herself as parting from those with whom she had grown up, and no uninitiated reader could guess that she was going with her father’s son. She was a clever and attractive girl whose society was welcome to all her brothers, but in Kamran's wish to take her now there is something more. It is possible that he who liked her, thought of her safety; it is probable that, as he had attached two of her husband’s brothers, Yasin-daulat and Mahdi, and perhaps the third, Mas'ud, he desired to have Khizr too. Gul-badan’s departure from the home circle was perhaps her first adventure into the foreign world as a married woman. By going when she did and under the escort of Kamran's strong force, she was spared a terrible journey which her mother and the rest of the loyal party made under care of Hindal, with foes in front and behind, and at great peril.
4.1.7
There now followed that amazing battle at Kanauj, in which 40,000 men in armour fled, without a gun fired, before 10,000. Here again, as at Chausa, the deaths in the river were appalling, and here again the Emperor was saved by a lowly man. Again the remnant made its way to Agra; but, says Haidar, ‘we made no tarry; broken and dispirited, in a state heart-rending to tell, we went on to Lahor.’ Their road took them to Sikri, of which the memories and witness to Babar’s genius for living must have rubbed salt into the wounds of their spirit. Many ladies had remained in Agra, and Humayun spoke to Hindal of the difficulty of getting them safe to Lahor, and confessed that he had often regretted not killing 'Aqiqa with his own hand. Hindal combated the suggestion, born of defeat, that a mother and sisters should be killed, and himself fought his way through country folk and Afghans, and convoyed them safe to Lahor.
4.1.8
Here was a mighty gathering of Timurids and their and five months slipped by in uncertain counsels and fruitless talk. The four brothers met often to discuss plans, and it seems that the emptiness of this in practical result lay in what was in the mind of Kamran and made him oppose every course proposed. He wished to make terms for himself with the daily approaching victor, and to keep Lahur and the Panjab; but if this could not be, he meant to hold fast to Kabul and keep Humayun out of it. The fief of Kabul had been granted to him by Humayun. Humayun therefore could resume it. That he would now do so was Kamran’s expectation, so, when Humayun proposed to go to Badakhshan, Kamran would not hear of it, because the road thither lay through Kabul, and once in that beloved city, it was highly improbable that Humayun would move further.
4.2.1
On October 30th, 1540, something decisive had to be done, for Sher Shah had crossed the Biah and might appear at any hour. "It was like the Day of Resurrection," says our princess; the confusion was extreme, and, like the simile, impossible for us to realize. It has been said that 200,000 souls left Lahur in flight on that day; an overtax of all resources of transport. Happily for the fugitives, the Ravi was fordable, but the Chanab required boats and the Jehlam was in flood. Many episodes unfolded themselves in the days of the Ravi and Chanab: Haidar Mirza took his departure for Kashmir, hoping to secure in it a royal retreat; Hindal and Yadgar-nasir deserted and went south for Multan; Humayun was urged to put further mischief out of Kamran’s power by his death; he refused, — a refusal which would be upheld in the haram, ever faithful to the injunctions of Babar, and knowing these better than the real risks caused by Kamran’s disloyalty. Penetrating everything was the irritation aroused by Kamran’s opposition to the royal march for Kabul, — irritation which diffused itself and barely missed a sequel of bloodshed.
4.2.2
The depression and gloom of the men who were the responsible leaders of the fugitive mob must have been deep and painful, but what was in the minds of their dependents, — the ordinary troopers, the helpless women, the comfortless children, and the camp-followers? There were many striking scenes in the lives of Babar and Humayun, but none more dramatic than that in which the latter’s flight through the Panjab ended. A little west of the Jhelam, at Khushab, the road runs through a ravine of an outlying spur of the Salt Range. Beyond this it forks, north-west for Kabul and south-west for Sind. Kamran asserted his intention to enter the defile first, perhaps with the object of closing the Kabul road. Humayun insisted on his right to take precedence, and blows threatened between their followers. Mediation was made by Abu'l-baqa, the man who had led Babar to offer himself for his son. He directed Humayun's attention to the superior force of Kamran, and he told Kamran that it was the right of Humayun to take precedence. In the end Humayun marched first and took the southern road. At the fork of the ways each commander and many a man must have made or confirmed his choice between the brothers. And so the mighty caravan split itself, and followed Kamran and 'Askari or Humayun.
4.2.3
With the Kabul section many women went to the safer asylum. They had no choice to make where the roads parted, but those of them who saw their litters turn southwards and themselves carried by a strange road, of which they knew that it took them from the old home in Kabul, must have had some bitter feelings about their destiny. I believe Gul-badan went with Kamran. She does not say so, but it comes out with tolerable clearness incidentally. Her mother, Dil-dar, had gone with Hindal to Multan, and with her was Hamida-banu, Akbar's mother to be. Khan-zada seems to have gone with Humayun, for her niece mentions her later as an ambassador from him in Sind to Qandahar. No other writer speaks of this embassy, I think, but most tell of her other, made later from Kabul to Qandahar in the cause of peace between Kamran and Humayun, after the latter had returned from his Persian exile (1545).
