

Seven Lives Together Series

Book One: The Mughal Warrior

by Shrimant

SMASHWORDS EDITION

©2014 by Shrimant

Published 2014 by:

Shrimant on Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to my parents, who

encouraged me to become a writer

Author's Note: This is a work of historical fiction of 16th and 17th Century Mughal Era in India. Except the following characters all other names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Following historic characters

are real but used fictitiously:

Emperor Akbar (reined between 1556 to 1605), Crown Prince Saleem who subsequently became Emperor Jahangir in 1605, Anarkali (Dance Girl and Saleem's lover), Mehr-un-Nisaa who subsequently became Nur Jehan after marrying Jahangir, Ali Quli (became Sher Afghan Khan)- first husband of Mehr-un-Nisaa, Rana Pratap, Man Singh, Vasco da Gama (the Portuguese sailor who discovered sea route to India in 1498), Qutbuddin- Jahangir's foster brother and Governor of Bengal, Ghiasa- Qutbuddin's sister's son, Mirza Ghiyas Beg and Asmat Begum (Mehr's father and mother), Todarmal (Akbar's Finance Minister) etc. are real historic characters.

Seven Lives Together

Book One: The Mughal Warrior

Preface

Girls' Night Out

Year 2012, December 23. It was girls night out, or you may read, ladies night out. Location was Darling Harbour, world famous tourist attraction located in Sydney, Australia. It was a pretty relaxed evening though it was summer time in the southern hemisphere. It was seven thirty pm, and there was still more than thirty minutes left for the sunset. The colourful rays of the sun were shining in the water of the harbour. This was the sign of short onset of dusk. Sometimes semi dark clouds were partially covering the sun ray. Hundreds of people were sitting and enjoying the lovely weather and the panoramic scene. Almost everyone was in extremely festive mood because of the upcoming Christmas holidays. Crowds were much more than the usual weekend crowd. All the pubs, restaurants were almost full. Actually it will be wrong to say they were 'full'. They were practically overflowing.

'Soft Petal' is a higher income bracket bar and restaurant which oversees the Pyrmont Bridge. There are three floors. The ground floor and first floor are usually crowded with hordes of people vying for a place. The bartender boys and girls are extremely busy in serving drinks and preparing cocktails. The second floor consists of several caves of varied seating capacities. Actually they are cabins with cave like design on the walls on three sides and a glass on one side so that the occupants can watch the Darling Harbour from the privacy of the caves. Caves, which show the top view, command the highest price. You need to book them in advance so that you can get your desired cave.

One of the caves has been occupied by our ladies, who have left their husbands and boyfriends at home or with their friends to celebrate ladies night out.

Sitting in the middle with a cocktail in her hand is Sophie. She is around thirty, tall, slim, beautiful and wearing a short skirt and a matching sleeveless top. She is sitting in a relaxed position with her long legs stretched and holding the glass of vodka cocktail in her left hand. Her skins look slightly tanned. Her blonde long hairs look unusually charming. Her father is Aussie and mother is German. She sometimes describes her family as "my father's ancestors were criminals and mother's family were mass murderers." Her looks had encouraged her to become a world class model.

Since she became eighteen, she has tried to become a successful model. It took unusually long for her to realise that this is undoubtedly a highly competitive field, where beautiful looks alone is not the criteria. Lots of other criteria like your personality, style of walking, backing and a little bit of luck all helps to the coveted world class model. At the age of twenty five, she started her luck with acting. Though she is yet to get an offer in Hollywood, she is working in few Australian TV serials and does modelling whenever she gets a chance.

Sophie sometimes has shown boyish quality, though it is not that prominent. Those who don't know her intensely closely are not aware of this almost invisible nature. But those girls, who have lived with her together in hotels during outdoor shooting, know this. Some even predicted that she will be a lesbian. Contrary to all these, she behaves perfect feminine while doing modelling or acting.

This kind of hybrid personality tempted her close friends to predict whether she will have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. She gave a death blow to all the rumours of lesbianism when she decided to marry David within weeks of meeting him. She met David on the sets of a serial. He is a tall and handsome guy, also known within his friend circle as having mixed personality. Some even know him as an occasional cross dresser. He has more female friends than male, he had never seen to have been attracted sexually neither to men nor women. After meeting, they behaved as if they know each other since ages. Friends were surprised when Sophie announced her wedding within weeks of knowing him.

Nisha, the second in the group, is an Indian born migrant settled in Australia. She is in her early thirties, average height and beautiful.

Carrol, the third in the group, is British born and also a first generation migrant. She is in her late thirties.

Alisa was Russian born. She came to Australia as a student. She has just finished her studies and started her career.

Susan is a Hong Kong born Chinese, settled in Australia. She is around 50 and a recent divorcee.

The gossip goes like this:

'We should have gone somewhere for few days during Christmas holidays. It is so frustrating to be almost alone during such long holidays. My office is closed for ten days.' Susan said.

'My boyfriend was insisting to spend today's evening with him instead of coming to this women's night out. We are going to Gold Coast day after tomorrow for a week,' Carrol said.

Alisa suggested to Susan, 'You can also spend your vacation somewhere with your family.'

'My son is grown up and has already planned his vacation with his friends.' Susan explained.

'I believe you have a daughter also?' Alisa asked.

'She will spend her holidays with her father, my ex husband and his girl friend. I hope to get another man as soon as possible, the boredom is killing me,' Susan was still in a good mood.

Carrol started, 'You should get one soon. This is my guess.'

Alisa said, 'You should have told me earlier that you are living alone. I was searching for an accommodation as I had to vacate my unit. It is so hard to find an alternative accommodation! Dozens of people are applying for one vacant apartment. It is like a lottery, no one is sure that she will be lucky enough to get that on rent, even if you are ready to pay more.'

'What did you do then?' Nisha asked.

'I just moved in with my boyfriend. He has already bought a property for himself,' Alisa replied.

'Good then, marry him and your accommodation problem are over for life!' Nisha joked.

'He is just my first boyfriend. I have known him only for few months. You need to know someone long enough to decide about marriage.' Alisa replied.

'Maybe you do not realise now, but you may be made for each other,' teased Sophie. She was holding the glass of cocktail in her hand. She was staring at the glass instead of any of the group.

'My boyfriend and I decided to marry within two months of knowing each other.' Nisha said.

'Are you both made for each other?' Alisa asked.

Nisha smiled, 'I do not know. It is too early to say that. You know, in my culture people believe once you are married to someone, you will marry the same person for seven births!'

'Really, I am even planning to marry seven times in one life! I should be marrying at least forty-nine people in seven lives.' Alisa poured the next peg out of the bottle.

'One day I told this to Deepak, my husband. He laughed and said; maybe this is our seventh life together. From next one onwards, I may get another woman as my spouse.' Nisha said.

'Is he right?' Carrol asked.

'No, he was just joking. Who knows about past life and after life? They are just in scriptures.' Nisha completed.

'Nisha, this may be your seventh life together, or any number between one and seven. You don't know because you do not remember your past life. It is true that many people marry the same person for at least seven lives.' Sophie said calmly. She was holding the cocktail glass in front of her eyes and was looking different.

'We are drinking for less than even 30 minutes, and you are already drunk?' Susan asked.

'This is her first glass, and she has drunk few sips only.' Carrol confirmed.

'Are you alright Sophie?' Susan inquired.

Sophie didn't react. Today she was looking different.

'This is mine and David's seventh life together. We have already spent six lives together over several centuries.' She said calmly. She was not making eye contact with anyone. She was holding the wine glass and staring at it.

Almost everyone other than Carrol laughed together. Carrol tried to analyse the body language of Sophie. She was convinced that Sophie was not joking. She took control of the situation. Sophie was practically in a different world. She was not reacting to the laughs of her friends. She was calm like never before. Everyone calmed down and realised the seriousness of her words.

Sophie continued.

'It was 1595.'

'Sixteenth century!' Everybody said at the same time.

'Yes. I was in Agra.' Sophie continued.

'Where is Agra? Is it some imaginary place?' Susan asked.

'I know,' Carrol said, 'I have seen the beautiful Taj Mahal in Agra.'

'Carrol is right,' Nisha confirmed.

'There was no Taj Mahal in Agra,' Sophie continued, 'I was not alive when it was built. My name was Suraj Singh, son of a Rajput lieutenant of Emperor Akbar of the Mughal Empire.'

'What? Suraj is a male name!' Nisha tried to correct her.

'Didn't I say that I was the son of a Rajput lieutenant? Soul is neither male nor female. Yes, I was a man.' Sophie continued. 'My father Purujit Singh was a distant cousin of Rana Pratap of Mewar.'

Nisha snatched her words, 'Yes I know Rana Pratap was fighting his entire life with Emperor Akbar to liberate his capital Chittor. How come your father was on Akbar's side?'

'You are right Nisha. Rana Pratap was enemy number one of Akbar. But my father was convinced that Akbar was destined to rule India. He was also convinced that Akbar's time will be the golden era of Indian history. So he decided to side with him instead of his relative, the legendary Rana Pratap.
Chapter 1

Puru, the Unsung Hero of Agra

Purujit Singh had a small palace on the outskirts of Agra named Chandra (moon) Mahal. It was like a small fort with nearly twenty feet high solid wall around the palace. The palace was on an area of nearly two hundred acres. A couple of large steel gates were protecting the entrance of the palace. The gates were so heavy that at least two guards were required to put their might to either open or close them. There were about fifty large rooms in the palace. In fact, I never remember of counting the rooms. The palace had three floors with just two rooms on the top floor, one being occupied by me. A part of the palace was being used as Arms Reserve. There was also a long tunnel in the palace to be used as an emergency exit in case of any attack, but that was hardly used as there was no ruler in India at that time to attack the heart of Mughal Empire. In short, he was living the luxurious life of a king creating envy to other Mughal lieutenants and even powerful ministers. He was extremely close to the Emperor after his success in several wars where he had either fought alone or alongside other generals.

One side of the palace was Yamuna River. The other side was inhabited by thousands of Rajput and Muslim soldiers, most of whom were serving the platoon of Purujit Singh. There were different types of military units. One was Sowar which was actually horse cavalry. The second type of unit was Zamburak. It was a specialised form of camel cavalry. In this unit, the soldier was sitting on a camel with a mounted swivel gun. The camel was being made to sit on its knees so that the cannon can be fired. The mobility of the camels, flexibility and heavy fire power of the cannons, made this unit a dreaded one among the enemies. War elephants were being used by generals and senior officers. Mughal troops had several thousand war elephants, out of which Purujit commanded over few hundred at least. Each war elephant was being assisted by few horse archers. Purujit was being surrounded by at least a dozen horse archers. Initially Suraj was accompanying his father Purujit in the war field on another elephant. After successfully showing his valour in one war, he was promoted to head the secondary unit. His unit was first attacking the enemy. At the same time, Purujit's unit was waiting to launch the second and decisive attack. Suraj had never gotten the opportunity to lead an independent army though he was capable of being a successful leader.

There was a small river navy called Dhows which transported soldiers and weapons in rivers especially Yamuna.

Soldiers and commanders were either engaged in wars or practising war for the most part of the year.

A small cantonment based economy had grown around Purujit's palace. Among them were weapons manufacturing units making bows, arrows, cannons, gun powders and many other military supplies. There were traders who were bringing the finest quality horses, camels and elephants for the cantonment. Even the farmers and artisans, who were practically not interested in any of the wars, were benefitting in getting a ready market for their farm products.

'You mean there were manufacturing factories in the sixteenth century?' Susan was surprised.

'I think she is right. I know a little bit about the history. That period was actually the golden age of India economically.' Nisha said.

Sophie did not comment but continued the story.

There was a Kala Bhavan (Art Wing) inside Purujit's palace, which was being used primarily for entertainment. The hall could accommodate hundred plus people. It was decorated with five chandeliers, where oil and wicks were used to create the best of ambience. The high walls were designed for placement of massive oil lamps at regular intervals. The floor was covered with expensive and beautiful Persian carpet purchased from Arab merchants. Purujit's favourite was Persian carpets. He possessed a significant number of large sized carpets made to order, so that if you see a carpet on one occasion, you will not find the same carpet on the next. There were some exclusive costly carpets reserved to be used when senior officials from the Emperor were visiting the palace.

There was a stage on one end of the hall, which served the dual purpose. Whenever meetings were held, Purujit along with senior officials were sitting on the stage when junior people were being seated in the hall, which was like a gallery.

Most of the time, the hall was being used as a venue for entertainment. Beautiful dancers and singers from Lucknow and Delhi were coming to perform. Purujit was particularly fond of songs and dances. He was spending vast fortunes for inviting singers and dancers. The audience consisted of his immediate family, relatives and families of his senior and trusted officers. Amongst them was the family of Ashfaq Khan, his sons Ayaaz and Kareem, his wife Naureen. Ashfaq was the immediate deputy of Purujit and also most trusted one. Sometimes Ashfaq's close friends were advising him to use religion card to overthrow Purujit. He knew well Emperor Akbar was so neutral in such matters that he would never replace a loyal person like Purujit. So it was in the interest of both, he continued as the trusted aide of Purujit.

Another attraction of the cultural program was delicious foods. Purujit was hiring expert cooks from Lucknow with experience of cooking for Nawabs of Lucknow. Liquor was hardly served as most of the audience were women. Traditionally in those days women were always keeping a safe distance from alcohol.

Still there were occasions when alcohol (called sharab locally) was flowing freely. The audience was exclusively male, and female dancers were doing erotic dance on the stage.

At this point, Nisha intervened, 'Yes, it was called Mujra, is that correct?'

'Yes, Mujra was being performed, and I was terribly much fond of the same.

Purujit, at the bottom of his heart, probably wanted to become a king. Yet, he was realistic enough to understand his position and what he wanted. The Moghul army under Emperor Akbar was so vast and powerful that even powerful Rajput king like Rana of Chittor was struggling to protect his kingdom. He had to flee to the jungle and stay there for years while fighting a guerrilla war against Mughals. There was a time when Rana Pratap was living in hutment in hilly wilderness of the Aravalli Mountains with his wife and children and sleeping on the straw mat on the floor. He had spent months eating bread made of grass seeds. Once his teenage son was eating the bread made from grass seeds prepared by the queen, a stray dog snatched his breads from him. He cried as there was nothing else to eat.

Purujit was well aware of the sacrifice required to enjoy the status of a sovereign king. Being an excellent warrior doesn't mean one is an outstanding leader also. He just wanted only one side of being a king, leading a luxurious life. The emperor extremely well knew his weakness. The Emperor Akbar was also keen to keep many Rajput warriors in his side so that he could establish his rule on the most part of medieval India. He was generous to give him the small township he was living along with nearly fifty adjacent villages. He was entitled to collect tax and keep everything with him for maintaining his palace and lifestyle. This was the main reason he was the envy of many of his Muslim and Hindu contemporaries.

There was a long tunnel from the middle of the palace which was leading to river Yamuna. Though Yamuna was situated on one side of the palace, the tunnel did not open outside the palace. It went few hundred meters to a large house near Yamuna, where there was an extension of the river to the large compound of the house. There was a private jetty in the compound with a large houseboat called 'Nagin of Yamuna' parked there. The hundred meters wide canal like extension was almost half kilometre long from the river to the compound encircling the compound. Entire length was hidden by nearly twenty feet high large stone walls from the river to the house. Again the whole boundary walls both surrounding the house as well as the extension of the river was literally covered with hedge like tall trees. Outside the hedge, there was almost half kilometre artificial dense jungle to all sides of the house where at least a dozen of fierce looking well fed dogs were roaming freely so that no one dares to explore the area.

The tunnel was divided by five heavy steel shutters like gates with locking facilities. One was in the palace at the start of the tunnel, and the other was at the end. Besides, there were three gates at various intervals so that they could be locked to prevent the attackers follow the escapees, and the victim could easily escape to the river in the house boat which was always stocked with provisions enough for at least a month.

The house was a small luxurious palace which was actually a miniature version of Chandra Mahal. Besides few trusted servants, there were always few armed guards stationed in the house. They always came to and went from the house by relatively small but covered boats as there was no land access to the house. The joint of the canal and Yamuna was secured by a submerged sluice gate, opened when the house boat or the boats use by the armed guards or the servants came to the house. The canal was inhabited by a small family of crocodiles, regularly fed by Purujit's servants and ready to eat anyone who tries to cross the water for unauthorised access to the house.

There was an underground large store room containing weapons including swivel guns and even cannons. Nagin of Yamuna, the large house boat, was also well equipped with cannons on all sides. There were two layers of rooms, the bottom one was mostly for women. There were rooms with luxurious fittings for the family members of Purujit. There were also large rooms with berths for the sailors, soldiers and servants. There was a fully equipped kitchen capable to cook for few hundred people.

Whatever way it might have been equipped, this fort like arrangement was never enough to stand against a well equipped army of even of a medium size kingdom of those days. The vast Mughal army was able to eliminate this in few minutes. Purujit knew this. After all, he was an essential part of the Mughal army. He never dreamt to carve a kingdom out of the Mughal Empire and rule over that as a sovereign king.

Purujit was aware of a bitter truth about the Muslim rulers. When a king or emperor died, there was no established tradition that the eldest son would get access to the throne, and the younger princes would become loyal to him. Sometimes there were bitter fights among the princes who aspired to be the next ruler. A person in position like Purujit has to take sides willingly or unwillingly. A stable rule of the Emperor Akbar was no guarantee that instability would not come after his death. The hidden fortress was the result of his tremendous foresight to plan for his family in an unforeseen future.

Even though he was serving a Muslim ruler, personally he was a devoted Hindu. He owned a house at Haridwar, the holy city in Northern India near river Ganges (called Ganga locally). He often visited Haridwar at least two to three times in a year with his family.

Suraj was a young man in his early twenties. He was educated enough as per the standard of that time to take on the reign from his father when time comes. He was also terribly fond of horse riding, swimming, and sword fighting and shooting. Though bow and arrow was one of weapons of those days, he was interested and was trained as a sharp shooter. He was proficient in using the camel mounted swivel guns; modern days' pistols. Revolvers were not invented in those times.

It was extremely rare in those days for girls or young women to receive weapons training such as horse riding and sword fighting. Some Rajput women learnt them as an extracurricular activity. The motive was mostly for pleasure though some were learning the skill to use as self-protection in case of unwanted events. No woman was expected to engage in a war. Emperor Akbar's Rajput Hindu wife Jodha Bai was also an expert in sword fighting. She even tried to keep that training for some time after her marriage but without success. Aditi, younger sister of Suraj was one such Rajput girl. She was barely eighteen at that time. She was learning horse riding and sword fighting from her brother Suraj in the privacy of their palace. She was also adept in swimming which she was doing in river Yamuna.

Suraj's swimming practice was a bit unusual. He would go to the middle of the Yamuna River during the rainy season in a boat when the river overflowed with flood water and jump from the boat to the water with the sword still hanging from his waist. Then he would swim across to another boat few hundred meters away. Gradually he increased the distance between the boats up to few kilometres. He was easily swimming from one side of the river to the other side when river almost overflowed during monsoon. Purujit, Suraj's father was also a fantastic swimmer, but not like his son.

A regular partner in Suraj's game was Ayaaz, son of Ashfaq Khan. Ashfaq Khan was the closest subordinate of Purujit. His family was living in Bharatpur (also known as Lohagarh) of Rajasthan which was around 55 kilometres from Agra. Ashfaq also owned a house in Agra. He was residing there to perform his duty and to attend the cultural programs at Purujit's Kala Bhavan.

Ayaaz liked the hospitality of Purujit's family. He was actually a frequent visitor to Purujit's palace. Aditi was extremely close with Ayaaz and treated him as her own brother. Kareem, the other son of Ashfaq also came sometimes with his older brother Ayaaz. Kareem was remarkably different from Ayaaz. An introvert by nature and he sometimes behaved like a philosopher.

It was the time when Purujit and Ashfaq both led an army to fight Akbar's own revolutionary son Saleem in Lahore. Saleem commanded over a relatively small army which also consisted of some Mughal commanders and soldiers loyal to him. Purujit didn't consider it worthwhile to involve too many top fighters in the war. He knew extremely well the soldiers led by Saleem and his modus Operandi as Saleem himself was trained by Purujit. Besides, it was also an emotional war between a father and a son. Purujit Singh was the best to manage both the wars at the same time. He was entrusted not only to win over Saleem's small army but also to win over the prince himself and to bring him back to his father's folds.

Suraj and Aditi were invited by Ayaaz to their mountain top house just on the outskirts of Ghana forest. There were few villages on the way to the hill top. Then for around half kilometre, there were only trees. The hill was not unusually high. A curvy road was leading the way to the bungalow of Ashfaq Khan, which, his family was using occasionally as a holiday home. A horse would take about an hour to take you from the foot of the hill to his bungalow. The house was not exactly on the hill top. The road was finished on reaching the bungalow. After that there were steps leading to a small temple, which was almost half an hour's walk. Few priests and monks were living near the temple in large natural caves. Artificial stone partitions were dividing the long caves to convert them into several rooms. One side was occupied by two priests who were living with their families. There was a small front yard where they were growing vegetables. They used to cook food in the temple for offering to the goddess of the temple and eventually consumed by the families of the priests. Sometimes they offered food to the monks who were also living in caves almost hundred feet away.

Villagers living on the foot of the hill were frequent visitors to the temple and primary source of income for the temple priests. Without the temple, Ashfaq Khan's holiday home would have been practically in no man's land. When he built the house and came to enjoy a week's holiday there, he was thrilled to be in the solitude. Initially he expected to enjoy the calmness of the place. Then there was heavy rainfall for few days, so there was no visitor to the temple. Even the priests of the temple and the monks stayed inside and avoided going to the markets situated in the villages at the bottom of the hill. Everyone in Ashfaq's family realised that solitude was actually not such a pleasant thing as described by poets. They earnestly desired the road from the villages till the temple to be lively, which was possible only if devotees from the villages visit the temple. He arranged some royal grant for widening and cleaning of the pavement to the temple. During the reign of Akbar the Great, Mughals were particularly sympathetic towards Hindus. Therefore, it was not difficult to get sanction of the royal grant for widening of the pathway as well as renovation of the hundreds of years old small temple.

Ashfaq's plan not only helped him to get the blessings of the temple priests and monks, the traffic to the temple also increased significantly. Sometimes, he was also sponsoring free food for devotees at the temple. Thus he could develop considerable rapport among the villagers who in turn gave him the respect of a small king. It was not possible for the villagers to approach the Emperor. No ruler or their representative ever cared to any development work for the villagers. It was the first time some development work was done by the royal fund courtesy Ashfaq Khan and villagers were immensely grateful to his family. The villagers hardly ever visited more than ten kilometres from their home. The sight of rich people and spacious houses were totally new to them. For them, the bungalow of Ashfaq was not less than a royal palace. Anybody who got a chance to work in his bungalow or the garden surrounding it was considering himself lucky. Stories about luxuries of his little palace were favourite evening gossip for the villagers.

Ashfaq's action resulted in making the surrounding of his holiday home lively, but only till sunset. No one dared to walk on the road once darkness descended as there was often the threat of leopard or even cheetah, which occasionally visited the locality from their abode in the dense forest. Even people living in his house never tried to cross the high and secure boundary fort like walls of the bungalow.

There was no concept of weekend or long weekend in those days. Poor people were getting weeks off when there was no work and rich people were choosing their weekends at their convenience any time during the week. After enjoying the hospitality of the palace of Purujit, it was Ayaaz's turn to offer hospitality to his family.

It was like a grand welcome to a prince and princess (Suraj and Aditi) in a Nawab's vacation home. Both brother and sister arrived in their luxury horse carriage with bodyguards and servants following them in few other carriages. Ayaaz, his brother Kareem and their sister Saira were waiting to receive them. Saira was the only daughter of Ashfaq Khan.

Saira, the youngest child of Ashfaq Khan, was a masterpiece. She was tall and fair. She was wearing a dark salwar suit. Her long hairs were hanging till her waist. She was wearing diamond studded necklace with matching earrings, but there was no bangles. Her beauty was killing. Yet no man worth his blood would dare to look at her straight. Who would dare to stare at the lioness at the lion's den and be their food?

Aditi was treating Ayaaz with the same respect and affection as her own older brother Suraj. To the surprise of Saira, she greeted Ayaaz as if he was her own brother.

Ayaaz introduced both to his younger sister, Saira, 'This is janab (respectful way to address someone usually in Muslim culture) Suraj,' then he put his hands lovingly on Aditi's shoulder and told, 'This is my second sister Aditi.'

Then he looked at Aditi, 'Aditi, this is my sister Saira.'

Aditi hugged Saira as Suraj responded to her salutation with a nod and his own admiring eyes. He saw her for the first time as Ashfaq never brought his daughter to Purujit's palace. It was difficult for Suraj to direct his eyes away from her, but he was aware of the environment and was extremely courteous in his behaviour.

'How come Ashfaq uncle has never brought Saira to our house?' Suraj was careful about his talk about her in her brothers' presence.

'She lives with her mother and maternal uncle,' Kareem said.

'Her mother?' Aditi was surprised. Suraj didn't express his surprise.

'Her mother was Abbazan's (father) second wife. They are separated now. She visits our house sometimes.' Kareem clarified.

Saira looked down when Kareem was explaining her background. Suraj remained silent and showed no reaction as if he knew the situation.

Ayaaz tried to bring normalcy to the conversation, 'Distance has not reduced our affection to our only dearest sister,' and looked at Saira admiringly.

Saira responded through her body language.

Suraj now got a chance to praise Saira, 'Sisters are always affectionate.'

It was a beautiful spring afternoon, probably late February as per English calendar. Sky was clear with occasional white clouds passing by sometimes. Dusk was coming fast, though there was still some daylight because of the height of the hill. The villages at the base of the hill were already partially in the grip of the pre-Full moon night evening. There was hardly anybody on the road, which came to a dead end few meters after the bungalow.

Suraj's armed body guards were tying the horses in stables along with horses of Ashfaq. The servants were preparing for putting tents outside the boundaries of the bungalow in an open field as the mini fort was not capable of providing accommodation to so many people. Some other servants and cooks were offloading temporary beds and cooking utensils from the carriages.

As the dusk gave way to the evening, the small group of armed body guards and servants in the tents outside the mini fort became lively. They were not lucky enough to enjoy the warm interior of the bungalow, but their place of living was not less warm as few fireplaces were quickly prepared to fight the cold evening. Tents were set up in a circle facing inside to create a round open space inside and a fort like structure outside. Inside was warm with few fire places out of which two were used for cooking the dinner. There were few fireplaces around the tents to warn the predators as well as to give warmth to the armed guards guarding the tents against wild animals.

The atmosphere in the tents was slowly picking up mood as the aroma of food was blending with the beautiful full moon clear sky and sharab (liquor). Gradually they forgot the exhaustion of the trip and started gossiping.

At the same time, the atmosphere inside the bungalow was in a mixed mood. When brothers and sisters of both the families were getting together for enjoying holidays, their fathers were at war in Lahore on behalf of Emperor Akbar with another faction of Mughal army led by the crown prince Saleem.

Ayaaz kept his plans ready for the holidays for both the families; horse race, sword fight game and hunting in the jungle.

Aditi complained, 'Our brothers are working with the sword at least three hundred days out of three hundred sixty five in a year; either in the battle field or in training sessions. What is new and exciting in that?'

Ayaaz responded, 'This is not about sword fight between us Aditi. It is between you and Saira.'

'Saira!' Aditi was surprised and looked at her. Suraj also looked at Saira with a mixed expression, both delight and surprise.

Saira's face looked glowing as she blushed. She looked down with a twinkle in her face.

Aditi tried to encourage Saira, 'Beware Saira, I am a Rajput girl. It is not easy to defeat me. On occasions, I have even defeated my brothers; Suraj and Ayaaz.'

Kareem defended, 'We are also Rajput; Rajput Muslims. We have the same blood in our veins.'

Everyone laughed.

'OK, first we will have competition between Aditi and Saira,' recommended Suraj as he tried to have some conversation with Saira, 'then both sisters on one side and Ayaaz and I on the other. Kareem will become referee.'

Kareem nodded in agreement.

Saira looked at him with a smile on her face, 'What is next?'

'You suggest,' Aditi said.

'I think next we will go for hunting.' Saira Suggested.

Those were the days when hunting were a favourite game among the rich and famous. Providing protection to wildlife is only a recent development.

'What about Horse Race next?' Ayaaz tried to supersede Saira's suggestion.

'I think Saira is correct. You don't know how much time hunting game will take. After that if there is any time left, we can do horse race.' Suraj suggested.

'Do we have any time constraint?' Aditi asked.

'Usually there should not be any time constraint. But this time we are not sure.' Ayaaz confirmed, 'I suggest we make two teams and go in a different direction. The team which comes back first with proof of hunting wins.'

Kareem interfered, 'Let Suraj and Saira be in group one. Aditi and Ayaaz will be in group two.'

Aditi objected, 'Boys will take all the credit irrespective of whichever team wins the game. Let Saira and I stay in one team, and all the boys be in the other team.'

Saira looked at Ayaaz, then at Suraj and nodded in agreement.

Kareem suggested, 'I will not be part of any team. After all, we need a judge to determine the winner.'

Ayaaz agreed to this and suggested, 'We will leave you girls to be on your own, but you must agree to be accompanied by few armed guards. They will not help you in the game but will help in case of emergency.'

Both Aditi and Saira agreed.

Saira looked at Ayaaz and then Suraj, 'You were talking of time constraint, what is that?'

She was not living in the family of Ashfaq Khan. She and her mother were living with the family of her maternal uncle Iqbal Hussain in Allahabad, which was far away from the political discourse which happened in the family of Purujit Singh and Ashfaq Khan.

'We may be called for joining the war between father and son.' Ayaaz replied.

'There is war between father and son?' Saira was surprised.

'Yes, it is between the Emperor Akbar and the crown prince Saleem.' Suraj said.

'Is the crown prince fighting to snatch the empire from his own father?' Saira asked.

'The fight is not over the empire, it is over a girl whom prince wants to marry,' Aditi said.

Saira looked confused. Everyone other than her knew so much about what was going on. Those were the days only well-connected were getting the news. Ordinary people were getting the same after months.

'What is the problem in marrying a girl,' Saira asked.

'Prince Saleem wants to marry a slave girl Anarkali (pomegranate blossom). How will the emperor allow a slave girl to become a princess? She is from such a low class that even a poor man of the empire should not seek to marry her.' Aditi commented.

Saira was curious, 'How come a slave girl has got the name Anarkali (pomegranate blossom)?'

Kareem started narrating the story.

'Her real name is Nadeera. She is from Lahore of Punjab. She is a dancer by profession. Her ancestors were slaves, which are the reason some people call her a slave girl. The Emperor named her Anarkali (pomegranate blossom) because of her extraordinary beauty.'

'How did prince Saleem find her?' Aditi asked.

Kareem continued, 'Prince Saleem did not discover her. Saleem, born to Rajput queen Jodha Bai (Mariam-uz-Zamani) was a spoiled and rude boy. The Emperor wanted him to learn the discipline of military so that he would be capable to run the empire. So, he sent him to serve the army for about fourteen years. Finally, last year he allowed him to come back to his main palace in Lahore. The naughty and rude boy was transformed to a handsome and talented young man.

The Emperor wanted to celebrate his homecoming, and it was decided to hold an extraordinary mujra (dance performance) by Nadeera. Her dance performance was so astounding that it became popular among the nobles of Lahore. Her name was also changed by the Emperor to Anarkali (pomegranate blossom) after this mujra.

However, the satisfaction of the emperor for the change in crown prince Saleem was short lived. The beauty, dance and song of Anarkali engulfed him altogether. He started to see her regularly. This was not unexpected for rich and famous to visit kothis (buildings where dances were performed) to watch mujra. The visits became frequent. For a long time, it was not known to many that Saleem and Anarkali were in deep love. Everyone close to Saleem kept quiet so that the Emperor can't know about the affair.

One day Saleem himself informed to his father Akbar that he wanted to marry Anarkali and make her the future empress. His calculations were all wrong. The Emperor was not at all happy with this union as Anarkali, though utmost beautiful, was a dancer and a maid girl. Akbar is extremely conscious of the noble blood as his own mother Hamida Banu Begum was a commoner. He refused to accept this relationship and advised Saleem not to see Anarkali.'

'This must have ended everything. The Emperor is so powerful that he can do or undo anything,' Saira commented.

'No, my sister,' Kareem said, 'Kings and emperors rule over land, not over the hearts. Winning over a country is comparatively simple if you have the resources; i.e. soldiers, arms etc. It is not so easy to win over hearts. The Emperor could not win over his own son's heart, nor could the crown prince win his father's. The situation became serious when Akbar ordered the arrest of Anarkali and lodged her in a jail in Lahore.'

'So it was normal for Saleem to fight back as the son of a true Rajput mother,' Suraj seemed to be excited.

Ayaaz looked at Suraj, 'Calm down my friend. Don't forget we are all loyal soldiers of the Emperor Akbar. We are not supposed to revolt against him even in our dream.'

'And one day we will also be faithful soldiers of crown prince Saleem, when he inherits the throne. Where do we draw the line in such circumstances?' Suraj replied.

'Exactly, that is the difficulty our fathers are facing now in Lahore,' Kareem continued, 'Prince Saleem has revolted against his own father. He has got the support of lots of Mughal soldiers, which he has earned during his fourteen years of exile from the royal palace and spent in the Army. Our fathers are on the side of the Emperor.'

'Prince Saleem might have gotten support of tens of thousands of Mughal soldiers, no doubt. That is no match with millions well-trained soldiers of the Emperor.' Aditi said.

'That is a vast ocean of an army which can easily crush any strong enemy army I have ever heard of.' Saira was actively participating in the discussion, 'our fathers must be fighting the easiest war of their lives.'

'This is easy to say my sister,' Kareem had a warm look at their only sister who occasionally came to live with the brothers. 'In fact this is the most difficult battle in their life as they are not expected to inflict much damage to the dissenting soldiers or their leader, prince Saleem. The Emperor wants the crown prince be defeated, but without any harm to him, as he still wants him as his successor. He also does not want more casualties to Saleem's army as in the end that will come back into the folds of the Mughal army. Only few top officers may get punishment.'

'Probably this is the reason; the war is lingering on without any definite result.' Suraj concluded.

The head cook Ismail knocked the door to inform about the arrival of dinner. Ismail not only cooked mouth-watering Mughlai non-vegetarian food, he was also an expert in delicious Rajput vegetarian food, which he occasionally cooked for Rajput guests in Ashfaq Khan's Haveli.

Ayaaz said, 'No one knows what is going to happen tomorrow. We may fully enjoy either our holidays or enjoy the war. Let's enjoy the food tonight.'

They heard the sound of singing and dance outside their Haveli (mansion). The ambience in the tents was beyond description. Except few guards who were assigned responsibility to safeguard the tents against the wild beasts, all others were under the control of sharab (liquor). For them, the holiday started when the bosses retired at night till the next morning. Those times casualties in wars were comparatively much heavier than it is today. Those who were partially or totally disabled, the life became almost a hell till their death. In spite of all the adverse living conditions, these people lived their life every moment. They have plenty of lives, but only one death.

Full Moon went into hiding again as the morning sun of spring began its journey from below the mountain from the east side. The wintery sun began to be slowly warm. The hue and aroma of the spring flowers created such a lovely ambience all over the mountain as well as the forest that the extraordinary decorations of the Mughal palace or any other royal palace would be ashamed of.

The servants and guards were refilled with life after a pleasant night's sleep with a bellyful of aromatic delicious food, liquor and a heavy dose of dance. Everyone in the tents was still relaxed as there was no plan to go for any war. Another day for doing picnic! Some even planned for an outing in the forest in terms so that there would be always some guards ready to attend if there is any problem. Some experienced guards suggested not to do anything in a hurry, rather wait and see if Ayaaz and Suraj have jointly made any plans for the day.

Suddenly they saw Ayaaz, Suraj and Kareem came out of the mansion towards the open field. All the guards got the shock of their life when they saw two beautiful sword fighters were following them. They were wearing bukhtar (a coat made of a combination of interlocking metal rings and overlapping metal plates and worn as body armour). It was thick enough to shield against the arrows, lances and swords. The coats reached right up to knees and were decorated with gold bands. They were also wearing expensive arm braces and leg armour. The braces reached up to elbows and were lined with velvet. The swords they were holding were curved, instead of heavy straight swords with rounded ends, which were extremely popular. Two beauties were Saira and Aditi.

Ayaaz and Suraj both were seated underneath a large tree. Kareem was referee and was standing near both the girls. Morning sunlight was not that hot. The slow, cold breeze had stopped probably to watch the activities of the two beauties. All the soldiers and servants lined up around the ground to create a human fortress around them.

Kareem signalled the start of the competition. Saira and Aditi lifted their swords and touched each other's sword slowly. This was a way when two friendly rivals show respect to each other. Aditi moved backwards and promptly charged onto Saira. Her sword came with so much speed towards the neck of Saira that everyone probably thought the friendly fight would develop into bloodshed and death. Few servants became so nervous seeing this they raised an alarm. Suraj had to signal them with his hands to chill down. Saira was quick to raise her sword and stop Aditi's sword mid-air. She was playing defensive. For around fifteen minutes, it was Aditi who always attacked and Saira was just defending. Suraj looked at Ayaaz. He was the coach of Aditi. Still he was hoping that Saira would give a tough fight to his sister. Ayaaz understood what Suraj was thinking. He whispered, 'We have never trained Saira. She lives with her mother in Allahabad. Maybe her maternal uncle or someone else has trained her.'

Suddenly Saira changed her tactic. She started attacking Aditi. For the past fifteen minutes, she was barely showing any motive for being offensive, but was capable of repelling Aditi successfully. Aditi was now comparatively tired. Saira mounted the offence so fiercely that Aditi was not in a position to hold longer against her. Finally, when her sword fell from her hands, Kareem signalled the end of the competition. Suraj stood up and came to Saira. He stood in front of her and looked lovingly at her eyes and congratulated her on success. She felt shy and looked at the ground with a smile on her blushed face. A maid came quickly and removed her headgear, which she was wearing for the fight. Slow breeze was creating waves in her long dark hairs as she managed to arrange long silky strands of hairs on her face.

Aditi took some time to compose herself and came to her and congratulated, 'You are indeed a brave girl Saira. Please keep up the practice. This shall assist you at some point of your life.'

She smiled and nodded.

'Aditi, we are a noble and warrior family like yours,' Ayaaz assured, 'we can always take care of her safety even though she does not keep up the practice. Anyway, congrats to both of you for the brave fight. You both are my sisters.'

'Brother, no one can be sure what is there in future,' Kareem countered Ayaaz, 'anyone linked to the kings or Emperors have enemies by default. It is ideal for every woman to learn self-defence. Who knows what will happen if we are killed in some war.'

'Excellent job my child! Let God bless you. You shall need to utilise this skill sooner or later,' a monk suddenly came inside the human wall made by servants and guards. Before any guard realised and tried to stop him, he came straight to Saira, kept his left hand on her head and blessed her. Suraj immediately bowed and touched the feet of the monk with respect, so did Aditi. The monk looked into his eyes and said, 'You are a brave fighter. Be prepared for the fight of your life. Be prepared for the fight for your love.' Suraj was so much surprised that he remained dumbstruck. Holding a trishula (a trident or three spears) in one hand and a kamandalu (an oblong water pot made of dried pumpkin shell), the six feet tall, solid built man was standing apart from the rest. The aura around him was so strong and soothing, not a single soldier could take his hand to his weapon. The spotless saffron orange cloth was a perfect match to his fair skin, full white long hairs and beard. His glowing confident eyes were moving over Suraj and Saira as if none other existed in that place.

Saira looked in confusion. She was not quite aware how to greet a Hindu monk. She just imitated Aditi and tried to touch his feet. Monk touched her head and said, 'You are a brave and lucky girl. You are born for someone, and someone is born for you. Your life story will become famous in history.'

Saira didn't understand what he was saying. His voice was low but commanding. Slowly he moved out of the congregation and vanished in the thick forest where no path was going, before Ayaaz and Kareem could greet him. Entire congregation was almost mesmerised for some time.

'He must be a monk living in the caves near the temple on the hilltop,' said Ayaaz.

'Is there any temple nearby?' Suraj asked.

'Yes,' replied Kareem, 'there is a small temple, and there are some caves near the temple. There are few Hindu monks there.'

'So we can have a courtesy visit to them once our games are over,' Suraj suggested and looked at Aditi. She nodded in affirmation.

'I have seen all the monks who live in the caves near the temple sir; he is not one of them.' Ismail, the cook of Ashfaq's holiday home confirmed.

'He is right. He is living here since years,' said Ayaaz.

'He must be a Tantric Sadhu (holy man),' Kareem suggested, 'may be an Aghori monk, who lives in thick forest away from human habitat.'

Even in those times the word tantric brought fearful respect among ordinary people. Many believed tantric Sadhus had lots of spiritual power who can be utilised in positive or negative results. Some believed they had supernatural power. Aghori Sadhus were extremely rare in those days. They were not violent but were believed to consume human corpses when they can find it. Some believed consuming human corpse was a myth. They didn't intent to kill or hurt anyone. By inspiring fear in the mind of ordinary people, they kept them at bay and did austerities in private and indeed for a good reason. They tried to destroy all fear, hatred, fondness, greed, anger present inside the mind. The story of eating human corpse may, in fact, be a story intentionally floated around to install artificial fear and to help in making a successful psychological barrier.

[In Aghora, the adepts attain mastery over the components of the universe; i.e., Earth, water, fire, air and sky. They also understand the vital force of the life from the inside out and energies that are even more subtle. They become the students of Mahashakti (Mother Nature) and play with the universal laws like a small child plays with toys! They transmute elements as if it's a funny game. Ordinary men cannot understand their ways and are scared and disgusted by them. The Aghoris are shy and stay away from the world of ordinary men. They stay in remote mountain caves; dense tiger infested forests, cremation grounds and abandoned river banks. Verily they are a cult steeped in mystery. Very few monks dare to tread this path, for it is a closed tradition, and they guard their secrets well. Very few people of this world have met Aghori Yogis. Many know so little of them, except their mysterious power and horrendous lifestyle.

Acknowledged to have taken from the following:

 http://tribes.tribe.net/practicaltantra/thread/3eb6ddf2-dcda-4038-932e-568d099c7fdf

'Are you sure he is Aghori monk?' Suraj enquired with Kareem.

'No, I am not sure. In fact, what I have heard about Aghoris, he does not look like one from his appearance. Only feature resembling is that they live in dense forests, and you must have observed, he didn't go on in any road from here. In fact, he disappeared in the forest where no road exists.' Kareem opined.

'Why don't we send some soldiers on the way he has gone and call him back here? We can see for ourselves who he is.' Ayaaz suggested.

'Apologies sir,' Ismail suggested, 'I will suggest he be invited with respect. He should not feel offended by our act of searching him.'

'He is right Ayaaz,' suggested Suraj, 'I will accompany the soldiers. He must not have gone far away. We can get him.'

'What is the need of finding him? He has not committed any harm to anyone. Nor he has threatened to do so. Let him go on his way. We have shown proper respect to him whatever possible during the few moments he was with us. Also, he may not be an Aghori; maybe an ordinary holy man. We are unnecessarily panicking.' Aditi tried to influence the decision of Ayaaz.

'Aditi, I think we should find and invite him. I will not feel comfortable till we come to know that everything is normal,' Saira suggested.

'We should not waste time in arguing, sirs,' Ismail said, 'he can walk much faster in unpaved dense forest than anyone of us. We can't take advantage of horses in the dense forest. If you want to find him, the sooner we start is better.'

Ayaaz with half dozen soldiers started walking on the direction the monk was seen last. Kareem also followed him in case they need to make two groups.

Suraj stayed back to make arrangements for hospitality. Aditi and Saira went to the kitchen to start preparing vegetarian meal for the monk. The Rajput cooks, brought by Suraj in his team, were till now enjoying the Muslim hospitality. They immediately sprang into the action and started cooking authentic vegetarian food without even onion and garlic. A horse rider was sent immediately to the market down the hill to buy fresh fruits. Some servants went into the nearby forest, to pick fresh flowers.

