Translated from the Hindi by Anuradha Ghosh
Test1
Nadir Shah’s army was wreaking havoc in Delhi. Rivers of blood were flowing in the lanes. Sounds of lamentation could be heard all around. The people of Delhi stayed indoors for fear of their lives. No one was safe. Houses were being plundered, markets were being looted and there was no one to listen to anyone’s complaint. Women of aristocratic families were being taken out of their palaces and dishonoured. These Irani soldiers’ thirst for blood still did not seem to get quenched. The cruelty and bestiality of human beings had reached new heights.
In those days, Delhi was the centre of licentiousness. The houses of aristocrats were filled with objects of luxury and cosmetics. Women had no other work besides beautifying themselves. The men folk did nothing but slip into debauchery. Poetic assemblies had taken the place of politics. Wealth was brought to Delhi from provincial areas and flowed like water. The prostitutes had a good life. If koel fights were going on at one corner, partridges and nightingales were made to fight in another. The entire city was lost in a sensuous, pleasurable haze.
When Nadir Shah reached the royal palace his eyes were dazzled by the sight of the objects there. He had been born into a very poor family. His entire life had been spent in battlefields. He was not accustomed to a life of luxury. What a world of difference there was between the rigours of the battlefield and the comforts of the palace! He could not tear his gaze away from the objects at the palace.
It was the twilight hour. Nadir Shah was taking a tour of the palace with his generals. He picked up whatever he liked, entered the Diwan-e Khaas and sat on the ornate throne. He ordered the generals to leave, removed all his weapons and called in the commander to the palace and said, ‘I want to see the dance of the royal wives. Go, deck them in beautiful garments, and bring them in front of me right now. And mind, there should be no delay. I will not tolerate excuses.’2
The commander was stunned at Nadir Shah’s diktat. How would the ladies, on whom even a ray of the sun had not fallen, be brought to a public assembly, let alone asked to dance? The royal ladies had never suffered such indignities. What a beast! He was not content with painting the entire city of Delhi with human blood.
But no one had the courage to bandy words with Nadir Shah. It was like jumping into a fire. The commander bowed his head to salute the emperor, went to the inner apartments and conveyed Nadir Shah’s command to the royal ladies. He also requested that the command be carried out in full compliance because Nadir Shah wouldn’t listen to any excuse. Such a calamity had never befallen the royal family. But, at that moment, there was no other way to save their lives except obeying the orders of the victorious emperor.
The begums lost their wits when they heard the command. An atmosphere of mourning enveloped the palace. All regular activities were stopped. A curse went out from every heart for the oppressor. Some looked up at the skies pleading for help, some remembered God and His prophet. But there was not a single lady who thought of the sword, even though many of them had Rajput blood coursing through their veins. It seemed like the life of sensual pleasure they had led so far had dulled the spirit of jauhar. The longing for luxury spells ruin for self-respect. There was no time to discuss and come up with a way to save their dignity. Every minute was critical. Helpless, all the ladies decided to appear before the sinful victor. They sighed and lamented their fate. Tears were streaming down their eyes, but they still wore their jewel-studded dresses while kohl rimmed their tearful eyes. They wore perfumes even though they were grief-stricken. Some even decorated their hair with pearl beads. There wasn’t a single woman who had the courage to challenge the order.
It had not even been an hour when the begums, decked in all their dazzling finery, trooped into the Diwan-e Khaas and stood before Nadir Shah. The beauty of their faces was so enhanced by their toiletry, they put rose and jasmine to shame as the scent of the perfume they wore filled the air.3
Nadir Shah looked at the bevy of ladies from the corner of his eyes, leaned back on the throne and lay down. He placed his sword and dagger before him. Soon he began to doze off. Then he stretched his body and turned on his side. The ladies could hear him snoring. It seemed like he was lost in deep slumber. He slept for half an hour while the begums stood rooted to the spot like the pictures on the wall. One or two ladies who were somewhat brazen looked at Nadir Shah from behind the veil and started whispering among themselves—‘How fearful he looks! How bloodshot his eyes are! What a heavy girth! He’s not a man but a monster!’
Suddenly, Nadir Shah’s eyes opened. The fairies went still. Seeing him wake up, the begums lowered their heads, shrank into themselves and went into a huddle like a flock of sheep. Their hearts were pounding. Now the tyrant will ask us to sing and dance. What do we do? May God restrain this tyrant! We can’t dance—even if we have to lay down our lives. We won’t suffer any more indignities!
Nadir Shah’s voice was harsh when he began to speak. ‘Dear ladies, I had subjected you to a test, and I’m sorry to say that my misgivings about you came true to the letter. When the women of a nation lose their self-respect, you can take that nation