4.2.4
Khizr is not mentioned as with Humayun in the desert wanderings, but he was in Qandahar with 'Askari in 1545. On the occasion of her reunion with Humayun in Kabul, in 1545, Gul-badan says that there had been a ‘toil and moil of separation’ lasting five years. The lustrum points to a farewell said at the Jhelam. One thing makes for her having gone with the loyal party, and this is her lively account of what befell it, but she is equally lively about Persia, where she certainly did not go. She had excellent opportunity of hearing what went on in Sind because she met her mother again in 1543, after she had come to Kabul from Qandahar. She also met Hamida in 1545, and heard from her not only about her wedding, concerning which she has such an excellent passage, but also about her visit to Persia. There was ample and easy opportunity for the two old companions to talk over the past and to refresh their memories when the book was being written in and after 1587 and when they were comfortably installed as the beloved and respected ‘Beneficent Ladies’ of Akbar. Moreover, Gul-badan has a note of acknowledgment to Khwaja Kalan for help derived from his writings, as to the early part of the royal wanderings. There is therefore nothing to contradict the probability that she continued under Kamran’s protection from 1540, the date of her unwilling departure from Agra, till 1545, when Humayun took Kabul.
4.2.5
During the lustrum in which she did not see Humayun, his adventures were too many and too remarkable for abbreviation in these pages. Mr. Erskine has told them with evident enjoyment, and Gul-badan supplements his narrative with some material he did not use; it may be interjected here that he had no knowledge of her book. For most of the period of the exile in Sind and Persia, Hamida was a good authority, and more than once Gul-badan has prefaced a statement with ‘Hamida-banu Begam says.’ She was one in the cruel desert march to Umarkot; it will have been from her that the princess heard that Akbar’s birthplace was a beautiful spot where food was very cheap, she was one of the little band which fled from Quetta, she shared the qualified hospitality of the Persian king, and, it should be said, reproduced only a sense of good treatment by him, and she came back to Qandahar with his auxiliary army. In Kabul Gul-badan did not want for old friends and kinswomen. She had her own home occupations and her children to look after, of these, though she names one only, Sa'adat-yar, she may have had several, but there is no definite statement as to which of Khizr’s children were also hers. She was not unkindly treated by Kamran, as were the other royal ladies whom he turned out of their usual homes and exploited in purse. Indeed, he wished to regard her as one of his own family and to distinguish between her and her mother, but of this she would not hear.
4.2.6
In 1543 she had again the society of Hindal who, after losing Qandahar to Kamran, came as a prisoner upon parole to Kabul and his mother’s house. The movements of Humayun were made known from Sind to Kabul with speed and completeness, and the news was acted on to Humayun’s great detriment. There were domestic reasons why Shah Husain Arghun should not be well disposed to Humayun, besides the substantial one of the latter’s entry and long occupation of his country. Of the more intimate causes of ill-will one was inherited; Babar had dispossessed the Arghuns from both Kabul and Qandahar, and not only so, but had given in marriage to his foster-brother Qasim an Arghun girl, Mah-chuchak, daughter of Muqim Mirza. This was a great offence, because it was a misalliance in Arghun eyes and because it was enforced and the bride was spoil of battle. The story of her anger and of her rebellion at her fate is delightfully told by Mr. Erskine, and to his pages readers may be safely referred for the sequel of my brief allusion to it. When Qasim Koka died, Mah-chuchak married her cousin, Shah Husain, and she was with him during Humayun’s miserable stay in Sind.
4.2.7
Another cause of friction lay in the presence of a former wife of Husain with Humayun's household. In 1524 Husain had allied himself with Khalifa's family by marrying his daughter Gul-barg. As the fact adds to the domestic complication, it may be mentioned that at the same time Husain's stepdaughter, Nahid, the child of Qasim and Mah-chuchak, married Khalifa's son, Muhibb-'ali. Husain and Gul-barg (Rose-leaf) did not get on well, and she left him after what Mir Ma'sum calls two years of wedded life. She then, says the same author, went to India with Hazrat Jannat-ashyani (Humayun) "previous to the شکست" (defeat). This last word is frequently used of the rout at Chausa in 1539, but the next nearest catastrophe to which it would apply after 1524 is the death of Babar, because Gul-barg is named by Gul-badan in Humayun's household shortly after his accession. She was with him in Sind in 1541 onwards, and so, too, was Sultanam, who was perhaps her mother, and both were unlikely to make the best of Shah Husain to Humayun.