There was massive arrangement during a short period of time. Flowers were brought. Saira and Aditi prepared garlands to receive the monk. Suraj could manage to get a tiger skin rug where he would be seated. A gold plated dinner plate was decorated with various sweet fresh fruits. The aroma of authentic vegetarian dishes prepared by Rajput cooks was indirectly challenging the charm of the Mughal cuisine. The regular cooks and servants of Ashfaq Khan's small castle were literally longing for the time when all these hospitality drama will be over, and they will get a chance to taste the mouth-watering dishes. What a lovely break from the spicy meat dishes!

Hours passed by. Few guards, who were practising to show guard of honour to the monk, started taking rest. The hot vegetarian dishes gradually became cold and stopped spreading their aroma. Noon soon paved the way for the afternoon; still there was no sign of Ayaaz and Kareem. Everyone was hungry, but still waiting for their guest of the day to arrive so that they could satiate their hunger. Consuming food before offering to holy guests was poor manners. Saira was equally hungry like Aditi after playing a real war like swordfight in the morning. But besides that she was also not terribly comfortable, or you can say she was a little bit afraid of the monk's prediction, which looked clearly on her face.

A maid came rushing to deliver the news, 'Ayaaz and Kareem both are back. They must be with the monk with them! Let's be prepared to receive him.'

Suraj, Aditi and Saira, started moving quickly towards the gate, with flowers in their hands. Ayaaz, Kareem and their team of soldiers were still at a distance. A guard came to break the news, 'I was climbing a tree to find out. They all are coming.'

'Did you see the monk also?' asked Suraj.

'I am not sure. I hope he must be accompanying them. How far he might have gone when we started looking for him?' replied the guard.

'It is not easy to follow an Aghori monk in a jungle, especially when he has gone in a direction where no road exists.' Suraj commented.

The team of Ayaaz and Kareem was seen at a distance. Everyone tried to have a glimpse of the monk. Finally, when both the brothers arrived at the gate of the little palace, it was clear that Sadhu was not coming with them.

Both Ayaaz and Kareem were looking visibly tired of the exhaustion in searching the monk in the jungle and also of hunger.

'Bad Luck,' said Ayaaz.

'Good Luck,' smiled Kareem.

'How?' Saira asked.

'The monk gave us blessings from far in my dream,' he replied still with the smiling face.

'How could you see a dream without sleeping?' Ayaaz asked, 'you always joke when everyone is serious.'

'He blessed us so that we can now enjoy the unique dishes prepared for him,' Kareem replied jovially, 'why everybody is serious? He has not cursed you people! Let's enjoy our holiday. If he is serious, he shall come again.'

Kareem was right. The cold but delicious Rajput dishes calmed down not only the hunger of both families but also the worry over the appearance and disappearance of the mystic monk.

The tension of the Aghori Sadhu was almost a thing of the past after a goodnight's sleep and emergence of another sunny spring morning. The plan for the hunting activity was still on. Cooks were working overnight to make some takeaway food which can be consumed in the jungle in case they do not come back in time. The cooks who were experienced in making such foods were in demand in those days when soldiers would go for war in difficult terrains for long periods at a stretch.

Kareem suggested a change in the team, 'Instead of boys and girls going together as was planned day before yesterday evening, can we change to the other plan; i.e. Suraj and Saira in one team Ayaaz and Aditi in the other. I think this arrangement will be best to deal with the monk in case you meet him somewhere in the jungle.'

Saira quickly agreed.

'In such circumstances there is no need for guards to accompany any team,' suggested Aditi.

'You are right my sister,' said Ayaaz.

The guards got an excellent opportunity for another picnic day without any stress. Some even wished in a low voice, 'Let the two families come for holidays here again and again, we can also enjoy some holidays on duty.'

Ayaaz rode his horse, so did Aditi. The servants had started decorating the horses even before dawn arrived. Horses were equipped with colourful stuffed cushion. A pair of stirrups were fitted to give the rider greater control while riding with weapons and also increased stability and flexibility while seated. Suraj and Saira also rode two different horses. There was a single unpaved road leading into deep jungle from which different roads at various intervals originated and led to various other parts of the forest.

It was decided they will go on the road all together and then part their ways on the way.

The jungle was inhabited by few tribal people at places. They spent most of their life in the jungle. They grew at small patches of land and also collected the majority of their necessities from the jungle itself. At times, they came to the outside world and travelled at best to the villages or markets on the outskirts of the jungle. Most of the tribal people had never seen anything outside the jungle. It was the movement of tribal people across the jungle which created many unpaved roads. They moved across the jungle for hunting animals, collecting forest grown fruits etc.

'If you find a path with fresh foot prints, be sure that tribal are living somewhere near.' Ayaaz told as he possessed better understanding of moving in the jungle, 'If the road seems to have not been used since long, we should avoid that route as it might be possible the tribal have probably forsaken that place and moved to another place.'

'Why do they abandon a place? Is it like abandoning a house to move to another?' asked Suraj. He was entering into a large forest for the first time in his life.

'Yes, they, in fact, abandon their houses and villages and make another village. Entire village is abandoned. Their houses are not made of stone and brick like ours. They use bamboo, straw and clay which are readily available in plenty.' Ayaaz told.

'Why do they move to places?' Saira enquired.

'It all depends on the movement of elephants, availability of food etc. If elephants come most frequently and destroy their crops, they tend to go to another part of the jungle which is less frequented by the heavy animals.' He replied.

'What if elephants start visiting their new villages?' Aditi was curious.

'This hide and seek game is a routine for the tribal people. Besides elephants, there are Cheetahs, Leopards, Sambar (a variety of large deer), Chital deer (spotted deer), Jackal, Nilgai (an antelope), Hyena, Fishing Cat, Jungle Cat, Wild Boar, Blackbuck (a species of deer) and several other animals are living in this jungle. Please avoid wild elephants. In order to recognise which route you travelled earlier, save some symbol while breaking into a new path like breaking a branch of a tree, digging a hole and putting some branch having colourful leaves or flowers. This way there will be little chance of being lost in the jungle.' Ayaaz tried to convince.

'Is there any other way?' Suraj asked, 'we can even ask some tribal man how to get out of the jungle?'

'Yes, you can ask them. But you do not know their language. You need to communicate with them by sign language.'

'Are they not violent? I hope they do not consume human flesh.' Saira asked.

'They are civilised, though not like us. They eat cooked food. And they live in thatched houses, where the roof is made of bamboo, straw and clay. They speak their own language but do not write. In fact, their language has no alphabets, they are just spoken languages. The irony is that there are several languages, and they speak different languages. Very few of them who sometimes come to see outside world know a little bit of our language. You are lucky if you find any one of them. They are both friendly and also extremely violent, depends upon what they perceive of you; i.e. Friend or foe.' Ayaaz explained.

'How will they know whether we are a friend or foe?' Aditi asked.

'We are carrying weapons, this is enough evidence that they will take us for enemies.' Saira opined.

'No my sisters, they are not that stupid. Those who do not understand outside languages, God have trained them to observe body languages extremely well. In fact, elders in their societies, teach this technique to juniors when they are trained to move alone in the jungle. They are taught to read body languages of not only human beings, but also that of the animals. They can know immediately if a Cheetah or Leopard is hiding somewhere at a distance.'

'Can they smell them from a distance?' Saira asked.

'No, they are just human beings. They might have better smelling power than us, but not like the wild animals. They are experts in studying the reaction of other animals who either can smell or otherwise can identify the existence of Cheetah, Leopard or other wild animals. Jungle is a place where only fittest can survive. This is almost the primary education or teaching elders impart on their children so that they can face life alone.'

'What other training they receive from their elders?' Kareem asked.

'They know to find a way back to their place. Many of us can never come back if lost in the jungle. Finding a way back home is a child's play for the tribal. Even their children know how to find their way back home from the dense forest. They know how to react if suddenly some dangerous animal comes across their way. They know how to survive in jungle fire. They can survive weeks without water as they know which leaf juice can hydrate the body in case water is not available. They can identify plants and roots which can cure them of snakebite and even from day to day ailments.'

'Why then we are calling them uncivilised?' Suraj commented, 'they are even more civilised than us. Only they do not wear fashionable clothes like us though they wear something.'

'One last thing, they are extremely protective of their women and children. The tribal women are practically semi-nude by our standards. They never take lightly if some stranger makes derogatory remarks. Do not ask how they interpret that the remark is derogatory when many do not understand our language. They understand from your body language.'

'Ayaaz has studied a lot about the jungle in order to practice jungle warfare,' Kareem commented.

'That is exceptionally talented Ayaaz,' Suraj told, 'we can arrange some sessions for our soldiers about jungle warfare as this year Emperor may ask our regiment for South India expedition.'

'Let our Parents come back from the war between father and son.' Kareem told.

Adventure hunting game started. Ayaaz and Aditi were in the first team in two different horses. They carried Bow and Arrow, daggers, sword and a swivel gun. The swivel gun was only for emergency. Suraj and Saira also followed suit with similar weapons and two horses. Besides both took with them water, food and some extra clothes.

Kareem stayed back with the guards.

Aditi watched how Saira rode her horse like an expert.

'I can assume you can do well in a horse race tomorrow Saira. I will be happily defeated from you.' Aditi said with lots of affection.

'This is not my horse Aditi. My horse is Aasifa which means storm. I could have guaranteed my triumph had Aasifa been with me.' Saira was proud of her horse, 'what is the name of your horse?'

'My horse name is Tohfa,' Aditi said, 'This was gifted to me by an Arab businessman. I have trained her to run as if Kali andhi (black storm) is coming. I hope to give you a tough fight as I am riding my own horse right now. Hope she will not be too tired after today's expedition.'

Both the teams slowly entered into the jungle.

'What is the name of your Horse, brother?' Saira asked Ayaaz.

Suraj replied instead of Ayaaz, 'we both change the horses so often that we are already short of names.'

The expedition seemed to be exceptionally pleasant and smooth. An unpaved winding path led them inside the jungle. They had to move together till the road was divided into at least two different roads. For some distance, it seemed as if the road was smooth and would probably remain the same all the distance they wanted to travel. The ambience created by the spring was so much prominent as if the nature was clearly biased towards the jungle than the cities and villages. Bunches of flowers created the scene of a large park no gardener could think of recreating even for the emperors and kings. Nature favours the nature more than manmade gardens. Few blackbucks crossed their path, but they couldn't hunt them till they go in different roads as per the rule fixed by them.

All four horses were walking lazily carrying two young men and two young women on their back. The riders were gossiping as if there was nothing to be in a hurry. The moment was more appropriate to enjoy the beauty of the jungle than irritate the nature by the blood of some of its creations in the name of hunting game. The game of a superior animal; i.e. Humans may be bloody and undesirable for the inferior animals who have feelings, emotions, but can't speak a human language.

The conversation again went around the name of horses.

'I am actually thinking seriously to give a name to my horse, but I have to decide to be with one horse rather than changing them every now and then. Actually giving the name to a horse helps in the wars as horses are also intelligent and emotional towards their owners. A little love and affection to them can sometimes make a difference between life and death in wars, and other emergencies.' Suraj said.

'Actually Suraj has already decided the name of the horse,' Ayaaz told, 'when I suggested otherwise.'

'Did you recommend not giving any name?' asked Aditi.

'No, I was against a specific name chosen by him,' Ayaaz said.

'What is that name?' Saira was curious.

'Chetak.'

'What is wrong in that?

'The name itself is not deficient on any account,' Ayaaz explained, 'but Chetak, the Marwari breed warhorse is said to have flying legs. It was so beautiful that poets have written poems and folk songs praising its beauty, valour. Chetak's coat had a blue tinge. That's why Rana Pratap is referred as the Rider of the Blue Horse. Chetak was well trained, highly intelligent and extremely loyal to the Rana.'

'I have heard about Chetak. Is he alive now?' asked Aditi.

'No, it is dead since long.' Ayaaz continued, 'Chetak was so intelligent and powerful that in the battle of Haldighat in 1576, it almost helped in defeating the vast army of the Emperor Akbar. Man Singh was the commander of the Mughal army. He was directing the battle sitting on an elephant. Pratap hacked his way through the ranks of enemy soldiers and reached the front of Man Singh's elephant. When he reached there, Chetak reared highly in the air and planted his hooves on the forehead of Man Singh's elephant. Rana threw his spear at Man Singh, who quickly lowered his head. The mahout (elephant driver) was killed instantly. The commotion that followed, Chetak got fatal wound in one of his legs. This was the turning point of the war. It was a bold gamble on the part Rana Pratap to siege the battle in his favour, but it failed. Man Singh was immediately taken into safety, and Pratap was surrounded by Mughal soldiers.'

'Did Chetak died their instantly?' Saira asked.

'No,' Ayaaz continued again, 'How can a faithful horse like Chetak can even think of dying before taking its master to safety? The poets of Rajasthan have praised him in their poems as a tribute to him that Chetak evaded the death god till its master reached safe place outside the war zone and then gracefully embraced the death god. Pratap was reluctant to leave the battle when one of his commanders, Jhala Sardar, snatched the Royal Insignia from him and wore himself, thus making him a target of the Mughal army. The Mughal army crushed Jhala Sardar thinking him to be Rana. Rana left the battle field with some loyal soldiers. Chetak was seriously exhausted, but carried his master nearly two miles when they came across a small stream. Chetak collapsed while trying to leap across the stream.'

'Chetak's saga will remain alive for centuries. He is undoubtedly a hero.' Saira commented.

'Don't even utter his praise. Rana Pratap is the greatest enemy of our Emperor Akbar. And we are loyal soldiers of the Mughal dynasty. We should never side with his enemies even in our dream.' Ayaaz advised.

'I don't think praising a loyal horse will make us disloyal to the Mughal dynasty. Even the Emperor himself has praised Chetak openly. His highness Akbar is no ordinary Emperor. He has a generous heart with which he has won so many Rajput like us who were one day arch enemy of the dynasty.' Suraj's voice seemed different now.

'After all you people have fought so many brave wars against the enemy of his highness and will fight many more in the future. No one should question your loyalty even in dream.' Saira commented.

'Being loyal and showing loyalty are two different things,' Ayaaz defended himself, 'and we are expected to be both. Even stones and trees have ears and eyes; i.e. Ears and eyes of the royal family. The irony is that every word and action reaches the royal circle with added colours, for all the wrong reasons.'

'Ok, I drop the idea of naming my horse Chetak,' Suraj laughed, 'please choose a name and let me know.'

'First get a dependable horse and then I will find a suitable name in no time.' Ayaaz replied.

'Finding a loyal horse is not difficult,' Aditi said, 'the problem is that my brother himself is not loyal to any horse.'

There was a momentous laugh.

'I know that.' Ayaaz said.

Half a dozen peacocks suddenly appeared from nowhere and began dancing in a small open area across the road displaying their iridescent blue-green coloured plumage. The field and the road were being divided by a small stream. Few peahens soon joined them.

The teams stopped for a bit and enjoyed the scene.

Aditi got off the horse and looked at the sky all around. It was a clear sky with remarkably few scattered white clouds. 'This is an indication of impending rain.' Aditi said.

'There is no sight of cloud anywhere. May be the peacocks are dancing to welcome us in the jungle. Most of the time they see only the dark skinned tribal wrapped with dull and dirty clothes. The sight of people with fair skin and colourful clothes is equally fascinating to them just like their coloured plumage to us.' Suraj was still enjoying the peacock dance. After all, it was not a serious expedition. They were there just to enjoy their holiday.

'I have never seen peacocks dancing without rain. Maybe I am wrong. But we should be doubly sure that rain is not coming.' Ayaaz said.

'There is no sight of any rain you see,' said Suraj.

'Our vision is blocked by mountains on the west and north face. There is a valley on the other side,' Ayaaz was keenly looking at all sides. His eyes were moving around to get the slightest glimpse of the raining clouds. 'We should not take raining lightly when we are in the jungle.' He announced.

'This is not the rainy season,' said Aditi, 'even if the rain comes it will be minimal. We can take shelter under some huge tree.'

'What havoc days' long heavy rain can't do in a plain area, a mild hour-long rain can do much more damage in a jungle full of hills if you don't know how to handle.' Ayaaz had been trained by his father Ashfaq in Jungle warfare. The training had not been done in Ghana but in some of the smaller jungles along the Ganges. Ghana was a vast jungle having small and towering mountains scattered in it.

'The nearly dead fountains you probably could not notice on the way so far can become roaring little rivers. As most of them are extremely narrow and also meanders often, the current is usually so high that the strongest swimmer can't face it. Swimming in flooded Ganga or Yamuna is relatively easy. Sometimes there are small or large falls on its way where there are steep changes in the ground level. It is common in a hilly area like this. Actually the place we are standing now is also part of some unnamed river.' Ayaaz concluded.

Suraj, Aditi, and Saira observed now. The way they were travelling has slanted downwards and then again up after around ten meters. 'Look to both and left and right side you can see this is part of the bed of a small river. You can still see water at some places where stream is concave towards the ground.' Ayaaz's observation was surprisingly strong.

'What is the name of this river?' Saira was now curious. Never in her life has she come inside such a large jungle. At best she had seen the small jungles near Ganga river where most of the cases you know where the jungle finishes. In fact if you move from one city to another, you may go through many such small jungles. They were no different from the plain surfaces. Only they had more trees, and sometimes there were wild animals inside them.

'I don't know,' replied Ayaaz, 'mostly it does not have a name. Sometimes tribal name the rivers so that they can distinguish between different rivers in their conversations. Outsiders do not bother as they hardly come here. In fact, there are hundreds such small and medium sized rivers.'

'They must be joining some large rivers!' said Suraj.

'Yes, I think they might have joined rivers like Ban Ganga, Chamravati or Rooparel. I am not particularly much sure. Those rivers have joined Yamuna. Sometimes they also merge with water reserves.'

'Before proceeding further, please know few more facts about these rivers,' continued Ayaaz, 'if it rains for about an hour, be sure these rivers will sprung into life. This is because rains falling on the hills are drained into these rivers and the amount of water is substantial to flood the small rivers. If your path crosses through any river like the place you are standing now, look at both sides. Sometimes water comes so suddenly that both you and your horse can be washed away. Some places current seems to be low, and the water may be only knee deep, but be careful as midway the water level can significantly increase. If there is an urgent need to cross any small but live stream, the best way is to get some tree whose roots will be on one side and branches might be extending to the other side. It is not difficult to find such tree. By the way, who does not know to climb a tree?'

'I know that you can handle. You are a trained fighter, and this is part of the training. I mean ---

'I know.' Aditi teased Suraj, 'I can climb to the top of the trees where my brother can't climb.'

'It is because you are much lighter than me,' Suraj reverted, 'there are usually thin branches towards the top of the trees which will break with my weight. You are much lighter than me. In fact, there will be no need to climb to the top of a tree, midway is enough.'

'It is necessary,' Aditi tried to pull Suraj's leg again, 'what if a Cheetah attacks. I will be on the top of the tree, and you are in the middle. So you will be the first target.'

'Yes, Cheetah will choose first to eat Suraj,' Ayaaz intervened, 'not because he is easily accessible. Cheetah is smart enough to decide where he will get enough meat. Aditi, you are slim. Why Cheetah will put so much effort when he knows killing you means he will get only bones and hardly any flesh.'

Aditi laughed, 'In that case your life is also in danger. You will be a strong attraction to Cheetah. We both girls are safe because we both are slim.' She looked at Saira.

'I can't climb the tree.' Saira said.

'No worries,' Suraj consoled, 'Ayaaz is warning only if there is an emergency. You should take only one precaution; be as close to me as possible. I will take care of everything.'

'This is the word of a Rajput warrior,' Ayaaz was all praise to Suraj, 'you need not worry when Suraj is with you.'

Suraj smiled, 'I am not an expert, but can manage if required.'

'I am also a Rajput girl.' Saira tried to show her self confidence.

'Yes Suraj do not forget. We are also Rajput.' Ayaaz smiled at Suraj and then at Saira.

It was about 10 am. The winter sun was exceptionally pleasant. The meandering path has now moved upwards for few kilometres. One can easily see a narrow canal coming all the way from the top of the mountain along the road. After travelling few hundred meters, they came across a small narrow but live stream which had descended from the mountain along with the zigzag road. There was a bridge to cross the river. The river was about fifty meters wide, so was the bridge. The river had changed level at almost every three hundred to five hundred meters. At every change of level, the river became a thundering waterfall. The combined sound of all the waterfalls together was so high that it was almost difficult to speak in a normal voice. The water was clear like glass. You can see the bottom of the river. The river bed consisted of sand and white gravels. Occasionally you can see fishes of different colours swimming.

Both the teams stopped for a while.

'We need to move quickly,' suggested Suraj, 'otherwise forget about finishing the hunting game before evening comes. We have not even started.'

'I think we do not have so much time limitations,' Aditi commented, 'you are talking as if we will finish all the game today and tomorrow you will go to war.'

'I recommend for taking some rest here. We can have some refreshments here. The horses can also drink some water,' Saira suggested, 'also we should explore this place. The bridge does not seem to be natural. It is clearly man made. We can explore the area.'

'You are right Saira,' Ayaaz consented to the suggestion, 'when you are in a large jungle and you are not sure where you get to the next place you get water, it is wise to let your horses drink enough before moving forward. After all, none of us is acquainted with this jungle.'

'What about exploring this area?' Aditi asked.

'We are anyway exploring the whole jungle through our game plan.' Ayaaz suggested.

'She is talking about this bridge,' Saira explained, 'this bridge is manmade. If no civilised person had come here before, then how this bridge was constructed? I can never think tribal people can build this well planned bridge made of stone.'

'I have never told that any civilised person has not come here before. Even though the jungle is tremendously large, the outskirts of the jungle are surrounded by cities and villages. Maybe some king might have constructed this in the past. There is nothing appealing in this.' Ayaaz commented.

'There is something amusing in this.' Suraj was seen removing some creepers at some distance and keenly looking at something as if he suddenly found some hidden treasure, 'I can see floor of some demolished building here and in this corner,' he pointed at a direction, 'there is a cracked wall covered with creepers having inscriptions on it.'

Saira ran towards Suraj and looked at the structure. She seemed to be more interested in exploring the ancient structure than the hunting game.

'Wait Saira, wait. You can't let the horse roam freely like this. What if they escape to the jungle?' Ayaaz warned.

'Aasifa will never forsake me brother!' Saira said confidently.

'Your Aasifa is in Allahabad Saira,' Aditi reminded.

'Oh Yes, I forgot!' Saira came back to tie the horse to a tree.

'See how trustworthy is Suraj's horse, already moving slowly away pretending to graze the grass.' Ayaaz pointed at Suraj's horse as he was busy tying his horse to a tree.

Suraj ran to bring the horse back. All the horses were tied to different trees with long enough ropes so that they get enough space under them to graze and none is tangled with one another.

Everyone including Ayaaz gathered to see Suraj's discovery.

Ayaaz tried to clear some of the creepers with his sword and moved about hundred meters to one side, 'I think the constructed area is pretty sturdy. I have moved so far and still don't see the end of the floor.'

'Maybe this was the base of a small hill and stones have been cut and taken away to be used outside the jungle.' Aditi commented.

'No,' Saira seemed confident, 'I don't think so.'

'Saira is right,' Suraj was standing in a corner and trying to clean some creeper from part of a seemingly broken wall, 'I can see some writing on this broken wall.'

'Writing!' Ayaaz turned back and came to Suraj to look at the inscription on the wall. Aditi and Saira also came.

'What is written?' Ayaaz asked.

'I don't know,' Suraj said, 'seem to be alphabets of some old and forgotten language. I have never seen these alphabets before.'

Ayaaz looked at the illegible inscription. He didn't look interested, 'Some meaningless writings. We have taken enough rest. I think we should move now; otherwise we can't complete our game today.'

'Shouldn't we wait and watch the weather before moving further into the jungle, Saira pleaded, 'We have just seen how the peacocks were dancing signalling rain developing.'

'But we couldn't find any cloud anywhere, maybe they are confused!' Ayaaz joked.

'Or maybe they were just entertaining us!' Suraj added a line to Ayaaz's joke.

'Sorry Saira,' Suraj continued, 'you are right. We don't have enough preparation for facing rain. Actually none other than Ayaaz knew what does rainfall means when you are deep inside a large jungle having several small and gigantic hills, hundreds of suddenly appearing furious small rivers. I suggest we wait some time and observe if the rain is actually developing. We can go back and again come tomorrow with all preparations.'

Saira was visibly delighted, 'We can still go ahead with our plan if we don't see any sign of rain within an hour,' she looked at her brother Ayaaz, 'meantime we can spend some time exploring this ancient structure.'

Ayaaz smiled and nodded in agreement.

Saira looked much relieved and immediately joined Suraj in exploring the structure. She was not feeling shy to be close with him anymore. She had seen how Aditi, the young and beautiful girl was treating her brothers; i.e. Ayaaz and Kareem as her own brother. It was true they had met several times before because of the proximity of the two families both professionally and socially. She had never gotten the chance before to be intimate with Purujit's family. Maybe after these holidays are over, she would again go back to her maternal uncle's house in Allahabad. This was not first time in her life she was interacting with males outside her family. Both her Maternal Uncle Iqbal Hussain and mother Nadirah were modern in the contemporary society. Iqbal Hussain, a landlord in Allahabad, had allowed and even facilitated military training for Saira. She had been trained in Horse riding, sword fighting and even using a bow and arrow by different experts available in Allahabad. For Saira, it was fun. For Iqbal Hussain, it was a tremendous foresight.
Chapter 2

Nadirah, The First Woman

Fighter of Mughal Era

Iqbal knew women were the worst sufferers when there was a war. The victor not only captured the land of the conquered. The senior officials sometimes started hunting beautiful women; i.e. both married and unmarried for their perverted lust. Even junior soldiers did not renounce the chance. They also casted their evil sight on the women who were spared by their seniors. Most women surrendered and spent the rest of their young life as mistresses. Once their youth was over, they did not get any support from their captors' and ended up in begging. Some committed suicide. It is probably an escapist attitude and not the solution. Some women escaped from the captor and tried to go back to their families. That was another sad part of the story. Many families disowned these women for fear of social out casting.

This happened not only when there was a war. Some of the provinces were not proficient in maintaining law and order. The Emperor had appointed Subedars (Governors) to regulate and control Subas or provinces. The performance of the Subadars was judged from how much tax they collected and deposited in Royal exchequer and how faithfully and efficiently they could keep the enemies away. Maintaining law and order was of secondary importance. Sometimes the family members of these Subadars and those of their top officials misused their power to satisfy their carnal desire and women were not safe in those provinces.

Saira's mother Nadirah was not only exceptionally beautiful when she was young but was also an accomplished singer. Those days' women from respected families were not allowed to perform before audiences. Iqbal facilitated her to sing before selected audience. She was not singing for money. She had never been to sing in Mujra (dance performance by courtesans during Mughal period in particular houses called kothas). Mujra was popular in Mughal period. It was involved dancing and singing by women, mostly Muslims. Women who were performing in Mujra were considered a separate segment of society. Women and girls from the noble families rarely pursued Mujra as a career. This was like one way street. Sometimes patrons from noble families were falling in love with women performing mujra. Thus, it was an opportunity for them to be part of noble families. It was not that easy. Sometimes hostility from elders of noble families could be tough. This could be clearly seen how Emperor Akbar was fighting with his own son prince Saleem over his marriage proposal with Anarkali, the famous dance girl.

Iqbal took his sister to some selected gatherings where the traditional Mujra performers were not invited. Nadirah's voice was mesmerizing. Her name was spreading in the noble circle as an undercurrent as Iqbal was extremely picky about the audience for his sister's performance. He was avoiding the congregation when any rouge element was seen in the audience.

Ashfaq few times got the chance to be in such selected audience, and it was no surprise Nadirah's singing talent overpowered him. He became a diehard fan of hers and visited Allahabad regularly to get a glimpse of her. One day he approached Iqbal asking for her hand. His personality and position in Emperor's army impressed Iqbal and Nadirah became Ashfaq's second wife.

Few years were passed by quietly. Nadirah was still practising singing without any outside audience in Bharatpur (previously known as Lohagarh). Ashfaq didn't let her to appear before public in his hometown. But she was still performing when she was coming to Allahabad.

Nadirah's reputation about her talent and beauty reached Niyaz, the younger brother of Wasim, the Subadar (Governor) of Allahabad. By the time he planned to be part of the selected audience, Nadirah was already married to Ashfaq and shifted to Lohagarh. Niyaz was disappointed, but there were lots of Mujra in the city where he might have spent his otherwise idle time and easy money. He had never seen Nadirah. He had never heard her songs. He just created a mental image of her which was much more attractive than her real beauty. His coterie periodically added fuel to his curiosity about Nadirah. None of them had actually seen her or heard her singing. They just gathered information about her reputation from various sources, added spices and cooked entertaining stories about her to deliver to their mentor Niyaz, the second most powerful individual in Allahabad. Together they attend the Mujra and then start drinking. The most preferred topic was to compare the performance in the Mujra with that of Nadirah. The real fact was that Nadirah was not a dancer. Drinking continues till late night and then alcohol starts drinking Niyaz and his friends. Then imaginary Nadirah starts dancing before them uninterrupted till the group becomes almost senseless and then she disappears.

Nadirah was back in Allahabad for few months when her daughter was two years old. Iqbal's best friends were her fans when she was performing before her marriage. Few of them approached him if Nadirah can play again for them. She was exited. Iqbal planned a gathering and only extremely close friends and relatives were invited. She did practice almost for a month. She wrote few new songs when she was in Lohagarh and sang them to Ashfaq and his first wife Naureen. Ashfaq liked her songs but never encouraged her to sing in public. Probably he thought his family's reputation would have been degraded as people might identify her with women who appeared in Mujra. Few times he allowed Nadirah to sing in the immediate family gatherings only.

The day came for the performance. Iqbal's friend Rafiq owned a large bungalow in the city. It was a summer evening. He made extensive arrangements for the melody evening. His yard was decorated with shamiana (decorative tent for outdoor functions). A small stage was prepared for Nadirah and her team. The band consisted of Iqbal and his friends who played musical instruments. Iqbal played Dholak (a small barrel shaped drum). Besides dholak, there were only Sitar and Flute. The instruments couldn't be compared with prominent Mujra groups where usually able singers, dancers and instrument players performed. This was essentially an amateur performance.

The evening started. Guests were mostly family members of the close friends. Performance continued. The full moon from the sky also joined to provide vibrant ambience with participation of different forms of white clouds.

Midway of the performance, a man came and told something in the ears of Rafiq. He was none other than his trusted servant Akhtar, a man in his late fifties. He has almost worked his entire life for Rafiq. Once he started with Rafiq as a field hand when he was in his early twenties. After few years, he almost became his family member and gradually won his confidence. He became the manager of the entire operation of Rafiq, so it would be wrong to call him as a servant. Rather he should be addressed as Rafiq's Deputy.

Rafiq's glowing face suddenly changed tone as if a dark cloud covered the clear blue sky. He couldn't give any response to the man, just blankly looked at him. He looked at Iqbal who was busy playing Dholak to the theme of his sister's melodious song. The show was almost moving towards its climax, and the crowd was totally in a new world of music. No one was paying any attention to what was happening.

After some time, Rafiq realised that he was not in a position to take any decision. He slowly got up, left the yard and moved towards the front door of his bungalow. There was large horse carriage with four horses pulling it was standing at a little distance. The carriage moved slowly and stopped in front of him. The coach was large but was not decorated as expected by Rafiq. He was expecting a magnificent horse carriage with a vibrant canopy and bright coloured seats. Rather, the car which came, was covered from all sides. The body and doors were so horrible that had it not been a full moon night it would have been trying to see that a horse carriage was standing on the road.

A long Afghan looking man with a short beard got off the carriage. He was wearing a Pathan style turban and off white Salwar Kameez. His looked at Rafiq but didn't show any reaction as if he lacked any sort of emotion. He was wearing a sword and a dagger tied to his waistband. He coolly went to a side and stood silently facing the coach. Rafiq couldn't decide whether to greet him. He tried to greet him with mixed reaction of fear, nervousness, surprise but fake smile. But when he saw that the man was not showing any reaction, he also remained silent.

The following person who got off was of medium height, dark complexion, but solid built. He was also in similar clothes like the first one, but there was no turban. His waistband was holding a sword and a swivel gun. He must have been superior to the first one as he held the swivel gun, normally allowed to only senior military personnel. He didn't look at Rafiq. So Rafiq also couldn't get the chance to meet him. He stood at a little distance from the Afghan looking man facing towards the carriage. He took out the swivel gun from the waistband and kept in ready position.

Three more men got off the car. Rafiq was nervously observing them. All three possessed some weapons with them. They all stood by his side facing the coach. Finally, a young and fierce looking man dressed as a Nawab got off. Rafiq couldn't immediately recognise the person but correctly guessed that this guy needed proper greeting. He slowly moved towards him, stood at a safe distance and bowed down. His lips were moving indicating that he was saying something, but no sound was coming out. His worst nightmare came true when he was addressed by one of his men. It was Niyaz, the most dreaded being in Allahabad. He desperately hoped that Niyaz had no news about the cultural show going on in his Courtyard. He was wrong. The song and the instruments were faintly audible from the street.

Niyaz kept his left hand on the right shoulder of Rafiq and gently squeezed. Rafiq felt as if his shoulder bones were going to break. He tried to remain calm and not reveal his anguish.

'Hello Rafiq Mian!' Niyaz said sarcastically, 'will you drink all the delicious sura (liquor) and eat all the juicy meat? Shouldn't you pass on something to this poor fellow?'

Rafiq was not prepared as to what to answer, 'I do not drink sir. In fact, no one here is drinking.'

'Do not pretend to be innocent,' Niyaz laughed, 'what is going on here if you are not drinking?'

Rafiq now could see his gesture, 'There is nothing unusual sir, just a family get together.'

'Have you become so rich that you can hire the best singer of Allahabad?' Niyaz continued with his trademark sarcastic smile, 'do you know, even Nawabs and Sultans are longing to hear such beautiful melodic songs.'

Rafiq was now convinced that things are getting out of hand, 'She is not a famous singer sir, and she is my best friend's sister. She does not make public performance.'

'I think you didn't recognise me. I am not anyone from the public!'

'Sorry sir! I didn't mean that. I meant she sings only in front of her family and relatives. She is not at all a famous singer.' Rafiq vainly tried to undermine Nadirah's ability.

'Don't worry Rafiq Mian; I will make her famous if she is not so far! And I will soon become a family member if not until now! Also, I think it is not wise to break into your courtyard like a trespasser. Shouldn't you invite me?'

Rafiq didn't find any other way, and before he formally invited Niyaz, he was in the courtyard among the audiences. All the bodyguards remained outside.

Iqbal was so much involved in the program, even though he saw Niyaz, he didn't realise what was going on. Nadirah was grown in a secure environment throughout her life. She was never aware of a world outside the caring and warm environment provided by her brother Iqbal, brother like Rafiq and lately her warrior husband; i.e. Ashfaq. She thought some acquaintance of Rafiq joined the congregation.

After a while, the program was over. Most of the audience went away. Only the family members of Rafiq and Iqbal remained. Niyaz by that time could arrange the data that Iqbal was Nadirah's brother. He didn't waste more time, 'Congratulations Iqbal, your sister is obviously a talented singer.'

Iqbal responded with a warm smile. He had got used to such congratulations. Nadirah also looked at the floor and smiled. Usually men folk who were not particularly close to the family salute the man in the family instead of congratulating woman. This was a way of maintaining a respectful distance from the opposite sex. Niyaz was not that civilised. He reached the next step, 'Have you planned for the future of your beautiful sister?'

'She is not a professional singer sir,' Iqbal said nervously politely as Nadirah looked curious, 'she sometimes sings only for the family or relatives. Her husband is a senior officer in the army of the Emperor.'

There was no effect on Niyaz, 'You can be rich and famous by offering her hand in a royal family.'

Iqbal now got the hints. Nadirah was packing her instruments. She got so much shock that she quickly slipped out and went inside leaving the instruments there. Niyaz's vulgar eyes followed her every move till she vanished as Iqbal looked nervously at Rafiq. Rafiq looked down without any answer. He thought for a while and said, 'I would love to make the relationship in a royal family, but my daughter is only six years old. Let she be of marriageable age.'

'I am not referring to your six year old daughter,' Niyaz's voice became abusive, 'I am talking of this woman; your sister Nadirah.' He was prepared with all the facts about her.

Iqbal never felt so much unsafe before. The law and order situation during Emperor Akbar's administration was one of the best in ancient India. An emperor can't enforce all the laws himself. He was delegating them to local Governors; i.e. Subadars. What will happen if the Governor's own brother breaks the law? If justice is impartial, Niyaz wouldn't have roamed freely. He should have been behind bars or beheaded. Iqbal felt confused, 'She is already married sir. She has a baby girl also. His highness can get a more attractive single girl as wife. Any single pretty girl in Allahabad will love to be your wife sir.'

'I know,' though Niyaz was already having more than one wife, 'but I have fallen in love with your sister Nadirah. Ask her to divorce her husband and marry me.'

'She is a devoted wife to her husband....' Niyaz snatched the words before Iqbal completed, 'Ashfaq. I know. If I want, I can direct him to serve the Governor of Allahabad. He will have to move from Agra. He will give talaq (divorce) and send her to my harem.'

Rafiq's wife came out to notify that dinner is ready. Rafiq politely requested Niyaz to join them for a dinner. Iqbal also joined him to invite. The smell of fresh cooked Mughlai dishes was too tempting to make anyone hungry. Both Iqbal and Rafiq were miles away from the temptation because of their fear. Niyaz, on the other hand, was planning something more gratifying than enjoying the food. Niyaz stood up and started walking out without accepting the dinner invitation.

Nadirah was listening to the conversations from inside and was trembling in fear. She requested her brother to bring her back home immediately to her daughter and send her to Agra as soon as possible preferably next day. Agra is in a different province, and Niyaz had no jurisdiction there.

Rafiq was of different view, 'Sister, if you go to Agra now, maybe you will be safe. But your brother and his family will be at Niyaz's mercy forever. He can't force a marriage upon you, I bet. Islam does not accept any woman to be forced into a marriage against her wishes and I am sure he knows that.'

Iqbal and Nadirah sighed in relief as now they were convinced he would try different methods but never use force to get her. That night, both decided to go back, even though Rafiq advised otherwise.

Iqbal should have paid attention to Rafiq's advice and stayed back. Niyaz was awaiting him on the road with his gang and successfully abducted Nadirah without any physical resistance. All Iqbal could do was to appeal Niyaz himself knowing extremely well that the appeal has no effect. Any physical opposition from his side would have cost him his life, and it was futile as he had neither weapons nor manpower to stand against the mighty gang of Niyaz. He didn't know how he would face the little Saira without bringing her mother back home or how he would face Ashfaq. He felt like committing suicide. Suicide was not the answer. The tiniest creature of the world also resists if attacked. Can't Iqbal get the justice against this heinous crime! Afterall, he was a citizen of the legendary Emperor Akbar.

Rafiq came to know only in the morning. He had not slept probably thinking how Iqbal and Nadirah might have reached home. He was extremely surprised when he got the news of the abduction. He remembered the Sanskrit verse which means a person who stands by you in joy, sorrow, pain even in death bed is a true friend. He didn't spend time to go to Iqbal's house and plan for the next movement.

Iqbal was actually not in a position to fight back. He couldn't sleep in the previous night when Nadirah was abducted. Sleeplessness, nervousness, and fear all took the toll on him, and he slipped into depression and self-pity. But it was brief. Rafiq reminded him of his brave Afghan father who had died as a hero in the battle with the enemy of the Emperor. He also reminded him about his birth from a Rajput mother, who would prefer him to fight and die rather than hide. Iqbal became normal.

Both planned to approach Wasim Khan, Subadar of Allahabad and older brother of Niyaz. The office of the Subadar was not far away. It was just the stones throw away from the Mughal Fort, one of Emperor Akbar's darling. Once you reach this part of the city, it seems as if you have come to another part of the world. Beautiful wide roads were surrounded by vibrant buildings of Allahabad's rich and famous. Most of them were owned by senior servants of the Mughal administration. Besides a number of buildings were owned by wealthy businessmen; i.e. Interstate traders, arms factory owners who supplied arms to the empire, shipping merchants who have ships engaged in export and imports ferrying through river Ganga to other cities. So many horse carriages were running on the roads that sometimes it was difficult to cross the road. The markets of this part of the city were fascinating. Shops have garments imported from Persia, Iran, Afghanistan and even Portugal.

Iqbal or Rafiq were not unknown in this area. Iqbal has come here before few times. He had done shopping with Nadirah when he brought her for buying her wedding garments just before her marriage with Ashfaq. He came around again after her daughter Saira was born and bought clothes and other fashion items for her new born baby. He even bought so many things for Nadirah and her souten (co-wife) Naureen. The market seemed so busy then. But today it was different. May be this was not a festive season, so the market was sluggish. Iqbal didn't realise that he was depressed. He spent hours in just gazing different shops and the customers, especially beautiful young women customers with stylish dresses. He has dreamt if his only sister can also marry some rich and famous person in this posh area and will get around in this market one day. That dream was of course before her marriage to Ashfaq. Today probably she has been kept in some of these palatial houses by the second most famous person of Allahabad. This is called irony of life.

Finally, both reached the office of the Subadar. The entry of ordinary men to his office was severely restricted. Rafiq asked Iqbal to sit down and have some rest while he went around finding out if some known person is available who would make their appointment with Subadar Wasim Khan. A Subadar in large Mughal Empire was equal to a powerful king. He could use all the powers of a king and also could lead an army. The only difference was he was appointed by the Emperor. Unlike a dynasty, the power was not inherited by their offspring. He found a lower ranking officer who couldn't facilitate their appointment but could just tell them that Wasim Khan has gone to an official visit of the area and might be back after few days.

Iqbal was disappointed. He didn't want Nadirah to spend one more night in the custody of Niyaz. The longer it takes to arrange her return; the remote would be her chance of the survival of her marriage. He couldn't accept his sister to live with Niyaz. Had she not been already married, probably he could have digested a relationship with him, but not at this stage. Rafiq understood his predicament. He was almost in his shoes and understood the mental condition of a brother's love for his one and only sister. But he remained calm. 'Impatience is not the solution of any problem,' Rafiq explained Iqbal, 'she has already spent one night with her abductor. Nothing more damage can happen to her.'

'Do you suggest we should go back and come after few days?' Iqbal questioned.

'No, never, we can't sit quietly now. At least, we can try to find out where he has kept her.'

'He is a well known person. Let's ask someone where the bungalow of Niyaz is.' Iqbal suggested.

'You should never utter his name so openly Iqbal,' Rafiq advised, 'he will soon see the wind and that will not be beneficial to us you know.'

'How can we know his house without asking anyone?'

'Do you think a rich man like him will have only one mansion?' Rafiq said 'he must have few houses in Allahabad. It is sure he will not take her to the usual place where he lives with his wife, probably wives. He knows that the woman he has abducted is not a street girl, but from a respected family. He also knows that her family or at least her in-laws can reach higher ups.'

Iqbal was somehow satisfied with this answer. His sense of being powerless took a positive turn, and his composure got a little boost.

'We should not identify ourselves on the lookout of your sister,' Rafiq continued, 'rather we should look as we have come here for shopping or something different.'

'Should we go to the market and buy few things we even do not need to show that we are just shoppers?' Iqbal asked.

'No, we can pretend that we are traders. Then we can go to some big businessmen with a business proposal. This will be a pretence to move around in the city. If we are lucky, we may also find out her whereabouts.'

'Do you think she will be somewhere in the market, and we will see her?'

'No, but let's hope she has been kept in some of these bungalows.' Rafiq suggested.

Iqbal again became emotional and started looking at the castle like bungalows. He imagined that Nadirah was looking out of some window. He saw few women actually protruding their heads out of their windows or balconies and looking at the street. None of them remotely looked like his sister. None of them seemed to be crying also. Both started walking around the markets, bargaining items they actually didn't want to buy and simultaneously vaguely looking at the people especially women who were also out for shopping. It was not that easy to find out a woman on the busy streets and markets of a big city like Allahabad. They spent hours without any progress. They didn't even get a single familiar face among the crowd as if they were some strange, that too in a city where they lived on the other side of the posh area.