4.2.8
In 1545 Kabul heard that Humayun was on his way back from Persia with the Shah's army behind him. A first result of this was to bring the little Akbar within reach of Khanzada and to her charge. All the histories tell of his wintry journey from Qandahar taken with Bakhshi-banu, the one being under three and the other about four. Their coming adds a touch of tenderness to the histories. Khanzada, who paces through the histories sad and wise and trusted. She kissed the baby feet and hands of Akbar, and declared they were the very hands and feet of Babar, and that he was like him altogether. Her first marriage with Shaibani had been made to save Babar from captivity or death. She was divorced because suspected of leaning to his side when his interests conflicted with her husband's, and she had been restored to him (1511) when she was about thirtythree years old. To the reader’s fancy she wears a mourning garb, she is mentioned with deference, and is a dignified figure in the turmoil of her day. Her third marriage, — she was doubly widowed at Merv, — takes an impersonal colour, as an alliance which her age, story and loss of her only son make seem rather one contracted to confer honour and afford her a safe home, than on any ground of personal affection. She bore Mahdi no child, she adopted his sister Sultanam at the age of two, and reared her to become the wife of Hindal.
4.3.1
By March 21st Humayun was besieging Qandahar, and he then sent an envoy to Kabul, who would be a welcome guest as teller of the events since Humayun had left Quetta in 1543. This was Bairam Khan Baharlu, and with him went Bayazid Biyat. Bairam saw Akbar, and could take back to Hamida news of his welfare, and also a number of princes who were kept in Kabul under Kamran’s eye. These were Hindal, Yadgar-nasir, some of the ‘mirzas,’ Sulaiman, Haram and Ibrahim. Bairam spent six weeks waiting till Kamran should choose his course now that he knew his brother was the stronger; and when he left the city, he was accompanied by Khanzada, charged to mollify Humayun and smooth the way for 'Askari when the latter should submit. She went into Qandahar, but her presence did not bring about the immediate surrender, and the weary siege carried on its burden of suffering. Many of the amirs of the defence began to slip away, the two Khizrs, Hazara and Chaghatai, dropped themselves over the wall. The first got away to the mountains with adventures which fit a Highland setting; the second sought Humayun and obtained forgiveness. Qandahar was surrendered on September 3rd, and 'Askari and his amirs came out with swords hung round their executioner was found, and the mirza 'was relieved of the pains of existence.'
4.3.2
Humayun took 'Askan with him as a precautionary measure. Of the ladies, Mah-chuchak went, and in attendance, Bibi Fatima, the chief armed woman of his haram and mother of Zuhra, whom Hamida's brother was to marry and murder. Near Khishm Humayun fell alarmingly ill, and lay unconscious for four days. He had nurses at hand whose excellence is attested by the annals, and it adds life to the scene to know that the long watch over the unconscious man was broken by his opening his eyes just when Mah-chuchak was dropping pomegranate-juice into his mouth. He recovered, but it was a perilous time for him and his supremacy, and had a bad sequel. News of the illness went to Sind, and Kamran, reinforced by his father-in-law, Husain, hurried up and seized Kabul. Winter was at its depth on the passes, and the amirs with the royal force were anxious to get back to protect their families. They had premonitions that he would take the city again, and many slipped away in small parties and went to Kabul, where they found all their anticipations and dread justified. It does not seem right to stigmatize their leaving Humayun as traitorous; they had their own people to save, and this might be done by slight show of submission to Kamran. No one can consider Humayun a man who had claim to fidelity when the lives and honour of wives and children were in the balance.
4.3.3
Indeed, to have left Kabul under the charge of Muhammad 'Ali was to court disaster, and to make reasonable a good deal of independence of action in those whose unarmed people he could not protect. Every fear of the amirs was justified. On his northward march Kamran passed through Ghazni, where Zahid Beg was governor. He it was who when offered a Bengal appointment in 1538, had asked Humayun if he could not find another place to kill him in. He had not waited for a reply, but had left Bengal, and helped Hindal to rebel in Agra. Kamran now answered his question in Ghazni, and after this murder hurried off towards Kabul.
4.3.4
It was morning, and the Kabulis were off their guard, and grass-cutters and water-carriers were going in and out as usual Mirza Kamran went in with all these common people." So speaks the princess The gentle-hearted governor was at the hammam, and was brought before Kamran, without time given to dress, and there and then sabred The list of other cruelties and murders is too terrible reading for these pages, and the ensuing siege was full of barbarous acts Humayun crossed the passes as soon as it was practicable, and sat down to take the city When Kamran saw at length that he could not hold it, he escaped through a hole fashioned in the wall, got through the trenches and away to the mountains Some say Hindal let him pass the royal lines, others that Haji Muhammad Khan Koka overtook him later (so destitute that he was being carried by a man), and that Kamran appealed to their milk-brotherhood and was allowed to go free He then joined his hereditary foes, the Uzbegs.
4.3.5
In 1548 Humayun entered upon a campaign in Badakhshan which yielded interesting personal matters, such as this rivulet of the great stream of affairs can convey He left Kabul on June 12th, and Hamida bore him company with Akbar as far as Gul bihar As governor this time a soldier, and a man enraged against Kamran, was left in charge of Kabul The campaign culminated in the capture of Taliqan, which was made over on August 17th by Kamran, who was allowed to go to the refuge of all whose presence was undesired at home, Makka Piety had no part in Kamran’s intention to betake himself to the holy city, and when he had heard, with incredulous ears, that Humayun was meting out mercy without justice to the revolted amirs he had captured, he took heart and himself asked forgiveness It is almost incredible, and would be quite so if one did not know Humayun, that he was received with kettle drums, trumpets, tears and pardon Certainly Humayun never deprived himself of the luxury of tears and the loose rein on his feelings So wonderful was the following scene that Mr Erskine’s words shall tell "When Kamran approached the Emperor, who was sitting in state in the pavilion of public audience, he took a whip from the girdle of Mu'nim Khan, who stood by, and passing it round his neck, presented himself as a criminal. 'Alas, alas!' exclaimed the Emperor, 'there is no need of this;
4.3.6
throw it away.' The mirza made three obeisances, according to the usual etiquette of the Court, after which the Emperor gave him the formal embrace and commanded him to be seated. Kamran began to make excuses for his past conduct and to express his regret. 'What is past is past,' said the Emperor. 'Thus far we have conformed to ceremony; let us now meet as brothers.' They then rose and clasped each other to their breasts in the most affectionate manner, and both burst into tears, sobbing aloud, so as to affect all present. Humayun, on resuming his seat, desired his brother to sit next to him on the left, the place of honour, adding kindly in Turki, the language of the family, 'Sit close to me.' A cup of sherbet was brought, of which the Emperor, having drunk one half, handed it to his brother, who drank the other. A grand entertainment followed, at which the four brothers (also Sulaiman), who now met for the first time after a long separation, sat on the same carpet and dined, or, to use the words of the historian, ate salt together. The festival was prolonged for two days in the midst of universal rejoicing. As Kamran, from the rapidity and hurried nature of his return, had left his tents behind him on the road, the Emperor ordered a set to be pitched close to his own, and, at his desire, consented to 'Askari's going to stay with him."
4.3.7
For this historic feast Gul-badan has provided a hors d'œuvre in shape of a story of improper conduct in Sulaiman which, if it expressed derision, as her vague wording does not forbid to be read, was fully justified by both what had been and what was to come. It is a very funny little tale, and readers are commended to it. To tears and professions were added lands and freedom. Kamran received Kulab, where Haram Begam's father had once ruled for Babar and Humayun. He was now dead, and his son, Chakar 'Ali, was left with Kamran there. The mirza was not pleased with his fief. 'What!' he exclaimed to the bearer of the deed of grant, 'have I not been king of Kabul and Badakhshan? Kulab is a mere district of Badakhshan. How can I serve in it?' The bearer observed that he had heard Kamran was wise, and begged permission to remind him that the wonder was he had received anything at all. 'Askari, too, was given a fief, and then, leaving them neighbours and at large, Humayun went back to Kabul in October, 1548.
4.3.8
A campaign was planned for 1549 against the Uzbegs and Balkh. This was done despite marked instability in the royal following. Instability or, in a plainer word, desertion, was an accident to which Humayun was peculiarly liable. One cause of it is more interesting than the common one of personal gain, because it is rooted in theological bias. Humayun's coquetry with Shi'ism in Persia is one of the most entertaining of the episodes of his sojourn there, and it had consequences in arousing distrust of him, which cropped up from time to time. Babar himself had lost ground because of his tolerance to variety of faith. But to this, both in the father and still more in the son, were added, as causes of desertion, the flux and reflux of weak government which forbid men to know who will keep the upper hand and have power to oppress.