Hours passed by. Sun rose to the middle of the sky. Sunlight became stronger and started pinching when they were in the open. Tiredness and less sleep in last night engulfed both friends and led to helplessness. Suddenly Iqbal saw, at a distance, a man and woman got off from a magnificent horse carriage. He could see their back side only. The woman was wearing almost similar outfit as Nadirah was wearing that fateful night. She was crying, and the man was holding her hand while both were entering the gate of a bungalow. He immediately started walking towards them. He knew even if he found his sister there he couldn't grab her from her abductor. Rafiq didn't exactly realise why his friend immediately started going towards them, but he also followed him without uttering a word. He didn't want to convey to the people what they were doing in this part of this city. When Iqbal came closer, his vision became clear, and he realised that the weeping woman was not his sister. Rafiq didn't want to be noticed, but the duo felt these people were observing them and turning back towards them. The woman was still weeping. Iqbal was disappointed but realised that he was being noticed by them. He continued moving on the footpath, pretending he was just casually going towards that direction. He crossed them without looking at them and continued walking. Both again turned towards him. Iqbal then realised that the road has come to a dead end, so had to go back and face them. The weeping woman by now became curious about his strange manners and probably forgot that she was weeping. All four of them came face to face. Rafiq's eyes met the eyes of the man, and both recognised each other.

Iqbal and Rafiq got a shoulder to cry on. The shoulder belonged to one of the rich and famous of Allahabad's finest quarter, Govind Chandra. The tired two at least got invited to take rest in Govind's palatial residence. Both were hungry, dehydrated and exhausted. Govind came to them as a Godsend. Rather both the friends were guided by God to his place. Initially it seemed bit tricky to both of them as they are coming to get help of a person when his family was going through some sad phase as the lady of the family was seen crying sometime before.

'I think we came at an odd occasion when probably you are not happy,' Rafiq said.

'Not at all, we are perfectly alright,' said Govind.

'Then,' Rafiq thought how to continue.

Govind smiled. A calm and satisfied smile naturally, 'Oh! That is nothing,' he could see the indication, 'we just sent our only daughter to Varanasi, to her in-laws place. She boarded the ship. Her tears are perfectly normal; a mother's tear of love.'

Govind was a wealthy merchant of Allahabad. His business was mainly in the river Ganga, transporting passengers and cargo across cities on the banks of Ganga and Yamuna- two famous rivers. Ganga has waters all-round the year thanks to the ice melting into the water in Gangotri of Himalayas. Rafiq had business relations with him for a long time in the past. They were never particularly close friends, just friends. They never realised when a gap was created in the course of time when there was no business transaction between them. Both have never communicated in last few years. Luck or one can say bad-luck has brought them together.

Govind was not surprised to hear the case of Nadirah. He listened to every detail patiently when his wife Renuka recharged both the exhausted friends with her genuine warmth. Iqbal felt satisfied though he didn't expect any result from him. At this time, Govind's manager Jiten came to report him. Govind wanted him to go away so that he can spend time with Rafiq and Iqbal, but the manager was there with some urgent message. So Govind had to divert attention.

'Today Niyaz occupied a part of the ship to Varanasi, but refused to pay the fare. We were afraid to ask for the fare, you know, he is always accompanied by those musclemen.'

'Niyaz!' Govind's eyes were enlarged.

'Yes master,' the manager said, 'I am sorry for the loss.'

'Who else was with him other than his bodyguards?' asked Govind.

'I am just reporting this incident to you sir,' the manager continued, 'but my advice to you, please accept this loss. Life is more expensive than money. We can't fight with him.'

'I am not worried about the loss,' Govind assured him, 'did you see any woman with him?'

Jiten didn't immediately realise what Govind wanted to know. He then looked at the four fervently looking eyes at him. He had extensive experience not only in business but also life itself. He immediately guessed the situation without being told. He drank a glass of water which Govind's servant just kept in front of him, removed his turban and slowly kept on the table in front of him. He then looked around to make sure that no one else was listening. Even walls have ears. Govind understood this and gestured that there is no such danger.

'I actually believed, 'Jiten paused for a moment and continued, 'I think he has abducted a woman. The looks of the woman show she is from a respected family.'

'How did you know she has been abducted?' Govind questioned.

'She was almost been dragged into the ship while she was crying.'

Govind looked at Iqbal and Rafiq in case they would like to ask something. Both looked dumbfounded.

Jiten continued, 'This is not new for him. He has done such thing in the past also and ferries them out of Allahabad to some secret destination. This is his way to prove himself innocent. He thinks he has a birth right over every beautiful woman.'

Rafiq tried to be composed and asked, 'Many thanks Mr Jiten for all your information. We both are the unfortunate brothers of the poor woman he has abducted.'

Jiten looked at him with the compassion, 'You both are my master's friend. I consider your sister as my own sister. I will do whatever possible to help you out.' He then looked at Govind. Govind nodded in agreement.

Rafiq continued, 'Do you have any idea what had happened before when he abducted any woman?'

'That is the reason he hides all such women in a secluded spot away from Allahabad,' Jiten answered, 'so that he will plead innocence before the Subadar (Governor) Wasim. I know there is no justice if you complain against him. Wasim will just pretend of an investigation and free him of charges. After all, the whole inquiry is against his real brother. My advice is if possible approach the Emperor.'

'I am seriously thinking of approaching the Emperor,' Iqbal started, 'her husband Ashfaq is left hand of Purujit Singh, a close confidant of the Emperor.'

'Purujit!' Govind's eyes were enlarged, 'I must say you have every chance of getting justice.'

'I have not yet informed her husband,' Iqbal continued, 'I was hoping if she can be rescued before the word spread out. In fact, our neighbours also don't know this and all our family members have been instructed to keep tight-lipped.'

'I can see brother,' Govind said, 'I would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes, to preserve family pride. Still I will advise you should go through proper channel. He should get a chance to do justice before a complaint is sent to the Emperor.'

'He is right,' Rafiq commented, 'and while approaching just tell your relations with Purujit. That may have some impact.'

'Wasim is strong in his own right,' Jiten commented, 'he is in excellent books of the Emperor. That's why he is still surviving against so many complaints against him. I don't think he will do any justice because you can approach Purujit. Only acceptable outcome will be that Niyaz will not hurt you. You are physically safe.'

'Jiten is right Mr Iqbal,' Govind suggested.

Both finally approached Wasim. Wasim listened patiently to them. He didn't show any surprise in his action. He must have gotten several such complaints against Niyaz before. Probably he had already a planned, and several times tested course of action in such cases. The first action was to listen, order for investigation and take time, weeks and even months. Time solves many problems. Most of the time abducted women begin to empathise with their captors and even they defend their actions. In the Stone Age, when the human race was not civilised, groups of men would fight one another, and the victor would claim women as "prizes." The women who protested such incidents were invariably killed while the ones who accepted the captor as life partner captors survived.

Both Wasim and his brother Niyaz were experts in this aspect of human psychology. They were not real scholars but the knowledge had been gathered out of their past misdeeds.

When investigation couldn't be finished even after three weeks, Iqbal lost patience, 'What is the meaning of such investigation and justice if it takes months? What will he do if his sister comes back after being made pregnant? She will have nowhere to go. The society will not probably accept her again.'

He lost no time and rushed to Agra, directly to Purujit. He had earlier met Purujit in the wedding ceremony of Nadirah and Ashfaq. He had met him again in Agra while visiting her sister and her husband. He could be described as a down to earth person in spite of his high position and standing with the Emperor. He was reluctant to face Ashfaq. He was not in a position to accept the fact that he couldn't save his sister's honour. He was now feeling guilty for taking his sister to appear before an audience when Ashfaq had never encouraged her to play. Purujit would be the means to reach the Emperor. He would also convince him to calm down Ashfaq.

Purujit was in his famous Kala Bhavan. His guards recognised Iqbal and took him and Rafiq direct to the Kala Bhavan. It was an evening, just like the evening few weeks ago when Nadirah was performing for the small private audience in the compound of Rafiq. The hall looked like a beautifully decorated lobby of any king. The female singer was from Lucknow. Purujit didn't want to be disturbed while enjoying the musical evening. Still he came out for a moment, welcomed both Iqbal and Rafiq, took them inside the hall and offered seats.

Iqbal could have thoroughly enjoyed the show, but today situation was different. His art loving eyes couldn't compliment the beautiful chandeliers, the tall lamps or the Persian carpets. He had seen such decoration in the bungalow of Wasim in Allahabad. They reminded him of the painful moments in Allahabad. The melodious songs pinched his ears like the thorns of rose. He looked around at the audience to find out Ashfaq. He was not there. He took a sigh of relief. He was not yet mentally prepared to face her abducted sister's husband.

The musical night was over. Purujit politely invited both to have dinner with both. Both were hungry after a long and tedious journey. Iqbal was about to start about the incidence Rafiq hinted him to stop and accepted the invitation. Purujit took them to the dining hall where there was already arrangement for them even before he formally invited them. Rafiq slowly told Iqbal that requesting someone when he is hungry may not have a positive result.

Purujit formally asked them whether everything was all right in Allahabad; Rafiq described the incidence in detail. Purujit was taken aback; he never expected such an unfortunate incident which could happen to the honour of his close aide Ashfaq.

'What is Ashfaq's reaction?' he asked.

'He doesn't know,' Iqbal replied, 'and I hope if she can be rescued before Ashfaq knows about it.'

'I can see your anguish,' said Purujit, 'didn't you approach the Subadar of Allahabad? I am in a different state you see. Also, I am a Mansabdar (official in charge of a large section of the Army in Akbar's regime) and Subadar is always superior to a Mansabdar.'

Rafiq and Iqbal both were disappointed, but Rafiq didn't lose hope.

'We know Mr Purujit,' Rafiq insisted, 'we have not come to the Mansabdar of Agra. We have come to the protection of our brother-in-law's best friend who is also so near the Emperor of India. No other Subadar is so reputed for his bravery and so close to the Emperor as Mansabdar Purujit. You also know Wasim will not allow any justice to your friend's wife. He is just buying time so that the poor girl may find it difficult to come back to face the society.'

Purujit seemed to be satisfied with his reverence though he tried to hide his emotion. The satisfaction was, however, momentary. He was from a Rajput family. As per Rajput culture for a woman losing honour was worse than losing life. Many Rajput women have even committed suicide after being exploited of their honour. This almost became a benchmark of the community and even other communities unconsciously started following the trend. Suddenly this aspect of the incident came to his mind. His smiling face hardened as if a judge delivered a death punishment.

'The worst has already happened.' Purujit said and looked at Iqbal, 'If this happens to my sister, daughter or my wife, I am not sure whether I can take them back. Rather I will pray for their death.'

The sentences were delivered mildly but were too harsh for Iqbal. His eyes became moistened.

'I understand the importance of honour, Mr Purujit,' he said, 'but for me my sister is more valuable than my life and the honour defined by the society. It is possible that she may not be accepted by her husband. Why, because a husband can take another wife. Think of her small child. Can she get another mother? I will bear all the taunts of the society for that innocent girl.'

'We would be practically punishing the victim by not accepting back into the society,' Rafiq added, 'wouldn't be a blessing to people like Niyaz to commit more such violation? Who knows the next victim will not be close to you?'

'You are right Mr Rafiq,' Purujit agreed, 'Nadirah is no less close to me. She is not only Ashfaq's wife; she is also my rakhi (sacred thread) sister. The relations between a husband and wife can change but never between a brother and sister. Anyhow he needs to get justice so that other women will remain safe.'

[Girls and women tie a coloured sacred thread called rakhi on their brothers' wrist. This symbolises sister's prayers and love for brother's wellbeing and brother's lifelong commitment to protect her. Sometimes they tie this to men who are not real brothers thus making them rakhi brothers.]

Iqbal and Rafiq both saw some light at the end of the tunnel. Purujit was the only means to reach the Emperor. None of them knew how and when that was going to happen. It was possible that they would take a letter to the Emperor. That might not be effective as it might well be delegated to someone to look after. Wasim had a firm hold over a number of significant officials in the capital and they can easily distort the facts to Niyaz's favour.

'I came to realize that the Emperor is travelling in Baluchistan.' Purujit continued, 'I don't know when he will be back to the capital or whether he will travel to some other place. As soon as I know when and where I can meet him, we will leave without delay. Both of you will be required as you people are the only witness to the incident. Please stay in my guest rooms.'

'What about Ashfaq?' Iqbal asked.

'He needs to know anyway,' Purujit replied, 'Nadirah is not only his wife, but also mother to his only little daughter. He will also help in the operation. Besides he needs to be mentally prepared. This will be a crucial turning point in his life.'

Iqbal and Rafiq remained silent and just looked at each other. No one was clear what was right. A servant guided them to the guest rooms. The room was large with stone walls and marble flooring. There were two single beds made of some imported timber. Purujit was an art lover. There were paintings hanged on the walls. Iqbal could recognise one of them, it was a Persian painting. Servant informed that the other is a Portuguese painting. The duo was feeling bit relieved after discussion with Purujit. Nobody knew what is Portuguese. The attendant told them that there is a country called Portugal far away towards the west. There king sends envoys to the Emperor and Purujit has met them in the courts of Akbar. They might have gifted the paintings to Purujit. Besides he knew nothing about Portugal. The servants also told them that the room given to them is one of few specific rooms which are reserved for mostly royal guests. Both were satisfied that Purujit was undoubtedly going to take care of their problem.

The servant wished goodnight and left. Rafiq opened the only window of the room. The window opened to a beautiful backyard. The half moon was throwing enough rays so that the guests could appreciate the beauty of the carefully maintained flora. The refreshing breeze took out the weariness of both and soon they were in deep sleep.

Someone knocked the door. Both got up and looked outside through the still open window. There was a still lot of the night left and moon could be seen at the horizon. 'Has the servant been instructed to be at our service before dawn?' Rafiq signalled Iqbal not to say anything. 'Could Niyaz know that they are planning against him with Purujit? It is possible.' Very few people in Allahabad knew that they had gone to Agra. Their family members had strictly been informed not to open mouth outside about their ventures. 'Who knows Wasim and Niyaz have not sent spies after them to track their movements. By now they must have known that Nadirah is Ashfaq's wife and Ashfaq was close to Purujit, who is equally strong if not less than a Subadar (Governor). It is true that his power was due to his closeness to the Emperor and not his position in military. Niyaz must be living in fear now. He has abducted many women before. Every time he has manipulated the situation to his advantage because none of those unfortunate women or their family members had any connection to the power hierarchy. Some of them who didn't accept their fate must have been dead now. Others must have accepted their fate as his sex slaves in his harem.' For a moment, Iqbal was thrilled that Niyaz genuinely feared him.

There was another knock. Rafiq whispered Iqbal that it was extremely difficult to attack them when they were in Purujit's compound. He went and opened the door to be surprised to see Purujit standing patiently there; with full war costume. Iqbal pushed the wick of the bronze oil lamp slightly so that area would appear brighter.

'May I come in?' Purujit politely said.

'Yes, please,' answered Rafiq and offered him a place.

'There is no time to sit and discuss,' he said, 'I have gotten instructions to proceed immediately in a confidential operation.'

'Mission!' Rafiq asked.

'Yes, I can't discuss much about that,' Purujit continued, 'but it is possible that I may get the opportunity to meet the Emperor after that. So I thought, if you both can accompany me, we can reach the Emperor after the operation is over.'

Rafiq looked at Iqbal in disbelief.

'Don't worry,' Purujit assured, 'I will take care that you both will remain safe and secure; this is the word of a Rajput warrior. I will request you to be prepared within an hour, and we shall depart for the expedition.'

Purujit left. A horse-coach came, and the coachman came to their room to collect their bags. Both followed them and took their seats. It was a six seater carriage. Purujit was already seated in. Rafiq was seated on a side near the window. The carriage started moving. To the surprise of both, the coach didn't go towards the gate. Rather they moved to the back of the Chandra Mahal, and for a moment the coach stood in front of a wall. The coachman got off and with a large key unlocked something on the wall, and a large shutter opened up. The shutter looked like a stone wall. The road was wide enough to accommodate two such coaches side by side. The road suddenly sloped downwards and then there was a sharp turn. Coachman stopped and went again to close the massive shutter. Suddenly the place plunged into darkness. The small lamp with the coachman was showing little of the road ahead. The inside was so dark that nobody can see each other's face.

The coach moved at its normal pace. The driver must have been extremely familiar with the road so that he needed little light to go ahead. The coachman had to stop three times and open shutters with different keys. Each time he was closing them once the coach crossed the gate. After few hundred meters, the coach finally stopped. The coachman got off and opened another shutter with a big key. This shutter was also painted to look like a wall. As soon as the shutter opened, lights from nearly a dozen lamps brought brightness to the place. Purujit got off signalling others to do same.

He led both through the house. Rafiq and Iqbal were looking at each other while silently following Purujit as if they were both going through a strange dream. Rafiq pinched his own hand to check whether he was in a dream or real life. The house was full of lights from the oil lamps kept at different places. All servants and guards were eager to assist. Iqbal looked outside through a window and guessed there was still two hours for the arrival of dawn.

Purujit asked one guard, 'Is everything done?'

'Yes sir,' the guard reported, 'fifty soldiers and five war horses are already in the Nagin of Yamuna. All the weapons have already been loaded.'

He didn't waste time and quickly moved. Rafiq and Iqbal just followed. They came out through a door and went to the jetty. By now Rafiq and Iqbal knew that they were going to Yamuna to get into some boat. It was difficult to understand from inside the house how far it was from the river. Instead, they saw a large canal type system with barricades. The water in the canal was making waves which seemed strange to them. Both leant to see the water and saw a giant crocodile was just swimming across. The massive ship was looking like a queen in the water. There were so many lamps lighting outside and inside the boat that they couldn't even count them. The cable tying the ship was unfastened and slowly it started moving. Purujit, Iqbal and Rafiq all went to the deck. All five war horses were standing on a temporarily covered area. Rest of the deck was open. The sound of crocodiles giving way to the house boat was evident in the dead of night. The boat stopped after sailing for some time. The Yamuna was clearly visible. Two men were standing on both sides of the canal each holding a lamp in their hands. The head sailor told both in a voice which was not loud but enough to be heard by both, 'Open the gates.'

'Gate!' exclaimed Rafiq, 'where is the gate?'

All they could see in the dark River Yamuna at a short distance and the end of the canal where the ship was halting. Purujit couldn't listen as he was standing near the horses and combing one of them with lots of affection. Both saw two gates towards the backside of the ship were coming from the bank and making a wall in the canal. Then two gates in front of the boat opened towards the side making large enough space for the boat move into the river. The water level rose bringing the ship to the water level of the Yamuna. The boat moved slowly crossing the front sluice gate. Immediately afterwards the gate closed again to separate the river from the canal. Then the backside gate was opened to the sides so that the wall made in the canal was removed. The water on both sides merged, and the canal water went to a different level than that of the river.

All these were fascinating to Iqbal and Rafiq. For some time, they forgot that they were going through one of the tensest stage of their life and they were also part of some covert military operation. Boat started travelling towards the downside of the river. About twenty rowers were sitting on both sides of the boat facing towards the front and rowing continuously. The masts of the ship were lifted to provide wind power to propel the boat.

Purujit came to them. There was still time for dawn to arrive.

'Where are we going?' Rafiq asked.

'Even I don't know,' he replied, 'I have been asked to steer downwards. The Emperor will send me message when time comes.'

He led them through the stairs to the bottom floor of the large boat. A bedroom with two beds were kept ready for them. There was a bronze oil lamp with a large reflector hung on the wall. The strategic location of the lamp ensured proper spread of light inside the room. They could feel the fragrance of a light pleasant smell in the room. It was the same aroma which was in the Kala Bhavan.

'None of us has got enough sleep tonight,' Purujit was looking tired by now, 'so, please get some sleep now. Our destination is probably days away, so you may sleep till late morning as there is nothing to do tomorrow. I am sleeping in the adjacent room. We will meet tomorrow. Good night.'

Rafiq and Iqbal slipped into their beds. So much had already happened during the night they were going above their head. None was feeling tired. Iqbal asked, 'Is this a boat or a ship?' It is enormous.'

'You may call it an extra large boat or even a ship,' Rafiq replied, 'I have seen the ships of Govind which carry passengers and cargo to various cities across Ganga. This is almost similar in size. This seems to be a war ship.'

'Warship!' Iqbal exclaimed, 'what is that?'

'This vessel can carry fighting in the water and also carry weapons and soldiers to distant places much quicker than road.'

Iqbal didn't realise how long he slept. The oil lamp was not lit anymore. The sunlight was coming through the stairs, and he could hear people talking and moving outside. The only window of the room was closed. He got up and opened the window. He saw outside in disbelief: fishes were flying. Is this another dream? He looked at Rafiq who just woke up and also started looking at the same window. Iqbal pointed the finger towards the fishes, 'How is this possible?'

'What?' Rafiq asked.

'Fish... Fishes are flying!' Iqbal said.

'You are using the wrong language,' Rafiq smiled at him as he exactly understood what he was implying, 'they are swimming in the river.'

Iqbal looked out again and realised there is water outside the window.

'We are in the lower floor of the ship, which is below water,' Rafiq explained, 'I have been to the ships of Govind few times.'

Someone knocked on the door. A servant led them to the deck where a table and few chairs were placed towards the front of the deck. Purujit was seated looking at the river. He offered seats to both Iqbal and Rafiq. A servant served breakfast to all of them.

'Sorry to interrupt your sleep,' Purujit started, 'we are already late for the breakfast.'

'No worry,' Rafiq affirmed, 'we were already up.'

'I think the ship is not moving!' Iqbal asked.

'You are right,' Purujit replied, 'Emperor has instructed us to stay near Firozabad.'

'Firozabad!' Rafiq asked, 'I have never heard of it!'

'You must have heard of Chandwar Nagar!' Purujit asked.

'Yes.'

'Chandwar Nagar has been renamed as Firozabad in 1566. Todarmal, the Finance Minister of the Emperor, was passing through Chandwar Nagar on a pilgrimage to Gaya (a holy city in North India). He was looted by robbers. On his request, Akbar sent Faraz Shah Mansabdar to set up a cantonment here. He renamed the city Firozabad.'

'We both are new to all these, War, Ship etc.' Rafiq said, 'Is this a war ship?'

'No,' Purujit smiled, 'this is my own house boat. It is large enough to be called a ship in a river. This is often mistaken as a war ship as I always travel with arms for my security. Look at there,' he pointed his fingers at a ship which was almost a kilometre away, 'that is the Royal Moghul Yamuna Navy ship.'

Both looked at them blankly. He understood. 'The Emperor has a fleet for river warfare. They can easily carry soldiers and weapons to different places much fast than by road.'

The battle ship came nearer. Purujit went and gave some signals to them by hand and different colours of flags. They were quite indecipherable to an ordinary man. Rafiq and Iqbal both curiously looked at the ship. It was much longer than 'Nagin of Yamuna'. There were more than twenty rowers on each side of the ship ready to pedal when masts can't help due to adverse wind or when more speed was required. There were cannons placed at various places ready to rumble and shoot at the enemy. There was a level completely for the horse cavalry.

'Nagin of Yamuna' started moving. The battle ship followed her. Purujit moved to the war ship. As the duo had nothing to do but walk around, they explored the ship and the river. Everything seemed strange. They went to the kitchen to help the cooks. Instead, they made friendship with the head cook Madan and started gossiping. Madan was a man in his late forties, strong built and decent height. He was there for almost twenty years. He was the head cook in the Nagin of Yamuna. When the Nagin of Yamuna was not sailing, he was cooking in the secret palace of Purujit. He was originally from Allahabad but moved to Agra with his parents when he was a child. Rafiq was expecting him to be a quiet person, as those who serve at the sensitive places are expected to be secretive in their behaviour. Rather he looked like an open and friendly guy. Rafiq was curious to know so many things about the war ships and river warfare, but was reluctant to question everything to Purujit. They got another way to quench their thirst for knowledge.

Iqbal asked, 'Yamuna is merging with Ganga in Allahabad and Ganga is meeting the ocean in Bengal.'

'Yes, then?' Rafiq questioned.

'All the territories on both sides of these two rivers are in Northern India and part of the empire of Akbar the Great. So, where is the enemy Purujit is going to fight? If the river goes to the south where there are independent kings, there is explanation of sending war ships to invade their territories. These ships can never go to the south as the river ends in Bengal.'

'You are right,' Madan said with a smile, 'but Ganga meets the sea in Bengal. Is it not possible the battle ship can go to the ocean and reach the border of many South Indian states?'

'Yes,' Rafiq commented, 'it is possible.'

'Does it mean we all are going to travel in the ocean?' Iqbal's body language clearly showed he was afraid of an ocean journey, that too for a war. He had never seen a fight in his lifetime. The rule of the Emperor Akbar had brought political stability to a major part of India. The Moghul regime was militarily so strong that there was hardly any chance of any invader coming. Several times in the history of India outside invaders have created havoc in the life of ordinary unarmed citizens. Genghis Khan, Mahmud of Ghazni were few of them who had killed hundreds of thousands of innocent unarmed public and looted lots of wealth from the country.

Madan noticed his uneasiness and smiled again, 'we are never told where the ship is going as it is always a military secrecy. Sometimes even Purujit himself does not know where he was going, but from the arrangement I can be sure we are neither going to travel in the ocean nor going to south.'

'How is it possible that even Purujit does not know where we are going?' Iqbal enquired, 'he is so superior in the hierarchy.'

'Yes it is possible,' Madan replied, 'no one is superior to the Emperor himself.'

'That means we are in an unknown expedition,' Rafiq commented.

'From the arrangement I can figure it is just an exercise,' Madan said, 'sometimes soldiers and commanders practice dummy wars with the intention to be prepared all the time.'

This statement soothed both Iqbal and Rafiq. As long as the tour is free from the risk of enemy attack, it is as enjoyable as a pleasure trip. They did not disclose their intention of going with Purujit. Madan was also not interested to know much about them or their intent. He was just playing a gracious host.

'Nagin of Yamuna' moved tirelessly ripping the blue waters of Yamuna. The warship followed her maintaining a safe distance as if they didn't want to convey the message that both were going together. It was extremely difficult to know whom the royal navy was afraid of in the heart of the powerful empire of the Emperor. Ships were going eastward. Sun went down slowly towards the backside of them as if both the ships were slowly moving away from the sun towards darkness. Sky was crystal clear. Both Rafiq and Iqbal stood at the backside of the ship watching the sunset. The burning rays had been scattered on the blue waters of Yamuna. The beauty of the colours could make waves in the mind of a poet, but the duo was just observing that all the fishing and passenger boats were slowly disappearing from the river. Only 'Nagin of Yamuna' and the warship were slowly moving eastward. They saw a small boat was coming swiftly after them. A man in the boat was showing a flag and a burning light towards them. They couldn't know anything and stood silently. The speed of 'Nagin of Yamuna' was reduced significantly until it came to a final halt. The warship, which was also moving at a distance, came to a halt. Purujit appeared there, and the boat came extremely close to them. One of the sailors dropped a rope ladder to the boat as the man dropped the flag and light and climbed quickly on the ladder onto 'Nagin'. He came straight to Purujit, saluted him and handed over something which looked like a velvet fabric wrapped over one foot long piece of decorated bamboo rod. Purujit smiled as he accepted the salute and said thanks to him. The man was looking like a Moghul soldier. He quickly got off the ship in the same ladder to his boat. The boat speedily vanished towards the side of the river. Purujit was looking at the disappearing boat without unfolding the cloth. The sun had already disappeared leaving the moon in charge of spreading light on the earth. A servant brought a lamp to Purujit as the light dispersed from the half moon was not enough to read a letter. He held the lamp at a height, and Purujit opened the fabric from the holder. This was a letter, a letter from an important person. This was evident from the impressive looking fabric and holder, and the fact that it was delivered only to Purujit.

Purujit read the letter, not once but few times. By that time, the head sailor was already there expecting instructions. Purujit wrapped the letter and looked at the head sailor, 'Continue till Varanasi.'

He smiled at Iqbal and Rafiq, 'We will meet at dinner,' and went away.

Both headed again to the kitchen. Where else they could have spent time in the evening? There was Madan, engaged in cooking the dinner. There were several other cooks also, absorbed in cooking for the crew. Madan smiled at them as if he could read their faces and knew what they were after. He came and stood in front of them, 'He was the messenger sent by none other than the Emperor. I am sure this is some significant expedition and that's why the Emperor sent order directly to Purujit. He is such a trusted person.'

'We are then going to Varanasi,' Iqbal was almost certain.

'I am not sure. We were planning to make a stop near Kanpur for the night. We would have bought provisions in the morning before continuing our journey. You know we started in a hurry, and there was no time to organise for enough provisions for both the ships. Now, instead of halting at Kanpur we will sail directly to Varanasi.'

'How will then you will feed to such a large crew?' enquired Rafiq.

'There is enough for tonight, we need only for tomorrow,' assured Madan. 'The Emperor not only gives the command to execute perfectly, he executes his commands with finest precision.'

'How?' Iqbal couldn't understand.

'He has in his mind the well being of the lowest rank in the armed force. I am sure another boat will return to load the ship with the provisions.'

Surprisingly he was right. They saw through the window, a servant was pulling one side of a rope attached to a large pulley fixed on a steel pole. The other side of the rope was hanging towards the river. Both came out immediately to find another boat floating parallel to 'Nagin'. The rope and the pulley were transferring bags of provisions from the boat to the ship. After half of the boat's contents were shifted the boat also did the same thing to the warship. Both the ships were loaded with provisions which they would have bought from Kanpur next morning.

There was a sovereign ruler who was controlling a country which was claimed to be full of gold. He had absolute power practically to do or undo anything he wanted. He could satisfy all his worldly needs with his vast wealth and power. Still he was thinking of the well being of his subordinates who were going on a military expedition in the midnight to execute his command. He ordered them not to stop the warship at night. The command could never be violated. He knew this. Still he could feel the inconvenience the crew of both the ships would encounter without enough provisions, and he arranged them to be delivered in the middle of the river. This required lots of planning in the sixteenth century when sending a message from Delhi to Agra or Kanpur took days or even weeks.

What a way to conquer the heart of the subjects after conquering the land! On the other hand, there was another ruler. He was not an Emperor. He simply governed a province and had been appointed by the Emperor. The appointment was not even for life. He was merely the agent of the Emperor and represented him for all his actions. The difference: the common man was not safe under his rule. His brother could kidnap any woman he felt should satisfy his hunger. Thank God Iqbal was not an ordinary person now. He was with the Emperor's trusted person Purujit.

He felt satisfied, but couldn't know what the expedition could be. What was there in Varanasi? It was devilishly hard to imagine. Probably even Purujit didn't know where he was going. Everything was strictly confidential. No doubt there must have been something serious. The name Varanasi evoked desperation in him. His dearest sister must be wailing in the dark corner of some palatial house in the custody of Niyaz. Her only little girl was with his wife in Allahabad, and he was going to some unknown place along with the warship. He couldn't communicate with his wife what he was doing. Nor could he soothe the baby daughter that he was going to bring her mother back. Govind's manager Jiten had confirmed Niyaz went to Varanasi. Would he find the whereabouts of his sister there? What if he found out? After all, he was the brother of Allahabad's Governor. Purujit couldn't have done anything to him even if he were one of the powerful Moghul commanders. He has to wait till the end of the expedition and try to meet the Emperor with Purujit to pray for his sister's rescue. Who knows how many weeks it would take? It might take even months! Should he request him to make a stopover in Allahabad for a day? At least he could rush to his house and meet the little girl for a while.

He couldn't ask him. He knew the ship was not allowed a break in Kanpur as the Emperor had urgency for the expedition. The break meant further delay in meeting the Emperor. The expedition must have been top secret, that's why the messenger came to bring Emperor's letter in the evening and provisions were unloaded from the boat to the ships at night. A possible stopover in Allahabad might cause suspicion about the expedition as the enemy must have placed spies in an important place like Allahabad.

He couldn't enjoy his dinner with Purujit that night even though he tried to talk to him with occasional smiles. He didn't want him to show his concern. Purujit might also be passing through lots of anxiety as everything was still under uncertainty. He could sense his concern clearly.

He couldn't sleep properly. He tried to see the outside through the glass window of his room. All he could see was dark as the room was below water level. He opened the door slowly as Rafiq was in deep sleep and tried to go to the deck. Unfortunately, the stairs to the upper floor were locked from the outside.

The 'Nagin of Yamuna' and the warship both sailed uninterrupted without any other incident. Whenever a boat was seen, he was thinking, maybe another agent of the Emperor was approaching to deliver some significant confidential information. No such thing happened. They were either fishing boats or passenger boats. The provisions delivered near Kanpur were so much that there was no need to make another stopover.

The next night also passed similarly. Purujit spent most of his time with the few soldiers on board of both the ships making plans for different types of conditions. The exercises were not kept secret from Iqbal and Rafiq. From the preparations, both could guess that no one knew what was the expedition for. Apart from the military exercise he was gossiping with Rafiq and Iqbal whenever he was free, most of the gossip was about the cities on the sides of rivers Ganga and Yamuna. He was careful not to discuss anything about the disaster for which Iqbal was there. He knew how essential to preserve the family pride when it involved kidnapping of a married woman. As the night came, Iqbal again moved to the state of anguish. Now he was not expressing his feelings to even Rafiq. He had already done enough as a friend and accompanying him for an indefinite period leaving all his business back at home.

Tonight he didn't try to see outside from the glass window of the underwater room while Rafiq was in deep sleep. He didn't try to go to the deck as he knew the stairs were locked. Tension and fatigue from less sleep drove him to a deep sleep towards the end of the night.

Rafiq woke up in the early morning and left the room for fresh air on the deck. He came back and mercilessly woke Iqbal up, 'Iqbal, come. I will show you something unique.'

'What is unique? Did any other messenger come from the Emperor? Let him come, I am feeling sleepy.'

'No, please come to the deck.'

Iqbal hesitantly got up from bed and went to the deck with Rafiq. It was a perfect dawn. The bright orange coloured sun was just rising from inside the blue waters of the river. There were hardly few boats around, but the river looked different today. Iqbal cleared his eyes and saw Purujit standing quietly and saluting the river. A little bit more effort he could see they were at the point where Ganga, Yamuna and the underground river Saraswati have merged near Allahabad. The sound of the bells of the riverside temples was creating vibrations in his mind. Even Madan and few other cooks and crews were on the deck doing some religious rituals. The three rivers have maintained their separate identities even after merging. While the Yamuna is deep but smooth and greenish in hue, the Ganga is shallow, but forceful and clear. No one has ever seen the river Saraswati. Hindus believe Saraswati is hidden underground. The conviction was so strong that even many Muslims also believed there was a third underground river. The sunray of the dawn had created a kind of colour on the waters of the rivers. Believers on both sides' of riverbanks were floating diyas (small oil lamps made from baked clay) in the river as part of their rituals. Hundreds of lamps were floating in the river. Iqbal had come their several times in the evening and had seen thousands of diyas floating in the water as part of religious rituals. For the first time, he saw the beauty of the meeting place of three rivers at dawn.

For some time, he forgot that he was on a mission and enjoyed the scene like a tourist. Then he hoped if the ships made a brief stopover, he could quickly go to his house and meet the little girl of Nadirah and his own family. Anyway he was sure this was a viable option. Purujit had no right to decide where to stay and how long to stay. It was the order of the Emperor. Finally, he decided to write a letter. After some time, there would be hundreds of boats in the river. It was extremely easy to handover the letter to someone. If a reasonable amount is paid, anyone would agree to bear the letter. Rafiq also liked the idea and started writing a letter for his family. They approached Purujit with their request. He understood the mental condition of both. Their families didn't know where they were now and when they would come back home. The unfortunate circumstances under which both had left Allahabad, their families must have been under intense concern regarding their whereabouts. He also wanted Iqbal and Rafiq somehow should contact their own families, but his hands were tied. He was not directing the movement of the troops. It was the Emperor who was sending all the directions.

'We are, unfortunately, not even allowed to slow down,' Purujit pleaded, 'we need to go beyond the jurisdiction of Allahabad city before full daylight so that we are not noticed. In fact, we were ordered to cross Allahabad before morning which we couldn't do. Two large ships in a row will be easily noticed in a multitude of small boats.'

'This is not enemy territory Purujit,' Rafiq commented, 'who has the guts to challenge the army of the Emperor Akbar in the heart of his own territory?'

'Emperor Akbar is not afraid of anyone in his own land,' assured Purujit, 'but you must know that he doesn't want anybody to get hints of the expeditions directed by him. Even so far I don't know what I am going to do and exactly where we all are going. Even for your own convenience no one in Allahabad should know that you are with me. The news will pass easily to Wasim, the Governor of Allahabad. This is not suitable for the security of your families. I will recommend waiting till we reach Varanasi. I will arrange someone to take your letters to your families, and Wasim will not even suspect.'

'This is not bad idea', Iqbal and Rafiq thought. Varanasi was not far away, only few hours from Allahabad by river. Niyaz must have kept Nadirah somewhere in Varanasi. Who knew he might surrender his sister to him if he sees Purujit with him. He knew the power circle in the capital. He must have known the clout of Purujit in the Mughal administration. Maybe they wouldn't have to approach the Emperor.

'Nagin' was travelling in Ganga like a serpentine as if it was a real Nagin (female cobra). As the daylight progressed, the number of fishing and passenger boats increased in the river. The ghats (series of steps leading to the river) became crowded with people taking holy dip in the sacred river. One could hear the sounds of temple bells, which were everywhere, along the river bank. There were hundreds of small and magnificent temples for various Hindu deities with different types of temple tops. The temples with tridents on the top indicated that the temples were of Lord Shiva. The temples with Chakra (small wheel) on the head indicated they were for Lord Vishnu. Occasionally there were mosques also. There were magnificent houses with their own jetties for their boats. Iqbal was eagerly looking at each such palatial house lest he could find out Nadirah. It was extremely challenging as 'Nagin' was sailing in the middle of the river, and the faces on the riverbank were blurred. Rafiq was standing near him and also was trying to recognise the faces on the riverbank. He gently touched the shoulder of Iqbal and indicated at Purujit. He was standing at a distance and looking at something through a small one feet long cylinder. They slowly moved so that they could stand near Purujit. He took his eyes out and smiled at both. Then he handed the cylinder to Rafiq.

'What is this?' Rafiq asked.

'You can see far-flung objects more clearly,' he replied, 'businessmen from Portugal sometimes come to see the Emperor. Last year, I bought this from them.'

Rafiq looked through cylinder which had round shaped glass on both sides. 'This is miracle,' he said as he handed that to Iqbal. Iqbal was not curious to know about this incredible tool which was capable of showing distant object look bigger than they were in naked eyes. He wanted to take this opportunity to look at the courtyards of the palatial houses on both sides of the rivers if anyone was looking like Niyaz or if any woman was looking like Nadirah. He could find none.

'Be careful,' Rafiq warned as Iqbal stood close to the side of the boat as if he can have a better look, 'this is a rare instrument. Your entire properties will not be sufficient to purchase this in case it falls in the river.'

Iqbal hesitantly handed that back to Purujit. Till now he was looking at both sides of the river. Then he realised the ships were looking slightly different. He told this to Rafiq. He was also surprised, 'yes they are looking different.'

'Something has changed, but what is that?' Iqbal exclaimed.

'I think many things are looking different.' Rafiq added.

The cannons positioned on various strategic parts of both the ships had vanished. The sailors in military clothes were wearing civilian clothes. Even the names of the ships proudly written on the sides had been covered with vast clothes. All these had probably been done in the previous night when the world was sleeping. The idea was crystal clear. Two ships including one military ship sailing among hundreds of small and large boats in broad daylight were clearly visible to everyone which was not desirable in view of the confidentiality of the expedition. Even the sailors didn't know the purpose of the trip. So much precaution was not taken when they were near Agra. Maybe the close they were to Varanasi, the more the necessity of keeping out of the prying eyes. They still remembered the directions given to Purujit by the messenger, 'Continue till Varanasi'.

Varanasi was not far away. They felt both a sort of comfort and apprehension. Comfort, as probably one part of the travel, would end soon. Apprehension, as the military campaign might start which was highly uncertain. Varanasi was approaching. Rafiq and Iqbal were in a dilemma, whether they should enjoy the scenery on the deck or go down to the safety of the lower level compartment. None of them had seen a war before. They still were not sure what kind of war might happen when there was no enemy territory near.

Purujit, on the other hand, was looking anxious and walking from one side of the ship to the other. The ship slowed down slightly as the smaller boats from backside were able to take over. The battleship was moving steadily, keeping the same distance between both. A servant came to Purujit with five different fluorescent colours and designs of flags. A soldier climbed on a ladder, to obtain a higher level enough to be able to see distant objects. Purujit was looking intently through the cylinder with glasses on both sides which enabled to see distant objects clearly. Then he indicated something to the soldier who was on the top of the ladder. The other soldier made an arrangement of three different flags and handed over to him. He waved the flags. They could see another boat from a distance waving a combination of flags. It was difficult to see them clearly. But Purujit could clearly see them with the Portuguese instrument. He indicated the soldier to change the mix of flags. This went on for some time with several different combinations of flags. Rafiq was aware of the sign language, used by the armed forces, to communicate where voice couldn't reach or to maintain the confidentiality. Unlike the previous occasion, no messenger came to deliver the message of the Emperor. The boat which was waving the flags also vanished. The soldier climbing the ladder got off and went inside with his flags. Purujit also went away from the deck, probably to his cabin. He seemed to be under pressure. This was not the time to go to him and bother. He might be consulting with his deputies about the oncoming action. Something was going to happen soon. If so the soldiers of both the ships should be prepared with their weapons. This was no such indication.

Varanasi was not too far. Might be they were already near it. Anytime they might be asked to get off the ship and go into Varanasi. Everything seemed highly uncertain. They could see the temples, palatial houses and ghats. This means anytime they might alight from the ship. Rafiq and Iqbal went to their cabin to start packing. Purujit's cabin was next to theirs. The doors of his cabin were open, and he was not within. They spent some time gossiping in the cabin. The ship must be preparing to stay in Varanasi. Then they went to the kitchen. Madan, their friend smiled at them while still engaged in cooking for lunch. The window of the kitchen was above the water level, and it was probably the best place in the ship where you could work and enjoy the outside view at the same time.

Iqbal wanted so start the gossip, 'Which temple you want to visit in Varanasi Madan?'

'Temple! Varanasi!' he showed his surprise.

'Yes, I think we are already approaching Varanasi,' Rafiq confirmed.

'Are you sure?' Madan went to the window and looked out intently, 'we are already past Varanasi.'

Rafiq and Iqbal both were surprised and also came to the window.

'We thought we were disembarking in Varanasi. Didn't the messenger of the Emperor come to the ship and convey the message Continue till Varanasi?' Iqbal looked at Madan in anticipation of getting a positive reply.

'The message was 'continue till Varanasi', not 'go to Varanasi.' Madan again smiled while adding dry chillies to the heated oil in the big fry-pan. The chilli mixed smoke from the pan filled the room and almost everyone started sneezing. Two assistant cooks ran to open the doors and windows to let the smoke to escape. 'You were on the deck when the boat from a distance was sending the message with different combination of the flag?'

'Yes, do you interpret those codes?' asked Rafiq.

'I don't,' Madan confirmed, 'but I was told that we are not stopping at Varanasi.'

'Where are we going then?' Iqbal asked.

Madan cleared the situation, 'Last time it was almost dusk when there was hardly any boat in the river. It was possible for the courier to come near the ship and handover the message. Today it is a clear day-light of the morning with hundreds of boats moving around us. So the runner didn't come near us and sent the coded message from a distance.'

'I agree,' Rafiq said, 'I have seen the boat which came to ship to handover the letter. Today also I have seen the boat though it was at a distance. I am sure both are different.'

'You are right,' Madan confirmed, 'Akbar will not like the same agent to communicate all the time so that there will be no trail. If some of them want to betray and pass on information to the enemy camp, complete information will not divulge.'

'Are you then aware what is our next destination?' Iqbal asked.

'Yes, we are now going to Hooghly in Bengal. But I am not sure which part of Bengal we will continue.' Madan confirmed.

'Where is Hooghly?' Iqbal questioned.

'It is same as river Ganga,' Rafiq explained him, 'Ganga after entering Bengal is called Hooghly, and it meets the Bay of Bengal finally.'

'I hope our destination must be to the city close to Hooghly?' Iqbal asked.

'I think so,' Madan gave a short reply.

'Is it also possible we will continue to Bay of Bengal through estuary?' Iqbal added.

'I am not sure, but in the past we have been to the Bay of Bengal.' Madan confirmed.

'Did you just enter the Bay of Bengal and come back?' Iqbal looked nervous.