4.4.1
To return to the Balkh campaign: spring was waited for, and there was delay for men. Spring came, and the minds of the ladies turned to thoughts of excursions out of town. They remarked more than once to Humayun that the riwaj would be coming up in the hills. This is a plant of subacid flavour which some say is like sorrel and some like rhubarb. It was, at least, a plant that people made excursions to eat, much as others go blackberrying. To these hints for change the royal reply was that the army was going out; that it would pass by the Koh-i-daman (which is renowned for its riwaj), and that the ladies should go too. Gul-badan must not be deprived of her story of the picnic, which illuminates the domestic ways of the court The ladies went so far as to see the waterfall at Paiza, and perhaps even to Istalif, twenty miles north of Kabul, and then returned
4.4.2
There had been bad omens for the start and there followed plenty of bad news from the front to fix attention on them Kamran broke his promise to come to Humayun’s help Gul-Chihra’s second husband, an Uzbeg prince, ran away when he came to know that the army was directed against his people There was an extraordinary retreat without an enemy, and of which the cause seems to have been fear that, as Kamran was not there, he was oppressing Kabul Humayun was left almost alone, and the Uzbegs attacked and killed many fugitives His horse was wounded and the whole affair was a fiasco After all, too, when Kabul was reached, there had been no sign of Kamran
4.4.3
It was the expected that Kamran should not keep his word, but perhaps the unexpected was behind his conduct on the occasion of the Balkh campaign Sulaiman and Ibrahim were with Humayun, and their presence might well have kept him away, for Gul-badan tells of an incident in which the three men had part and which did not make them good company for one another It is a bit of scandal to which Haram adds salt and vitality It is repeated here because some little points do not quite stand clear in the begam’s wording While Kamran was in Kulab — i.e., his last holding, — someone, who from her name of Taikhan Begam must have been a woman of good birth, advised him to make love to Haram Begam Good, she said, would come of it So Kamran sent a go-between with a letter and a kerchief to Haram, who, furiously angry, at once summoned husband and son from wherever they were away from home, and told them of the advances made to her She railed at Sulaiman, saying that it was clear he was thought a coward, and further observed that Kamran feared neither her nor her son Much was packed in the pronoun here ; there was ground to fear the energetic and resolute woman who had the arm of Badakhshan at her disposal. She was a forceful person and had the belwan torn to pieces. Kamran was audacious, and his advances look the more so that Haram's sister was his wife; but they may have been made rather to the charms of her arm than to those of its commandante.
4.4.4
The events of 1550 sum up in Jauhar's words: "Mirza Kamran wandered about the country with bad intentions." In his course he surprised Humayun in the Qibchaq defile, and an engagement took place which was attended by great loss of life. It was witnessed by Kamran's wives and daughters from a commanding height. Bayazid mentions that the bibis wore turbans, a detail which may have been suggested by the great heat of the weather. Why the women were on the scene is perhaps explained by a similar record in the Memoirs which concerns a wife of Sultan Husain Mirza. Shahr-banu, a daughter of Sultan Abu Sa'id Mirza, was, with Husain's other wives, present at a battle between her husband and her brother, Mahmud Mirza. She did not, as the other ladies did, leave her litter and mount a horse, so as to be ready for flight if necessary, but trusting to her brother, in the case of her husband's defeat, remained comfortably in her litter while the fight went on. This dispassionate composure so much offended Husain that he divorced her. Perhaps Kamran's family, too, had prepared for whatever was to be their fate by protecting themselves against the sun and by being ready to mount.
4.4.5
In this encounter Humayun was badly wounded. Gul-badan was able to hear the details of the misadventure, because Khizr Khwaja was with her brother and, it may be said, fighting against his own, as in-daulat Khizr and Mir Sayyid Barka (namak) helped to hold the wounded man up on an ambling pony when he could not sit his horse, and so they led him out of the fray, sustaining his courage as they went by tales of other princes who had come through plights as bad. The wound was on the head, and was like one of Babar’s in that it was given through a covering turban and this was uninjured. The pain was great and caused faintness. Humayun took off his quilted coat and gave it to a servant. The man finding its weight an encumbrance, left it lying; it was taken to Kamran, who posted off with it to Kabul, showed it as evidence of death, and once more took possession of the unfortunate city.
4.4.6
Jauhar has quaint stories of the destitution in which Humayun now was, with his camp equipage lost and deprived of all necessaries. He was helped along through the night, cold and weakened, and in the morning was placed in safety by the arrival of a body of reliable troopers under Haji Muhammad Koka. He warmed himself in the sun, washed his wound, said his prayer kneeling on a scarlet stool, and borrowed a coat from a servant to replace his own, which was blood-stained. Then came an old woman of the place and offered him a pair of silk trousers, that he might discard his blood-stained ones. He accepted, while saying they were not fit for a man’s wear, and remitted her taxes for life. This was drawing well in anticipation of the time when his account in those regions would stand to his credit. It is said that while he sat with his face still to the qibla one of his followers, Sultan Muhammad qauchin, performed again for him the rite his father had observed, and expressed his willingness to die for him. Humayun spoke reassuring words and comforted his faithful sacrifice.
4.4.7
For nearly three months Kabul believed Humayun dead. Those words cover much feeling, sad and joyful; but there is no one to tell the truth and say whether it was thought by some to offer better hope of peace that Humayun should be dead. There was always a large following of powerful officers ready to join Kamran, and one cannot suppose their changes in allegiance mere folly and fickleness. But no courtly author has told Kamran’s side of the whole matter, nor his view of his own position. With Kabul Akbar came again into his uncle’s hands. He was kept safe through all the vicissitudes of his father’s career, and was well cared for both by Kamran and by 'Askari. It has been said that on one occasion Kamran exposed him on the battlements of Kabul to his father’s guns, and this charge finds support from our princess. She however, it may be observed, makes no mention of the act attributed by some writers to Maham anaga, of interposing her own body to shield the child; indeed, she never once mentions this latterly influential woman. But this incident notwithstanding, it must be admitted that the boy was well treated. 'Askari’s wife, who took charge of him after his capture at Quetta, is said to have been most kind to him. He was entrusted by Kamran to Khanzada, itself an act of surety and kindness. Again and again he fell into his uncle’s hands when Kamran was exasperated by foiled attempts to keep Kabul, and yet he survived. Kamran had a son;
4.4.8
it would have surprised no one to learn that, as complement to his effort to oust Humayun from his higher place, he had killed Akbar to give his own son more chance. In this there is what fixes attention in the same way that it is fixed by Gul-badan’s record of Kamran’s anxiety to obtain from the elder ladies of his house sanction to have the Khutba read in his name. It was in his power to have himself proclaimed ruler in Kabul, but he discussed his wish to be so proclaimed with the other members of the royal family before he did it, and the discussion was prolonged, and referred from Dil-dar to the greatest of the ladies, Khanzada. In both these points there is something which, if better known, might mitigate the sweeping judgment usually passed upon Kamran as altogether wrong in all his doings.
4.5.1546
Humayun spent some time in Ander-ab while his wound was healing and his army gathering, and here Haram comes again upon the scene. Where Sulaiman and Ibrahim were, is not quite clear, but it was to Haram a message went asking her for the army of Badakhshan. It was to come as quickly as possible, and fully equipped. It took the energetic woman only a few days to put some thousands of men in the field. It was she, says our princess, who did it all, took thought, and overlooked everything. Then she led the men to ‘ the pass,’ — amongst so many possible, one cannot fix on which, — and having done her work, went home. It seems probable that Sulaiman and Ibrahim were already with Humayun, and that Haram despatched a supplementary force. The battle in which it was to engage was that important fight at Ushtur-gram which Humayun tried hard to prevent by previous mediation, and which was forced on by Kamran’s chief officer, Qaracha Khan. There was much previous discussion as to terms of peace, but Kamran and Qaracha would have nothing less than Kabul. A second embassy offered alliance of the ‘unique pearl of the Caliphat,’ Akbar, with the mirza’s ‘dear daughter’ (who may be 'Ayisha), and that Kabul should be theirs; and suggested that Humayun and Kamran should join forces and again attack Hindustan. All came to nothing, because Qaracha cried, and enforced his cry, ‘Our heads or Kabul.’ The battle that followed was a complete success for the royal arms, and to add to its good results, Akbar, of whose safety there had been doubt, was brought to Humayun’s camp. His father vowed charitable gifts for his restoration, and also that he would never part from him again.
A pleasant chance befell Humayun on the stricken field, for when he had claimed, as his share of booty, two driverless camels, he found in their loads his own books which he had lost at the Qibchaq defile. Many would be MSS. of the Persian poets; Babar knew these well and often quotes the Gulistan; and Humayun was too much of a dilettante and verse-lover not to have made himself familiar with their sound.
Happily the tale of the doings of Kamran is drawing to a close. He made a night attack, by which Hindal lost his life, on the royal forces on November 20th, 1551; sued for help in vain from Salim Shah, the Emperor of Hindustan; from Adam Ghakkar, and was surrendered by him to Humayun; was blinded by the insistence of the came on August 17 1551, and allowed to go to Makka. He accompanied, as all the writers tell, by his Arghun wife Mah-chuchak, and by her equal in compassion, a servant of Humayun, Chihma Beg. He made the Hajj four times and he died on October 5th, 1557. Mah-chuchak survived him seven months. She only of his wives is commemorated accompanying him to Makka, but I see no reason why others may not also be accepted as equally faithful. Her father opposed her going, and she loudly upheld her view of her duty and has been taken into the texture of history, but her co-wives may have gone unopposed and unpraised. How interesting Kamran might have made a book of Memoirs in which he set down his life from his own point of view, his motives, ambitions, opinions of right and wrong, and above all, if he had spoken his inner mind about the religious duties he was enabled to perform before death, through his defeat and mutilation! We do not know all the truth about him; certain crimes, of murder and of treachery after promise given, could never be palliated, but in the matter of possession of Kabul there may be much brought forward which would place him rather in the position of the defender of rights than their assailant. He had no courtly chronicler, and has borne the blame of much that could plausibly be traced back to Humayun's own defects and their outcome of opportunity.