'Do you think it is just a picnic so that the ship will continue to the sea and come back?' Rafiq commented.

'I mean they must have fought the enemy in the Bay of Bengal before coming back to the river through the estuary.' Iqbal suggested.

'You mean the enemy is already swimming in the ocean! The warship will go there, defeat the enemy and come back to the river as soon as possible!' Rafiq laughingly commented.

'It is possible if the enemy is a fish or shark,' Madan laughed as Iqbal looked more nervous.

'If we enter the Bay of Bengal, we will do that to go to South,' Madan continued, 'but don't worry from now. The Emperor will never think of the South expedition with just two ships out of which only one is a warship.'

'He is right,' Rafiq assured Iqbal, 'even though the fleet consists of two ships; only one is a war ship, whereas the other is just the personal ship of Purujit. South is mostly outside Mughal Empire. A large army and navy are required to complete a successful expedition.'

Iqbal looked relieved. Madan's assistant Anil was chopping vegetables. He is an old man in his sixties and was with the Moghul military since he was young. He was still strong and almost for last ten years he was working for Purujit. He always accompanied Purujit's cooking team whenever he went to fight a war. Purujit thought he was lucky for him and never went to any war without Anil in the cooking team. So far he had not found a suitable successful replacement for him. Anil had decades of experience of Mughal combat though he was only a cook. The cooks have always gotten the privilege of getting close to the top officials of the military and Anil was not an exception.

Anil was absorbed in his work but was keenly listening, 'If the Emperor has plans to attack the South from the ocean, he must have arranged other warships who may join anywhere en-route. You must have noticed he is sending messages and even sending the provisions whenever you need. You can imagine how well planned and well organised the Mughal army under Akbar the Great.'

'Anything may happen,' Rafiq told, 'we shouldn't imagine before knowing what the Emperor wants.'

'You are right Rafiq,' Anil supported, 'but as per my study there shouldn't be any such possibility like South expedition this time.'

'How?' Madan asked.

'Very few of Purujit's unit is travelling with us. I know most of them. The warship, which is following us, doesn't carry any of his regiment. Only few who are travelling in Nagin are from Purujit's regiment. How can he lead a war without most of his team with him?'

Madan nodded in agreement.

Gradually the temples, palatial houses and ghats of Varanasi looked small till they vanished. Iqbal and Rafiq retired to their cabin. Iqbal was looking worn out.

'Till now I was counting down when Allahabad will come or Varanasi will come,' he mourned, 'we have passed both the cities. Purujit didn't even make any arrangement for sending our letters in Varanasi.'

'I think Purujit is also powerless in this case,' Rafiq consoled him; 'didn't you see he got coded message from a distance? He was also expecting Varanasi is the destination.'

'Was he?' asked Iqbal.

'Yes,' Rafiq continued, 'I have heard he was even planning a religious ritual in the temple of Lord Shiva.'

Iqbal didn't say anything, just looked at him.

'You know Lord Shiva temple in Varanasi is one of the four most sacred places in Hinduism,' Rafiq continued to hold Iqbal engaged, 'he was talking to Madan about that.'

'I am getting too much fun here,' Iqbal commented, 'I am enjoying the sightseeing, enjoying the magnificent food. On the other hand, I don't know whether my sister is alive or dead. What is she doing now? I don't know how my family is coping without getting any communication from me. I can see the innocent face of the little Saira every time I close my eyes.'

'Don't even think of death in case of Nadirah,' Rafiq suggested, 'I know her since she was a little girl. She is like my own sister. That is the reason I am with you all this time. I know her extremely well. She is a fighter, not an escapist. She will fight with the enemy. She will fight against any odd.'

Iqbal stopped counting hours and days. Anil was telling, Hooghly is too far from Varanasi. It might take days to reach there. No one knew what instructions would come from the Emperor. Purujit met them during launch. Iqbal just exchanged pleasantries, didn't ask anything about expedition.

Purujit came with them to their cabin after the launch, 'I was hoping to visit the temple of Lord Shiva in Varanasi, that didn't happen.'

'We know,' Rafiq said, 'Maybe you will be successful while returning.'

'I still think I am lucky,' Purujit looked confident, 'It is the desire of the Lord. He might have different plans for me. If I am successful in the expedition, soon I should be able to meet Akbar. That will be the best time to request him about Nadirah. Please don't take tension. I am as much concerned as you are. Have enough rest. We may require real energy when we reach the destination.'

He then retired to his cabin.

In the afternoon, Anil came to meet them in their cabin. He had visited many places during his long career as military cook. Besides cooking, he was also a living book of various places of interest. His talk certainly took people to an environment of joy and happiness. He didn't know why these two were travelling with Purujit. With his extensive experience with life, he could imagine they must have been under some serious problem. He didn't try to get any information out of them, but opened up loads of information.

'Have you ever been to Bengal?' asked Anil.

'Never,' replied Rafiq.

'So, it will be your first trip if we are lucky to call Hooghly our destination.'

'Is it a prominent city?' Iqbal asked without much interest.

'You must have seen the telescope Purujit uses to look at distant objects?'

'You mean the little cylinder with two glasses on both sides?' Rafiq said.

'Yes, that is called telescope. He bought that from a Portuguese trader. Actually Hooghly is a Portuguese city.'

'You mean Portuguese city, which is not in Portugal?' Rafiq corrected him.

'Yes, you are right. Emperor Akbar has allowed Portuguese captain Pedro Tavares to build a city in Bengal province. He was even allowed to choose the location where to build the city. He chose Hooghly.'

'Why Hooghly? Is it such a prominent place?' Rafiq asked.

'Few decades ago a Portuguese sailor called Vasco-Da-Gama came to India through Goa. It is said that he is the first European to come to India. He came to Hooghly along with other Portuguese traders. Sultan Mahmud Shah gave permission to the Portuguese traders to trade in this area. Hooghly River was the main route for transport, and it is a port also. Within decades, Hooghly city became a Portuguese commercial hub. So when Akbar asked them to choose a place to set up a city, Hooghly was their natural choice. From Hooghly their ships were sailing to Bay of Bengal. The ships would go up to Kanyakumari, the southernmost point of the country. Then they would enter the Arabian Sea to reach Goa.'

'How do you know so much? Have you ever travelled with them?'

'Yes, I have, before joining Mughal Army as a cook.'

'You are more a historian rather than a cook!' Iqbal said who was almost speechless till now.

'I had also travelled when Mughal fleet sailed for the first time to South. I was more of a guide rather than a cook. I told them to go to Bay of Bengal and then move southward in the sea. It was actually a study by Mughal as a plan to invade South India.'

'I have never seen a sea in my life.' Iqbal said.

'Me too,' said Rafiq.

'Then you both will be lucky if actually we are instructed to navigate to the South this time.' Anil suggested.

'No, no,' both Rafiq and Iqbal said together.

'Not this time please.' Rafiq told as if Anil was about to decide to sail into the sea.

'Actually we are on a special mission,' Iqbal stopped abruptly as Rafiq looked at him intently. He forgot that their mission was more sensitive than the expedition instructed by Akbar the Great. There was no chance that disclosing the facts to Anil would result in leaking the story to Wasim or Niyaz. Anil was old confidant of Purujit. But he must have been well known to Ashfaq, the deputy of Purujit and Nadirah's husband. There was still a faint hope that Nadirah would be free from Niyaz and this tragedy could be kept secret from her husband, who otherwise might doubt about her chastity.

Anil was able to assess their mental state and didn't try to uncover the matter further. Rather he continued his conversation in the line of travelling and Portuguese only. Besides getting lots of information about sailing in the sea, both Iqbal and Rafiq could divert their attention away from their tension. They had plenty of time and virtually nothing to do. Anil was mainly engaged in cooking. Still he was finding time to spend with Iqbal and Rafiq. They both always welcomed him as he was narrating the adventure of Vasco Da Gama. Not only that, he also narrated his heinous acts of cruelty, especially the Pilgrim ship episode.

'What is that incident?' Iqbal showed interest.

'It was in his second voyage to India. He intercepted a ship of Muslim pilgrims at Madayi travelling to Mecca from Calicut. The ship had four hundred passengers including nearly fifty women. He looted the passengers, locked them and burned them to death. The pilgrims offered their money in exchange of their lives, but he didn't forgive anyone. He looked through a pothole as the women offered their gold and held their babies to beg mercy. This was one of the worst cold blooded cruelties of the century.'

The stories till now were going well with Rafiq and Iqbal except the last one. They both became visibly uncomfortable, and Anil couldn't guess the reason. He had narrated the stories to so many people in his life, and nobody ever felt sorry for the cold blooded massacre. Actually people rarely relate the stories to their own life events. He was about to move to a better story when Madan appeared.

'Our provisions will barely last for tomorrow morning's breakfast only.' Madan informed.

'We must get replenished by someone sent by the Emperor on the way.' Anil replied.

'What if no one comes?' Madan was apprehensive, 'We will pass through Hooghly by morning. If provisions are not sent in time and we don't buy in Hooghly, we are in real problem.'

Anil didn't say a word, just got up and went up to the deck. Madan, Rafiq and Iqbal all followed him. The broad daylight has already given way to the twilight of the dusk. The blue waters of the river have been illuminated by the sun which was almost hiding in the horizon. Fishing and passenger boats were on their way to their place at the end of the day. There were few villages on both sides of the river. A city can be seen faintly at a long distance. Anil confirmed that it was Hooghly city. They could see a tall building even though they were away from the city. Anil told it was a Church, the place of worship of Christians. They had never seen a white man before. The telescope of Purujit might allow them to see the city roads and rare white men from the ship. But the night was approaching fast. Anil should have come to the deck much earlier. If they don't stop at Hooghly, this is their last chance to see a white man, practically aliens to them.

Purujit came. He looked confused. Madan and Anil both could observe his thoughts. The previous command from Akbar was 'continue till Hooghly'. They were now almost at Hooghly. There was no further instruction. The provisions stored in the ship were almost finished. They need urgently go to a market otherwise tomorrow everyone would remain hungry.

'It is possible we will be asked to attack Hooghly!' Madan suggested.

'Hooghly!' Purujit asked, 'This is a part of Mughal Empire. Who is the enemy here?'

'Maybe the Portuguese,' Anil replied, 'No doubt they have gotten permission from Akbar to set up a city here. They are not that simple and straightforward as they have portrayed themselves to the Emperor. On the other hand, the Navy of the Emperor is like a child's toy compared to their Navy.'

'You shouldn't degrade the ability of the Mughal force,' Madan tried to correct him.

'I am not demeaning. I am just telling the truth which Mughal should be aware of.' Anil defended himself.

'Let him continue,' Purujit said.

'Mughal Navy sails only in rivers. At the most, they have sailed in the coastal waters of Bay of Bengal. On the other hand, Portuguese Navy has hundreds of large sized ships who sail around the world. They chose the location Hooghly when Akbar gave them a choice. Why? Because they knew Hooghly is remarkably close to the Bay of Bengal and their large ships can easily come to this city. They might have amassed sufficient weapons and soldiers around.'

'They are just traders,' Madan told, 'why a group of traders will gather weapons and soldiers?'

'The king of Portugal is not a trader,' Anil countered, 'trading may a pretense for setting up a base.'

'I agree with you Anil,' Purujit said, 'they might have a much powerful Navy, but our Emperor will not send a small army with just hundred soldiers to conquer a city. So thinking of attacking the Portuguese at this stage is without question. We will stay here tonight till the time we get further instruction or provisions. In the worst case tomorrow morning we will continue to Hooghly to purchase food supplies.'

Everyone in the ship rejoiced at this decision. The theory of a Portuguese revolt against the Mughal was quickly forgotten. The idea of visiting a Portuguese city (even without going to Portugal) thrilled all. They can see how a white guy looks like. There is also scope to buy foreign stuff to take to their families back home.

At around midnight, someone knocked the door. Iqbal and Rafiq woke up. Anil was standing outside their cabin.

'Is there anything wrong?' asked Rafiq.

'No, please come I will show you something.'

Both followed Anil to the deck. Purujit was talking to a strange man. He was tall, muscular, cleanshaven. His clothes were totally unfamiliar to them. There was a sword in a sheath hanging to the left side of his waistband. There was also a gun hanging to the shoulder. He was wearing a cocked hat. Both Purujit and the man were talking seriously. The moonlight combined with the lamps was reflecting on his face.

'This is a white man- a Portuguese soldier.' Anil told slowly without pointing his finger as if they were watching some strange animal in a Zoo.

'Very much like us,' commented Iqbal, 'only bit fare.'

'Yes, he is also a human being,' Anil said, 'other than their skin tone and hair colour, we are all the same.'

'Does Purujit know his language?' asked Iqbal.

'No,' Anil replied, 'he must have known our language.'

Purujit looked at this side and came towards them, 'Sorry brothers, I was about to come to you both.'

Iqbal and Rafiq didn't say anything but just stared with frightened looks.

'Don't worry,' Purujit assured, 'your security will be taken care of. We have finally gotten the orders from the Emperor. The operation is scheduled tonight, now.'

'What operation?' Iqbal was aback.

'I can't elaborate in detail, but you both need to accompany us.' Purujit told them.

Iqbal and Rafiq gave a puzzled look.

'Don't worry. You are not going to do any fighting job,' he assured, 'we have enough highly trained commandos to handle this.'

'Commandos! What is that?'

'They are some specially trained soldiers who can engage in circumstances different than a conventional war field,' Purujit explained, 'they will also take responsibility for your maximum security.'

Purujit's words; they were most reliable.

Both the ships now were anchored in the middle of the river close to each other. Few small boats were unloaded from the battleship as well as 'Nagin'. There were two ropes attached to two separate pulleys. One end of the ropes was tied to both ends of the boats. The sailors held the other end. They were slowly releasing the ropes till the boat is placed on the water. In spite of the pulleys, this was a tough job. In normal circumstances, they would make lots of useless, verbal sound help in releasing their pain. Tonight they have been strictly ordered to maintain absolute silence. The pain in holding the ropes with the weight of the small boats could be clearly seen on their faces. Once the boat touched the water, few commandos with their arms; i.e. Daggers, swords and swivel guns got off with the help of a rope ladder. Then the boat was released from the rope and they started sailing in the moonlight towards the river bank. Purujit ordered them to stay near the river bank till he joined. One after one, five boats were loaded with the commandos. The last boat carried Purujit, Iqbal and Rafiq. They reached the river bank which was on the outskirts of Hooghly. All the commandos were prepared.

They moved slowly in three different groups. Purujit instructed them to communicate in sign language. About half kilometres away there was an isolated building. The building had three floors. The perimeter walls were high enough to be compared to the walls of a small fort. The back side of the building was facing the river. The gate was on the other side of the bungalow. The gap between the backside of the bungalow and the river was about five hundred meters, which was full of bushes: a perfect place to hide. It seemed that the property had been chosen for its remoteness, to keep it hidden from the general public. It looked like a ten to fifteen years old house: before the Portuguese started settling in Hooghly. As the city of Hooghly flourished because of Portuguese traders, the distance between the city and this abandoned house reduced gradually during last few years.

One officer went slowly to check if there was any surveillance near the front gate. There were two, but they were asleep. Probably the guards were there for years and had never experienced any intruder. They were not expecting surprises to disturb their peaceful sleep. Another commando tried to find out from the top of a tree and scanned the property in moonlight. He informed there were no guards besides the two at the front gate. Too many people means increased chance of leaking the story about what was happening in.

Ropes with hooks were thrown across the high boundary wall. Commandos entered the property without making any noise. Few remained outside with Purujit, Iqbal and Rafiq. The two were of course just the odd spectators. Two commandos slowly went to the sleeping guards and tied their mouth and hands. Once enough commanders were in and took the position around the building, one from each side sent light signals to Purujit. Four cannons were kept ready to shoot. One was aimed at one of the main doors, to break it open. The others were kept facing the sky. Purujit gave signals to the cannon operators. Four cannons fired at the same time, one breaking the gate open and all making the roaring sound took the inmates aback. Without any delay, the commandos rushed into the building.

For some time, there was chaos inside. The sound of attack, counter attack, the screaming of men and women filled the calm and quiet place. Purujit was positive but was still looking uncomfortable. After some time, the massive front gate opened, and screaming sounds stopped. A light signal came from one of the top floor windows. Purujit along with Iqbal, Rafiq and four commandos entered through the front gate. The inhabitants were either captured or killed. Still the situation was not entirely out of danger. One commando informed that one room on the top floor was still locked from the inside. There was a woman inside, screaming and weeping. The commandos suspected that there were men inside and kept the woman just as a shield. Purujit was quickly scanning all the dead bodies and captured people to find out who could be the enemy there: so strong that even the all powerful Emperor Akbar would take cognisance of him. He couldn't get any clue. There was no time to get them to disclose who their leader was. Probably the main accused was hiding on the top floor room behind the locked door and the woman shield. The commandos knew Purujit's strict criterion 'Do not hit women.' No one was daring to break into that room.

Purujit was now clear the enemy knew his way. Either he had ever worked with him or had gathered details about him. He was now in a dilemma. The main enemy was obviously in that room. He was not clear whether his estimate was right, but there was clearly a woman inside the room. Just one woman as everyone can hear the cry of only one woman. He stood for a while, took a deep breath and ordered not to break that door open, just keep an eye on it and close all the exit routes. How long can someone confine in a room? He must come out. It might take hours or a day, not days. He went to the lower level to examine the entire house. Both Iqbal and Rafiq were on the lower floor. They were nervously watching the spectacle of bloodshed and capturing of enemies. In their imagination about a war, they had seen battle fields. Vast expanse of open fields with thousands of soldiers, horses, elephants and cannons. They had never thought that there could be war inside a house. And this fight was unquestionably unique and also highly sensitive. Otherwise, why an Emperor would take so much personal attention and send an esteemed and trustworthy commander like Purujit. Even Purujit didn't know till now who this person was.

Iqbal's attention was diverted by the periodical scream of the woman confined on the top floor. He was feeling as if he were still in deep sleep on the cosy bed inside Nagin and this was just a horrible dream. He felt something strange and ran to the top floor, near to the closed room. The commando guarding the room tried to stop him. He had nothing in his hand. He saw a piece of steel shaft and attacked the commando. The commando never expected attack from Iqbal who was there in just bare hands and didn't know use of any weapon. Before he could realise anything, Iqbal's attack made him unconscious. Iqbal started harping on the door with the steel shaft and broke it open. He rushed inside before other commandos realised and rushed towards the room. Iqbal pulled the open door and broke into the room when suddenly he tripped over somebody and fell down on a pool of blood. The woman was screaming again, 'Don't dare to come to me, I will kill you.' He looked at her, 'Nadirah, my sister. What are you doing here? I have found my sister. Purujit, Rafiq, my sister is here. Please help me.'

Both Purujit and Rafiq came there running but stopped near the dead body lying face down. Nadirah was holding a dagger with blood dripping from it. Her eyes were also looking red like blood, hairs scattered, dress torn and blood all over her body.

'Quiet,' Purujit ordered, 'who is this?'

A commando turned over the dead-body.

'This is Niyaz,' Nadirah now cooled down seeing her brother, 'I killed him. There was another guy here. He was trying to control me. He jumped out of the window and ran away.'

'Who is he?' asked Purujit.

'I don't know,' she replied still holding the dagger in ready position.

Two commandos ran outside to catch the escaping man. Other soon joined them.

Purujit ordered, 'I want him alive.'

The man was trying to hide in the bushes, but light of the full moon didn't let him hide properly. He ran towards the river followed by the commandos. The guy was obviously extremely strong physically. Even the well trained commandos found it difficult to keep pace with him, but they still followed. The man jumped into the river and started swimming. Commandos quickly jumped into two different boats and followed. He swam by the side of the river for a distance but soon got tired, when the boats of the commandos reached and captured him.

Purujit and Rafiq tried to cool-down Nadirah. She knew Purujit exceptionally well. After all, he was her husband's boss.

Commandos brought the man to Purujit with his hands tied on the back.

'Wasim!' Purujit was surprised, 'you scoundrel! How can you even think of revolting against the Emperor?'

Wasim didn't reply, just looked down. His game was over. Purujit ordered to keep him in lock up and produce him before the Emperor. He had committed the sin against the Mughal Empire. Only Akbar the Great could determine his fate.

Wasim was taken to the warship. There were two makeshift prisons on the bottommost floor. Other accomplices were taken into custody and were kept temporarily in Hooghly.

Niyaz, after abducting Nadirah kept her in a place in Varanasi (modern Benares). Immediately after reaching there he got the message from his brother Wasim to continue to Hooghly. There was an abandoned house outside Hooghly since long, made by some local landlord. Actually it was situated in a busy locality. When Portuguese got permission from Akbar to choose a location for setting up a business centre and a township, they chose Hooghly because of its strategic location. The township was built at such a position that it was few miles away from this old bungalow. The economic activity in Hooghly increased, attracting many people from the nearby areas. Portuguese brought some key officials only, sailors and guards cum soldiers for their trade hub. Building the infrastructure required lots of workers from the surrounding areas. Even many traders migrated to Hooghly as they got opportunities for improving business. Many traders got opportunities to export their goods to Europe through the Portuguese. They also imported goods from Europe for supply in India. The economic boom made the newly developed Hooghly city extremely crowded. At the same time, many villages from the outskirts of the city became almost half or full abandoned due to migration to the city. The locality near this old bungalow became almost deserted, and it was sold at throwaway price to the agent of Wasim for conducting his anti-Empire plans.

The houses of the village were deserted by people all of whom migrated to Hooghly. Almost all the houses were destroyed due to lack of maintenance. Few were occupied by the guards and servants who were brought from distant places and didn't know what action was going on there. All the servants were illiterate and didn't even know who was Wasim. The village was not intentionally kept in pristine condition. Bushes and weeds were allowed free reign. Few years of systematic and planned neglect converted an otherwise beautiful village into a mini jungle. Even the only large bungalow bought by Wasim's agent was successfully hidden by allowing creepers to expand on all the walls and compound walls. The road connecting to the village was destroyed so that any outsider would not even remotely think of going for sightseeing. The only pier used before for boats was given a deserted look though they were still used at nights. Boat and ferries sailing in the river alongside the village couldn't see the changes. In fact, the economic growth in Hooghly, because of Portuguese traders, successfully took the attention away from this site and Wasim almost got a fortress for his dream kingdom. The castle was successfully guarded by bushes, creepers and ignorance of outsiders about the presence of any intelligent living being there. Very few trusted attendants were asked to go to the city to buy provisions for the inmates. They usually travelled at night, stayed at a house in a busy locality, and conducted their activities. Without fail, they returned to Wasim's mysterious castle at night only to avoid any doubt.

The night Niyaz reached Varanasi with Nadirah in his captive; the same night he left for Hooghly leaving her under the attention of few maids and most trusted bodyguards. The bungalow was situated near Ganga in Varanasi but was almost hidden by tall compound wall. The building was one time used as a cantonment house cum prison in the early period of Mughal dynasty. The area was more than five acres. It was extremely difficult for outsiders to see what was going on in and more difficult for the inmates to communicate with the outside world. Nadirah didn't cry. She didn't want to show Niyaz's servants that she was afraid. She was not allowed to go outside her room and was twenty four hours under close surveillance.

Niyaz was in Hooghly for giving shape to Wasim's vision of an independent kingdom, an independent and sovereign Allahabad of Wasim Khan Dynasty. The dream was still a distant dream, but the brothers were confident of the in-fights or would be in-fights within the Moghul family. As Akbar was ageing, there were chances of disputes between princes; Saleem, Murad and Daniyal for the Mughal throne. This practice was particularly popular among Muslim rulers in India. Wasim and Niyaz were hopefuls to enter into deals with at least one of the princes and in return ask for an independent sovereign state of Allahabad. They were engaged in arranging funds and amassing weapons privately before the family disputes became known. Everything was moving as per plan except the sight of a rift among the Mughal brothers and a possible contact with any of them.

Niyaz was getting impatient as his newly acquired, rather kidnapped, prized possession was not with him even for few moments as he had to rush to Hooghly leaving her behind in Varanasi. As per the first plan he was supposed to go back after few days. When days became weeks, he made another plan. Nadirah was brought secretly to Hooghly. The vessel carrying her arrived near Hooghly during day time but came to the deserted looking dock after there was enough dark to provide cover to the activity. When she was being taken from the ferry to the hidden fortress, Purujit's Nagin and the warship was already in the middle of the river. Niyaz's boat was returning to Varanasi when small boats carrying commandos were about to start for their operation. Niyaz's men in that vessel saw something different but couldn't report to Niyaz. They were returning to Varanasi and were never expecting such an attack at midnight.

Nadirah showed no sign of resistance. She was quiet. Her smiling face was the symbol of acceptance of the situation. Most of Niyaz's prized catches first tried to escape or hinder his advances before surrendering to him. For the first time in his life, the woman he had kidnapped was surrendering willingly even before he could touch. Maids gave the happy news that Nadirah was in the dressing room and was in an excellent mood. Niyaz, for the first time in his life, felt to be loved by a beautiful woman. He also dressed up properly so as to impress her in the first meeting.

As soon as he entered into her room and closed the door, the worst fate of his life happened. Purujit's cannons roared mercilessly ripping apart the silence of the night. Niyaz was already inebriated. He couldn't know what was happening and was just shocked at the roaring sound. Nadirah didn't miss that moment. She took out the knife hidden in her clothes and stabbed him mercilessly with all her energy amidst his howling, till finally he succumbed and fell down. Wasim was on the ground floor when he heard his brother's scream. He ran to see what happened, without even guessing in his wildest dream that a woman could attack his monster like brother. Nadirah was trying to escape from the room when Wasim arrived. She retracted back into the room when Wasim forced himself in and bolted the room from inside. Nadirah tried to attack him with the bloodstained knife. Wasim was also properly armed and tried to take control of her. He was not under alcohol like his brother and could have easily disarmed her. The attack of the commandos and the resulting chaos distracted him. Before he could decide what to do, Iqbal broke the door open. He was shrewd enough to get the escape route by quickly jumping from the window rush towards the river.

Rebellions were not new to the Mughal Empire. It was the practice of the Mughal authority to keep eyes on the activities of all the officials whether they were loyal or not. Any minor unusual activity ringed the bell and kept under constant observation. Wasim's move was being continuously reported without his knowledge to the Mughal administration. Niyaz's criminal activities were also continuously reported.

Nadirah started the journey home with Iqbal, Rafiq and Purujit. Nagin reached Allahabad. Iqbal requested Purujit to accept his invitation and be his guest for few days. Unfortunately, Purujit couldn't accept his invitation as he was supposed to go for another mission. They were safely sent to their homes. Nadirah was tearful when she said goodbye to Purujit for all his help. Purujit also praised her for her courage to face and attack Niyaz.

Misfortune does not come alone. When Iqbal was thinking that his grief was over, the worst happened. Ashfaq Khan came to Allahabad in their absence to take Nadirah back and heard all the news about her abduction. He was never sure about her return. To make the situation simple and easy, he announced that he has given talaq (divorce) and went back. Fortunately he didn't take the little girl Saira with him. Iqbal was anticipating this but not so soon. He was also confident that Purujit could settle between them and his sister's married life would become normal again. He was also equipped with all the evidence that Niyaz died a stray dog's death even before touching his sister.

Nadirah was composed. She was mentally prepared to take on the situation. She decided to bring up Saira alone. Finance was never a problem. Iqbal's business and properties were enough for all of them. It was a man's world. She was determined to teach Saira in all aspects of life so that she could fight if required. Saira was given the training at home. She was also trained by professionals in horse riding, sword fighting and using a bow and arrow.

Ashfaq's two sons Ayaaz and Kareem were always eager to see their only little sister and kept on visiting Allahabad as often as possible. Ashfaq was also extremely fond of his baby girl but was reluctant to accept Nadirah. He was never expecting that she would come back from Niyaz's den when he proclaimed talaq (divorce). Then he realised he had actually punished her without her fault, but couldn't muster the courage to face her. When Saira grew up, he occasionally sent his men and brought her to Bharatpur. By the time she became an adult; she was not only a beautiful woman but a strong fighter also. Now she has been paired with Suraj for hunting game against her own brother Ayaaz.
Chapter 3

The Hunter Game

Suraj was trying if he can read any of the inscriptions. He couldn't. He moved further and tried to clean another stretch of the creepers. He found something which looked like opening to a cave with steps. Saira was standing close to him and also saw the opening.

'Are these steps to a cave?' exclaimed Suraj.

Saira observed, 'It seems these are steps to downstairs of a building.'

Ayaaz and Aditi heard this and quickly came to them. Suraj cleaned bit more creepers and weeds paving the way for more visibility of the structure. As he tried to walk on the stairs, Saira warned, 'Don't try to go inside. You don't know what is inside.'

'Saira is correct, Suraj,' Ayaaz said, 'inside is dark, and the stairs might be broken. You should just watch from outside.'

'And what if there are snakes there?' Saira said.

'Have you ever come to this area or seen any such structure Ayaaz?' Suraj asked.

'Never, but this is interesting.' Ayaaz replied.

They saw two men were walking towards them. Actually they were going somewhere on the same road. One was looking like a tribal, a man in his early thirties, dark skin, and average height but well built. He was carrying few instruments; probably he was going to shove something. The other looked like a villager; probably he lived in some village on the outskirts of the jungle. The man was in his fifties, tall but thin. He was wearing a turban and was hanging a bag on his left shoulder. He was carrying a bunch of palm leaves with coloured inscription on them.

Ayaaz stopped them. He knew the local dialect. He took them and showed them the remainder of the historical spot and asked if they knew anything. The villager was actually a local Ayurvedic doctor who was in the jungle in search of medicinal plants and roots. The tribal man was his guide to find out those specific plants for him. The physician looked at the area and coolly told he was not aware of anything. The tribal man showed some interest. The physician understood the tribal language and translated as the tribal man gave a long speech for about five minutes.

'What did he say?' asked Ayaaz.

The physician laughed as he translated his long discourse into a small sentence, 'he is saying the palace was built by Arjun of Mahabharata.'

'Has he gone mad?' Suraj exclaimed, 'Arjun existed probably three thousand years ago. I can't think this is remaining of a three thousand years old palace.'

'Maybe he is confused,' Saira suggested, 'there might have been another king named Arjun here in the past. The poor guy can't distinguish between history and myth.'

'But he is also saying that there is a tunnel from here which opens at some nearby river.' The doctor commented.

'Have you ever seen the tunnel or been through it?' Ayaaz asked him as the physician translated that into the tribal language.

'No, I have never been through the same,' the tribal man answered, 'my great-grandfather has told me about the tunnel. But I have seen the other side of the tunnel which opens near the river. I have been through it only for a small distance. It is dark and horrifying.'

'Let them go,' Suraj suggested, 'we can visit again here to explore this after our hunting game is over.'

'Yes,' Aditi said, 'you see, the sky is now clear. We have already wasted significant portion of the day.'

Saira looked at the sky. So did Suraj and Ayaaz.

'Time has come to part ways,' Suraj suggested.

'What do you want?' asked Aditi.

'Can you see this way goes uphill?' asked Suraj.

'Yes, so what?' Aditi said.

'Before the road reaches the mountain top, it is bifurcated into two different roads.' Suraj continued, 'The right one can be seen clearly from here, where as the left one has taken a curvy path, winding its way around.'

'Which one do you want to follow?' Ayaaz asked.

'Any one--- may be the right one.' Suraj said.

'I think we should go in the left direction,' Saira objected.

'Why?' Aditi asked.

'There should be fewer animals on the mountain top.' Saira said.

'You are not right,' Ayaaz said, 'anyway we can make a toss and choose to be fair to all.'

'Right,' Aditi smiled at Saira, 'I also don't want to hear we won because we went to a better part of the jungle where there were more animals.'

Suraj took a Mughal gold coin and tossed. Finally, it was decided Suraj and Saira would go on the left side. Ayaaz and Aditi rode their own horses and started on the right side where bifurcation of the road started. Saira and Suraj said goodbye to both and went on the left connected way.

Ayaaz warned while going, 'Don't go too far Suraj, any animal will do.'

'Is it all-right if we hunt few mice or birds?' Suraj joked.

'No way,' Aditi shouted, 'anything smaller than a rabbit will disqualify you both. Hunting of Leopard, Cheetah or even Tiger will give you bonus points.'

'Have we already agreed for such terms?' Saira questioned, 'whoever returns first with proof of hunting wins the game is the standard set by all of us.'

'Ok, ok,' Ayaaz said, 'we agree. Only problem if you come back with a mouse or even a rabbit, our reputation in front of the guards will go to ashtray. Please keep this in mind.'

Ayaaz and Aditi vanished among the woods.

Saira's horse was walking at a normal pace as Suraj was closely following her. Saira started gossiping.

'What do you do with the meat of the animals after killing them?' she asked.

Suraj looked at her in disbelief, 'You are not new to hunting. There must be jungles along Ganga near Allahabad.'

She smiled as her horse started even slower than before, 'Yes I go just for practice, but I never kill them.'

'What type of hunting game is this?' Suraj was astonished.

'I use arrow which is not like normal arrow. It has a small pin attached to it, which is dipped in a liquid taken from some root. As soon as the arrow hits the animal, it becomes unconscious for few hours. Then I usually wait till they regain consciousness and vanish in the forest. Few times I have brought them home to keep as a domestic animal.'

Suraj was so much dumbfounded that he abruptly stopped.

Saira also stopped her horse, got down, and came to Suraj. 'Do you actually kill the animals? I thought you would be a vegetarian like me.' She asked.

Suddenly few Chital deers ran across the road and vanished among the woods.

Suraj was not prepared, 'See, we lost the golden chance. We could have killed one of them and gone off with the trophy.'

Saira smiled. Suraj could not believe how her smile could be so much mesmerizing, but composed himself. After all, she was his friend's sister and her father was Purujit's colleague. He knew the history how Niyaz had kidnapped her mother when she was a little girl. The poor girl grew up practically in the absence of a father. Purujit was also never happy on Ashfaq's decision to be separated from Nadirah, but he never interfered in his friend's personal life. He knew Ashfaq and his sons had the kind corner in their hearts for this girl.

'Don't worry,' Saira was composed, 'we will get another chance. We shouldn't be in a hurry after all this is just a game. We should enjoy the game. Winning is not that important.'

Suraj tried to understand what she said. For some time, he forgot whether they have come either to win or to enjoy the game. 'I think enjoying the game starts after winning. What is the fun in losing?'

'Loosing?' Saira asked, 'to who are we losing, your own sister and my own brother?'

'You are right Saira,' Suraj tried to convince her, 'but yet this is a game. Your own brothers will praise you if you come first.'

Saira was not showing any clue to move. She tied her horse to a small tree on the side of the road. Then she cut some grass with her knife and put in front of the horse as Suraj helplessly looked at her.

She looked at the sky and pointed, 'Look at the Sun; it has already crossed the mid sky. It is the lunch time.'

She went beneath a mango tree and spread a mat as Suraj also tied his horse to another tree where it could graze. Saira took out two banana leaves kept neatly folded in a bag, and placed adjacently like two plates. She then took the water pot, took Suraj's right hand in her hands and washed. He was helplessly obeying as she was totally in control. He sat near her as she sat in front of the banana leaves and started serving food on both the leaf plates.

'Don't worry,' she consoled him, 'the other side must be having lunch somewhere. We are not falling behind.'

He sat down near her for consuming the meals. It was an ideal picnic spot. The mango tree above was full of fresh mangoes. Few dropped on the area around them. The spring breeze was so mesmerizing that he felt tired. He would have actually slept had she not continued talking with him.

She started again, 'by the way, what do you do after hunting the animals?'

'Frankly speaking,' he tried to organize his words, 'I rarely get time for such games. Most of the time I spend practising war or go to wars with my father.'

'Still what do you do with them whenever you go for hunting?' she was not in a mood to stop talks.

He was thinking what to say, 'what do you think we should do to the animal we kill today?' he counter questioned, 'suppose we are struck at a place say for days,' he took a break and thought whether he is going beyond boundaries.

'Suppose we couldn't go back for some reason,' Suraj tried to convey his point when Saira started, 'What can happen?'

'Say we are lost, and it takes days to find a way out,' Suraj again continued, 'this is just a hypothetical situation.'

'So what?'

'We need to cook the animal we kill,' he said, 'just to survive.'

'Are you, not a vegetarian?' she was surprised.

'I am,' he said, 'most of the time, but sometimes I eat non veg.'

'I am a strict vegetarian,' she said.

He looked at her in disbelief. She understood his gaze.

'My mother is also vegetarian. My uncle Iqbal is also a vegetarian. What do you think? Muslims are by default non-vegetarian?'

'No, but mostly,' he said as three more Chital deers ran into the woods, 'see we are still not prepared for hunting.'

He got up and indicated her to start the expedition again. She slowly started gathering the mat and dishes. She was clearly not in a hurry. Poor Suraj was helpless. He was sure his sister Aditi and Ayaaz must be striving desperately to win the game.

They continued for about an hour and half into the deep jungle, but without any luck. When they were not prepared, two times deers passed near them. Now when they were fully prepared, not a single animal could be seen. As if all animals have gone to another jungle for holiday. Yes, they came across few rabbits, which they consciously avoided as she went on gossiping.

'I am afraid we may have to return with bare hand,' he said, 'we need to focus on hunting rather than talk.'

'Gossip!' she said, 'see, not a single animal has crossed our line since we started after lunch and you are blaming me for the gossip.' She looked displeased.

'Sorry Saira, I said we are gossiping, not you.' He tried to repair the damage.

Her anger was only temporary. As soon as he finished, she started again. She talked about her military training, stories about Allahabad and even her mother's experience with Niyaz etc. Suraj gave in. Thank God they we are not going for any war, just a competition with a friend and sister.

'There must be something; we are not noticing any more animals.' He said.

'May be the tribal people are eating so many animals that there is scarcity of them,' she opined, 'you see, we have not come across a single human being after we parted way from Aditi and Ayaaz.'

'Yes, you are right,' he was surprised, 'have we come to the wrong place? We have not seen a single tribal area.'

'You are right. We thought only animals have gone on holiday to neighbouring jungle,' she laughed, 'now I think even the people here have also gone out somewhere.'

'The tribal people have abnormally small hutment usually surrounded by tall trees,' he tried to find a reason, 'many times those are practically not visible to outsiders.'

'You may be right, but don't they ever come out from their hutment and just stay at home throughout the day? There is nobody around. What will happen if we are lost?'

'Oh my God,' he screamed, 'we forgot Ayaaz's advice. We totally forgot.'

'What?' she asked.

'Didn't Ayaaz advise us for breaking a piece of a tree, digging a hole and putting some branch having colourful leaves or flowers whenever we change the way.'

'Oh yes,' she said, 'and we have already changed direction three or four times.'

'Three or four?' he asked, 'I don't remember. I forgot to count while talking to you.'

'Again you are blaming my gossiping,' she complained.

'I am not blaming Saira,' he clarified, 'I meant we forgot to keep count of changing path. Do you remember?'

'Neither me,' she confirmed, 'but I am sure we can remember the turning points if we try.'

'Try!' he asked.

'I suggest we go back, at each change cut some tree branch and come back again.'

Suraj looked at her in disbelief, 'Are you nuts? We have already wasted so much time.'

'Wasted?' she asked.

'No, no, I mean there is hardly any time now. We have not even tried to shoot an arrow to some animal. How much time is left till dusk?'

Both looked at the sky trying to locate the position of sun and estimate the time.

'Look there! Look there!!' Sarah screamed while pointing at the hill top, 'we can't see the mountain top!'

He looked at that direction.

'The mountain top was green till now,' she explained, 'now it has become black and white!'

'Silly girl,' Suraj murmured.

'What did you say?'

'Nothing,' he said while watching keenly, 'actually it is raining over there.'

'Raining?' she was worried; 'Aditi and Ayaaz both are there. How they will handle?'

'Nothing to worry, they went to the east,' he explained, 'this one is in the west.'

'Thank Allah, all are safe.'

He looked at her while she was still watching at the hill top, 'Suraj, see again. More and more green area is changing hue.'

'No Saira, the rain is coming rapidly towards us. Now please change the direction of your horse and start running away.' Suraj warned and turned his horse back as she followed him. He was continually looking back at every turn to check if she has not fallen behind. They ran and ran on the winding way, forgetting which way they came in the first place. By the time heavy rain actually came to them he stopped below a gigantic banyan tree. She also stopped, got down from her horse and stood close to him. Suraj took a large sheet from the packet hung on the back of the horse before tying them both with two adjacent aerial roots. He then held the sheet above their head. She in the meantime unpacked her bags, took a towel and first wiped off Suraj's drench body before wiping her own.

'Don't worry,' he assured, 'I hope the rain stops soon, and we can start again.'

'But we have come in a different way,' she was scared now, 'can we still recognise which way we came?'

'I hope we can recognise. Anyway, the heavy rain could have easily wiped out all the trails had we remembered and acted upon the advice of Ayaaz.'

'Anyway, we have forgotten to do that. But we can be sure next time to follow the advice.' She suggested.

'Are you afraid?' Suraj asked.

She nodded, came closer to him and looked up in his eyes, 'Not at all, as long as you are with me.'

He felt happy. After all, he was a Rajput fighter from a warrior's family. Self-confidence is the first sign of a brave soldier. He felt contended on Saira's remarks. His body language showed that clearly.

'Now I realise why last few hours we never came across any tribal on the way.' He remarked.

'Why?'

'Unlike us, these tribal people have terrifically strong intuition,' he explained, 'they watch the reaction of animals and birds, find out indication of adverse weather and take precaution in time. It is possible that they predicted the heavy rain and remained in-door.'

She thought for a while as if she was accepting his opinion and said, 'That means the animals also knew that heavy rain is coming and stayed at some safe place?'

'How the animals will know Saira?' Suraj asked, 'they are animals, not human. Tribal people may be uncivilised, but are human. They have brains.'

'You told now tribal people consider the reaction of animals and birds predict weather!'

'Yes, yes. You are right,' he agreed, 'I think animals do not anticipate, but just follow their instincts. Their instincts are better than ours.'

Continuous rain made the weather cold. Unknowingly Suraj said, 'We should have brought some madira (wine) to fight the cold climate.'

'Do you drink?' she asked.

'Sometimes,' he replied, 'but I am not a drunkard. Do you drink?'

'Are you nuts?' she replied, 'I am a woman.'

'I was just joking.'

'I know.'

They couldn't know how time flew away. They were just standing below the large tree for a long time, and it was hard. He discovered few aerial roots of the banyan tree, entangled with one another, hung parallel to the ground. The entangled roots worked like a bench. He tied the sheet to other vertical aerial roots making an angle so that rain water could drift off easily. Thus, they got a warm small space to get some rest. Saira arranged few dried bushes. They were moist, but after some effort they caught fire making a lovely warm fireplace, a perfect for the occasion. There was no need for the madira (wine) when a beautiful girl was sitting so close and gossiping. The situation was enough to make any young bachelor intoxicated. He controlled himself. She was not an ordinary woman. She was his father's best friend's only daughter and his friend Ayaaz's only sister. She was the daughter of heroic Nadirah, who could kill brother of a state Governor to keep her respect. And he was the only son of one of the bravest and most reputed Rajput generals of the Mughal Army, highly trusted by Akbar the Great, the Emperor of India. He was supposed to provide protection to women from unwanted and anti-social elements, not become an anti-social factor when opportunity comes. He controlled himself.

The place they were resting was funny. Lots of water were flowing from the higher ground, but they were vanishing sharply in the downward slope somewhere in the jungle. Rainfall slowed down, but not entirely. One side of the sky became clear, bringing hope of a clear sky before the end of the day. With that hope, also appeared a beautiful and large rainbow on the sky. The coloured sun rays entered the shower streams creating a variety of colours.

Saira pointed out the rainbow, 'See how enormous the rainbow is.'

Suraj looked again at the rainbow, this time through the waves of flying hairs of Saira. It was so fantastic and unique. One gigantic rainbow was multiplied into hundreds small exceptionally beautiful rainbows. This beauty should be observed, not destroyed by touching with lustful desire.

He couldn't describe the scene. He didn't have enough words to express his feeling. He just murmured, 'Beautiful. I have never seen such beautiful rainbow in my life.'

She looked at him, 'Definitely this is not the first time you are watching a rainbow.'

He couldn't say how lovely the rainbow looks while looking through her unbraid hairs. He said, 'Yes it is rare when you are sitting on a bench made of aerial roots in deep forest. One side there is rain and the other side there is this beautiful sunray and rainbow. It is different and unique.'