To end the story of the faithful brothers, — 'Askari too received leave to go to Makka from Badakhshan in 1551; he died between that city and Damascus in 1558. Both he and Kamran thus lived long enough to see their house triumph again in India and their weary thwartings of its elder branch set at naught by the firmer hands of Akbar's chiefs. Of 'Askari one clear characteristic only comes out: he was true to the blood-tie with his mother's son and own senior, Kamran.
A little return must now be made, in order to bring up the tale of home events to the date of these military. In 1551 the first marriage of the younger generation was arranged by the betrothal of Bakhshi-banu to Ibrahim, son of Haram. The Badakhshī trio had certainly deserved well of Humāyūn and, while doing the best they could to strengthen their own position, had given him efficient help. It is good to tell all that is known of Haram. She seems to have had several daughters who played a part in public events as seals of alliance. When Humāyūn had passed a short time of repose in Kābul after his victory of Ushtur-grām, he sent to Haram to ask Shāhzāda Khānam, one of these girls, in marriage for himself. His envoys were two persons whom Haram did not consider worthy of their office. They were members of the royal household, and trusted members too, for one was Khwāja Jalālu-d-dīn Mahmūd, mīr sāmān, who, on Akbar’s accession, was made commander of 2,500, and the other was Bībī Fātima, whom we know as having helped to nurse Humāyūn in his illness of 1546.
4.5.1555
Haram, the dominant partner in the command of Badakhshān, mother of a girl in whose veins was reputed to flow the blood of Alexander and of Tīmūr, daughter of a tribal chief, and conscious of intrinsic claim to deference, inquired of the two lowly messengers why no begam or lady (aghācha) had come to prefer the royal request. She must have known that Humāyūn could not mean to affront her; he had just given his daughter to her son and had testified gratitude for help in substantial ways to Sulaimān at the same time. She allowed herself to be mollified on condition that he himself should come to fetch his bride. The wedding does not seem to have taken place and the alliance was handed on to the next generation, in which, besides Ibrāhīm’s, there was a betrothal of Muhammad Hakīm to a daughter of Haram.
While speaking of Haram and the alliances of her family with the royal house, there may be named a high-handed act about another quasi-royal marriage. One of Kamran’s wives was Muhtarima Khanam Chaghatat, and on his death Sulaiman wished to marry her. Of her as co-wife, Haram would not hear, and contrived to make her a daughter-in-law by marrying her to Ibrahim.
The death of Hindal in the night attack of Kamran, on November 20th, 1551, was a heavy blow to Gul-badan. She writes of it with feeling, and casts light on the question of rank in the affections of a Musalman wife. She asks why her son or her husband was not killed rather than her brother. Perhaps she spoke out of feeling born of the fact that no dead father’s son can be replaced, and from the deeps of family affection. Dutiful and admirable as were many of the wives of this time, the tie between the husband and a wife can never be so close as it is where the husband’s affection is never a divisible factor in the household. Gul-badan shows that Musalman affection centred on those of the same blood.
The royal ladies must have felt it hard when, after having mourned Humayun through Kamran for nearly three months, Hindal was killed. This happened near Khizr Khwaja’s fief of Jui-shahi, which explains why the body was sent there for burial and entrusted to the khwaja. It was removed later to Kabul and laid at Babar’s feet. Hindal was thirty-two years old, and left one daughter, Ruqaiya, who became the first wife of Akbar and survived him, a childless woman, to the age of eighty-four.
Unfortunately for her readers, our begam’s book ends abruptly (just after she has mentioned the blinding of Kamran,) in the only MS. of which we have knowledge, i.e., that belonging to the British Museum. The missing pages are a real loss. The narrative breaks off some three years before Akbar’s accession, and for the future the best authority on our topics is silent. There is no occurrence of her own name in the histories until she goes to India in the first year of Akbar. Much of supreme importance happened to the royal family in the interval, and this makes regret the keener for the defective MS.
Set free from the burden of his brothers, Humayun determined, in 1554, to try his fortune again in Hindustan. He left Kabul on November 15th, — a date so near that of Babar’s start in 1526 that it looks as if both obeyed the same omen of the heavens, — and with Akbar dropped comfortably down the river from Jalalabad to Peshawar. The course of his advance beyond the Indus can be followed in Mr. Erskine’s pages, and need not be repeated here. He was proclaimed Emperor in Dihli on July 23rd, 1555.