'It looks more attractive when you are hungry,' she said and got off from the roots holding a small sheet over the top to keep her from the rain. She went to her tied horse and removed a jar from the pack hanging on its back. She came back to Suraj and sat near him on the aerial-root bench and took out few pieces of homemade snacks.

'Now tell me how the rainbow looks while munching these snacks,' she pushed some into his mouth.

'Awesome!' he said.

'How come the same rainbow suddenly became spectacular once the snacks are inside your mouth?' she laughed.

'These snacks are awesome,' he explained once he could eat them, 'your cooks are absolutely genius.'

'This was not made by our cooks,' she protested.

'Then who made this?'

'I!' she laughed again.

'You can make so beautiful snacks?' he said, 'I will not mind to stay on these aerial roots for days if I am assured plenty of this.'

'All right,' she said, 'once the rain stops I will go back and make bags full of these snacks. Just do not go out from this place. I will give the details of the area to the servants, and they can easily find you out.'

'What will you explain?'

'I will explain, a crazy tall young man is sitting on the entangled aerial roots under a giant banyan tree with a large cloth hanging above his head, to put a roof. He is looking at the one and only beautiful and distinctive rainbow which no one has seen before. He is munching snacks and has forgotten that he is out for some game called hunting game.'

Both laughed.

She said, 'Sorry I didn't make this, my mother did. She always cooks variety of snacks when I come to see my brothers. These are preferred snacks of Ayaaz and Kareem.'

'These are my favourite too,' he added, 'next time please make some more for me. I will come to meet you and have these snacks.'

'She will,' said Saira, 'she has extremely high opinion about your family. One day your father had saved her reputation.'

'But he couldn't save her marriage,' he said gloomily.

'That is alright. For her, the honour is more valuable than her marriage. She is perfectly happy in my uncle's family. Iqbal is both my uncle and a father figure for me. I have never missed a father in my life.'

'Does she still sing?' he asked.

'Yes, but not for outsiders. She sings for her own and family. She has even composed few songs praising your father.'

Suraj remained silent. There was no sign of rain to stop; instead it continued indefinitely. They could see a small river clearly which till now was almost invisible. It was full of water with strong current. It looked like the flooded Ganga or Yamuna; ready to burst into cities and villages angrily. They remembered Ayaaz's ideas about rain and small unnamed rivers in the jungle.

'Thank God we were not sitting on the river bed,' Suraj said, 'otherwise we could have easily swept away.'

The rainbow disappeared. Whatever little sunlight was seen on one side of the sky also disappeared as black clouds again occupied the area. Sun probably decided that enough is enough; let's wrap up for the day.

'We need to leave the area now,' he said looking at the sign of dusk.

'How can we?' asked Saira, 'we don't remember way back to the base.'

'We can't live here forever. You are also right, during day time probably we could recognise the road even though we forgot to save marks on our turnings, now it may be difficult.'

'It is impossible at night,' she commented, 'not only difficult.'

'It is not wise to walk in an unknown jungle at night,' he was concerned, 'you saw so few animals during the day. Once the rain stops, most of the animals will leave in search of food. They can move easily in dark, but we with all our weapons are ineffective at night.'

'You are a soldier,' Saira said, 'you must have been trained if you encounter such problems.'

'Yes, we try to find a safe place to spend the night.'

'Where can we spend the night?'

'If only we can get some tribal village,' he said with a tone of disappointment, 'we have not come across a single tribal village on our way.'

'You told that their hutment are unusually small and can be easily hidden behind tall trees?'

'Yes,' he was optimist, 'if we can try and get at least one tribal village, both our problems will be over?'

'What is the second problem?' she asked.

'Finding a way back,' he answered.

'That is the first problem,' she argued, 'then what is the other problem?'

'Finding a suitable place to spend the night safely,' he answered, 'can you guess which place can be safe other than a tribal village? At least we can find some humans there.'

'See, it is now virtually impossible to find a tribal village before evening. And night is already at our doorstep.' She continued, 'Can't we spend the night here?'

'Do you think this is a safe place?' Suraj looked intently at her in the fading sunlight.

'Yes,' she replied.

'How?'

'For me every place is safe as long as you are with me,' she said as she slowly placed her hand on his shoulder.

Suraj felt the love of her touch. He was thrilled but remained silent. He could see her dependence upon him given the background of her family and his father's contribution. He promised himself that, if required, he would give up his life to protect her. He looked up at the banyan tree. There were few entangled aerial roots parallel to the ground providing a wider surface than the roots they were sitting. He climbed upon and stepped on the entangled roots. It seemed as if God knew many years before that these two souls will spend a night here. He created those roots and entangled them to provide a safe and comfortable bed.

'Do you know how to climb a tree?' he asked.

'No,' she answered with a smile, 'how do you think I should know?'

'Because you are already trained in so many things; horse riding, sword fighting, bow and arrow, so I thought you might have known.'

'Do we need to climb there?' she asked, 'what is wrong here? We are sitting so comfortably here since last few hours.'

'That is too low and may be dangerous at night as it will be easily accessible by predators.'

'There are also animals like Cheetah who can easily climb there.' She said.

'Yes, but not all animals can climb. At least we have less chance of being a non-veg feast of some animal tonight if we choose this place. And I must admit I am not a particularly skilled climber of trees. I can just manage. I want to learn this from my father whenever we both find time.'

She took out a long fabric and made several knots. Suraj found few still dry logs which were under a large stone. The logs were large enough to provide light whole night. He arranged them to make a circle. After lighting the logs, he took one part of the knotted cloth, tied with the aerial-root and came back. Saira put her legs on the knots as he gave her support and helped her to climb the bed made up of aerial roots. He brought both the horses and brought them inside the fire circle, 'Now these poor fellows can sleep properly at night.' He said.

'You are not tying them,' she said, 'wouldn't they disappear at night?'

'No, they wouldn't leave the luxury of warmth of the burning log in the cold, rainy night anywhere in the jungle. They are animals but still possess some understanding. I shouldn't tie them so that they can save them if attacked at night.'

The horses stood quietly near the fire. He took out the bags from their back and kept on the aerial-root bench. Then he took out their weapons and handed them all one after one to Saira. She kept them neatly on both sides of the ten feet long aerial-root bed.

'Do you still have some yummy snacks left?' he asked.

'Yes, plenty of them, enough for our dinner and morning breakfast if we survive this night.' She laughed.

'I am a soldier,' Suraj said showing his faith, 'and you also know how to fight.'

Both tried to organise for the night. The natural aerial-root bed was not particularly large, and respect demanded that he maintained respectful distance from any woman and not intrude inside her bedroom. What do you do when the bedroom is so vast that the blue sky is the roof and the horizons are its walls? He proposed that she be on the bed, and he will settle down below on the aerial-root bench where they spent the afternoon and protect her. She didn't agree.

'You also need rest,' she pleaded, 'you need energy for tomorrow.'

'I can't,' he argued, 'who will watch for the wild animals if I sleep.'

'We will cover in shifts,' she suggested as Suraj looked at her.

'Do not look at me like this,' she said with a smile, 'my mother has handled wild animals in the past. You can't find such wild animal in this jungle. She even killed that demon.'

He looked at her in disbelief, 'which jungle was that?'

'The jungle was Allahabad, and the wild animal she killed was Niyaz.' She said with a pride in her face, 'I am her daughter, and she has prepared me to face and fight any wild animal who attacks me.'

The rain stopped. Sky became blue again with moon appearing and distributing light over the dark forest. Stars also appeared, and the sky became vibrant again. The log beneath their bed was burning emanating smoke giving some warmth to the horses as well as guests on the first floor. Both horses were not moving away from the burning log. Suraj was right, they would never run away. He kept prepared a small burning log hanging on a branch where he could reach quickly. He also arranged some dry straw and made few bundles of them.

'What are they for?' Saira asked.

'Wild beasts in Allahabad are not afraid of fire,' he commented, 'rather they also know the use of fire. But the innocent wild animals can be scared away with the help of fire. We may not have to use weapons unless attacked by them.'

'Do we try to hunt any wild animal if they come close to us?' she asked, 'for the hunting game?'

'No,' he said, 'unless they attack. Killing any animal at night is against Rajput tradition. Night is for the rest.'

Both slept in shifts. For the first time in his life Suraj was sitting so close to a sleeping young and beautiful woman. He tried to maintain as much physical space as possible, but couldn't as the God-made bed was not large enough to avoid closeness. Saira slept keeping the head towards him. Unlike Suraj, she was behaving as if she knew him for years, and he was just another family member. As night increased, wild animals started their activity. Horses were almost safe as they were resting with burning logs on all sides. Still he kept a firm vigil with bow and arrow ready to strike at the slightest hint. Horses could feel anytime some wild animal was coming near that area and showed that they were feeling uncomfortable, but never tried to walk out of the circle. Perhaps they also understood their owners are competent enough to save them.

Saira didn't wake up Suraj till the morning sun covered him with a warm blanket and birds announced another working day with various types of songs. When he didn't see Saira near him his hands automatically went to his weapons. He didn't find her weapons either. He started coming down. The burning logs were already turned into ashes and horses were not around. He tried to get her footsteps on the wet grass, but they were high enough to hide any mark of their walking on them. He couldn't decide where to start the search. He climbed a small hill and looked at all sides. The small unnamed tributary, which was practically flooding last night, was almost dead and dry now. Sky was bright blue with no evidence of heavy rain of last night.

His bow was loaded with arrow ready to attack. The swivel gun was hanging from his waist band, and the sword was also hanging from the other side of the waist. His face was red with anger; not towards the wild animals but at himself. Wild animals can attack anyone when they are afraid or hungry. It is their natural instinct. How can he, a brave and skilled fighter, turned into such deep sleep on a tree inside a deep jungle that he couldn't get the slightest clue when the girl was snatched from near him?

He walked further and crossed the small hill. The bow and arrow fell down from his hands as he stood standstill. He could see only the backside of a woman with long freshly washed hairs. She was putting her wet clothes on a low level part of a tree to dry. The horses were happily munching the grass to fill their breakfast quota. She turned towards him with a bright smile. Just one day before she was coming with him with all the make-up and looking like a princess. Today she was without any make-up and was looking like fairy! She came slowly towards him as if nothing had happened since yesterday. As if they are not lost in the jungle; they didn't spend the night on a tree and now they are just enjoying the morning spring sun in their own backyard? Suraj stood dumbfounded looking at her poise. He was looking worried: to get a way back home.

'There is a cascade on that side. You slept so late last night, so I didn't want to bother you. Poor horses were standing inside the fire ring all night. I brought them here for grazing. I also took a dip in the cascade. You also get a bath and change the clothes, you will feel refreshed.'

'You should have told me Saira,' Suraj cautioned, 'there is a danger in every step. I could have come to protect you.'

She said nothing, just looked at the bottom of a tree where her bow and arrow and the sword was kept. He understood.

'You know I am bathing in public for the first time in my life. I know you would have stood at a respectable distance. The cascade is extremely small; waters are clear and only waist deep with hardly any current.' She told everything in one breath before Suraj could raise further questions. The girl who was so shy with him just yesterday morning was now talking so much as if they knew each other since years.

Suraj walked towards the cascade as she also walked with him holding her weapons.

Their journey continued.

It was a hot midday sun. Suraj's horse was following Saira's. They tried to recognise the way they came yesterday, but it was terribly confusing. Whatever they were calling paths were not actually paths, but were a little bit cleaner patches than the rest. Sometimes, there were wide open fields with few trees and one could cross that from any side. If you come back after few minutes, it would be difficult to distinguish from which side you came earlier. This was the reason Ayaaz had told them to save some evidence which could be recognised.

They met some tribal on the road and tried to talk without success. Suraj tried to use the sign language for the first time in his life, and even Saira couldn't know what he meant from his signs. So she didn't imagine the poor tribal person could comprehend anything. He first wanted to ask how to go out of that large jungle. Then he thought the man could have never gone outside the jungle. So, he asked where his village was; showing his both hands like the shape of a hutment. Someone in the village might know their language or way to reach out of the jungle. They probably could pay someone to help them or can get some food. The man was dark-skinned and looked about forty. He kept his bow and arrow and axe on the ground and made some sign language for about five minutes. Both Suraj and Saira tried to get at least some of his instructions and then memorise something. At the end, they realised they have understood nothing. Suraj tried to convince him to come along with them. He pulled his hand and brought towards his horse. He resisted. He tried to pay him some coins. He looked at those coins and didn't look to be impressed. Probably he didn't know what the coins were.

There was no reason to push. Ayaaz's recommendations had been ignored once, but never again. The jungle was their territory, and they were not afraid of any noble or powerful individual of any high position. They just do not care. Being unsuccessful, they said good-bye to him and tried to go in the direction he indicated. After travelling for hours, they realised no progress had been achieved. They were probably making rounds and rounds and this way they might spend the rest of their lives inside the jungle.

Saira stopped below a large mango tree. Suraj also stopped and got off the horse. Both the horses got some time for grazing. She looked visibly tired. She sat beneath the tree and started drinking water, which they had collected in the morning from the cascade. Suraj was willing to move further before taking a break, but dropped the idea because of her. He unloaded his and Saira's bags from the back of horses, put a sheet and kept the bags on the ground.

'We need to gather some food,' she said, 'our stock is diminishing.'

'No problem,' he agreed, 'we can get fresh mangoes. I can see some orange plants also, and there are so many varieties of fruits. There will be no shortage of food here.'

'Please do not eat any fruit which you don't recognise,' Saira cautioned, 'it may be fatal.'

'I know how to know whether some fruit is poisonous.'

'How?' she asked.

'Just watch if birds are eating them,' he said.

He went and collected some fruits; some oranges, green mangoes (as they ripe only in summer) and some strange fruits. Saira cut them into pieces with a knife and served on a platter. While eating, her eyes found a deer in the bushes. There was a baby deer also, and it was drinking milk from its mother. She pointed at them with her finger. Suraj's hands went automatically to his bow and arrow. Saira caught his hands.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'Sorry,' he admitted, 'I didn't consciously want to chase her. It is against our tradition, to kill female animals with babies.' He laid down the weapon and concentrated in the food.

'We have to hunt some animal anyway,' he said while eating.

'Why?' she explained, 'we have already lost. Aditi and Ayaaz must have gone home with their prey. They might have cooked and eaten its meat last night.'

'Returning with bare hand will add salt to the injury, sorry I meant insult,' he reasoned, 'we should get some animal even if we have lost. Who knows they also might have been lost.'

'I doubt,' she said while putting a green mango in her mouth, 'Ayaaz has better knowledge about the jungle.'

'He has no practical knowledge,' he commented, 'he has never been to this jungle before. We always go together, and we have been to extremely small jungles only, never been to such enormous jungle.'

'So, do you think they are also lost in the jungle like us?' she asked.

'There are three probabilities,' Suraj said as he finished his eating, 'first one: they have gone home yesterday with their prey. The second is: they are also lost in the jungle like us and are thinking that we have gone home yesterday with some prey.'

'Very funny,' Saira laughed, 'what do we gain if they are also lost?'

'At least we have a chance to win if we go-back today with a prey.'

'What is the third probability?' she asked.

'They have sent people to look for us.' Suraj went to wash his hand.

'Now you are right,' Saira also went to wash her hands, 'this is the only probability, I can think.'

'You have so much confidence on your brother?' he asked.

'You are being jealous,' she smiled, 'I have faith on you also.'

'Confidence on not finding a direction to go out of the jungle!' he teased.

'No, faith on you,' she said, 'bad-luck is not in your hands, but being optimist and fighting confidently to be out of bad-luck is in your hands. That is exactly what you are doing now.' She kept her hand on his shoulder.

Suraj also became passionate and kept his hand on her shoulder, 'Saira, you are my inspiration.'

Suddenly he became aware and took his hands away from her shoulder. He felt uneasy with his own manners and looked down. Then he went to untie the horses. Saira smiled as she understood his situation and went to pack up for a new journey.

Both started their journey again, with the hope of finding a way back home or a way out of the jungle. The only human being they met so far was not of any help. Suraj was a little bit tense, not for being lost, but because he was aware about Saira's impression on him. She was considering him as a terrific Rajput warrior. He was trying his best to live up to the status, but failing miserably. First he failed to win the hunting match for her. Next he failed to find a way out of the jungle. Ayaaz must be trying to locate them. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted he could find a way out of the jungle before help arrived from Ayaaz.

Saira, on the other hand, was cool. She was exceptionally realistic. She still had lots of confidence on Suraj as well as herself. In spite of all the pain, she had not lost her beautiful smile, which was the real driving factor for Suraj.

Both continued sitting on their own horses. Few times Saira noticed animals from a distance, which Suraj probably didn't notice. She didn't seem to guide her fingers eagerly towards the animal. Suraj also saw few deers, but his hands didn't go to his bow and arrow. They simply went on. There were no plans to find a way back home anymore. Anywhere they find a way seemed to be going out of the jungle, but also there were so many of them going in different directions. It was indeed much confusing. If they followed any of them, probably they would be roaming the rest of their life. They were tired of everything and desperately wanted to be back at home and relax on their bed, which was an awful distant dream. It was already afternoon. Home might be far away, but the dreadful night was fast approaching. Last night they were lucky to get a natural bed formed by the aerial-roots of the giant banyan tree. They got a decent cover from the pouring rain. There was a wall made of fire throughout the night. At the beginning, it seemed an unsatisfactory arrangement. Today was not better, and when things became worse, last night's situations looked fabulous. It was actually like a picnic. It was a quiet and restful night with a promise of a better tomorrow, the tomorrow which was yet to come.

Now the strategy was to find a village of tribal people. This would ensure a safe night and some cooked food. The only tribal they met couldn't help them as he didn't understand their language. There must have been someone in the village that might have visited outside world and knew the language of civilised people. They decided that if they found someone who didn't understand their language, they would not waste time in trying to communicate. Instead, they would simply follow as eventually, the man would go back to his village before night.

'This strategy will certainly work,' Saira was hopeful, 'we should have followed the only tribal we met today.'

'That wouldn't have worked,' Suraj replied.

'Why?'

'Because that was pre-noon and he must be going out to work. Dusk is the only time we should follow them.'

They found a trail with foot-prints of people. Although there were not many foot-prints, yet it was the last ray of hope for the day. They were standing on the foothill of a small mountain. The trail was going from one end of the hill to another and winding around the mountain like a serpent. Definitely there was a tribal village somewhere near, but it was difficult to know which part went to the village. There was also a way going towards the top of the hill, but no village was apparent there. It was possible sometimes people go up the hill for collecting food, and their village was situated somewhere on the bottom of it.

They decided not to go further as they were not sure which side the village existed. Evening was not far away, and they needed to get some tactics for all circumstances. In the worst case, they needed to find a safe cover like last night. There was no banyan tree around today. Suraj thought as they were near the hill, a natural or manmade empty cave would be a better option. They let the two faithful horses graze and finish their dinner before evening. Saira went behind a large tree and changed her clothes. Suraj looked at the other side, to locate a shelter. He didn't find anything suitable. Only positive thing was that the weather was pleasant, and the sky was clear.

Saira came to him after changing her clothes. She was tying a turban on her head and wearing a less glaring trouser like dress. He looked at her new fashion without uttering any comment.

'Am I looking like a man?' She asked with a smile.

Now he understood what she was doing behind that large tree.

'Is there any reason for which you are preparing?' he teased.

'I will be taken seriously with these weapons if I look like a man. And I am also feeling safe.'

'Why do you think there will be a threat from the tribal people? In case someone tries to misbehave I am always there to make a suitable reply.'

Saira felt satisfied with his answer but still insisted, 'Seriously, do I look like a man?'

'Why do you want to look like a man?'

'Men have more freedom.' She replied.

Suraj's face told that he didn't know what she meant. Independence for a woman was a novel concept in the medieval age.

'Yes,' he commented, 'someone may think you as a man if he looks from a distance, from the back-side probably.

He was not ready to consider her as a man even in his dreams.

They saw a lonely woman who got off from the hill and started walking towards the winding side of the hill. The woman was in her early twenties and with proper height. She was draping a cotton sheet around her waist, and that was the only clothing. She was at a considerable distance and was holding a bunch of logs on her head. Suraj and Saira couldn't remember from where she emerged as they were engaged in discussing Saira's new look. Suraj asked Saira to call her.

'My voice is not so loud to reach that distance,' she didn't call the tribal woman, 'why don't you call her?'

'No, it looks awkward,' he was uncertain as she was not properly dressed as per the dress code of the civilised world outside the jungle. Saira understood his reluctance.

'This is the last chance for us to get a tribal village today,' he said.

'Yes,' she complimented, 'otherwise we have to spend the night in worse shape than last night.'

Suraj quickly brought the horses that were happily enjoying their happy feast of green grass but quietly obliged without any hassles; just like obedient soldiers. Both jumped on their own horses and went in the direction of the young tribal woman, in order to follow her to her village. It was not long to bridge the gap between them. They maintained some space and followed her slowly. She looked back at them few times, but neither Suraj nor Saira tried to communicate with her. They had experience with the tribal man in the morning where all manner of communication failed. Surely this woman couldn't communicate with them. They required finding some mature or elderly person in their village whom they expected would have seen the outside world. They were not wrong.

The woman started to walk fast, as quickly as possible, occasionally looking back at them. Then she shouted loudly.

'She is probably calling her family people to help her in carrying the logs,' Suraj said, 'why don't you go and help her?'

'She will think that I am a man and may be afraid of me.' She replied, 'Had I known that we will have to follow a woman, I wouldn't have dressed like a man. I thought, we will encounter some men.'

It was not long to realise what the woman was shouting for. There was sound of beating of drums. Men started to gather under a tree at a distance. The distance was enough to realise clearly what was happening. They were standing in a circle with their back towards them. Almost everyone was carrying a bow and arrows hanging on their shoulders. One elderly man was saying something occasionally pointing fingers at Suraj and Saira.

'Finally we could get the tribal village,' Saira said happily.

Suraj didn't reply, he was looking serious and was desperately trying to make out what was happening. He didn't know their language, but their body language disturbed him. He turned towards Saira and said in a commanding voice, 'Saira, run.'

Saira turned her horse back but couldn't decide which way to go. He looked back towards Suraj and saw hundreds of tribal men both young and older started running after them hurling abuses and pointing the loaded bows at them. Suraj didn't waste time and started running on his horse. Saira couldn't decide which way to go. Apparently going down the hill would have been easy to run away, but Suraj decided to move above the hill. Saira couldn't understand the logic and ran after him. She tried to keep her horse parallel to his so that she could advise him to go down the hill rather than up.

'Hi,' she called him without taking his name, 'why don't we go down instead of up?'

He looked at her, 'We are on our horses, and they are all on foot. They will be soon feel tired, and we can still carry on our horses.'

'You are right,' she said, 'but why are they running after us? What did we do?'

'I don't know? Just run. Don't stop.'

'Maybe there is some misunderstanding,' she suggested, 'let's stop and try to explain them.'

'That is not possible,' said Suraj.

'Why?'

'We don't know their language.'

'Maybe some of them might know our language,' she suggested, 'we should try.'

'By the time we get one who knows our language, both of us will be killed. Just run.'

They ran up the hill, among the woods. The angry people behind continued the chasing. Sometimes they were shooting arrows, but both were at a sufficient reach beyond their shooting range. There was a winding path up the hill. There was no time to consider where they were going. There was no time even to keep track of their path. The sun was going fast towards the west and spraying beautiful colours throughout. Unfortunately, none of them was in a position, to appreciate and admire the natural beauty. Suraj desperately wanted the sun to disappear as soon as possible so that darkness could bring them the much needed protection. He wondered why these people after them were not getting tired.

Suddenly he heard Saira's scream and a thumping sound. He looked back. Saira's horse was lying in a pool of blood and Saira was hanging holding the arm of a tree. He moved back. There was an arrow pierced in the chest of the horse, and it was dying. Saira was still screaming even though she was not injured. He couldn't imagine how any tribal people could run so fast after the running horses to come so close. He looked around and saw a young man standing not far away and staring at them. He had a loaded bow in his hand, but he was not aiming at them. Suraj quickly took the bow and swiftly loaded an arrow. The young man was saying something pointing at Saira. He couldn't understand what he was saying, but just guessed that he might not strike again. There was no time to think, but there was enough time to react. He hung his bow on his shoulder and kept the arrow in the quiver. Then he took Saira in his both hands and quickly made her sit on his horse. He looked at the tribal man as he instructed his horse to run again, the guy was just pulling off. He was alone. Apparently this guy took a shortcut to reach them quickly while others were following through the way Suraj and Saira escaped. He could hear the roar of the other people and was quick to run away.

Saira was sitting in front of Suraj with both hand wrapped around his neck and legs hanging to his right hand side. If he could stay for a moment, she could switch to a decent position. It looked embarrassed when a young woman was sitting so close to a young man almost wrapped around his body. Saira felt uncomfortable, so did Suraj, but who in the vast jungle was going to see them? The sun was about to set. The tribal people who were chasing them were far behind now. He didn't want to take the chance. They didn't know any way in the jungle, but the local tribal people knew. At least one person managed to come to them in a shortcut way and killed one of their horses. They even didn't get time to decide whether the horse was still fighting for his life or already dead, poor horse. The road was not going uphill. Suraj looked around. Probably they had already crossed the top of the hill. After all, the mountain was not particularly high. The curvy road started down the hill. He slowed down.

Saira started, 'I still don't understand why they are attacking us.'

'I can now imagine.' Suraj replied.

'What?'

'The woman we were following to her village, thought two men are following her.' Suraj said.

'What?' exclaimed Saira 'is she blind?'

'You don't realise you have been dressed like a man. She genuinely mistook you as a man.'

'How are you so sure?'

'I didn't know what those people were talking loudly as I don't know their language. But, I could watch the reaction of the man who killed your horse.' Suraj said.

She didn't say anything but just looked at his face. He was looking at the other side but could feel her breath.

'He was going to attack you after attacking your horse,' he continued, 'when he heard your cry, he was shocked. He then watched you be sure you are actually a woman and quietly went back.'

He stopped his horse, and both got down. She stood on the ground but didn't leave her hand from Suraj's shoulder.

'The horse needs some rest,' he explained his action even though she didn't ask him.

'It is possible that they have stopped chasing,' she said.

'Yes, but I am not hundred percent sure.'

'Why?' she asked, 'the man must have gone back and told his people that I am a woman.'

'When they started chasing us, they were all in one group,' Suraj explained, 'then they have formed independent groups. The man might have told one or two groups. What happens if another group which till now doesn't know that you are a woman?'

'That means we need to be more careful,' she said, 'I am so stupid! I thought the danger is over and started talking loudly.'

'That's ok,' he assured, 'they can hear a woman's voice if they reach us secretly among the woods. That is fortunate for us.'

'Have you seen those forming groups?' she questioned his judgment, 'you mightn't have got time to look backwards.

'That is the basic principle of the war,' he replied in just one short sentence.

'They are not civilised.' She said, 'they are not even trained properly like you.'

'They may not be civilised, but they are human beings and obviously smart.' Suraj continued, 'this experience is handed down from one generation to another for hundreds of years.'

She nodded in agreement, 'You have a swivel gun. Why didn't you use that? Did you forget?'

'No, but I just wanted self-protection. I didn't want to kill them. Tomorrow we might also go to them, and they might take us as their guest if they realise their assumption was wrong. If we eliminate even one of them, the relationship will never be possible.'

'You are not only a talented warrior, but a staunch diplomat also,' Saira praised him, 'you could have just made few blank fires and they would have gone away.'

Suraj smiled as she appreciated his diplomatic acumen, 'They will be afraid at the gun-sound only if they know what guns are, and that guns are more dangerous than bow and arrow. Blank fire will not work. In the worst case, I may have to kill some of them with the gun, which I do not want.'

'You are right.'

They felt relaxed. The tribal people were now probably sure that two men were not following the solo tribal woman. In fact, a man and a woman were following her. But they couldn't go back to them to ask for shelter for the night. The decision could be fatal if their conclusion became wrong. Suraj instead decided to get some suitable place like last night where they could spend the night. The moonlight was not enough to provide a reasonable visibility of the jungle. He created the fire and kept a small burning log ready to face any emergency while Saira gathered some dry leaf so that they could make a fire wall. The only wild animal that were resistant to their armaments were the wild elephants that lived in this jungle. So far they had not come across any, and they didn't know which part of the jungle the elephants lived. In fact, they didn't know which part of the vast jungle they were now.

Saira suggested, 'if we don't find a suitable place here, why can't we go further down the hill?'

Suraj stopped searching for the appropriate place and started thinking.

Saira continued, 'There may be a chance that we can find another tribal village this side. I will sit in front of you on the horse holding a lighted log. You will keep your swivel gun ready to fire at the predator.'

'Good idea,' Suraj said in a light tone, 'at least people will see there is a woman and give us shelter.'

'We need to get some village before the villagers go to sleep,' she suggested.

They carried out the plan immediately. She held a lighted small branch and sat in front of him. He held the swivel gun in one hand and held the bridle of the horse in the other. Both were hungry, but the necessity of a safe shelter was more than satisfying the hunger. The narrow but curvy road was going down the hill. It was difficult to see ahead of the curve. They were slowing down at every curve whether the road ahead was safe. The horse was walking at a normal pace. Saira was constantly looking around for any signs of light and human voice. Suraj asked her, 'what are you up to?'

'I am dreaming, that we can see lights and sound of songs and dance somewhere on our way.'

'We are still inside the deep forest,' Suraj reminded her.

'I know,' she continued, 'that's why I am expecting this. I have heard that after a busy day tribal men and women put up lights and then dance together. If so, we can see some lighting and sound of collective songs. You can hear the sound of collective songs from a distance, particularly when the atmosphere is not noisy.'

He laughed at her innocence. She turned off and stared at him.

'Yes, you are right. Tribal men and women like to dance and sing together,' he explained, 'but only on occasions, not daily.'

'Maybe that time is tonight.' She was optimist.

'Let your dream come true,' he said as the horse continued walking at a steady pace.

It was a starry night. The sky was clear without a single cloud anywhere. It was difficult to believe that just one day before there was so much heavy rain, and they were lost in the jungle.

'How long we will continue?' Saira asked.

'I don't know,' he was clueless, 'till we reach a village or at least a site like last night.'

There was neither a village nor a proper shelter on their way. They continued for about another half hour, hoping something would appear on their way. Saira religiously kept her ears open to hear any sound of tribal songs and continuously looked around to find out any signs of lights. She felt pain in her neck after sometime. Suraj was continuously scanning the surroundings for signs of any dangerous animal with whatever light was available from the burning log and half moon. Only indifferent was the horse that continued walking relentlessly. Poor animal lost a friend and couldn't still show any emotion.

Saira got tired but still continued watching for her dream village. They were not destined to move for the entire night. Something should happen on their way.

'Something will happen; good or evil. Bad! No, why bad? This idea shouldn't come to my mind,' she thought and tried to distract her attention, but the word 'bad' didn't drop from her mind. Her mother Nadirah has told her repeatedly, 'think of good, miraculous things will happen. Think of bad things....'

'No, no evil thing should happen.'

She felt she was shaking. She sat straight confidently and thought, 'No, I am not afraid. I am not shaking.'

Shaking still didn't stop. Suraj was sitting behind her with minimal space but still trying to keep the possible decent gap without touching her body so far. He bent forward on her few times. She looked back at him.

'Sorry, I couldn't maintain balance.' He said.

She saw Suraj was also shaking.

'What happened?' she asked.

'Sorry Saira, I couldn't maintain balance,' he tried to explain with a sense of guilt, 'may be the road is not consistent, so the horse is not walking steadily.'

She realised she was not shaking for fear, even Suraj was shaking. 'It is alright,' she said, 'there is nothing wrong.' She was not at all feeling guilty as Suraj was unintentionally bending out on her.

'No, it is not alright,' he said in a trembling voice.

She didn't expect this from him. 'There is nothing wrong Suraj; I can see, perhaps the road is not seemly after all this is not a road at all even though we are calling it a road.'

The horse started shaking too vigorously. Suraj held her shoulder with one hand. The lighted branch fell down from her hand on the ground and illuminated the path. Both saw a large snake was escaping to the side of the road. Saira's eyes became wide with fear. Suraj realised the situation, held the arm of a tree for support in one hand and hands of Saira with the other, leaving the bridle. The horse fell down making a grunting sound. Suraj stood on the ground holding Saira strongly. The burning log came in contact of some dried leaves and started a small fire on the ground illuminating the area. The horse was lying on the ground and still shaking with foams coming out from its mouth. Saira looked at her and felt like crying.

'Can we get some herbs for its cure?' she asked.

'There is no hope,' Suraj confirmed, 'the horse is dying.'

Horses die in battle fields. He is not new to this. Probably for the first time in his case the horse was dying because of snake bite. Spare horses could be available in battle fields. Now there was none. He had never felt guilty when his horses died in battle fields. That was the way of life. Now he was feeling the pain, not for the fate of the horse, but for himself. He was in the midst of a deep forest, with a young woman to take care of, and the burden of two animals to carry.

'Load of two animals to move!' Suraj was frightened at the thought. Saira's horse was killed, and he took out all the baggage the horse was carrying and loaded on his horse. Then he and Saira both rode his horse. The animal never complained. He also never praised the animal. Animals do not speak. They don't have emotions. He had seen his father Purujit, spending hours with his horse, and talking to the animal. He was treating his horse as a human being. Rich people gave tips to the servants in recognition of their works. Very few recognize the work of the animals. Why? The servants can speak and animals can't. Suraj felt sorry, not only for his own tragic fate but for the dumb creature whom he had never appreciated. He knelt down near the head of the dying horse. The animal was still shaking, but slowly now. There was but little life left. Suraj looked in his eyes. Saira also knelt down near him and lovingly kept her hands on Suraj's shoulder. She understood that Suraj was emotionally broken down. The eyes of the horse were fixed at Suraj's. Probably he was asking him. 'I served you at the cost of my life. What did you do for me?'

Two drops of tears fell from Suraj's eyes on the face of the horse as he was gently moving his hands over his body, 'Thank you, thank you my friend. You have given up your life for me when I am in real danger. You are a true friend. Sorry I didn't give you a name. Your name is 'Dost' (Hindi definition of friend).

The horse probably responded. His shaking stopped, and his eyes were closed. Saira pulled his hands from the body of Dost and moved her hands on Suraj's back to comfort him. Then she went and plucked some wild flowers and spread over the body of Dost. Suraj was still in a kneeling position. She knelt near him and held both his shoulders and gently squeezed them. The gentle squeeze showed a magical effect. His guilt feeling eased. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into his eyes and said, 'So far I have never given any name to my horses. Today I have decided a name for all my future horses.'

'What is that?' asked Saira.

'Shukriya,' He said. (Shukriya is Hindi word for Thanks)

'This is a beautiful name,' Saira said, 'you will unknowingly say thanks to a faithful friend throughout the day.'

Suraj stood up, so did Saira.

She unloaded all the bags hanging on horseback and unpacked them, decided which items were more urgent and made few bags. Suraj was helping her, but she was taking the decision. Like an experienced and sincere housewife she prepared few bags of basic provisions so that they could carry on their shoulders. The fire log was almost finished. He arranged another small branch and lit a fire. He hung most of the bags on his shoulder while she also carried few. Suraj held his swivel gun in ready position. He had fought many wars and faced many dangerous situations in his life. Every time there were people around to take care. Tonight he was there solely to take care of Saira. In the war field, fellow soldiers and servants would take care of his injuries. Even if they were also injured. Suraj had always taken them for granted. He could realise their feelings and could feel a deep sense of gratitude towards them. Saira was not at all looking tense as if she had faced such situation before.

She smiled as both started walking carrying the heavy load. Suraj was surprised at her stress free manner. Either she had faced worse condition than this, or she had so much confidence on Suraj's courage that she was feeling secured in a most dangerous situation. The former was clearly not true.

'When I go back to Agra,' he started, 'I will say thank you to some soldiers who have in the past were by my side during the war and taking utmost care of mine when they were also injured and needed care.'

'Why are you remembering them now?' Saira smiled as if she knew the answer and asking to test him.

'I have rewarded them for their service,' he admitted, 'but now I think the reward is not enough for such gesture.'

'Do you want to give more reward to them?'

'I will personally go to meet their families and thank them from my heart.'

She didn't make any comment, but her smile was the symbol of approval.

The road was going downside of the hill, so in spite of the heavy load the trip was not that tiring. Saira was holding a stick and was constantly knocking the ground so that snakes if any on their way would show up and they would not step on them. They walked for about an hour and halted at a cross road. It was difficult to decide which way to go. He kept the bags down and brought some broken branches to put so that they could recognise where they changed the way. On was going further down the hill. The other was a curvy road and seemed to go upwards towards their left. The former was comparatively cleaner, but the latter was full of weeds and grasses. Suraj thought for a while and pointed towards the road going downside, 'This is the obvious choice.'

'I don't know,' she thoughtfully said, 'my intuition is, let's turn this way.' She pointed her finger at the other road. He didn't debate but carried all the bags and started walking on the way Saira pointed at. The route was extremely curvy. After some time, they came across stones which seemed like steps. The steps were going further up. It was terribly hard to carry heavy loads and move up.

'Are you all right?' he enquired, 'you should pass on your loads to me.'

'Your both hands and shoulders are full,' she said with a smile.

The steps now became wider. It was now clear that they were not usually built steps rather were manmade. Saira's eyes glowed with hope, but Suraj was sceptic. He kept all the baggage on the floor and took the torched log from Saira. He then hung the swivel gun with his waist band and took the rod also from her. The steps were covered with wild creepers. He knocked few steps to be sure that there were no snakes. Then with the help of the torch he closely examined them.

'There are no human footsteps,' he reported.

Saira was still hopeful. She came close to him and tried to find a hint of human. There was nothing. She tried to be logical, 'these are stones, and how do you think there will be footsteps on the hard surface?'

'If humans have travelled on this way in the recent past, the tangled creepers would have become less dense.'

'It is possible that extremely few people use these steps,' she was still not losing hope.

Suddenly she found a dirty cloth few steps above. She pointed her finger towards the cloth, 'See, something is lying there.'

Suraj went up on the steps and held the fabric with one hand, 'It is torn cloth.'

They decided to go up on the steps. Trees on both sides of the stairs formed natural walls. Saira broke some tender branches and placed on the steps so that they could remember the way they travelled. The road ended after almost another two hundred steps. It would be wrong to say the way ended. Rather it opened to a cave, a cave of tremendous hope and alertness too. Suraj looked at Saira. She also looked at him. Nobody uttered a word as if someone in deep sleep at midnight would be disturbed. He looked at the sky and tried to calculate the time from the position of the moon. The opening of the cave was small and inside was dark. It is not always safe to jump in without ascertaining what is there in. He leaned in with the torched branch in his hand. The interior was almost empty, with few dry leaves lying around. Contrary to his apprehension, there were no wild creepers or weeds within.

They decided to go inside. At last they found some place they can spend the night. Suraj brought all their bags and kept inside the cave while Saira used one small tree branch as a broom and started sweeping the floor so that a bed or beds can be prepared. Only a fraction of the cave was lighted with the torched log. She felt safe as she moved to the inner side of the cave.

'Suraj, see! The cave doesn't end here!' She shouted at her discovery.

Suraj quickly came to him as he kept the last bit of luggage inside the cave. He took the fire log from her hand and tried to explore the cave.

'Looks like a tunnel,' he suggested, 'we can explore it tomorrow morning.'

Both were dead tired. Suraj arranged few more logs and torched them. He kept few on the steps near the door and one at the entrance to the tunnel. Fire is the only deterrent against wild animals. Last night was different when they both spent the night on the aerial roots of the banyan tree. One slept while the other kept watch. Also, the horses were standing below inside the fire circle, and the sound of their restless move would have given proper sign of onset of danger. Unfortunately both the faithful animals laid their lives serving their masters.

Suraj of course told Saira to take the first nap and offered to keep watch. When the morning sun rays warmed their bodies they realised both were in deep sleep. Fortunately they were still safe. The burning logs were almost extinct leaving a layer of ashes on the floor. Suraj woke up and looked at Saira who was sleeping on the other side of the big cave. She responded with a fresh and contented smile. She was already up few minutes before and sitting quietly to let Suraj to enjoy his sleep. Her captivating smile kick started another day for Suraj, a day full of energy, hope and fulfilment. He folded his hands and thanked God. Purujit's family was a spiritual one and each member of the family spent some time in the morning and night praying to God. Suraj made no exception. All the life he had prayed mechanically in the morning and evening asking favours from God. Today, when he needed the favour terribly seriously, he didn't ask for it. Rather he thanked God for finding the cave last night, for a deep sleep even though there was no bed, for not being attacked by predators and ultimately for the encouraging smile of Saira. He didn't blame the luck for the sufferings in the jungle. He became determined to face life like a brave soldier. He felt God has a reason behind everything.

'What are you thinking?' Saira interrupted.

'Yesterday you discovered a fountain where we could get a bath,' he said, 'today also we have to get one.'

'We were planning to explore the tunnel today,' she reminded him.

'The tunnel is going upside,' Suraj tried to be logical; 'we need to find water which probably should be on the down side of the mountain.'

'Why so?' she asked.

'Water has a natural tendency to flow downwards,' he explained, 'how can we expect water if we go up?'

She was not convinced, 'We have enough water for our drinking, and we have the whole day to find a source of water and take a bath. Please wash your face and let's see what is there in the tunnel.'

Like an obedient boy he got up and went to the side of the cave which was the beginning of the tunnel. It was not that dark as he expected last night. The ground was not dirty as he thought before. The entry into the tunnel was through a small hole. He went in as Saira still remained in the cave. He went pretty far and came back.

'The tunnel does not seem to be quite dark,' he reported back, 'I can see the light is coming through somewhere. I probably could find out if I go slightly ahead.'

Saira didn't say anything, just started putting the baggage from the cave to the tunnel. Suraj was surprised, 'Strange girl! How can she take so quick decision?' He thought.

He didn't debate and took the bags from her hand. Finally, he took her hand and helped her to climb inside the tunnel.

They started their journey for the third day. Even though it was a bright cloudless day, Suraj torched a log and Saira carried it. Who knew how far in the tunnel they would have to go. What would happen, if there is no light deep inside the tunnel? Had it been the first day, they would have decided not to go through the unknown tunnel. After struggling for last two days, they felt confident enough to explore and find a way through the unknown world.

There were holes on the sides of the tunnel at irregular intervals. It was curvy, so it was difficult to see far even though the light was enough. The tunnel was going up. There were upward slopes as well as steps. After walking for some time, they heard the sound of water flowing. The sound was soothing. They were perspiring because of the tiring journey in the upward going tunnel. Even though there were isolated openings and enough sunlight was lighting the tunnel, the air flow was minimal. Their drinking water was almost over as they were drinking regularly.

'Am I the only one to hear the sound of water?' Suraj asked.

'I can also get the sound.'

Both continued the walk. Shortly the tunnel ended and opened to a narrow cascade. Actually it was not the end of the tunnel as it was still continuing after the cascade.

'God is so friendly?' exclaimed Saira as she saw the clear and sparkling water flowing on the rocks. She looked at Suraj with a smile on her face, and commented, 'You said water flows downwards, see it is flowing downwards.'

'And we didn't have to go downside of the hill to get water,' Suraj laughed at his own idea not to go in the tunnel as it was going uphill.

Both kept their luggage on the ground and quickly descended in the water. The gentle cold water absorbed all the tiredness as both started taking bath. The water was only waist deep but current was strong. Saira had to hold Suraj tightly with one hand and played with the water with the other hand. For a short time, she forgot that she was taking a dip in the cascade with a young man. The man whom she didn't know few days ago. She soon realised and felt uncomfortable. She tried to arrange her clothes. Suraj was consciously looking at the opposite side while continuing the lending his support to Saira for her safety.

They continued the journey again in the tunnel after their marvellous and soothing bath. The tunnel's upward journey stopped and now it was just plain and smooth going.

'I am now thinking why we are going in the tunnel,' Suraj started rethinking about their decision to go into the tunnel.

'Because we have nowhere else to go,' Saira replied, 'the tunnel must have opened somewhere. Who knows it will lead us to the right path?'

'What if we hit a dead end?' Suraj was sceptic.

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'The tunnel can stop near a big wall,' he explained, 'which means we may have to go back from where we came.'

'Going back will not be difficult, as there is no variation or cross-road all the way we have travelled in the tunnel so far. My gut feeling says this tunnel has been used by civilised people and must have a proper end.'

'You are probably right,' Suraj supported her study, 'the way the steps have been paved, it seems to be manmade or at best modified.'

Gradually they felt the presence of smoke. It was not the smoke emanating from the torched log they were holding. Rather it was coming from somewhere. The smell was sweet.

'There must be a fire somewhere in the jungle,' Saira said.

Suraj smiled with confidence, 'This time you will be wrong,' he said, 'can you know what this smell is?'

'Yes, this is the smell of burning of ghee (melted and clarified butter).'

'You are right,' his eyes glowed with excitement and satisfaction, 'finally we have arrived at a proper destination. Saira your gut feeling was right. We have done a right thing by coming inside the tunnel.'

'You are right, but how?' she was confused by sudden optimism of Suraj.

'This is the smell of burning of Ghee,' he explained, 'definitely someone is performing a religious ritual which is not far away. This fragrance will not travel miles. We are, in fact, very close to some human beings who know the area. They may help us find a direction for our rescue.'

She was convinced as both continued their journey. The tunnel started winding again. Finally, they came to the place. They could see the backside of a man sitting cross legged on the stone floor. There was a small fireplace and a man was sitting there and was adding small wooden pieces to the fire. Suraj slowly kept the bags on the ground. Saira also did the same. He didn't utter anything and stood straight so that the man would not be disturbed.

The man probably could understand someone was standing behind him. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, still keeping the backside towards them. Then with a loud burst of laugh he suddenly turned around and stood face to face.

A sudden scream came out from Saira's mouth as she tried to control her volume. Unknowingly she moved quickly near to Suraj and wrapped her hand around his waist. Suraj couldn't speak though he didn't seem to be afraid.

'Welcome to couple,' the man said.

Saira looked at Suraj. In fact, both intently looked at each other. She wanted to tell him something, but couldn't. Her eyes conveyed her message, 'This was the same Tantric or Aghori monk who had delivered his prediction few days ago and then had vanished in the jungle.'

The man could understand the language of their eyes and said, 'Yes, I am the same monk who came to your site that day.'

Suraj got-back his poise, bent forward and saluted him by touching his feet. She also followed suit. The monk blessed them, 'You people are tired and probably hungry. The first and foremost requirement of an empty stomach is food. Please come, I have prepared food for you.'

He took them to a nearby cave where there were few deer skins lying on the floor. Deer skins were the standard sitting mats those days especially for the monks. Suraj sat on a mat. Saira initially went to sit on another mat but came and sat close to Suraj on the same mat. Sadhu laid two banana leaves in front of them and served piping hot food. He also sat on the opposite side with a banana leaf served with food. There was nothing unusual with the food but those were tastiest for hungry stomachs. The monk didn't utter a word during the meal. Some religious people keep absolute silence while consuming food. They believe consuming food is a sacred act like meditation.

Saira's initial fear for the Sadhu vanished by the time they finished eating. They were in no mood, to continue their journey immediately after that. The zeal to fight the odds in the jungle brought them lots of energy. That enthusiasm soon gave way to fatigue as soon as they got a safe place to retire for some time. Monk took them through a door which was opening to a terrace outside the tunnel. The terrace overlooked the valley almost one hundred feet below it and was surrounded by small altitude stone walls. Few chairs were carved out of stone. They sat there, Saira sat down again close to Suraj, and the monk sat in front of them.

Monk started, 'Life is abundant.'

'Yes,' Suraj nodded.

'How many days you guys are in this journey, in the jungle?' he asked.

'Probably he has not realised that we are in trouble', Suraj thought as he looked at Saira before replying, 'Last two days.'

'What fortunate event has happened to you during last two days? I mean how many occasions God has favoured you?' Sadhu enquired with a smile.

'Favour from God?' Both Suraj and Saira looked at each other with surprise.

Last two days were probably most miserable days in their lives.

Suraj thought.

Firstly, they were lost in the jungle, and still now they are trying to find a way out without any sign of success.

Secondly, there was heavy rain, and for the first time in their life, they slept on the nature-made bed formed by aerial roots of the banyan tree. Suraj had slept outside the luxury of his father's palatial home while going on military expeditions. But his beds were always prepared inside the tents fully served and attended by servants. For Saira, last two nights were the first experience outside a home in her life.

Thirdly, they failed to interact with the only tribal man they found on their way. Had he understood what they want, he could have guided them to find a way out of the jungle.

Suraj was silently counting with his fingers.

Next, when they were about to get a tribal village they were attacked by the tribal people themselves. The tribal woman mistook Saira to be a man and apprehended she was following her for improper motives. Instead of welcoming the duo as guests, as they usually do when outsiders come to them, they chased them away.

Saira's horse was killed by the tribal man. It could have been worse. Luckily the man heard Saira screaming and was convinced that they have mistaken her as a man. They were left with only one horse.

Suraj mentally counted, 'Five unfortunate events.'

Suraj's horse was bitten by a poisonous snake and died. The end of their only horse came at a time when they needed it the most.

He observed Saira was also using her fingers to count. The monk was sitting patiently with a smile on his face.

They spent hours to find a suitable place to spend the night before they found the cave. That is number seven.

Suraj was convinced with his replies to the monk. He was trying to articulate his words. He didn't even dare to call his name. He could have addressed him Sadhu, which is not a name, but another meaning of the word monk. His answers would be in negative. God did not support them during last two days. Rather they had faced the worst. He wished if he could talk to Saira privately before answering the monk. He felt as if he was going to appear some exam. He looked at Saira helplessly. She probably understood his predicament. She was also probably counting the number of bad-lucks they had faced during last two days. Suraj had counted up to seven. Her count might be six or eight. He saw a satisfied smile on her face.

Suraj finally decided to start. Before he could say something, Saira started.

'God helped us find a bed made of Aerial roots of a banyan tree, when we had least hope of finding a place to spend the rainy night. We had not anticipated that we have to spend the night in the jungle, so we didn't have a tent. The bed was large enough, to accommodate both of us. It was covered with thick and leafy branches in such a way that we felt as if we were under a big roof. It saved us from the heavy downpour. Even our horses spent the night below our bed and enjoyed the warmth of the fire ring for which He gave the idea to Suraj. Who can even imagine such a safe night deep inside a huge jungle? We were prepared to face the predators, but none came.'

Suraj was surprised. How could Saira describe the event as fortunate when they spent the night outside their comfort zone? He looked at her in admiration.

The monk smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, 'That is number one. My name is Satyanand. Swami Satyanand. You are undoubtedly fortunate. Is there any other event you can consider as number two?'

Suraj was now prepared to speak out the second one, which was not lucky for them. Again before he could start, Saira started, 'Luckily we were not extremely close to the tribal village when they chased us. We could run off easily. We both could have easily been killed even though we were better armed than them. They were in hundreds and could have easily outnumbered us. First we thought they are coming to greet us. Luckily we could realise in time they were coming to attack us. These are number two and three.'

'How can she describe all adverse events as fortunate ones?' Suraj thought again, 'Sure they came out of that danger. That doesn't mean we were blessed.'

Satyanand was happy. He could see from his body language. Saira looked confident than before. This is the mystery of life. One was a man and a fighter. He had fought real wars in his life. He should look more confident than her in dangerous situations. Of course, he had handled them with courage and also got success. Still he didn't have the courage to express them as positive events. On the other hand, Saira was almost an ordinary young woman. She might have gotten some military training, but didn't have any real war experience. She would never get that experience throughout her life. After all, it was a man's world.

'Number four must be negative,' He thought and decided not to talk about the next incident, 'Let me see how she is describing the murder of her horse by the tribal man.'

He smiled and looked at her, to communicate for starting the next incident.

'Next one I was the luckiest. God was so gracious to me.' Saira started again.

Suraj looked at her in disbelief.

She continued, 'The tribal youth who killed my horse, could have killed me also. We had no idea why they were chasing us to attack. I screamed. He immediately stopped. We thought the tribal people are uncivilised, but God has given them intelligence. In fact, God came to my rescue at that time. He realised that I am a woman and stopped the attack. He took the decision even without the advice of his leader and retracted. Practically I got another birth. We also felt sure that the attack will be over once he conveys his people about our situation.'

Satyanand replied, 'That is number four and five.'

Saira stopped. Probably she was thinking how to describe the next event.

Suraj started, 'My horse carried both of us. On the way, he died of snakebite. For the first time in my life, I realised that I have never been grateful to animals who serve us. I gave a name to the horse before it died and said thank you from the bottom of my hearts. I felt tremendously calm after that, even though its death was a tremendous loss to us in that situation.'

'That is number six,' complemented Saira. Satyanand appreciated with a big laugh.

'Suraj was not being able to find a suitable name for his war horse, which he found,' she added, 'he will call his war horse Shukriya (Thank you). This is number seven. He decided, he would meet the families of soldiers and servants who had personally served him in battle fields even though they were wounded, and would say thanks to them. Of course, he will do this after going back. He feels exceptionally happy after this decision. I am sure he will feel much better when he actually does that.'

'This is number eight.' Suraj said as he remembered he was counting up to seven with his fingers for all the unfortunate events during last two days.

'We lost all hopes to find a suitable and secure place for spending the night. We decided not to use the downward path on a cross road even though that seemed a better idea at that time. We are now happy for our decision, which led us to the cave, and we got a much-desired sleep last night. This is number nine.' Suraj said.

Saira added, 'Today morning we were looking for a cascade for bathing and also for drinking water. We thought we might not get water if we travel in the tunnel as the tunnel was going uphill. We were planning to go back and move downside of the hill in order to obtain water. Somehow we felt like going up in the tunnel and found the waterfall. The cold and sparkling clear water took away all our fatigue and we also collected enough drinking water.'

'That was number ten, and I have no more fingers left,' Suraj said in amusement.

Satyanand laughed, 'You have taken the right decision by acting upon your guts rather than logic. I know this place. There is no source of water for a long distance on that side.'

Suraj looked at Saira in recognition. It was, in fact, her decision to come in the tunnel while he was planning to go on the opposite direction.

'I think your blessed events have already outnumbered the unlucky ones by now,' Satyanand asked.

'Since long,' Suraj confirmed. He decided not to discuss all the unfortunate events that happened to them. He might have already known that with his divine power.

'We can still get more fortunate events after that,' she said, 'like meeting a talented person like you and getting delicious home cooked food when we were extremely hungry.'

'God is so helpful,' Satyanand said, 'counting bad-luck is simple as they are numbered. Counting good-luck is difficult. When you start to recognise your good-lucks and count them, you can't stop counting.'

'God always gives whatever you need,' Satyanand said again.

Suraj counted, 'We wanted to find a way out of the jungle day before yesterday, but we were not successful. God sometimes forgets to answer the prayers.'

'I said that whatever you need is granted by God,' Satyanand clarified, 'but whatever you seek is not always whatever you need. Many times you don't realise what you want and make a blunder in asking something different. God knows your ignorance and ignore such prayers. Whatever you need is sometimes different from what you ask for.'

'How?' both Suraj and Saira asked at the same time.

'You wanted a way out of the jungle, is that correct?' Satyanand asked.

'Yes,' Suraj replied.

'I will let you know which route will help you both out of this jungle,' Satyanand said, 'I can even send someone with you who will help you to the house of Ashfaq Khan. Is that all-right? Do you need anything after that?'

'What is after that?' Suraj asked instead of requesting him for a guide.

'Your trip will be over, and you will continue to perform your profession; may be some war or rebellion against the Emperor,' Satyanand said with a mischievous smile, 'Saira will go back to Allahabad after few days. It is also possible that you both will never meet each other never again.'

The comment was a rude shock to both Suraj and Saira. Last two days they were struggling together to find a way out of the jungle. Now they could request for a guide who would probably take them on the safest route to Ashfaq's house. They hesitated to request for that. They had already realised that Satyanand knew many facts about them and their families.

'Of course this is not a serious discovery. Purujit and Ashfaq Khan's families are two noble families of Agra and to know about them is just common sense.' Suraj thought.

Satyanand slowly got up and went to the fire pit. He placed few wooden pieces in that and added some ghee. The flames of the fire erupted again from the fire pit. The pleasant smell of burning ghee engulfed the tunnel and caves.

Both looked confused. Suraj was not sure if he should count one more fortunate incident during last two days; a warm and sweet part of his personality named Saira. He looked at her. This young woman was with him since last few days. She trusted him so much. He had been so much careful to save her life. Her every utterance had given courage to him. Unlike many other women of the sixteenth century who were gripped with fear at odd situations, she had rather shown the capacity to advise him about various alternatives.

'She is different,' Suraj thought, 'she is unique. In fact, she is one in millions. Once they go back to Ashfaq Khan's house outside the jungle, I may never see her again.'

He realised she was looking at him expecting he would take some decision: the decision of requesting Satyanand to send a guide to get them back to Ashfaq's small castle. All they need is to utter few words and their work would be done. They have faced and fought with so many odds during last two days. Why suddenly uttering few words became so hard as if they were going climbing the tallest mountain of the world. They both realised that asking something was not the same thing as needing something.

Saira gently placed her palms over his and requested, 'We both are extremely tired. Can we beg him to let us to stay here for few days before going back?'

He was spellbound. Her simple words had enough powers to influence him. He kept his other hand on her shoulder and simply nodded in affirmation. His gut feeling was that Saira's decision couldn't be wrong, and something incredible was going to happen.

Saira gently took off her palms from his palms, went slowly and sat in front of Satyanand. There was only the fire pit between the two of them.

'I am sorry to bother you,' she said as Satyanand looked at him, 'I have no motivation to annoy your Hindu God while you are doing prayer. You have shown enough concern to us both. Can we spend few days with you?'

Suraj also came and sat beside her.

Satyanand smiled, 'you are welcome my daughter. You both can spend as many days here as you like. By the way, I am not worshipping any Hindu God. In fact, I do not worship any Hindu God. I worship fire, the symbol of energy.'

'I am sorry, I didn't understand.' Saira said innocently.

Suraj tried to explain, 'Our scripture says that fire is energy.'

'No my boy,' Satyanand corrected, 'fire is not the only thing which is energy. Whatever you see or experience is part of the energy. You both are also a form of energy. The air you inhale is a form of energy. The Sun which gives us light is also a form of energy. Energy is infinite. Energy is abundant. It is never created. No one can destroy energy. It just changes form.'

Both Suraj and Saira looked confused. Satyanand understood that his message was going above their head. He smiled, and as a gifted teacher tried to simplify.

'When you plant a seed in the ground, it germinates. You can't get the seed once it is converted into a beautiful plant. The seed, water, air, light and soil all together change shape and become a plant. The plant generates flowers and fruits which is also another variation in form. The plant eventually dies and becomes part of soil again. That is another change in form.'

'Do we humans also change form?' Saira asked.

'The scripture says our end is just a change in form,' Suraj explained, 'only the body dies, but the soul is immortal.'

'No my boy,' Satyanand clarified, 'I disagree with the scripture. Your body and soul are both different forms of energy. Everyone sees the end of the body. In other words like the dead plant, the body of all animals become part of soil after death. People think that the soul is immortal. Actually soul takes much longer time to change form. It can remain in the same form from few hundred years to more than a thousand years. When finally it changes form, people call it Moksha or nirvana. The soul actually changes form and merges with infinite energy (mahashakti). It is like the water of river Ganga merging with the ocean through an estuary. Once the river water merges with the sea, you never identify the water with the river. Rather it is called sea water. It loses its identity of the river for forever.'

'People say that if you do right karma you can achieve nirvana,' Suraj replied.

'You do right karma or evil karma, one day your soul will change form and integrate with infinite identity,' Satyanand clarified, 'soul maintains its identity for hundreds or even thousands of years before the final nirvana. It moves across several bodies during its lifetime. When one body dies, it goes to another body; you call it rebirth.'

'My grandfather was always saying that I was probably his father in my last birth,' Suraj laughed, 'if somehow the memory of my last birth comes back to me.'

'Once the body dies and soul takes another birth, the memory of previous birth is lost forever.' Saira said confidently.

'How did you know?' Suraj asked as Satyanand looked at her in admiration.

'My grandmother is Hindu, and she has read lots of Hindu scriptures. She was telling me when I was a child.'

Satyanand clarified again, 'Yes, it is a common belief that once the body dies and soul moves into another body, the memory of the previous birth is forever lost. That is wrong. The memory is actually suppressed. The soul is another form of energy and is much powerful than the animal body. The memory can be activated. Very few people know how to activate the sleeping memory.'

Suraj realised that Satyanand was not just joking. Probably he knew how to activate the memory of former birth. Satyanand could imagine what he was thinking.

'You both might be thinking being lost in the jungle is an accident,' he continued, 'actually it was planned by the Infinite Intelligence. I didn't plan to see both of you when you all were planning to enter into the jungle for the hunting game. But when I saw both of you, I could easily recognise. It was the intention of the Infinite Energy or Mahashakti.'

Saira now realised why Satyanand blessed only Suraj and her when he saw them near the little palace of her father. She felt the smoky scenes are slowly making way to a clear path. She guessed where Satyanand was leading them, 'I think we both knew each other since our last birth.'

Both Suraj and Saira eagerly looked at him with a pleasant excitement as Saira moved close to her. Satyanand didn't give the answer for some time. This increased their anxiety. His eyes were towards the other side of the tunnel. Two more young monks entered the scene and saluted him.

Satyanand introduced, 'This is Kripa and Shankar. They are my disciples.'

Suraj saluted both and started giving his own introduction. Before he could start Kripa told, 'You are Suraj and Saira. You both are meeting each other after so many years.'

'We met each other for the first time just few days ago,' Suraj corrected him.

'You both are meeting each other for the first time in this life.' Shankar clarified Suraj.

Satyanand stood up, 'Once you both have taken seven oaths together. Even if you don't remember that, it is always there in your subconscious mind. Last two days, your subconscious mind, has led you to abide by some of those. Infinite Intelligence has brought both of you together again in this life. Your souls have got into new bodies, which have been named Suraj and Saira. Each time you both meet after a new birth, you should repeat those oaths again.'

Suraj got up. So did Saira. He took her little finger in his hand and started walking around the fire pit. He said to her, 'I promise to save you always under any circumstances.'

Saira's eyes moistened as she walked with him, 'I promise to take care of you all the time.'

They completed the first round. The second round started. Suraj said, 'I will strive to keep you happy all the time.'

Saira also promised the same thing as they completed the second round.

They started the third round. 'I will remain faithful to you, not only in this life but also in all future lives. I have complete confidence in God that you will be my spouse in all future lives till both of our soul attains nirvana.'

Saira promised, 'The moment I met you, I got a feeling that you are my husband. Only you will be my spouse in all the future lives. You are my nirvana. I do not need any other nirvana.'

He started the fourth round, 'I will earn enough wealth to live a happy life. I promise to increase and preserve wealth by fair means.'

Till now Suraj was taking the lead and Saira was walking behind him. After the fourth round, she walked ahead of him and said, 'Let God bless both of us with mental and physical powers so that we can accept any dangerous situations in life.'

Suraj just repeated and walked behind her for the sixth round.

'I promise to share all your happiness and sadness.'

He promised, 'As long as you are with me, I will face all the adverse situations with courage and bring you happiness.

Together they started the seventh step, 'We both are part of the same soul. No one, no religion, caste or tradition, can separate us. We will live together and die together.'

Suraj then took her in his arms. Both then came to normal consciousness and saluted Satyanand for his blessings.

Satyanand was overwhelmed as he kept both his hands on the heads of the couple, 'This auspicious moment comes once in a millennium. The position of stars at this moment is rarest of rare. This position signifies that any type of exchange between a boy and girl to express their unconditional love will culminate in their wedding, a sacred bond between two souls, which will continue even in their future lives. I hereby formally declare both of you as husband and wife.'

'I have been doing penance since so many lives or births,' Satyanand continued, 'and acquired immense spiritual power which I rarely use. My curiosity to gain more knowledge about the universe has so far stopped me from attaining nirvana or ultimate freedom when the soul like any other form of energy changes the shape and merges with the infinite intelligence. I know you both since your previous birth. I assure both of you that I will travel with you for at least next seven lives.'

'How can we recognise each other in our future births?' enquired Suraj.

'You don't have to worry for that,' Satyanand assured, 'even you both are born in different countries, Universe will get everything done so that you both can be together. It is not necessary that you both will meet at the marriageable age or before. It happened this time fortunately. It is possible that, by the time you both meet in your future lives, both are already married to some other persons. That wouldn't affect your faithfulness. You will remember the past at sometime. Remember, sometimes there are time gaps between death of a body and getting another birth. Your souls can see this world with their eyes. This world is inhabited by humans, animals, birds, insects and plants. Apart from this there is another world which I can see. That is the world of souls without bodies. That may be the transition period between two lives. This means soul has been free from a dead body and awaiting another birth. At this stage, all souls remember just about one life, which they have just abdicated. They still behave similar way they were behaving when their bodies were alive. You both will remember about all the lives you have lived.'

'Will I continue to become female all the time?' Saira was curious.

Satyanand laughed, so did all his disciples. Suraj also joined the fun.

'Do you think male body is better than female?' asked Satyanand.

'There is more freedom for males,' she answered with a smile.

'Infinite Intelligence or God is neither male nor female. The scriptures have depicted the Infinite Intelligence as a male character as our society is male dominated. I can foresee that one day this male domination of society will be finished, and the world will ensure equality between men and women.'

'When?' Saira's eyes glowed with excitement.

'Have patience my child,' Satyanand advised, 'we are still in the sixteenth century. You will see the earliest part of the seventeenth century in this birth. The changes to the society may take few centuries. It will start in the twentieth century, and by twenty-first century both men and women will receive equal status.'

'So long!' she looked disappointed.

'You both will notice that stage in your future life,' Shankar, the disciple, reminded them.

'Still if you want to enjoy the freedom of a male before society is changed,' Satyanand continued, 'you both can do so.'

'My apologies oh saint!' Suraj interrupted, 'I am a reputed warrior and belong to a reputed Rajput family. I can't show my face to anyone if you make me a woman.'

'Don't be afraid my boy,' Satyanand assured him, 'I am not a magician. I can't transform a man to a woman. I told you before that the soul has no sex. Your own thinking process and imagination will lead to a male or female body in your next birth. If you both decide sometime during your long journey through different lives, the next birth will give you a different sex. Unless you wish so, you will continue to be in the same sex.'

'I have some doubts sir,' Kripa begged to ask.

Satyanand looked at him with an indication of permission.

'Will their personality change if Suraj becomes a woman, and Saira become a man at some future life?'

'A girl is trained by the parents, and community to act like a girl,' Satyanand replied, 'similar case is with a boy. As people do not remember about their past lives, they easily adapt to the new life. In the case of this couple, they will remember their past life at some point of the next life. There is a possibility of confusion in their behaviour.'

They remained silent for some time. Suraj was the first one to break the silence.

'We both were trying our best to find a way out of the jungle. We didn't realise this whole world is a jungle. You gave us the way to lead through this massive jungle.' Suraj saluted Satyanand by touching his feet.

'We were counting the blessings sometimes before. This is the greatest blessing of all.' Saira said gratefully as she also touched his feet.

'You both are tired,' Satyanand suggested, 'and there is a long way to go. Please take rest here. You may start your journey again tomorrow morning.'

Kripa and Shankar took them through the tunnel. The tunnel seemed to be divided into two parts after walking for about five minutes. The left part was narrowing, and there were stairs. The stairs led them to a higher level cave. Practically it was a small room made up by digging the mountain. A wooden door assured privacy to the newly married couple. There was a bed carved out of stone. A window opened to the outside world.

It was the time just before sunset. Usually monks eat their dinner before sunset. The couple also finished their dinner with them before being led to their bedroom. Saira started arranging their bags and make a bed as Suraj jumped the window and stood outside. The window was actually a small opening on the wall of the cave. Outside was a small open, stony terrace. The weather was calm, and the sky was clear. They were at a considerable height, which ensured a clear view of the jungle below. Suraj called Saira outside and helped her to climb the window.

As they sat together to enjoy the beautiful sunset Suraj held her hand and said, 'Can you imagine the difference? Yesterday I was maintaining considerable distance from you. Today we are sitting close together.'

'This is normal,' she said, 'you are an educated man from a cultured family. You are expected to maintain your dignity and show respect to women. By maintaining a respectful distance from any woman, you are showing dignity. By sitting close to your own wife, you are showing respect to her.'

Suraj laughed, 'You were my spouse in my past life also. We still don't have that memory. Otherwise, I could have treated you as my wife even before this formal wedding. We are already wedded since our past life.'

'Wedding in our past life will not be accepted by the society. So, a traditional wedding is required. We may still experience the problem as this wedding was conducted in the absence of our family members. We both are from two separate communities. What will happen if they don't recognise this wedding? Who will believe that we were a couple in our past life? Even we don't have that memory.' Saira looked worried.

'Don't worry,' he assured, 'both our parents are working for the Emperor Akbar, who has married Jodhabai, a Hindu Rajput. He has set the precedent, and we are just following it. Satyanand, Kripa and Shankar, will be our witness.'

"Satyanand told, we can remember our past lives,' Saira reiterated, 'so why do we still can't remember about our past life?'

'We will,' he assured, 'when time comes. Don't worry for that. We spent lots of time worrying how to find a way out of the jungle. What happened? When we found someone who can help us get a way out of the jungle our priority suddenly changed. Always believe whatever is happening is for some noble purpose.'

Saira cooled down as both started to enjoy the beauty of the moonlit starry night.

In the morning, Kripa and Shankar came to them.

'We will assist you to find a way so that you both can go back from where you came,' Kripa said.

'Thank you,' Suraj was grateful, 'can we meet Satyanand and get his blessings before we leave?'

'He has already left this area since early morning. He has blessed you both before leaving.' Shankar confirmed.

'Where has he gone?' Saira asked.

'He rarely stays here,' Kripa said, 'most of the time he travels to different places. We never know where he goes. We only know when he comes back here.'

'How can we meet him again?' Suraj asked.

'You can't decide when to meet him,' Shankar said, 'when he decides to meet you he will find and meet you.'

Kripa and Shankar walked with them some distance in the tunnel. They were walking exactly in the opposite direction from the side Suraj, and Saira entered the tunnel.

'You may have to walk around an hour in this tunnel,' Kripa advised, 'before you reach the end. The opening to this side of the tunnel has not been used for many years. It must have been covered with weeds and creepers. Please clean them and you will be able to go out.'

'How can we find a way to home from there?' Suraj asked again.

'You will find out.' Shankar assured as they bid farewell to the couple.

The couple walked. Today the walk was not that difficult. They didn't experience exhaustion while carrying the heavy bags and arms. Mathematics is sometimes wrong. The energy level of a man and a woman doubles when they join hands. It is multiplied when they become married couples. The energy level reaches at an incredible level when their souls are married to each other.

The tunnel was not dark as there were holes at intervals which allowed access to sunlight. Gradually the light faded as the number of such holes gradually reduced to nil. Probably this part of the tunnel was entirely buried. Suraj lighted the wooden stick to make light. They walked till they reached the dead end. They found upward moving steps. The end was covered with thick layers of creepers. It was dangerously thick and can easily hide large venomous snakes. He started cutting them with his sword. It took a while to clear them.

As they managed to walk out Saira exclaimed, 'It is the same place we were exploring the day we started for the hunting game.'

Suraj slowly went out of the tunnel, looked outside and confirmed, 'Yes Saira, it is the same place.'

Saira also came out of the tunnel and joined Suraj. The narrow unnamed river with waterfalls every few hundred meters were still alive with clear sparkling water.

'Remember we were thinking of exploring this ancient structure?' she continued, 'we have almost gone to the other side of the tunnel and came back through it.'

'This means we have finished the exploration.'

'Not exactly,' she said, 'we should have asked Kripa and Shankar. Perhaps they know the history about this structure.'

'We originally thought there may be some palace below the ground,' Suraj suggested.

'May be the two ends of the tunnel are two secret exits of the palace,' Saira suggested, 'I have observed there are diversions inside the tunnel. Who knows one of the diversions might have gone to an old historical palace!'

'You think the king who might have built the palace has built such long tunnel for a secret exit?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said, 'my uncle Iqbal has seen such a tunnel from your house to some place near Yamuna.'

'That's true,' Suraj confirmed, 'but our house is not a palace.'

'My mother respects your father as a king, so we can call your house a palace.'

'If he is the king, then I am the crown prince,' Suraj joked and hugged her, 'you are now my crown princess Saira, which means future queen.'

Sarah chuckled as she came close to him and wrapped her hands around his neck. Suddenly her eyes were fixated on the sky, 'Look at those dark clouds!'

'Where?' Suraj said looking at the sky, 'it is clear.'

'Look at this side,' Saira pointed at the west, 'It is almost similar situation we saw on the day we started.'

'Yes,' he said casually.

They decided to stay back in the tunnel till the rain cleared. Saira got a fallen branch of date palm and cleaned the floors of the tunnel using that as a broom. Suraj cleaned the rest of the creepers which was blocking the entry of the tunnel. He also brought few dry logs for fire, collected enough water from the unnamed narrow river. The food Kripa and Shankar had packed for them was enough for two more days.

They were not in a hurry to go back home. What is a home? A man and woman decide to live together, and wherever they live becomes a home. The thunderstorm outside the tunnel looked so cute that the couple watched sitting inside the tunnel.

The sky was literally pouring. The narrow unnamed tributary started overflowing. The sounds of half a dozen small waterfalls along the course of the river were competing with the sound of rain and storm. Lethargy grasped the strength of the couple. After all, this was the chance for the couple for some privacy and togetherness. Who knew when Suraj would be called to join his father Purujit and Saira's father Ashfaq in Lahore? Both the fathers were fighting in the most difficult battle of their life: the war between father Emperor Akbar and Crown Prince Saleem. The war was tricky as it was between a father and a son. The reason was trivial. Emperor Akbar didn't like prince Saleem's choice of bride, Anarkali. Little did the two fathers knew, their own son and daughter have already married without informing them.

Deep sleep is like death. Satyanand had foreseen that the soul of Saira and Suraj would travel through times. Saira had gotten the impression that one day her spirit will remember her past life. It might even reveal the future. She could hear the commotion outside the entrance of her house. She tried to wake up and listen carefully what was happening. It was so hard to get-up from a deep sleep as if all the energy had been drained out from the body. Probably her soul was wandering by getting out of her body and trying to come back to its abode. She could feel the struggle her soul was doing to enter the body and wake up. She could hear Suraj's name. Probably he has come back from a fight and being greeted. Who was greeting him? The commotion was slowly getting clear. She could hear the voice of her step brothers; Ayaaz and Kareem. Even Aditi was saying something.

Ayaaz's voice was hoarse, 'How can you dare such a thing with my sister? I have always treated your sister Aditi as my own sister. You got the chance to be with my sister just for two days, and you crossed all the boundaries of decency?'

Saira woke up and sat properly. Invariably they have come into the privacy of their bedroom: a makeshift bedroom inside a tunnel without any door or window.

Finally, Ayaaz was able to find them. When Suraj and Saira were lost in the jungle, the first thing they were expecting that Ayaaz would do anything to find and rescue them if they didn't find a way back.

She stood up and tried to explain the situation to her brothers, 'Suraj is my husband.'

Everyone, including Ayaaz, Kareem, and Aditi was taken aback.

'Say that again!' Ayaaz insisted, 'I didn't hear clearly.'

'We both,' Suraj tried to explain, but Ayaaz shouted, 'you shut up. I am asking my sister to talk to me. Don't come in between.' Kareem moved near to her. He was looking poised, and his body language was assuring Saira not to be afraid. He gently squeezed her shoulders and looked at her lovingly. She was genuinely afraid of Ayaaz.

'The Aghori monk who had appeared that day is Satyanand,' Saira explained, 'and he has performed our wedding rituals.'

'She is now wedded to me,' Suraj confirmed.

'You,' Ayaaz took out his sword, 'you are a traitor and shall be punished.'

Suraj also took out his sword for his defence. Aditi quickly moved and firmly stood in between the two rivals. Holding Ayaaz's and Suraj's with both her hands she said, 'I don't want both my brothers to shed each other's blood.'

Ayaaz kept the sword back, so did Suraj.

Ayaaz tried to be normal.

'We shouldn't make a scene in front of our servants and guards,' Kareem suggested.

Ayaaz looked outside the tunnel, 'They are all standing at a distance and can't hear what we are saying.'

'Can't we just go back home and settle amicably?' Kareem suggested, 'why should we allow outsiders to know about sensitive matters about our families?'

'There is nothing secret Kareem,' Suraj clarified, 'I have not eloped with your sister. I have lawfully married her.'

'Lawfully?' Ayaaz first spoke in a high tone and then lowered the voice as he was aware of the presence of servants and guards outside the tunnel. 'How can such a marriage be permissible? None of our parents has given permission.'

'Can we just go back home and discuss it privately?' Kareem suggested.

They all went out of the tunnel and pretended as if nothing has happened. After reaching Ashfaq's bungalow, Ayaaz announced, 'There will be no more game. We are all going back tomorrow morning.'

Everyone was expecting this. This announcement was for servants and guards.

Suraj insisted, he would take Saira with him. Ayaaz resisted.

'What is wrong in such marriage?' Aditi argued, 'the Emperor himself has married Jodhabai who is not a Muslim.'

'If you have not done anything wrong,' Ayaaz responded to her, 'why are you afraid to face my father and your father too?'

The situation would have become strained. Iqbal Hussain suddenly arrived from Allahabad, and there was a little twist in the story. Ayaaz suddenly lost his authority on his step sister. Kareem updated Iqbal about the event. Ayaaz still looked angry while Suraj maintained his composure and sat upright throughout. Saira looked confident. Iqbal patiently listened without displaying any positive or negative emotion. He slowly went, sat near Saira and kept his hand lovingly on her head. He then looked directly at Ayaaz, 'My son's wedding has been fixed. I have come to take Saira. How can her brother marry without her presence?'

Ayaaz was confused. He never trusted Iqbal, his father's ex brother in law. All he wanted Saira not to be united with Suraj again. 'Anyway,' he thought, 'this is better for the time being. Suraj can't urge to get her with him. He can think of a better way in the course of time.'

As Saira became ready to accompany her uncle, Iqbal turned to Suraj and said, 'One day your father had saved her mother Nadirah from the clutches of Niyaz. I was always dreaming of inviting him to my family to honour him. The wedding of my son is the first celebration at my family after so many years, and your father is in the war field. Can I invite you both to join us?' he said looking at Aditi.

Suraj was so happy that he accepted the invitation quickly. He remembered how Satyanand was interpreting the life. Just when he feared of the unpleasant situation that Ayaaz would cause problems and wouldn't allow Saira to go with him, he got another reason to thank God: the invitation of the wedding ceremony of Iqbal's son. He thought, 'At least Saira will not be with Ayaaz. Iqbal will always warmly welcome Suraj's family.'

Ayaaz was at first hesitant but finally said, 'Uncle, are you not inviting us?'

Kareem was surprised that Ayaaz will beg for getting invitation.

For the first time, Iqbal spoke to Ayaaz. His tone was without any emotion, 'Your father gave talaq (divorce) when my sister Nadirah was in dire need of his support. He never came to Allahabad to check how his daughter is growing up. It was only this year he remembered that he has a daughter. I will think over that.'

He got up as Saira also moved to accompany him. Suraj gently squeezed her shoulder as he turned to Iqbal, 'If you permit, I will like to take both of you in Nagin of Yamuna. Aditi will also accompany us.' He continued looking at Ayaaz, 'I will take sufficient number of trained armed commandos for Saira's safety.' Ayaaz looked at the other direction disgustingly.

Ayaaz went in as Suraj and Aditi left along with Saira and Iqbal. Kareem came to bid farewell.
Chapter 4

Anarkali- The Beauty Queen

As the love story between Suraj and Saira was brewing in Nagin of Yamuna en route from Agra to Allahabad, another famous love story was about reach a tragic end in Lahore.

Purujit and Ashfaq led the Mughal army, finally defeated the camp which was supporting Crown Prince Saleem. Defeating such a small faction was not difficult but was extremely sensitive. The leader of the revolting camp was none other than Crown Prince himself, the future Emperor. The soldiers supporting him were part of the Moghul army and Emperor Akbar wanted to defeat them with minimal casualty.

Akbar gave two options to Saleem: surrender Anarkali or face the death penalty. Saleem was sure if he surrendered Anarkali, she would be killed by royal forces. He was so deeply in love with her, he chose the second option: death penalty for himself.

Purujit and Ashfaq both returned to Agra when the war was finished, but before any decision could be taken about Anarkali. They were not the witness to whatever happened after that.

Anarkali couldn't grasp the fact that Saleem would die for an ordinary girl like her. She came out of hiding and approached the Emperor. She offered herself for the gallows, but under one last wish: she is allowed to spend one fabulous night with Prince Saleem. The request was granted. Anarkali spent the night with the Crown Prince. Finally, she drugged him with a pomegranate blossom and left the palace with the guards after a tearful goodbye to the unconscious prince.

The event after that was so terrible that it reached the far corners of the subcontinent like wild fire and became a symbol of true love.

Akbar's soldiers made a large trench for Anarkali. She was strapped to a wooden board and placed inside the ditch. The channel was closed with a brick wall.

Anarkali was buried alive.

When Purujit and Ashfaq reached Agra, they heard this horrific story. They couldn't believe that, Emperor Akbar, who was famous for delivering impartial justice, could be so cruel to an innocent girl. Her only mistake was she was in love with none other than the Crown Prince of the Empire. To look at it the other way: the Crown Prince was the first to fall in love with her for her beauty.

The harrowing story didn't reach the Nagin of Yamuna, and the trip was relaxing. Iqbal accepted the fact that Saira was wedded to Suraj. He suggested Saira to occupy the same room with Suraj. Suraj and Aditi both had lots of faith in the fair judgment of Akbar. They truly believed, in case of a real conflict with Ashfaq Khan's family, Akbar would help Suraj. But given the long and close relationship between both the families, they also truly believed the conflict was unlikely, and Ayaaz would behave normally with the passage of time. Aditi knew Ayaaz closely: a personality with a short temper but inside was unusually warm. Saira and Suraj enjoyed the beauty of Sunrise and Sunset from the privacy of their bedroom window.

Nagin of Yamuna finally arrived at Allahabad. Rafiq was eagerly waiting near the river Ganga for welcoming Saira and Iqbal. Nadirah was also with him.

The sight of Suraj and Saira as a couple didn't surprise Nadirah. She said, 'I have seen Saira wedding Suraj in my dream. Now I believe, sometimes dreams show accurate pictures. I consider Purujit as another brother, and am thrilled to see him as my only daughter's father in law.' Tear rolled over on her cheeks as she remembered her ordeal in the hands of Niyaz and the support Purujit extended for her rescue.

Ashfaq Khan reached home and got two shocking news. First one was about Anarkali being buried alive by the orders of Emperor Akbar. He felt guilty about it as he was part of Akbar's trusted army to defeat the rebels led by Saleem. The other one was about his own daughter Saira, the daughter from his ex-wife Nadirah, whom he once divorced to save his family honour as he was sure Niyaz must have used her to satisfy his perverse lust. The brave soldier, who had fought many wars for the Emperor, didn't fight a single war for the honour of his own wife. A wife could be easily substituted by another woman. Now he felt the difference. A sister or daughter couldn't be easily substituted. He could realise the view point of Iqbal: why he continued to maintain his sister when she was abandoned by her husband.

He lost no time and reached Chandra Mahal with Ayaaz. Purujit was also aware of the happenings and was expecting his friend at his palace. Ashfaq was expecting Purujit to oppose this wedding as both boy and girl were from two separate communities. Society generally did not recognise such a marriage.

Ashfaq looked worried, worn out but angry. He was trying his best to hide his anger from his best friend and chief. Ayaaz looked visibly angry. Purujit was tired, but he looked awful much composed. He took them to a quiet room. A servant came to serve snacks to them.

Ashfaq started, 'You must have heard what has happened.'

'Yes,' Purujit gave the shortest answer.

'What is your decision?' asked Ashfaq, 'you must have dreamt of getting a daughter-in-law from your own community?'

'I was expecting a sweet girl for my son: a girl from a respected family of unimpeachable character. I am happy Ashfaq that my daughter in law is from a highly respected family.'

Ashfaq was pleased with the praise of his family, but that was not what he was expecting.

'What about your community?' he asked again, 'Will they also agree to see a Muslim girl in your family?'

'When Emperor Akbar decided to marry Jodhabai, a Hindu Rajput princess, some of his community members were opposing the marriage proposal,' Purujit cited the best example of the time, 'and see how she was accepted in the royal family. Her son Saleem is now crown prince.'

'This can work for the kings and emperors,' Ayaaz commented, 'but not for the ordinary people.'

Purujit was not happy with this remark but tried to give a polite response addressing Ashfaq instead of Ayaaz, 'My family is no less than a royal family you know. We are related to Rana Pratap. We maintained distance from him as he was fighting against the Emperor and my family is a loyal supporter of the Mughal dynasty.'

'But the same Emperor didn't accept the relationship between his son Saleem and Anarkali,' Ashfaq tried to convince him, 'and the poor girl was buried alive!'

'There are lots of differences between Jodhabai and Anarkali,' Purujit said, 'you see Jodhabai is a princess even though she was from a different community. On the other hand, Anarkali was a slave girl and a court dancer; from the lowest rung of the society. So it is quite natural Akbar didn't want to make her the wife of the future Emperor of the country, even though she was Muslim. It is unfortunate that she was punished by burying her alive. There could have been less severe punishments than this. But it was the order of the Emperor, we can hardly do anything.'

Ayaaz was still not impressed, 'And you are still willing to accept a girl in your family who is the daughter of a woman, whose reputation has been looted in Niyaz's harem?'

'Ayaaz, you should not utter such words about your stepmother, sorry, ex-stepmother,' Purujit's response was strong; 'I have complete information about her. I have done a thorough enquiry. It is true Niyaz kidnapped Nadirah, but the brave woman killed him before he could even try touching her modesty. It is your father who decided not to consult his best friend before divorcing her.'

Ashfaq looked down.

'We shouldn't dig the past now, after so many years,' Purujit tried to calm down the topic, 'I can just say that we were friends and colleagues till now. Henceforth we are also relatives.'

Ashfaq was still unsure, 'I had divorced Nadirah not because her honour was lost, but as my extended family was not happy with being part of our family after the kidnapping incident. I have to consult my extended family about future of Saira,' he told as he got up to leave.

The issue was not resolved. Ayaaz's anger could have blasted had Suraj been the son of any other person other than Purujit. He had to control his anger with lots of efforts.

Allahabad saw the wedding celebration of two couples. Firstly, it was Iqbal's son and daughter in law and also the love-couple Suraj and Saira. The news spread about the prediction of the Aghori Sadhu (monk) Satyanand: how they were lost in the forest, they unknowingly entered the tunnel where Satyanand was doing meditation and ultimately their wedding. Many people from both the communities even saw the divine hand in the wedding. Iqbal, Rafiq and their extended families all were happy even though few were concerned how both communities in Agra will accept such interreligious wedding.

Aditi also was carrying the same apprehension. But Saira and Suraj were convinced and confident. The wedding was done between their souls even before they were born as Saira and Suraj. Satyanand had told them that when time comes they could remember their past life. Their marriage couldn't come to an end only because they were born in two separate communities.

The Nagin of Yamuna started the return trip to Agra with Suraj, Saira, Aditi, few guards, servants and the sailors. Iqbal and Nadirah's mother was from a Hindu Rajput family. She organised the farewell for the daughter and son in law as per Rajput customs. Aasifa, Saira's horse also accompanied her and boarded Nagin of Yamuna.

Aditi and Saira were proposing halt at some famous cities en route, but Suraj was convinced that his father Purujit must have come back from Lahore as the war between Akbar and Saleem was over. He was sure he could satisfy his father and if required would arrange a meeting with Satyanand. An amicable acceptance by their respectable families could be followed by a perfect honeymoon.

Saira was worried how to keep her in laws happy. Two separate communities had two distinct cultures. She was required to adopt the culture of her husband's family. She was trying her best to acquire as much information as possible during the short period of time. Her grandmother could prepare her few things. But there was not enough time because the wedding of Saira's cousin. She was rehearsing with Aditi, to be sure that she didn't forget her grandmother's trainings.