4.6.1
A little-known episode of the time is the visit to India and the court of Sidi 'Ali Rais, a Turkish admiral of Sulaiman the Great, who by the exigencies of war and weather found himself obliged to travel with a few officers and fifty sailors from Surat to Lahur and thence across all the wide intervening lands to Turkey. He was welcomed by Musalmans for his master’s sake, and he was offered appointments in India, all of which he refused. He was received with great honour by Shah Husain Arghun, of whom he says that he had then reigned forty years, and had become so invalided during the last five that he could not sit his horse and used only boats for travel. Elsewhere it is said of Shah Husain that he was subject to fever of such kind that he could live only on the river, and that he used to spend his time in going up and down from one extremity to the other of his territory in search of ease and health. Probably this is a detail of the admiral’s remark. He heard of Mah-chuchak (wife of Husain), whom he calls Haji Begam, as prisoner of 'Isa Tarkhan, and of her return to Husain. He heard, too, something which is not supported by other writers, namely, that she poisoned Husain, and that he died in consequence ten days after she rejoined him. The improbability of this story is shown by the fact that later on she conveyed Husain’s body to Makka for interment, an act which would be incredible if the accusation of murder were true.
4.6.2
Much that is interesting is told of the journey to the first place where Sidi 'Ali's route brought him into contact with the mundas people, * * * Lahor. He arrived early in August, shortly after the Restoration (July 23rd), and there awaited royal orders, because the governor would not let him go on until the Emperor had seen him. When one tries to picture ones[elf] without telegrams or newspapers, one judges that a kindly-disposed amir would endeavour to forward everyone who could tell a tale for the entertainment of the court. Humayun sent for the admiral, and had him received, in the first half of October, outside Dihli by Bairam Khan, twenty other great amirs, 1,000 men, and 400 elephants. He dined with the Khan-i-khanan, and was then introduced to the presence. As was natural, the Emperor wished to keep his guest at court permanently, if possible, and if not this, then long enough to 'calculate solar and lunar eclipses, their degree of latitude and exact date, and to help the court astrologers to study the sun's course and the points of the equator.' What fastened interest on the Ottoman was that he learned to write verses in Chaghatui Turki so well that Humayun called him a second Mir 'Ali Shir. He had a turn for chronograms too, and at his first audience presented one of the taking of Dihli, and made others subsequently which were admired. He was a clever man, and his literary aptitudes suited his royal host and the tone of the entourage.
4.6.3
But he had other acquirements than those which ring well the change of words and obtained him his sobriquet of 'book-man,' and these others he used to bring about an agreement between the Emperor and his own former host, Sultan Mahmud Bhakkari. An official paper was drawn up, to which Humayun, literally, set his fist, for he dipped his clenched hand in saffron and laid it on the deed. Mahmud was much pleased, and both he and his vizier wrote their thanks to the mediator. This incident, and others too, gave occasion for other Türki ghazels and higher praise. Sidi 'Ali was constantly in the royal circle, and there were contests in verse-making and dilettante amusements which reveal the true and newly-risen Huma once more at ease in untranquillized India. The traveller had not much to coax court favour with in the way of gifts, and this plumed his poetic flights; when he was wearied by his detention, he carried two ghazels to the royal seal-bearer and let them plead for his departure. They were heard, and he got ‘leave to go,’ with gifts and passport.
4.6.4
His affairs were all in order for his start when there happened the fatal accident which ended Humayun’s life. That Humayun should die violently was in keeping with the violent changes of his career, and that he met his death in a building of Shir Shah was a singular chance. His last hours of activity were filled by pleasant occupations; old friends had been seen who had just come back from Makka and would bring him news of both pilgrim brothers; letters had been read from home in Kabul; he had gone up to the roof of the Shir Mandal, which he used as his library, and had shown himself to the crowd assembled below; then he had interested himself in the rising of Venus, with the object of fixing a propitious hour for a reception, — perhaps to include the farewell of the Turkish guest.
4.6.5
The Shir Mandal is a two-storied building with flat roof in the middle of which rises a small cupola which looks like a shade from the sun. The roof is reached by two discontinuous, steep, and narrow flights of high and shallow granite steps, which are enclosed in walls and the upper one of which emerges through the roof. The Emperor on that Friday evening of January 24th, 1556, had started down the upper flight and was on its second step, when the mu'azzin raised the cry for prayer from the neighbouring mosque. Sidi 'Ali says, as though it were some individual habit of Humayun, that the latter had the custom of kneeling whenever he heard the cry, other writers say that he tried to seat himself. His foot became entangled, some say in his mantle (postin), his staff slid along the smooth step, and he fell to the bottom of the flight with severe injuries to head and arm. It is professed that a letter went after the fall from him to Akbar, but this may be a part of the well-meaning deception in which the dangerous nature of the injuries was shrouded; it would seem more probable from the admiral's account of the episode, which is silent as to any recovery of consciousness, that the injuries to the head were too severe to allow of restoration to sense. Three days later Humayun died, on January 27th, and in the forty-eighth year of his age.
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