It was a beautiful evening with a clear sky. Both Aditi and Saira were gossiping on the deck. Suraj joined them, 'Tonight we should be reaching home,' he announced.

'What time?' Aditi was worried.

'It will be probably late mid-night,' he confirmed, 'I have asked the sailors to make a stop in the middle of the river so that we reach home after sunrise. I will like to take a shower before getting off from Nagin of Yamuna.'

'This is a fantastic idea,' Aditi consented as Saira also gave her consent with a bright smile.

The night was full of sweet and bitter feelings for all of them. Saira was eager to meet her parents in laws and the rescuer of her mother. She had little doubt how they would accept a girl from another community. Suraj was eager to meet his father with his wife (a prized possession as mockingly described by Aditi) and several gifts brought from Allahabad. At the same time, he was also thinking whether Ayaaz had cooled down. What would be the equation between them if he didn't change his mind about him?'

'Tomorrow night you will be sleeping in Chandra Mahal,' Aditi teased Saira as they all went to sleep.

'Are you still awake?' Saira asked Suraj as he changed sides frequently.

'You are also not sleeping,' he replied.

Night grew further as both were trying to get some sleep.

There was a knock on their door. Saira realised she was actually sleeping.

'Is it morning already?' she asked as there was more knocks, this time impatiently.

Suraj got up and opened the door.

A guard was standing outside the door. She heard the voice of Aditi also.

'What happened?' Saira asked.

'You stay here,' Suraj said as he went up on the stairs.

She remained on the bed, trying to calculate the time. It was not possible as the room was below the water level.

She sprang up on the bed suddenly as she heard the loud crying sound.

'It is Aditi. Yes, Aditi is crying,' she thought as she got off the bed and ran up on the stairs.

She was right. Aditi was crying. Suraj was looking helpless and was standing near her. There was tear in Suraj's eyes too. She thought probably it was a just awful dream. She couldn't decide whom to ask. A maid servant held her hand and took her a little bit away.

'There is shocking news,' the maid confirmed.

'What happened?' Saira looked genuinely worried.

'Nagin of Yamuna was making a stop in the middle of the river, so that, it will take about an hour in the morning, to reach the jetty,' the maid continued, 'suddenly a small boat arrived, and two men in that boat asked permission from the guards to come inside. They delivered the news.'

'What was that news?' Saira asked impatiently.

The maid took a short pause and started, 'Your father and brother....'

'What happened to my father and brother?' she now looked worried.

'Nothing happened to them,' replied the maid, 'rather they attacked Chandra Mahal last night.'

'Around midnight Ashfaq Khan, his eldest son Ayaaz and few guards came to Chandra Mahal. The guards at Chandra Mahal let them in as they are Purujit's friends. Apparently some guards of Chandra Mahal also were bought into the payroll of Ashfaq and cooperated with them. Ashfaq knew extremely well the structure of the small fortress. He also knew about the tunnel leading to the river Yamuna and the hidden arms depot. Purujit has always considered him a solid and dependable ally. Purujit was in deep sleep when the gang stormed his castle; Chandra Mahal (Lunar Palace). Before he could realise what is happening and react, Ashfaq's team mounted the final attack. He was not even given an opportunity to surrender as it is not a conventional war. Had Purujit survived the attack and been captured, he could have turned the events against Ashfaq even from the captivity. Ashfaq knew how close Purujit was with the Emperor. He didn't want to take any chance. Eventually, Purujit and his wife succumbed to the attack. Few trusted guards rushed in the tunnel towards the mini hidden fortress near Yamuna to save it for Suraj's safety. They knew that he would arrive anytime by Nagin of Yamuna. Ashfaq's squad followed them and occupied the mini fortress also. The guards escaped the mini fortress with the help of a small boat. They traced Nagin of Yamuna and came to warn Suraj to go back.'

Saira sat on the floor and sobbed uncontrollably covering her face with her palms as Aditi and Suraj came to her.

'I am cursed for your family,' she said with tears rolling over on her cheek.

'Please don't blame you Saira,' Aditi consoled her, 'we need your company and courage at this crucial moment.'

Suraj held Saira's arm and gently let her to stand, 'You know extremely well our wedding is not a coincidence. We didn't marry each other on the spur of a moment's attraction.'

She removed palms from her face and looked into his eyes. She was surprised to see Suraj smiling even amidst such grief.

'You remember the time just after you won the sword fighting with Aditi!' he asked.

She just nodded in affirmation.

'We didn't know the name of the monk who came there instantly and blessed both of us. Later we knew that he was Satyanand. Do you remember what he told at that time?'

Saira tried to remember.

'Excellent job my child! God blesses you. You shall need to utilise this skill sooner or later.' This was the first sentence said by Satyanand.

He also predicted while blessing her, 'You are a brave and lucky girl. You are born for someone, and someone is born for you. Your life story will become history.'

'Is this beginning of the history? Does history starts so harshly?' Saira wondered.

'He predicted that your life story will be so spectacular that history will remember that,' Suraj explained, 'our story has started already, since long. We are already on our way.'

Saira felt Suraj's face was glowing.

'How can he look so bright amidst such a disaster?' she thought. Then she remembered her mother was repeatedly saying to her when she was a child, 'Gold becomes brighter when it is exposed to fire.'

For the first time, she felt the strong personality of Suraj.

Suraj directed the sailors to start sailing away in the direction of Allahabad. There was the fear that Ashfaq would use some of Purujit's boats and artillery to attack Nagin of Yamuna. They were at the hidden mini fortress near Yamuna and had control over all the weapons Purujit had stored there.

There was still time for dawn. Nagin of Yamuna started the journey again. This was not escape out of fear, but to look for a new light.

Some of the guards of Purujit escaped from the hidden fortress with the help of few small boats. It would have been trying for Ashfaq and Ayaaz to identify those boats from among hundreds of boats plying daily in Yamuna. Suraj sent a letter to one of his distant cousin to take care of last rites of his parents as per religious ritual as he couldn't be available under the circumstances. One boat with two guards carried that letter. Other boats followed Nagin of Yamuna from a distance so that no one would suspect that they were following one another.

Suraj, Saira, and Aditi retreated to their cabins. Suraj called the team leader of the sailors to his cabin and ordered him that the next stop would be outskirts of Firozabad. As Firozabad was not long away from Agra, he was directed to take Nagin of Yamuna further down the river crossing Firozabad and then also bring it back so that it would be near the destination by following midnight.

Next day Suraj, Saira and Aditi sat together.

'Can't we make a complaint to the Emperor?' Aditi asked.

'The way attack was made suggest some conspiracies,' Suraj replied, 'we need to get all facts before even thinking of complaining.'

'I am sure the Emperor always delivers justice,' Saira sounded promising.

'Public image and real face are always distinct in politics, Saira,' Suraj commented, 'if Akbar is so neutral in delivering justice, then why Anarkali was buried alive? What was her fault, just because she was in love with the Crown Prince?'

'Rather prince Saleem was the one who was in love with her and she just reciprocated,' Aditi said.

'It can be possible,' Suraj commented, 'poor girl was facing double-edged sword. Prince Saleem was already married several times before. Had she not accepted Saleem's proposal, she would have probably been killed by him. She accepted his proposal and as a result, was brutally punished by the Emperor.'

Saira changed the subject, 'Akbar didn't give fair justice because his own son who is the future Emperor was involved. Our case is different. Frankly speaking, I have no sympathy for my own father or step brothers. My father disowned my mother when she needed him most. He even forgot me altogether during my growing years. I owe my life to my maternal uncle Iqbal. I can be a witness against my step brother Ayaaz.'

Aditi looked at Suraj for his reaction.

'My father has taught me some politics besides giving me weapons training,' replied Suraj, 'and I will never forget the two golden rules he has taught me. First golden rule: A king or emperor should never take for granted the loyalty of his supporters as the most loyal ally may turn into the biggest traitor in no time. Second golden rule: The dearest lieutenant of the king should never take for granted the trust of the king. Each step should be taken with utmost care keeping in mind the above two golden rules. If Ashfaq and Ayaaz could dare to attack my family at midnight, and could kill my parents, they must have gotten green signal from someone at the top level of the empire.'

Farooq was a close friend of Purujit who lived in Firozabad. He was a wealthy businessman. He was running water transportation company and possessed quite a number of large and medium sized ships for carrying passengers between cities on the sides of Yamuna and Ganga. Though both Ashfaq and Farooq knew each other, it was only because they were both friends of Purujit. There was certainly not that much intimacy between both. Suraj sent one of the small boats following Nagin of Yamuna to him. Firozabad is not far away from the city of Agra. So he planned to take Nagin of Yamuna further down in the river and again come back so that, by midnight, they would be around Firozabad. This was to avoid the risk of any surprise attack by Ashfaq and gang. There was one more risk too: what would happen if Farooq has also changed sides to Ashfaq. As per plans Farooq was supposed to come by a boat and join him inside Nagin of Yamuna. Suraj and few trained guards in Nagin of Yamuna were ready for any unpleasant surprise.

Nagin of Yamuna went again down the river around one hundred miles before coming back by next midnight.

Apparently Purujit was also a silent business partner with him in the large water transport firm. Initially it was wholly owned by Purujit. Farooq was his manager. Subsequently Purujit elevated Farooq and made him the managing partner. Purujit still continued to own a significant share of the business. Farooq came. He did not come with empty hand. He came with lots of plans and resources and was ready to fulfil his commitments. Suraj couldn't but praise his father's vision in planning for the future. Purujit had planned for many contingencies. If one contingency failed, at least the others should work.

Farooq knew how Ashfaq suddenly became so powerful and could attack Purujit's family. He elaborated his version to Suraj, Aditi and Saira:

Purujit and Ashfaq were taking the lead role in the war between father Akbar and his Crown Prince son Saleem over Anarkali. The battle took longer than expected. Purujit's reason to that was the conflict was tricky as it was between father on one side and his son on the other side. He was taking all precautions to ensure that no harm is done to prince Saleem. He also ensured minimal damage to Saleem's army. His reasoning was, after the fighting, Saleem's faction of the army, which was formerly part of the vast Moghul army, would have merged back. So he took longer to capture the rebels. It was felt by many that, for many days, both sides were just playing the war game and no visible movement was happening. One evening, both sides were taking rest in their respective camps after daylong fight. Purujit went to Saleem's camp and arrested him. Ashfaq was unaware of this development. Purujit produced prince Saleem before the Emperor, and the rebel was over.

Ashfaq couldn't digest this. Purujit did something without consulting or informing him. He thought this was Purujit's plan to get all the credit from the Emperor Akbar. This made him jealous.

'Finally you know what happened!' Farooq asked.

'Yes,' Suraj replied, 'Anarkali was punished. Poor girl was buried alive.'

'I can't even imagine that the Emperor can order such harsh punishment to someone,' Saira commented.

'Everyone knows that Anarkali was brutally buried alive by Akbar's people,' Farooq said, 'but there is another version, which led to unexpected empowerment of Ashfaq.'

'You mean Anarkali is alive?' Aditi looked optimist.

'I am not sure,' Farooq commented, 'I said there is another version.'

'What is that?' Suraj was curious to know.

'The other version is that your father made some secret pact with Crown Prince Saleem to help him.'

'I don't believe this,' Suraj resisted, 'my father can do anything but can't undermine the confidence of his Emperor. He was faithful from his heart.'

'Those who were against him,' Farooq reasoned, 'thought Purujit shifted his allegiance to the future Emperor; the current Crown Prince Saleem. Akbar has become old. Sooner or later Crown Prince Saleem will ascend the throne. Those who took Anarkali to bury her alive were actually Purujit's men. As per his plan, they hid her in a secret place, and Akbar got the news that his command was executed.'

'I will be extremely proud if my father actually allowed Anarkali to escape,' Suraj joyfully announced, 'he was serving the Emperor Akbar not just as a paid general. He adored the Emperor because of his many noble qualities and was always ready to risk his life for the Emperor. But this cowardly act of live burial of a helpless girl has changed my opinion about the Emperor.'

'You are right my child,' Farooq said with a voice of caution, 'but remember that walls have ears too. The Moghul Empire is vast. You can't go against the Emperor without risking your life. I accept you are a brave warrior, but all the weapons and soldiers those were at the disposition of your father belonged to the Emperor. You can't fight against an Empire with just few swords.'

Suraj looked at Aditi and Saira. He felt helpless.

'In-fact,' Farooq continued, 'I believe that Ashfaq has taken into confidence someone close to Akbar and convinced that your father has conspired against him for helping Anarkali. He attacked and killed your father before he could get a chance to explain his position to the Emperor in self-defence. He killed so many birds with just one stone.'

'How?' Aditi asked.

'Firstly he got the trust of the Emperor by killing the so called rebel; i.e. Purujit.' Farooq explained, 'Secondly he executed his plan so fast that Purujit couldn't do anything in self-defence. Thirdly he now will take the place your father was enjoying.'

'Is that all?' Saira asked with an anxious voice.

'There is a fourth one also,' Farooq replied to Saira, 'he successfully took revenge against Suraj for marrying his daughter without getting his permission. Now he will try to get you back.'

'I will prefer to die than leaving Suraj,' Saira proclaimed.

'My suggestion is finding some safe place so that Saira and Aditi will be safe,' Farooq advised.

'In that case we have to go to South,' Aditi suggested, 'as entire North India is now part of Mughal Empire.'

'My plan is that, 'Suraj interfered, 'I will now find Anarkali and help her to be reunited with Prince Saleem. This is my goal now.'

'What if she is actually dead?' Aditi asked.

'At least I will find out the truth,' he replied, 'then I can approach the Emperor with that fact and expose the conspiracy against my father. That way I will take vengeance. My goal is not to occupy any state. I just want to find the truth.'

Farooq looked at the moon in the clear sky, 'We don't have much time. You need to cover enough distance before dawn. I will let you know one thing. The business empire, people think is mine mostly belonged to your father and now to you. I own only a small percentage. This river transportation company has over hundred small, large and extra large boats. The extra large boats are like ships. Two of them go to Bay of Bengal through Hooghly.'

'Hooghly,' Suraj said in a thrilling voice, 'I found a destination!'

'Hooghly is virtually an independent state within Moghul Empire,' he said.

'I know,' Saira confirmed.

'What do you know?' asked Aditi.

'My uncle once went to Hooghly with your father in this ship,' Saira said, 'I was extremely young then. Niyaz had kept my mother in some building after kidnapping her.'

'My gut feeling says you have taken the right decision,' Farooq assured, 'we can communicate as our boats regularly travel to Hooghly. I will keep this a secret. Just send me a letter whenever you need money. I will arrange to deliver to you.

Suraj and Farooq didn't waste much time. Farooq quietly slipped back into his small boat after deciding to execute the plan.

The world knew Purujit possessed a large boat-house equal to a war ship called Nagin of Yamuna. Farooq was maintaining a large boat-house on behalf of Purujit as per the latter's many contingency plans. It was not the replication of the other but was almost of similar size and facilities.

Exactly after midnight, Nagin of Yamuna was anchored in the middle of the river. The other boat-house was also anchored at a distance. Everything from Nagin of Yamuna was transferred to the other boat- house by smaller boats. All sailors, armed guards and servants shifted to the boat- house. Finally, Suraj, Saira and Aditi also shifted with them.

Before letting loose the house boat towards the downside of the river, Suraj and Aditi bowed towards Nagin of Yamuna. "Thank you,' Suraj uttered in a choked voice, 'thank you for your selfless service to our family.' He ran downstairs with tears in eyes. Suddenly Nagin of Yamuna burst into flames. All the sailors who were sailing in Nagin of Yamuna since long also wept.

Saira and Aditi reached downstairs to be with Suraj.

There were few boats in the river to watch this firework. But the people living in the houses across both sides of Yamuna saw this scene. There were few who were in other house-boats also saw this without knowing what exactly happened. Farooq's men spread the word that Nagin of Yamuna caught fire because of an accident and capsized in the river. No one in the ship survived. Nagin of Yamuna was a known name in and around Agra as it belonged to Purujit. The news spread like bonfire and reached Ashfaq Khan. Apparently Ashfaq and Ayaaz were relieved even though this meant the death of his only daughter. They were concerned about the honour of the family due to Saira's decision to wed Suraj. Her wellbeing was immaterial. Her death news brought an end to all their concerns.

Farooq had filled up the boat-house with enough provisions to last till they reach the city of Hooghly. They originally planned to go directly to Hooghly. As Allahabad approached, Saira became restless. It was not easy to send letters to a distant city in a sixteenth century setting. Sometimes valuable news took months to reach another part of the country. Roaming poets were the only means to spread the news. They were singing songs narrating the scene at the busy market places and were getting some money from the bystanders. There was little chance that the news of the assassination of Purujit might have reached Allahabad so early.

Suraj arranged few sailors for the job. There were few small boats on the ship. They lowered one of them to the water and went to Allahabad with a letter of Saira narrating all the details that had happened to her in-laws. Meanwhile, Aditi chose a different name for their new ship: Sherni (Lioness). This is because the ship was carrying one lion and two lionesses (Suraj, Saira and Aditi) that were ever ready to attack any intruder if required. Lioness took a rest in the middle river Ganga. (River Yamuna has merged with river Ganga in Allahabad).

The boat that went to deliver the letter to Iqbal didn't come back empty. Iqbal, his wife, Nadirah, Iqbal's son and Saira's grandmother all came to see them. Nadirah offered to accompany them to Hooghly. Suraj probably was not prepared initially. But he could see Saira's eyes. And another lioness called Nadirah was on board of the ship called Lioness.
Chapter 5

Hooghly- The Portuguese

City of Eastern India

Lioness started its journey to Hooghly.

This was the second time for Nadirah to visit Hooghly. Last time she was transported to Hooghly as a prisoner of Niyaz. Niyaz was not in the ship of course. Luckily he was called by his brother, to further his nefarious activities against the Mughal Empire, and he couldn't accompany. He decided to move Nadirah to Hooghly, where both the brothers were planning their activities in an old and rejected bungalow away from the city. Nadirah was kept as a prisoner with twenty-four hours strict supervision by his trusted maids and armed guards, so that she couldn't jump into the river, to commit suicide.

The scenes came as a flashback to her. She was not planning to jump into the river. She was waiting for the opportunity to take revenge, even though it was inevitable that she would have been killed after that. Purujit arrived, and she survived. It was just her good-luck.

The struggle of survival with honour was not finished yet. Only difference was this time she was not alone. Her daughter Saira, son-in-law Suraj, Suraj's sister Aditi, all were magnificent fighters. Her mind was full of courage; 'either victory will be ours, or we will die with pride'; she thought and enjoyed the scenic beauty of river Ganga from the deck of Lioness.

Lioness arrived at Hooghly. There were many people who were working for Purujit and Farooq's transportation business in Hooghly. Suraj and his family didn't feel alone in a city full of foreigners. He was aware of the history and significance of the city. Farooq's assistant Rizwan arranged a large bungalow for them. The bungalow had three floors and was not particularly far from the river. The perimeter walls were high enough to make it a mini fort. The back side of the castle was facing the river.

Nadirah looked at the bungalow, 'I have seen this before!' she exclaimed.

'Yes,' quickly replied Rizwan, 'I was with Purujit when he arrived here with your brother Iqbal and his friend Rafiq to capture Niyaz.'

'This is the place my mother killed Niyaz, her tormentor,' said Saira with enthusiasm as she hugged her mother. Suraj and Aditi knew the fact, but now felt they were now a part of all this. Time has now come a full circle. They were going to start from the place where Purujit and Nadirah once finished the chapter of Niyaz and Wasim.

Rizwan was a man in his late sixties. Farooq had sent a letter to him detailing everything. He approached Suraj, 'I am a faithful servant of your father all my life,' he explained, 'and this business also belonged primarily to your father, now to you. You can rely upon me. I am not like Ashfaq.'

Suraj became emotional and hugged him. For the first time after the death news of his family he cried and tears came down on the shoulders of Rizwan.

Rizwan squeezed his shoulders gently, 'You are all tired,' he advised, 'and there is a long way to go. Please get enough rest. I have arranged everything for your comfort, but if you need anything I am just a call away.'

Two days later. A horse carriage stopped in front of the bungalow. By now Aditi had already chosen a name for the bungalow: Vijay Bhavan (Victory House). Rizwan got off the carriage with a white man. He introduced him, 'Suraj, this is Ronaldo of Portugal.'

'Hello Ronaldo,' Suraj said, 'when did you come from Portugal?' Then he looked at Rizwan expecting he will translate his language.

Rizwan realised his reluctance, 'He is living in Hooghly for last five years. He knows many languages including yours.'

Suraj now felt comfortable and nodded. He invited all inside Vijay Bhavan (Victory House).

Aditi and Saira also joined them.

'I am sorry to know about your parents,' Ronaldo expressed his concern, 'your father was extremely close to some top Portuguese officials in Hooghly.'

Rizwan started, 'Hooghly is practically a little Portuguese dominance within the vast Mughal Empire. Other than collecting some tax from them, Mughal never interferes in any of their affairs. This is the best place for you to plan your upcoming activities. Mughal forces may never even suspect that you are here.'

Ronaldo smiled. It was a meaningful smile.

Suraj thought he would make his position clear, 'I have no intention of a rebel against the Emperor Akbar. My father has been loyal to him all his life. What I didn't like is: he should have been taken to Akbar's court if there were allegations against him. My father had done the same years ago, when he came to Hooghly and captured Wasim. He didn't kill Wasim. Rather he was sent to Akbar and he got a fair trial before meeting his fate.'

'I can see,' Rizwan continued, 'the situation is quite different in case of your father. Ashfaq somehow has already convinced Akbar that Purujit helped Anarkali to escape. I am not sure if it is true. It might have been possible, instead of burying Anarkali alive; a dead woman's body has been buried.'

'I will be genuinely happy if Anarkali has actually escaped,' Suraj said, 'even if it goes against Akbar. But in case she is not alive that may be the best case to prove my father's innocence.'

'Bad idea, for that you may have to go to Lahore to search her,' Rizwan said, 'and before you succeed in your venture, you may even be kept in prison by Akbar.'

'Can't he get me if I am here?' Suraj asked, 'I am still within his empire.'

'He doesn't know the Portuguese impact in India,' Ronaldo gave a brief comment.

Rizwan started, 'When Portuguese started settling down in Hooghly, they were merely traders. Akbar allowed them to set up the city here. This trading body is getting military assistance from the king of Portugal. They have much better navy than you can expect. Akbar's navy can do combat only in rivers like Ganga and Yamuna but ....'

Suraj almost snatched Rizwan's sentence, 'I know that, in the year 1572, Akbar occupied Gujarat through sea. My father has told me how the Mughal Navy went through Arabian Sea and landed in Gujarat. In fact, he was a member of the whole team. Only after that he started dreaming of building Nagin of Yamuna. He had plans to build a Navy for the Mughals which would have operated in Bay of Bengal, and I am planning to carry on his dreams.'

'You are right that Mughal Navy occupied Gujarat,' Rizwan agreed, 'and only after that he came to see the presence and the power of the Portuguese in western India and the Persian Gulf region of the Indian Ocean. Can you imagine even Emperor Akbar had to beg for a permit so that his ships could sail in the Persian Gulf Region?'

'What!' Aditi was surprised, 'I don't believe this.'

'That is true Aditi,' Saira confirmed.

'How did you know?' Suraj enquired.

'My uncle had visited Hooghly when I was a child,' she started, 'he accompanied your father to Hooghly in Nagin of Yamuna. During that time, he acquired lots of information from different sources about Portuguese. He has told me so many things about Portuguese in India.'

Suraj and Aditi were surprised to see that Saira was aware of so many things, 'I truly envy you Saira,' Aditi praised, 'your uncle has given you all round education including military training.'

Saira felt flattered and continued with a smile, 'Even Akbar had to seek permission from them so that Mughal ships carrying his family could go on Hajj to Mecca and Medina.'

'This is a real surprise to me,' Suraj couldn't believe, 'so far I thought the Mughal army is one of the most powerful in the world.'

They saw a suggestive smile on the face of Rizwan, 'If you are thinking Portuguese obliged the Emperor by issuing a permit, you are wrong.'

'You mean Akbar's family couldn't go on Hajj?' Suraj asked.

'They did,' Rizwan replied, 'but Akbar had to compromise. Besides having a colony in Goa, Portuguese was also occupying Daman, close to Gujarat. Mughal force in Gujarat was planning to invade Daman. Akbar directed Mughal administrative officials in Gujarat not provoke Portuguese. Only after that the permit for Hajj was issued.'

'Didn't Portuguese try to capture Gujarat from the Mughals?' Aditi asked.

'No,' Ronaldo interfered, 'our people in Goa and Daman were also aware about the superior military strength of Mughals in India. Our superiority is usually in the ocean. So, we adopted diplomacy rather than war. Akbar also didn't want a conflict. I must admit he is one of the most talented Emperors of this period. We have seen many Emperors in Europe, and we can clearly see the difference. On the request of Akbar, the Portuguese Governor sent an envoy to establish friendly relations.'

'I can now guess what the intention of Akbar was,' Suraj said.

'Your guess is correct,' Rizwan interfered, 'Akbar was aware of the naval supremacy of the Portuguese. He was trying to obtain some modern artillery pieces from them. He was also trying to buy ships from them. His eyes were to occupy the South India with the help of a modern Navy and compact artillery.'

'And he was unsuccessful in that.' Suraj said.

'How did you know?' Aditi asked.

'Had he been successful,' he replied, 'the great Mughal empire would have expanded to South India by now. I am now clear about the equation of power between Mughal and the Portuguese.'

'Akbar was still trying to please Portuguese,' Rizwan said, 'and now you can see why he granted permission to them to set up a city in Hooghly. For common people, this is a trading city of the Portuguese who pays tax to the Mughal exchequer. But the truth is different. The powerful and skilled Portuguese soldiers protect this city as well as the entire river and sea route where their ships sail. The Emperor is aware of this and can do little. In fact, he granted permission to set up a Portuguese city out of compulsion rather than compassion.'

Ronaldo got up and said, 'On behalf of Portuguese community, I welcome the family of our best friend Purujit to Hooghly. We are happy to offer any sort of service you need.'

Suraj and Rizwan went up to the door to see him off. Rizwan came back as Ronaldo entered into his horse carriage and vanished into the darkness of the evening.

Meanwhile, Nadirah also joined them. So far she was inside but was listening to the discussion carefully. She was sceptical about the purpose of Ronaldo.

'My son,' she addressed to Suraj, her son in law, 'your father might have a strong relationship with the Portuguese because of his and his partner Farooq's shipping business. I have heard from my brother Farooq that they are terribly cruel and not to be trusted.'

'He must have told you about the cold-blooded murder by Vasco Da Gama,' Rizwan said.

'Yes,' Nadirah confirmed, 'that wicked old man has killed nearly four hundred pilgrims who were travelling from Calicut to Mecca for Hajj. He even didn't spare women and children.'

'I know about that,' Rizwan said, 'but you can't blame all the people of a country for the barbaric act of one individual. In the past rulers like Genghis Khan, Mahmud of Ghazni have killed thousands innocent people in our country. People are not blaming their community for these atrocities.'

Suraj made his views clear, 'Certainly I am not going to make a sort of rebel against the Emperor Akbar. My father was faithful to him till his last breath, and I am not going to be different. My goal is to find out the fact that led to my family's slaughter. I will also seek justice from the Empire. I know the time is against me, and if I approach the Emperor I may not even get a chance to prove my father's innocence. Until I find time is in my favour, I will not approach the Emperor. Rather I will devote time in developing the shipping business my father had started in partnership with Farooq. This may bring me an opportunity to learn more about the Portuguese, their weapons and combat tactics.'

Saira nodded with a satisfactory smile.

Saira was extremely happy. For the first time in her life, she got a chance to travel in a sea with Suraj. Portuguese offered to take him to Goa. The ship would start from Hooghly and enter the Bay of Bengal, then move southwards, almost till Sri Lanka. The ship would reach the southernmost part of the country, Cape Comorin (modern day Kanya Kumari), where Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea meet one another. You can see both Sunrise and Sunset in the sea. One can sense the presence of all three oceans from bands of varied colours of their water. The ship would make a stop there to refill foods and water. Then the ship would enter the Arabian Sea and move again north till Goa, the Portuguese colony.

Amelia, Ronaldo's wife, was now a close friend of Saira. She started narrating about her experience to her after there was a proposal that Suraj and Saira would travel to Goa with Ronaldo and Amelia.

Suraj first accepted the idea but was of a double mind after that. The idea originated from Farooq, Purujit's friend and partner in his shipping company. Suraj's visit could open the opportunity of expanding their shipping business till Goa. He could even gain knowledge about the weapons used by Portuguese soldiers, study ocean warfare etc.

The proposals were thrilling, but, he was not happy. He had more urgent jobs in mind: to expose the motives of Ashfaq Khan. For this, he required to find out the truth, 'what happened to Anarkali? Whether she is still alive? If so where is she living now? She can only tell whether Purujit helped her escape against the wishes of Akbar, the Emperor. If she is certainly not alive, then how Akbar got the news that Purujit helped her escape?'

Nadirah suggested, 'I will go to Lahore and investigate the facts about Anarkali'.

Suraj objected, 'I will be enjoying the trip to Goa and you will take all the risks of discovering what happened to Anarkali. This is unfair. There should be someone to help you.'

Nadirah was not pleased. There was a sword kept on the side. Unknowingly, she put her hand on the handle of the sword. Her blood was boiling. She tried to calm down and said, 'Do you think I should not do this adventure because I am a woman?'

'Yes, no,' Suraj couldn't know what to say, 'I know you can fight, but you will be alone there. There should be someone to help you in case of need.'

Aditi jumped at this suggestion, 'I will be with her. I will help her.'

Nadirah nodded in appreciation, to indicate that she liked the idea, 'If Anarkali is actually alive she must have stopped singing and dancing. She must be hiding somewhere. It will be difficult for her to go outside the Mughal Empire as it is too large. Be sure no outside person can see her face. Only a woman can go inside the harem (in a traditional Muslim home, the separate private quarters reserved for wives and concubines) of some family and can find her. You, being a man, are of no use in such a situation. My suggestion is you and Saira, both go to Goa in the ship. You can expand your father's shipping business and discover new combat techniques. Your father Purujit once gave me new life after rescuing me from the captivity of Niyaz. From that day, I have considered him as my brother. Now, it is my responsibility to find out the truth and pay tribute to his soul.'

Suraj was convinced.
Chapter 6

Is Anarkali Alive?

There was massive preparation for the expedition. It was planned that both Nadirah and Aditi would travel to Firozabad by ship. Purujit's business partner Farooq would arrange so that few guards would accompany them to Lahore as servants. He would also organize regular contact with them by sending people to Lahore at regular intervals so that communication with Farooq would be possible. Farooq could also send money to them regularly.

Farooq himself accompanied Nadirah and Aditi to Lahore. He arranged a small bungalow in a hectic and crowded market place. His motive was; no one would notice the appearance of strangers in a crowded place, which might not have been possible otherwise as people know one another in small localities.

For few months, they didn't find any clue how to find out whereabouts of Anarkali. Then she thought of a plan. He convinced two of the guards cum servants; Ahmed and Virat, to explore the market and listen to the conversation of people. The battle between Akbar and his son Crown Prince Saleem was fought in Lahore. It was a momentous event for the local people. At first, they couldn't find anything. Whenever they were trying to be close to a small group of people gossiping in a hushed voice, the group would suddenly stop and change the topic. It was difficult to know whether the original topic was Anarkali or something else. The frequenting of both to the marketplace made them known faces in the market. They identified themselves as a servant of a businessman who often went to Persia for trading, leaving behind his wife and daughter in Lahore. Gradually they could eavesdrop to the talks of different groups. People were discussing Anarkali, but no one was clear what happened. Many people still believed that Anarkali was buried alive. Some people still doubted. The confusion was largely because they believed Akbar was a kind hearted and always delivered justice. They could never imagine that Akbar could have ordered such horrific justice to an innocent girl.

Months passed without any positive development. They got the letter of Rizwan from Hooghly that Suraj and Saira were already on their way to Goa in a Portuguese ship. Nadirah was always positive. Both the women would visit the market where the women folk of wealthy families usually came for shopping. They made some calculated relationship as too much acquaintance might have revealed their true identity and purpose. She was sure that Anarkali and her mother must be living a wealthy life as Prince Saleem must have bestowed her enough money. The other reason was that outsiders usually didn't peep into the harems of the affluent households. Still there was no evidence.

Finally, Nadirah decided to try her final game. She was a talented singer. It was from a singing concert Niyaz had kidnapped her when she was young, and her daughter Saira was a baby. She had stopped singing altogether after the incident, but it was in her blood any way. She started the practice again. It didn't take long to reach the professional level of singing.

The song and dance performance was being called Mujra and usually attended by men folks. She was not intending to appear before a male audience. She was actually not comfortable. Moreover, there was hardly any song performance only for women. She was probably the first in the whole city of Lahore to organize a presentation only for women. To be honest, it was designed for only upper class women. In the evening, women would be engaged in cooking whereas the menfolk mostly went out for entertainment. It was not surprising that most people lined up for the Mujras. Nadirah chose daytime for her performance. Aditi contacted few women of affluent families in the market, and they showed interest to the novel idea: the first song performance for women only audience.

The program started in their house with only few women as audience. Gradually the news spread to nearby posh localities. Only women from wealthy families were allowed entry. Aditi was circulating among the crowd and trying to make friends hoping someone might know the whereabouts of Anarkali. Weeks and months passed on. Nadirah continued singing every week for the small women viewers. Aditi continued her quest without any success, but they didn't lose hope. They have to continue to live in Lahore till Suraj and Saira came back from Goa. Aditi ritually befriended every beautiful young woman who attended the concert. Anarkali was a dance-girl. She must have abstained from all sorts of dance and songs to hide successfully. Mostly, only men had seen her performing mujra (dance performance). This meant none of the women attending the concert of Nadirah had noticed her. None of them could recognise her. Aditi was sure, one day she would come to this concert for two reasons. Firstly, no one could recognise her as the audience was entirely women. Secondly, she was fond of song and dance which she must have been seriously missing. This was the only place in Lahore where she could enjoy the song performance without being noticed.

One day, one mother and her beautiful young girl arrived by a decorated horse carriage. The girl was almost of the same age as Anarkali. Aditi started observing her while Nadirah continued her singing. Aditi saw the young woman was thoroughly enjoying the song by slowly beating her feet on the ground as per the rhythm. She thought finally God answered to her prayer. Finally, she could find Anarkali. She hoped to be able to keep them there for some time after the small crowd dispersed so that she could talk to them privately. But that didn't happen. They started to walk out quickly as soon as the concert was over. Aditi didn't get enough time to talk to them. She just quickly asked the woman, 'Excuse me madam! Can I get your name please?'

She looked at her, but quickly walked away without answering to Aditi. Aditi went outside. The young woman and her mother quickly got into their horse carriage and disappeared. Aditi was visibly upset with her disappointment. Another elderly woman noticed this and asked her, 'Why do you want to know her name?'

She mumbled at first, and then replied, 'She seemed to have come from a famous family. We just wanted to thank her for coming. I have no other purpose.'

The woman revealed, 'Her name is Mehr-un-Nisaa, daughter of Mirza Ghiyas Beg of Persia. She came with her mother Asmat Begum.'

Aditi thanked her but still remained disappointed.

When everyone left after the performance, Nadirah asked her, 'Who was that young woman?'

'Not the one we want,' she replied without showing any interest.

Nadirah smiled, 'Do you think if she is truly Anarkali, she will reveal her identity so easily?'

'You think she is Anarkali,' Aditi questioned, 'anyway she didn't disclose any name. The other woman only told me her name.'

'There are two possibilities,' Nadirah said, 'firstly the other woman doesn't know who she actually is. She and her mother might have floated different names and new stories in the locality so that people will know them in those new names. Since many ordinary people have never seen her and her picture is not available anywhere, it is extremely easy for her to be acquainted by a new identity. The woman who told about her might know her only by her new identity.'

'What is the second one?' Aditi asked.

'The woman actually knows her and trying to hide her real identity from you.'

'What should we do now?' she asked.

'Just keep watching,' Nadirah advised, 'and develop rapport with the woman who told her name.'

Mehrunnisaa (let's call her just Mehr for ease of pronouncement) never came again. The woman who told her name also came again to attend the concert. Aditi blamed herself why she asked her name so early. 'She must have smelt fish and is now avoiding to come,' she thought.

For few weeks, there was no further development. Aditi almost forgot the name of Mehr and started her search again. One day Aditi saw the woman in the marketplace; the woman who told her the name of Mehr. She lost no time to approach her and invite her for lunch. She declined but was willing to spend some time with her in the market. She was a neighbour of Mehr and got access to their house. She was ready to share her knowledge with Aditi.

'Mirza Ghiyas Beg and his wife Asmat Begum are originally from Persia. Asmat Begum has access to the royal harem of the Emperor Akbar. She was regularly taking Mehr with her. Prince Saleem saw her and fell in love with her. The Emperor didn't appreciate this. He ordered that Mehr be married to another man called Ali Quli. Ali Quli was the table attendant of Shah of Persia. After Shah's death, he came to Kandahar in Afghanistan. He came into contact with Abdul Rahim, a famous poet in Akbar's court. Abdul Rahim is also Akbar's step son as his widowed mother became the second wife of Akbar. Abdul Rahim appointed Ali Quli as a royal employee. Later on, Abdul Rahim was pleased with his work and recommended for his appointment as mansabdar (lieutenant colonel) of Thatta in the province of Sindh. His work as mansabdar was appreciated by the Emperor, and he was moved to the royal courts at Lahore. He was fighting against Crown Prince Saleem along with Purujit, when the prince revolted against his own father Akbar.'

The story was sensational. Aditi quickly went back home and told everything to Nadirah.

'Prince Saleem was in love with Mehr?' Nadirah was surprised, 'she is none other than Anarkali.'

'I was also wondering she might be Anarkali,' Aditi suggested, 'but probably she is not.'

'Why do you think so?'

'Because her father is from Persia,' Aditi analysed, 'and Anarkali is a slave girl, so is an illegitimate child having no father. Also, her name is Mehrunnisaa, not Anarkali.'

'Anarkali is also not her real name,' Nadirah said, 'her real name is Nadeera, very close to my name.

It was the Emperor who gave her new name, Anarkali. He might have given her another name, Mehrunnisaa.'

'Then how Mehrunnisaa cum Anarkali cum Nadeera became the daughter of Mirza Ghiyas Beg of Persia?' Aditi asked.

'The Emperor can do anything he wants,' Nadirah suggested, 'he might have asked Mirza Ghiyas Beg to adopt her as his daughter. How many people in Lahore have seen Anarkali? She even doesn't have a picture available to the public.'

'People in the royal court must have seen her,' Nadirah argued, 'and they must have been instructed to keep their lips tight. Can't you see that Prince Saleem was in love with her and the Emperor opposed the marriage? In fact, Anarkali was not buried. This was false news, created by the Emperor, to confuse the public. He is Akbar the Great, who can't do wrong. It is possible that your father might have facilitated her flight on the instruction of the Emperor. People thought Anarkali died. Actually she took the new avatar: Mehrunnisaa (Mehr).'

'This is wrong,' Aditi said, 'she wanted to marry prince Saleem. Now she is being forced to marry another man called Ali Quli. Shouldn't we try to unite Mehr/Anarkali with Saleem?'

'What? Are you crazy?' Nadirah opposed her plan, 'we have not come all the way risking our lives to unite two love souls. We have come to know the truth so that your father's innocence can be proved. Ashfaq will be punished.'

'If my father has helped Anarkali to escape on the instruction of the Emperor, then his detractors must have framed him in some other charges,' Aditi argued, 'and we don't know anything about that.'

'Yes, our problem could have been solved easily had Anarkali actually died,' Nadirah said, 'now we are actually back to square one.'

'How fool we are?' Aditi looked awful, 'all the time we wanted to find Anarkali, an Anarkali who is alive. Now that we genuinely found her alive, our hopes have become dead.'

'Just hope that Mehr is not Anarkali,' Nadirah consoled her, 'now we should think of our next course of action.'

'We can do little to unite these two love souls,' Aditi suggested, 'should we wait till the wedding is over?'

'Yes,' Nadirah appreciated her idea, 'this Ali Quli one day has participated in the war between the Emperor and his son prince Saleem. He was on the side of the Emperor so must have known Purujit closely. It might be difficult to approach the Emperor. I hope we can certainly reach Ai Quli once the wedding is over. He can probably help us to find out the truth.'
Chapter 7

Goa, The Portuguese Colony

Suraj and Saira were on their way back to Hooghly after a long stay in Goa. While going, they went in a Portuguese ship. He and Saira lost no time in utilising the time rather than just wandering around. They learnt their language: Portuguese. They also learnt the local language Konkani. Suraj spent time in learning to use their modern weapons. He also became friends with some senior navy officials, and learnt about ocean warfare. But he tried not to be too much involved. Portuguese officials treated him like a VIP. At a point of time, they gave proposal to appoint him in a senior position, in Portuguese royal army. They were aware of his capabilities and Suraj's support could have helped them to grow their territory beyond few places of the western coast of the country.

Suraj didn't jump onto the proposal. Accepting their offer means straightforward revolt against the Emperor, whom his father had served so loyally for long. He would have lost all the chances of unveiling the truth behind the plot against his father Purujit. He couldn't remain happy just becoming a senior official in Portuguese armed force.

He handled the situation diplomatically. The shipping business, which he inherited from his father, came to his rescue. He successfully convinced them that he would love to expand his father's shipping business and devote few years in that. Once the business expanded, he would again handover the command to Farooq in Firozabad and think of a career in Portuguese army. The plan worked. They allowed Suraj and Farooq's water Transportation Company to develop the operation up to Goa. To avoid any unpleasant reaction from the Mughal Empire, Suraj advised partner Farooq to move their headquarters to Hooghly from Firozabad. He agreed, and the advice was implemented immediately. Portuguese ships were continually plying between Goa, Hooghly and various cities across the rivers Ganga and Yamuna. To communicate by sending letters was remarkably easy. Suraj bought few ships from Portuguese and they started plying between Hooghly and Goa. Meanwhile, Farooq made an replica of Nagin of Yamuna and the ship was named Sea Nagin. The Sea Nagin came to Goa. Suraj and Saira, who once came to Goa in the Portuguese ship, started their return journey in their own ship: Sea Nagin (Female Cobra of the sea).

Farooq was extremely careful to decorate the interior exactly the same way like Nagin of Yamuna. Suraj felt as if Nagin of Yamuna were reborn from its ashes, just with a new name: Sea Nagin. When he first boarded this new ship along with Saira, he walked along all part of the ship and couldn't believe his eyes. Finally, he came to the cabin which his father was always occupying in the old ship. He knelt down and kissed the floor. The only difference between the two ships was their names. Duplicating the name was not advisable because of obvious reasons. Ashfaq and his team shouldn't think that they have been tricked into believing that Suraj, Saira and Aditi were dead because of the fire accident.

Most of the staff of the new ship was recruited from and around Hooghly. They knew Suraj just as a wealthy business man who owned a shipping business. They didn't know his heroic past or the good and strained relationship with the Emperor Akbar. Asim, the main sailor (we may call him captain), had extensive experience of sailing both in the large rivers like Ganga and also in the ocean. This might have been the first trip of Suraj back from Goa in sea route. But Asim had done so many trips from Hooghly to Goa that practically he had lost count.

Sea Nagin was sailing smoothly without any problem like severe weather. It crossed Cape Comorin (modern name is Kanya Kumari, the southernmost part of India) and moved towards north. The ship was sailing keeping its course almost parallel to the coast so that there was least chance of being lost in the Bay of Bengal.

Suraj and Saira were sitting on the deck enjoying the sunset.

Asim came. Suraj was in a mood for gossip, 'Hooghly shouldn't be too far, Asim? I will also gain experience like you when I accompany the ship to Goa few times.'

Hooghly is not too far but,' Asim couldn't complete his sentence as Saira asked, 'but what Asim? We don't know whether mother and Aditi are yet back from Lahore.'

'I am sorry to interrupt your journey,' Asim said, 'we are almost short of provisions.'

'Can't we stretch a little bit so that it will last till we reach Hooghly?' Suraj asked.

'We can if we choose to eat half stomach for few days,' Asim replied, 'but what about drinking water?'

'Drinking water will also not last?'

'We have to stay tonight,' Asim suggested, 'tomorrow morning we have to make a stopover at Manikpatna, near Chilika Lake.'

Actually how far are we from our destination?' Saira enquired.

'Manikpatna is in Utkal (currently Odisha), the neighbouring state of Bengal.'

'Thank God,' Saira took a sigh of relief, 'we are so close to home, I mean, our second home.'

'Who knows Goa will be our third home?' Suraj laughed and commented.

Saira looked at him angrily.

'But you loved Goa,' Suraj defended his statement, 'and I remember you once said, how sweet it would happen if we build a house on a sea beach here.'

'If we are in Hooghly, at least we can stay in touch with Allahabad,' she argued, 'my uncle also can come to us at least few times in a year.'

Early morning Sea Nagin entered the Chilika Lake. Suraj and Saira were up on the deck enjoying the sunshine. They saw thousands of birds flying on the sky. It was a rare sight.

'I have never seen so many different types of birds before,' Saira said to Suraj.

Sea Nagin was already half way through Chilika. Asim joined them, 'This is Chilika Lake, almost a bay of the Bay of Bengal.'

He observed Saira didn't listen. She was watching the birds.

Asim said again pointing at the birds, 'Most of these birds are migratory.'

'You mean they are migrating from other parts?' Saira clarified, 'so there must be birds from Allahabad or Agra.'

'I mean the birds are migrating from thousand miles away,' Asim clarified, 'they are coming from Siberia, Russia.'

Saira didn't comment anymore. Geography knowledge in those days was largely limited to sailors.

Sea Nagin continued its historic journey in Chilika Lake, the historic port of Utkal, previously known as Kalinga. This was the port from where the businessmen of Utkal were sailing to places as far as Java, Sumatra and Bali and established colonies. It was said, in old days they were even using ships with the steam engine. Ships could even float both over and below the water by inflating or deflating air bags. The ships were fitted with wheels at the bottom and were using steam to run. But that technology was lost somewhere in the history. The political instability disrupted the sailing business and the knowledge couldn't be handed over from one generation to another. The technology was reinvented centuries later by British people.

Sea Nagin was anchored in the lake near Manikpatna. Asim took few people with him to get provisions from the market. Suraj and Saira took the opportunity to explore the area. They hired a horse carriage and started aimlessly. She had bought enough goodies from Goa, so had no interest in shopping. The horse carriage moved across the coastline of Chilika. They crossed the market and villages. The road became quiet. Not only the path, but the whole atmosphere was just relaxing. There was blue expanse of water of the vast Chilika. On the other side was a range of evergreen hills. The coachman asked how far to drive. Suraj was probably going to say, 'Enough, let's go back.' But Saira jumped into his words and commanded, 'Please continue till we ask.' Then she smiled at Suraj and pleaded about her decision, 'We have enough time to go back. This place seems so peaceful.'

Suraj just smiled and nodded in agreement. Suddenly Saira's saw a man was standing near a tree at a distance. She thought that probably the guy wants a lift in their carriage. She asked the coachman to stop near him. As the carriage was approaching, she asked Suraj, 'The face looks familiar.'

"I also think so,' he replied, 'we must have seen him somewhere.'

As the carriage stopped, the man came to them with a smiling face. He was a tall and bearded man wearing a white cloth. A bag was hanging on his shoulder. The coachman said in a hushed tone, 'He is a monk, might be asking for alms.'

Suraj stopped thinking why he was looking familiar and searched his bag to find coins.

The monk came near the carriage with a big smile on his chin and announced, 'Welcome Saira and Suraj! Welcome to the abode of Satyanand.'

Suraj was surprised and pulled out his hands suddenly from the money bag. Saira quietly told in his ears, 'He is Kripa, disciple of Monk Satyanand.'

Both quickly got off the coach and greeted him. Suraj said, 'Sorry sir, I didn't expect you here so thought you are someone else.'

'We have no specific place to live,' Kripa laughed, 'we move around to explore places, people, and culture, and after all knowledge. Welcome again to the abode of Monk Satyanand.'

They didn't find any house or cave near, only vast blue water on one side and tall trees on the other. Kripa understood their plight, 'Satyanand's residence is not far from here,' he continued as he pointed his finger at the lake, 'few miles from here.'

Suraj was confused, 'Where? This is just water!'

'There is a small island called Parikud,' Satyanand confirmed, 'and this boat will take you there.'

The large tree was blocking the view of the small boat tied to it in the lake. Suraj looked at Saira for her opinion. Her eyes gave the answer.

Suraj called the coachman and asked him to go back. The skipper of the boat untied the boat from the tree as Kripa, Suraj and Saira boarded. The boat started its journey to Parikud Island among the blue waters of Chilika Lake. Kripa was silent for the most part of the journey. He never asked the courtesy question 'How things are going?' to Suraj. He was expecting everything was all right. Suraj remembered the first advice of Satyanand when he didn't even know his name, 'Fight for the love of your life.' It is possible that all these struggles they were going though were predicted by him. He might be able to advise them exactly what to do.

It was an entirely different world. It was an unparalleled visual experience. While tens of thousands of migratory birds converted the clear blue sky into a spectrum of colours, dolphins were creating the illusion of an ocean while crossing the path of the boat. At the same time, hundreds of thoughts were crossing the minds of Saira. Kripa said it would take an hour or so to reach Parikud Island. An hour only! Time seemed to be moving so slowly today. She lost all her patience in her eagerness to meet Satyanand. He was immensely knowledgeable. He knew both past and future. He must have known what should be going to happen in the future. He was the only person who could recommend a safe way out of all their problems.

'Future!' Satyanand reacted to the surprise of Saira, 'I never try to know what will happen to me tomorrow, and you are asking me to tell you what your future is.'

'Sorry sir,' Suraj tried to manage, 'we believe you have all the knowledge to guide us through our problems.'

'You both seem to be in a great hurry,' Satyanand teased, 'so instead of coming inside my ashram (hermitage) you both are trying to finish the whole job on my doorstep itself.'

'We are terribly sorry,' Suraj realised their stupidity as Saira also looked at him with guilt, 'our ship is on the way to Hooghly. We had to stop at Manikpatna as the provisions were finished.'

Satyanand laughed. It was a meaningful laugh. Suraj and Saira looked at each other in amazement as they looked at Satyanand for an answer.

'Every incident has a purpose', Satyanand explained, 'why do you think that it was just by chance your provisions were finished, and you had to make a stopover at Chilika Lake? It is not just a coincidence. It might be the intent of the Infinite Energy to bring you both to me again.'

Saira's impatience calmed down as she requested permission to come inside the hermitage. Kripa guided them inside as Satyanand said, 'You both have a long way to go, possibly hundreds of years before getting salvation. Each problem is an opportunity for both of you to come closer to each other. So don't be worried for the problems. Face it with patience and determination.'

Then he turned at Kripa and said, 'Please go to Manikpatna and meet the captain of Suraj's ship. What is his name Suraj?'

'Asim,' Suraj replied.

'Yes, meet Asim,' Satyanand continued, 'and give him Suraj's direction.'

Kripa looked at Suraj in anticipation of his instruction.

'Please tell him that Sea Nagin will stop indefinitely in Chilika till I come back.' Suraj conveyed his message through Kripa as Satyanand smiled at him.

When life is running too fast, slow down a little bit or press the break, then look back and around. You will find many fascinating things, which you were probably missing while speeding. This was Satyanand's message. After marrying Saira, both she and Suraj were practically running: From Agra to Allahabad to attend Iqbal's son's wedding and then return to Agra. The murder of Suraj's family set them on their heels as they escaped to Hooghly. From Hooghly they started their journey to Goa. And now they were again in a hurry to go back to Hooghly. What was their goal: To find the cause of murder of their parents and punish the guilty? How? And what was next? Suraj's blood was boiling since he heard that his parents had been killed by Ashfaq. He had not thought anything other than revenge. Whatever he was doing, he thought it eventually would lead him to his goal ultimately. His decision to expand his father's shipping business was the result of his long term plan. First, he got closer to Portuguese and learnt sea combat and about their weapons, which Moghul army had not seen so far. He could increase the number of ships which could be used for a war when required. Besides, his increasing wealth could support the dream of a military adventure.

Suraj was eager to narrate his whole story to Satyanand. He was the only person who gave him courage to marry the love of his life or say love of his next six lives. He blessed him to stay together with Saira for seven lives. This might have been just another blessing from any holy man. He was not sure. Satyanand was not showing any eagerness to hear his story, why? Was it because he knew everything? Some time before he told him that he didn't try to see his own destiny. Yes, that was possible. Otherwise, he would have warned him about the threat to his parents from Ashfaq. Suraj was confused. Saira felt her husband's a stressful position and held his hand. Suraj calmed down a little.

Satyanand served them with some food and then guided them to another place amongst the woods. There was a hall without any wall. Few stone pillars were supporting the roof made of stone. One side was facing the blue waters of Chilika Lake and the other side towards the large trees of the island. There were few men sitting cross legged on the floor and looking towards the lake. There was a small stream of water flowing in front of the hall. Probably it was a narrow fountain coming from a small hill like structure hidden behind tall trees. None of the men was looking like a monk. All of them were tall and strong. There were few young women also sitting in meditation pose like the men. Saira felt she was not alone. She tried to say something to Suraj, but Satyanand indicated to keep silence before sitting down. Suraj and Saira also sat down, close to each other, in the same pose like all others.

The balmy breeze coming from the vast lake gently touched their bodies and slowly calmed down Suraj's boiling blood. For some time both sat down and knew nothing what to do. Serene almost surrounded the whole place. The splashing sound of the small fountain water was so soothing; both slowly started enjoying the sound. Occasionally some chick singing sounds were coming from some far off trees. The blend of both the sounds was like magic. It overwhelmed the conscious of the couple so much that, and they sat down for long hours without realising how much time had passed on. When they finally woke up and looked around, there was none as if some magic wind came and everyone other than this couple vanished. Even Satyanand was gone. Suraj looked around in amazement and then at Saira. Saira smiled and came closer to him and placed her head against his broad shoulder, 'We are alone here. Everyone is gone.'

'Did you notice when everyone left?' asked Suraj.

Saira simply nodded her head. She didn't know.

There was no sunray. Both stood up and came out of the hall and quietly stood near the fountain. Saira tried to know from where the fountain had come. She looked at the sky, there was no cloud. It was a clear blue sky. It was the time of dusk. Now they realised how much time they were sitting quietly. Saira said, 'We couldn't know that we sat so long.'

'Probably this is called a meditation,' Suraj explained.

'This was so beautiful!' she complemented, 'I always thought meditation is some sort of prayer. But we didn't pray to any God!'

'Probably I am wrong,' he retracted, 'I also think meditation is some sort of super prayer to God. We even didn't think of any God. But it was fantastic. I am actually feeling rejuvenated.'

'Me too,' she agreed, 'this gave a much better feeling than any prayer I have ever done in my life. Do you remember when we first met Satyanand in the caves? He asked us how many lucky events we encountered when we were counting only adverse events.'

'Yes, when we started counting the lucky events, they outnumbered all the unfortunate ones.' Suraj recounted, 'I promised myself to meet all the soldiers and servants who were by my side during the wars and thank them personally. I even planned to give names to my war horses. Sadly I could do nothing.' Suraj's eyes moistened.

Saira came closer and gently pressed his shoulders. This always worked remarkably well for Suraj when he was stressed. 'You have thanked all of them from your heart even if you couldn't meet them.' She consoled him, 'and after that, you have never kept any horse. Otherwise, you could have named the horses.'

'Your reason is convincing,' he replied, 'but it is true that they count towards evil, not good. The event added to the most unfortunate event of my life: murder of my parents.'

'Our life,' Saira corrected, 'I was already a part of your family when it happened.'

'Yes you are,' he hugged her tightly when a drop of tear fell down from his eyes. 'We are warriors,' he continued, 'we can be dead at any war and always remain mentally prepared for that. Unfortunately, this death didn't result in the war field, rather was orchestrated by a colleague using treachery.'

'It was a war,' she insisted, 'it was a battle between fairness and unfairness, between loyalty and betrayal. My parents-in-laws won this battle, but at the cost of their life.'

A faint smile appeared on the face of Suraj, 'You can convert any negative stream of thought into a positive one.'

He moved and sat on a piece of stone. She also sat on another piece of rock in front of her.

'Take this way,' she started, 'you got advanced knowledge of the incident. Otherwise, we all would have entered your house unprepared at midnight and easily fallen prey to the life-taking trick of my father and brother. Is it not a blessing of the God? He helped the family line to continue.'

'Yes,' he agreed, 'you are right. But we had to abandon our palatial house forever. Nagin of Yamuna, the most prized possession of my father, had to be burnt to save our lives. I should have the courage to keep that ship as memories of my father.'

Saira thought for a moment, 'You are wrong to think that Nagin of Yamuna was the most treasured possession of your father. I am sure his soul must have been happy to see his dearest ship was destroyed to save his two most prized possessions; i.e. Aditi and you.'

Suraj was surprised, not at Saira's successful argument, but about his own ignorance about his father's preference.

Saira continued, 'When my father, your father's most trusted deputy and his best friend, betrayed him, you were reluctant to trust anybody in the world. At the same time, you required lots of support. Farooq appeared like a god sent. You came to know how he has developed your father's shipping business. When the support of the Mughal Empire was pulled out, immediately you got the support of a vast business empire. You also got the support of a highly reliable family friend, who is helping you with the strength of his experience and business knowledge. Isn't this incredible?'

'Yes,' he admitted, 'without the existing and flourishing shipping business, I would have been nearing zero. I mean I would have started from scratch. Sometimes I think why my father chose to have a shipping business as the next line of support? Why he didn't choose any other business. Of course, I have seen his passion for ships and travelling in water. Finally, this shipping business helped me to connect with the Portuguese, learn about their weapons. I also got training in sea warfare, that too without any obligation to serve them.'

Saira was happy with Suraj's change of mood. At least he was now not feeling remorseful about himself.

'Everything in life has a purpose, sometimes we realise and sometimes we don't,' Suraj said thoughtfully, 'I think our landing near Chilika Lake and coming to this small and virtually unknown island also has some definite purpose. I wonder your mother and Aditi have gone to Lahore for a known and decided purpose, so what is the outcome? Did they find out anything about Anarkali? I am determined to know whether actually Anarkali has been buried alive or killed by some other way.'

'Or whether she is alive now," she concluded Suraj's sentence.

'I hope she is alive,' she said in her usual confident tone, 'Mehr-un-Nisaa may be the new name of Anarkali. After all Anarkali is also not her real name.'

'Yes, she was Nadeera before the Emperor Akbar bestowed her with a new name, Anarkali: Pomegranate Blossom.'

Getting a message from a distant part in those days (16th century) was almost next to impossible as there was no formal postal system. Rich and powerful people were sending messages through their own agents. Farooq was able to receive messages from Lahore about Nadirah and Aditi. Yamuna and Ganga, both the rivers were facilitating message transmission as ships were plying through them and some were even entering into Bay of Bengal and Indian Ocean. Thus, he could send letters to Suraj with information about Nadirah, Aditi, Hooghly, Agra and even Anarkali.

It was already dark, and the couple didn't realise till Satyanand came with an oil lamp to them, 'It is time for dinner my children,' his voice was soothing and assuring, 'come with me.'

Suraj could never understand, how the non spicy vegetarian foods prepared by disciples of Satyanand, were extremely delicious. He had tasted varieties of Mughal delicacies, Rajput food, and food of Bengal in Hooghly and finally the food prepared with Portuguese recipes. He didn't discuss with Saira; otherwise she might start some philosophical reason behind the taste: affection, relaxing atmosphere and so many other causes which could never be ingredients of any cooking in real life. A faint smile appeared on his face. Saira didn't notice. He forgot the outside world for some time, and indulged in enjoying the taste of the rare dinner. He felt at a higher level of some deep meditation. After dinner, Kripa showed them their room. Satyanand carried a large bronze plate with piles of food on it and went out somewhere on a narrow winding pathway. Suraj and Saira looked with breathtaking eyes.

'He is going to meet his friends, who sometimes come at night,' Kripa explained them and retreated to his room. Saira closed the door, and both prepared to go to bed. A small oil lamp was spreading faint light in the room.

After sleeping for some time, Saira woke up to find Suraj was not on her side. The small oil lamp appeared to dim, as if, it was also sleeping. It was not spreading proper light in spite of being fully functioning. The room still looked bright. Suraj was standing near the open window and perhaps was looking at the giant moon outside. She got up slowly and went up to him. Resting her hands on his shoulder she gave her usual squeeze and said, 'The water of Chilika looks fabulous with reflection of the moon and stars, isn't it? And you are enjoying all yourself, you are so selfish.'

'I was feeling restless and couldn't sleep, so was standing here,' was his reply.

'Let's go to Satyanand,' she suggested.

'Are you crazy?' he said, 'he must be sleeping.'

'This is not so late at night,' she responded, 'we actually went to bed early. Midnight is still far away.'

They opened the door and went to Satyanand's room. The door was open, and there was no one on the room.

'He is probably still with his friends,' Saira suggested,' let's go through that winding road and see his friends.'

'Are you out of your mind?' he reverted back, 'he might be meditating. We shouldn't be troubling him. We can meet him tomorrow morning. He is not going to disappear.'

'He is not going to vanish, but his friends may disappear,' she said with a laugh, 'I want to see his friends.'

'What is so exciting about his friends?' he asked.

'I don't know,' she admitted, 'but I am thinking why he didn't invite his friends to have dinner with all of us? It is not common to have your own dinner first and then offer to guests. It is against the tradition. Who are the guests those are not welcome in this hermitage (ashram)? Are they so dangerous?'

'Are you pointing out that his friends are not human beings, but animals?' he enquired.

'Wild animals,' I think, 'may be snakes. This island doesn't seem to be so large that it will have wild animals like tiger, lion or even elephants. Definitely he might have gone to see snakes. Let's go and meet his friends.'

Suraj looked at him without any enthusiasm. She was so keen and confident about her intention; she brought his small swivel gun and sword and tied to his waist. Poor Suraj quietly followed her on the winding pathway. The moonlight was bright enough; they could walk without any lamp. The tall and dense trees on both sides of the road were like two ongoing towering walls. It was difficult to estimate how long the road continued. Fortunately there was no bifurcation on the road, so there was no confusion or fear of being lost. They could hear some strange noises. Suraj took the sword from its scabbard and kept ready to strike if necessary. The road was clear with only dried leaves scattered on them. Sometimes there were flat stones paving a large patch of the road. The winding road started moving up-side as if they are about to ride on a small hill. But with large trees on both sides it was difficult to know where the road was leading to them. They continued their walk as they were almost certain to meet Satyanand somewhere on the way. The island was not so large that they couldn't come back if lost, so there was no such fear. After all their confidence had got a tremendous boost after being lost in the jungle and successfully coming out with grandiose discoveries: themselves.

Finally, the winding road came to an end: near a small hill with few small and large caves. This was another side of the small Parikud Island. The high tide had swollen the water level of Chilika Lake, and they could clearly hear the sound of water colliding against the stones of the hill. More than a dozen stone carved steps led them to the caves. Suraj was careful with his sword and was looking for signs of snakes. The cave was empty, but a faint light was coming from somewhere.

'No, it is not moonlight,' he whispered, 'it is coming from an oil lamp.'

The light was coming from a small hole on the wall of the cave. Both peeped into it. Yes, light was actually coming from a small oil lamp. They saw that through the whole. Satyanand was sitting on the floor near the oil lamp in a big hall like a cave and was talking to someone. They scrutinised carefully; actually he was talking to few people, not one. But they couldn't see anyone actually present there. But they could clearly hear human voices; both male and female. The words were unintelligible.

Saira wrapped her hand around Suraj's waist tightly, 'Ghosts!'

Suraj indicated to keep silence. They couldn't understand anything that Satyanand was saying to the invisible persons. Of course, they could catch few words occasionally, but it was difficult to imagine what was being discussed. They didn't have to stand for long. Satyanand stood up with the oil lamp on one hand and waved the invisible guests. The couple understood from his gesture, he was probably saying, 'Bye.'

'We need to get out from here before Satyanand discovers us,' Suraj suggested in a whispering tone.

'No,' she resisted, 'he must have already felt our presence. We shouldn't behave like thieves. We didn't have any improper motive; we just came to meet him.'

They turned around to go back, but Satyanand was coming from the other side holding his oil lamp with a smiling face. Probably he was not angry on the couple.

'We are sorry,' Suraj started, 'we breached your privacy.'

'There is nothing to be sorry my children,' Satyanand assured, 'I was not doing anything secretly. I was talking to my friends.'

Saira was at first, hesitant to ask, but ultimately couldn't hold back her thirst for knowledge, 'Were they ghosts?'

Suraj looked at her in anger as to why she asked such uncomfortable question. Satyanand didn't look at him and replied, 'They are individuals like you and me, but without a physical body.'

'You mean they are souls,' she clarified.

'Yes,' Satyanand answered while he started to walk, 'but most of them have similar personality like you people. The only difference is that they don't have a physical body.'

Both followed him. Instead of going back to his ashram (hermitage), he went to the other side of the small hill and sat on a piece of rock facing the high tide of the lake. The couple chose another rock nearby and sat. It seemed Satyanand was in a talking mood.

'Are there males and females among souls?' she asked.

'You are asking too much,' Suraj objected to her.

'Don't worry,' Satyanand said in a soft tone, 'there is nothing wrong in acquiring knowledge and I am never a fan of those who want to keep their knowledge a secret. Knowledge, like the light, has the natural tendency to spread. You see objects have some inherent characteristics. Take the example of water: it always flows down.'

'Soul has no sex,' he continued, 'but many souls have the tendency to behave like either male or female, which depends upon the last body they were in. But there are some who behave differently.'

'So they have names also?' she enquired again, 'I saw you were addressing them by names.'

'Yes,' Satyanand confirmed, 'most of them like to be identified by names. Usually the names of the last bodies they were in become their name by default. But some consciously choose different names. I know some souls were in the male body but have taken female names. I have also seen souls having female bodies in their latest birth identify themselves by male name.'

'Why so?' Suraj now joined the line of Saira and asked.

'Some souls, though had a certain sex in their latest birth, but probably they long for moving into a body of another sex in their next life,' Satyanand replied, 'God gives you what you truly want.'

'I knew that it is the karma which decides which body one would take in the next life,' Suraj said, 'actually it is written in scriptures.'

'Mathematically it is not possible for a human soul to take birth as another creature, say dog or cat,' Satyanand argued, 'many scriptures proclaim that all souls are equal. That is not true. I have interacted with souls and have come to know. Each soul has a brain and thinking ability. The level of thinking ability of souls of different creatures varies. A human soul has a higher level of thinking power than another animal, say a cat. As soon as the soul is born as a baby, the brain of the soul talks to the brain of the body. Then they act like one brain. If, by chance, a human soul is born as a different creature, say a dog, its brain can't talk to the brain of its body as their thinking levels are different. Of course, the infinite energy can't make some mistake. The thought of a soul decides the body it will get when it is ready to take birth in this physical world. A human soul will be born as a human again and again till it gets nirvana or ultimate salvation. Yes, your thought will inevitably lead to the place where you want to born, the type of family where you will be born, or the sex you will get at birth. It is the level of soul-brain which decides the soul belongs to human or other creatures. The souls of other creatures retain their identity even after their death, and subsequent rebirths they take till the time of their nirvana.'

'Does God create all these souls?' Saira asked.

'Is there a real God? Has anyone seen Him?' Suraj asked, 'I am sorry to talk like an atheist who I am not. But sometimes I get queries.'

'The entire Universe is infinite, which I call infinite energy,' Satyanand clarified, 'you may call it God. Anything you see and anything you can't see are part of that infinite energy. You will know more when time comes, tonight I will just give you a glimpse of this vast knowledge. The energy is abundant and infinite. It is neither created nor destroyed. It only changes form. Imagine a seed is planted. The seed, water, air, light and the earth all change their shape and become a plant. The plant grows and gives flowers and fruits. When the plant dies, again it becomes part of the soil. The air in it merges with the air outside. The water in the plant either is absorbed in the soil or evaporates. Similarly, every creature in the world changes form. Even the soul also changes form.'

'Do you mean soul also dies like us?' Suraj asked.

'Each creature of the universe has a life after which it changes form,' Satyanand clarified, 'a dog lives about twelve years. A man probably lives up to hundred years. The soul has a longer life. It may last few hundred years to more than thousand years.'

'What about scriptures which say that the soul is immortal?' Saira asked.

'Scriptures are not necessarily hundred percent accurate,' Satyanand said.

'What?' Suraj argued, 'I have heard that scriptures have been told by God himself. How can it be wrong?'

'I didn't say that the whole scripture is wrong. I say that everything written in them may not be accurate,' Satyanand clarified, 'almost all religions claim that their scriptures have been told by God. Then why scriptures of different religions differ so much? Do you need any more proof that none of the scripture has been told by God?'

Saira laughed in appreciation of the argument, so did Suraj.

'Is it not possible for God to communicate with someone?' Suraj asked.

'I said God is Infinite Energy,' Satyanand explained, 'and it is so large, and human brain is so small that any one-to-one communication from God will overwhelm the human brain which shall lead to death. It is like an ant trying to communicate with a human. An ant still can probably see how large a human is, but you can't even imagine how humongous the Infinite Energy is. The entire universe function as per certain mathematical rule, a tiny part of it has been discovered by humans.'

Saira's thirst to know more still couldn't be quenched, 'What about millions of gods about Hindu mythology? She looked at Suraj apologetically, 'I am sorry I have no intention to offend the faith of my husband.'

Satyanand smiled and clarified, 'There is some logic. I told that each soul needs a relevant body as per its brain power or level of thinking. That's why the soul of human can't take birth as an ant. There are souls who are at much higher level than human beings. They don't take birth as there is no appropriate body for them. They wander as souls. They have much high level of thinking power. Sometimes they communicate with human beings. Some of our ancestors have actually communicated with them. They have much more power than normal humans, so they have some kind of supernatural powers. Some smart people tried to please them to solve their own problems with the supernatural powers of these extraordinary souls. They gave them names and even made temples for them to worship. All these were done to satisfy those rare souls. The statues made to represent them were of course imaginary. They thought because those souls can't take birth as humans (because of their much higher level of thinking power), they will certainly reside in temples made for them. You may call those souls semi-gods. They are no way close to God the Almighty, but much more powerful than human beings, just as a human can be at a much higher level than an ant. But you are not a deity to an ant. Similarly, those souls are not real God, but just powerful souls.'

'Is it true worshipping the semi-gods produce any real benefit?' Suraj asked, 'worship so many gods and goddesses with different names, it is extremely misleading.'

'Benefits!' Satyanand also looked confused. He thought for a while and answered, 'Look, we humans feel happy when someone shows respect to us or serves tasty food. So we think we can satisfy the powerful souls by worshipping them. In fact, it may or may not satisfy them. Those souls have different level of thinking power. Some souls have human traits but a much higher level of thinking power. You can probably keep them happy by just worshipping them and get some benefits. There are also souls with so much higher level of intelligence that it is difficult to know how to make them happy.'

'How about controlling such a soul and use it to gain much more power?' Suraj found a possibility to do something to get revenge against the enemies of his family.

'You mean you want to control such a soul and use as weapon?' Satyanand laughingly asked.

Suraj looked embarrassed but still said, 'I was wondering if this possible even remotely.'

'Humans train dogs to protect their houses,' Satyanand explained, 'have you ever seen a dog using human like the human uses the dog. Can a horse ride a human and go to a war?'

'It is impossible,' Suraj agreed.

'Yes it is impossible as humans are much more intelligent than a dog or horse,' Satyanand came to point, 'intelligence rules. That's why another name of God is Infinite Intelligence. Yes, if at all you are able to communicate with some powerful soul, you may request to get help.'

'Have you ever communicated with such soul?' Saira's eyes looked bright with expectations.

Satyanand remained thoughtfully silent for some time and then started, 'I am still a student of this vast knowledge repository. I am still continuing my research. I might know more than you, but not enough to call myself a knowledgeable person in the field. I don't know how many more births I need to get to achieve that knowledge.'

'You mean your wisdom will travel with you till your next birth?' Saira asked.

'Usually your consciousness is carried forward to your next birth,' Satyanand clarified, 'but if you can remember your past life, you can remember the knowledge you acquired in the past. Even without remembering your past life also your efforts can bear fruit in the next life. You must have observed many people who are exceptionally highly talented from childhood. It is the result of the continuous effort of many past lives. Take the example of Tansen, the famous singer of the court of Akbar. He must have spent several lives in his attempt to master the arts he loved.'

Suraj was trying asking something when Satyanand got up and suggested, 'Let's go and have some sleep. It is already late at night.'

Both followed the sage along the winding pathway to the ashram.

They got up little bit late in the next morning. The couple went for a morning walk along the Coast of Chilika Lake. To their surprise they found Sea Nagin was anchored at a distance from the coast. Suraj shouted to draw attention of the sailors in the ship, but the wind directions didn't favour him. They soon came back to the ashram to find Satyanand on the gates with a smiling face.

'Good news,' he announced, 'time has come to restart your trips to Hooghly.'

'Thank you sir,' Suraj said politely.

'There's more news,' Satyanand continued, 'the Emperor Akbar is dead. Crown Prince Saleem has ascended the throne and has assumed the name Jahangir.'

'This is the best news,' Suraj excitingly said, 'at least now it will be easy to find a solution to my problem.'

'When you think something as a solution to your problem, that solution itself can be a problem,' Satyanand smiled like a philosopher.

'The accusation against my father was that he helped Anarkali to escape from the live burial punishment awarded by Akbar. If it were true, it was a grave crime, till Akbar was alive. I was making the effort find the truth and then approach Akbar for justice, had I found that my father Purujit had actually not helped her. I couldn't as there was danger of being arrested. Now the focus will change. The so called heinous crime will be now the most rewarded performance after Akbar's death.'

'How?' Satyanand asked.

'If actually my father helped Anarkali to escape,' Suraj reasoned, 'it was a favour to Anarkali's boyfriend: the fourth Mughal Emperor Jahangir alias Saleem. I can now meet him and seek justice against Ashfaq and his son Ayaaz.'

'How did you know Saleem loved Anarkali?' Satyanand asked.

'Their love was true,' Suraj reasoned, 'that is the reason he dared to fight a war against his own powerful father.'

Satyanand laughed, 'Saleem loved only the beauty of Anarkali. Anarkali loved Saleem as she couldn't defy the wish of a crown prince. This was never a true love. Akbar was a fool to waste so much energy and manpower to suppress the insurgency started by the prince. He should have found another more beautiful woman and Saleem would have agreed to relinquish Anarkali immediately. In fact, he is a known womaniser and has already married several women. I bet he must have forgotten Anarkali by now?'

'Is Anarkali alive now?' Suraj asked.

'I don't know,' was his shortest answer.

'You know past, present and future,' Suraj humbly prayed, 'you are the wisest sage I have ever met.'

'I never waste my time worrying for the past,' Satyanand smilingly clarified, 'and I never try to predict the future. I am not sure whether anyone can predict the future accurately. Yes, you are right that I know the present because I reside in the present, so as you.'

Suraj didn't believe, 'You are living in such an isolated small island and could still know that Akbar is dead.'

Satyanand didn't reply. Suraj saw Asim; the captain of his ship appeared through the gate of the ashram. He got his answer.

'I will recommend you should not approach Jahangir for justice', Satyanand suggested, 'opponents of your father must have taken steps to convince him, to support their acts of assassination. If you approach Jahangir without knowing the precise situation, you may attract more risk for yourself. Go to Hooghly. There is no need to disguise your identity from the Mughals. I wish best for your future.'

Sea Nagin started its journey to Hooghly as it entered Bay of Bengal through the estuary of Chilika.

Nadirah and Aditi were back from Lahore when Suraj and Saira reached Hooghly. They brought some positive message that Anarkali was alive and changed her name to Mehr. Sometimes Aditi and Nadirah argued about the basis of their conclusion; that Anarkali and Mehr both were same with two different names. But the grim news was that Ashfaq Khan became closer to Emperor Jahangir. All well wishers advised Suraj not to approach the Emperor for justice. They were convinced that justice would be always beneficial to Ashfaq and his son. One of the advisors was Kareem, Ashfaq's second son. He started living apart from his father and brother and showed no interest to join the Mughal army. He started his own trading business and was going to places like Allahabad, Varanasi and Hooghly to supply or buy goods. He was hiring ships from Farooq, which actually belonged to Suraj. He knew it. Ashfaq and Ayaaz had no knowledge about this. For them Farooq owned the shipping business. Actually Farooq owned a small share when Purujit started the business, but he was managing the entire business on behalf of Purujit.

Kareem was regularly visiting Hooghly and meeting his sister Saira and brother in law Suraj. Suraj was first disappointed in not being able pursuing his parents' murder case. He always tried to stay in good-books of Portuguese establishment, in Hooghly. Though he owned the expanding shipping company inherited from his father, he was a born warrior. He required avenues to channelize his energy. Several times, he was being hired by the Portuguese navy, to lead teams for fighting against pirates in the Bay of Bengal.

Saira was managing the shipping company when Suraj was absent. In fact, she was managing from background when Suraj was in the Pilot's seat. Suraj's involvement in fighting against pirates in Bay of Bengal gave her golden opportunity to be officially appointed as the head of the business. It was just start of 17th century. Even the modern Portuguese society had not witnessed women at the helm of affairs of any business or politics. At first it was difficult for the male dominated society to recognise her as a business head. The general perception about women that they were inferior to men in intelligence and education initially made it difficult for her to negotiate deals. Her uncle Iqbal came to her rescue. They started propagating the glorious saga of Razia Sultana, the Empress of Delhi from 1236 AD to 1240 AD. She was the first female ruler on the thrones of Delhi. It was not that women were never managing the powerful positions before, but only from behind the scenes. Nadirah continued living with Suraj and Saira and helped her daughter to bring up their only baby boy Puru, named in memory of Purujit, the boy's grandfather.

Aditi married to a guy named Jagan; a Rajput migrated to Bardhaman in Bengal, a place not particularly far from Hooghly. His father and brother were serving the Mughal army, but he chose to become a businessman. Family tragedy affected Suraj so much that he never wanted to stay away from his only sister Aditi. He gave her a large share in the shipping business. Neither Aditi nor Jagan tried to take part in the management of the shipping business even if they got a share in the ownership. Bardhaman was nearly seventy kilometres from Hooghly, which was a long enough distance in the seventeenth century. There was no public transport for ordinary people. Postal services and modern day communications were centuries away from them and beyond anyone's dream. However the rich and famous could communicate by sending their personal messengers. For Suraj, getting communications from various parts of the country was easy because of the shipping business. Even Farooq was managing road transport business to connect cities where river network was not available, or simply rivers were not connected. Farooq of Firozabad, Suraj of Hooghly (about 1200 KM from Firozabad by modern road network), Iqbal of Allahabad (about 800 KM from Hooghly and 400 KM from Firozabad, midway between Firozabad and Hooghly) and Jagan-Aditi of Bardhaman were communicating each other by letters carried by their plying ships. Even Kareem was part of this network without the knowledge of his stalwart father Ashfaq and brother Ayaaz. He was the only person in his family who knew that Suraj, Saira and Aditi didn't die when Nagin of Yamuna was charred into ashes in the river and drowned.

It was mid rainy season. The rivers Ganga and Yamuna were practically overflowing. Suraj was back from an expedition from a confrontation with pirates. He had plans to spend the rainy season with his family and help Saira in managing the shipping business. The earlier self-promise to uncover the truth behind the accusation against his father and solve the mystery of his parents' murder took a backseat. He had not even met Satyanand after his last meeting in the Parikud Island of Chilika Lake in eastern India state of Kalinga (modern day Odisha). Satyanand had no permanent place of living. He roamed around the country and did his research about Infinite Energy, souls, extraordinary souls etc. Suraj sent messengers to find Satyanand in both the places both met before, but there was no trace. He consoled himself that Satyanand would appear whenever he wanted.

It was a wet weather day. Rain was pouring since night. The wind was blowing in such high speed that people feared that it was a storm. Saira was conducting the office work of the shipping business from the ground floor of the mansion they lived. There were two upper floors for their living. The mansion was close to river Ganga with tall trees around. It was the same mansion where one day Saira's mother was kept as a prisoner after being kidnapped by Niyaz. The river was clearly visible from the balcony and windows of the top floor as large dense trees were blocking views from the other floors.

Suraj got up late. He lazily went and sat on the balcony to watch the flooding Ganga. Heavy rain and high wind was making massive waves. It was an enormous dangerous situation for smaller boats to ply. On a normal day, by this time, hundreds of boats would have started sailing around different directions of the river. Today there were only sturdy waves. Practically it was a holiday for all people who made a living by plying boats in the river. Only a small ship had been stationed in the jetty. No one was coming to the deck of the ship because of heavy rain and wind.

Saira got up early in the morning as usual and dropped her baby boy Puru at her mother Nadirah's room. Then she came to the balcony where Suraj was sitting idly and watching the stormy river.

'This ship was supposed to come a day after tomorrow, how did she arrive so early?' she said.

'So is this our ship?' Suraj asked.

'Didn't you see the image Nagin (Female Cobra) on the ship?' she asked.

'Sorry I didn't notice,' he replied, 'the storm and rain are so intense that nothing is clearly visible.'

When Purujit was alive, the logo on his ships was always lion. After his tragic murder, Farooq advised to change the logo on all the ships. The logo was changed to Nagin (Female Cobra) in recognition of his most favourite ship Nagin of Yamuna.

'I think the ship has arrived last night,' Saira guessed, 'poor sailors couldn't have got a goodnight's sleep as the ship is shaking violently because of the storm.'

'Last night the storm was not so strong,' Suraj suggested, 'all of them should have come to the Sailors' House.'

'They might have thought storm will end in the morning,' she said, 'unfortunately it is increasing its intensity. Now it will be so dangerous to come out.'

The maid servant came and informed Saira the arrival of her brother Kareem. Saira ran to the ground floor. Suraj also followed. There stood Kareem, completely drenched in rain and was shivering.

'What a surprise brother?' Saira went to hug him but instead stood close to him and looked for a towel, 'you must have come in this ship. When did it come?'

The maid servant came with a towel and gave to Kareem as he started wiping himself.

'Little before midnight,' Kareem replied.

'Why didn't you come here?' she screamed.

'The rain was so strong,' he replied, 'I thought the weather would calm down by morning. But see, it is so heavy now!'

'It is so dangerous,' she said, 'how did you got off the ship? You should have waited some more time and watch. By the way, you had no plans to return to Hooghly now. How did you change the plan?

'Will you call your brother inside or complete all your discussion on this Veranda?' Suraj intervened.

'I am so sorry,' she said, 'please come in.'

'I have a terrible urgent message to announce,' Kareem disclosed, 'in fact I was planning to write everything in a letter to you. Then I thought this is so crucial that I need to discuss this with you personally.'

Suraj didn't want any discussion in the presence of the servants. He suggested, 'You have already spent weeks in arriving here. So the urgency of the news will not be finished if you take some time and freshen up.' He looked at his wife and continued, 'I am going to my favourite balcony. Please bring your brother there after he freshens up. I hope you will serve breakfast to us there.'

Actually he wanted to maintain confidentiality so avoided any discussion on the ground floor where most servants could hear them.

Suraj went to the top floor terrace and sat down again watching the stormy water of River Ganga as he was doing in the morning before Kareem's arrival. First time he was watching the storm with a cool mind. Now, the storm inside his mind is stronger than outside. 'Did Ashfaq know that he is alive? Has he made another plot eliminate him? Is there any news about Anarkali? What he should do if Ashfaq influenced the Emperor Jahangir to arrest him and punish on the basis of false allegations. Should he leave Hooghly and move to Goa for his family's safety?' There was minimal power of Mughal on Hooghly as it was a Portuguese base. Still it was not immune from Mughals as Hooghly was still an integral part of Mughal Empire. Only Goa and few other places like Daman and Diu were safe as they were absolutely Portuguese colonies. From childhood, he was always under the impression that Akbar was famous for delivering impartial justice. How wrong he was? Yes, the justice was impartial when the dispute was between two ordinary men. The Mughal justice was fair even when a prominent, rich and famous person was the aggressor. The situation was entirely different if one person were from the royal family itself. In such case, only God can help the other party.

He tried to stop all his negative thoughts. Saira certainly would find out some positive development out of any negative outcome. 'Goa is a better place. See we got a chance to relocate to Goa. Business will be better in Goa etc.' He laughed at himself and again started enjoying the rain and storm. After all, he had the brave Rajput blood. He has fought so many wars in his life. Earlier he was fighting for the Mughal in the battle field and now fighting against the pirates in the sea. He had never been afraid of his life. Now he was fighting his own battle against injustice.

Saira came with breakfast. She asked the maid servants not to disturb their privacy. Usually male servants were not allowed to come to the two top floors. Kareem joined them. Suraj kept composure and just ate his breakfast without showing his eagerness to get the message from Kareem.

'Sher Afghan has been appointed as Jagirdar (Administrative and Revenue manager of a district) of Bardhaman.' Kareem delivered the serious news.

Suraj was not thrilled neither did Saira. They both looked at each other and then looked at Kareem.

'Who is this Sher Afghan?' Suraj asked.

Kareem now guessed why his sister and brother-in-law were not enthused at the story and why they were giving strange looks at him.

'He is actually Ali Quli,' he explained, 'Sher Afghan Khan is his new name.'

'Oh, yes,' Suraj recollected, 'he was the one who was fighting against Jahangir along with my father when Jahangir was Prince Saleem and revolted against Akbar. Is he in reputable books of Jahangir?'

'Politics is strange,' Kareem commented, 'Jahangir pardoned everybody who supported Akbar against him when he led the rebel. I think Purujit would have enjoyed the same or even better position. Unfortunately, he was eliminated by my father.'

'I am not surprised,' Suraj opined, 'Jahangir can't survive without the support of the powerful lieutenants of Akbar. Yes, this is the principle of politics; get support of all who are noteworthy to the Empire.'

'I am surprised,' Saira commented.

'Why?' Suraj asked.

'He is the one who loved Mehr, whom we believe none other than Anarkali,' she explained, 'Jahangir fought so much against his father to marry this girl. Akbar forced the marriage between Ali Quli and Mehr so that Jahangir can't marry her. How is he still in excellent books of Jahangir? Do you think he can forget Anarkali till his death? I was assuming he might have snatched Mehr from her husband after Akbar's death and made her of one of his several wives.'

'Akbar has never snatched anyone's wife for himself,' Suraj argued, 'maybe after becoming the Emperor; he has developed some of his noble qualities. Otherwise snatching beautiful women and forcefully marrying them is typical for many Muslim rulers. Sorry brother,' he apologised to Kareem, 'I forgot that many Hindu rulers have also done the same thing. These rulers think they have birth right to keep all the beautiful women, married or unmarried.'

'There are other reasons why Jahangir was pleased with Ali Quli,' Kareem elaborated, 'Ali Quli was leading the Mughal army in the war against Rana of Mewar. Jahangir rewarded him on his victory: a new name- Sher Afghan Khan and Jagirdar (Administrative and Revenue head of a district) of Bardhaman.'

Meanwhile, Nadirah also joined them. After listening to all the stories she suggested, 'Suraj, you should try and join the ranks of Sher Afghan Khan.'

'All these years I didn't go back to Agra as I thought there is a plot ready, against me and my family, to eliminate us,' Suraj lamented, 'everyone there except few close to us know that my whole family is killed because of the accident. Even Satyanand advised me not to approach Jahangir for the justice. I am actually in a dilemma whether I should approach Sher Afghan Khan and try to be his ally.'

'The conspiracy against your father is old,' Kareem assured, 'yes it is true that you would have been killed were you been in Agra on that fateful night. That would have been done on the heat of the moment. The plot is old and has no relevance now. Even my father is now repenting.'

'How is your father?' Suraj enquired.

'He is sick and in death bed.' Kareem replied.

Saira didn't look awful on hearing the news about her father. A faint smile showed upon the face of Nadirah.

'What about Ayaaz,' Suraj asked again.

'I don't know,' Kareem replied, 'He is in Lahore now. I have not met him for years. In fact, we don't have any contact after your parents' death.'

'I have no intention of taking revenge,' Suraj spoke his mind, 'I am not after the blood of either Ayaaz or your father. I just want to know the truth: what my father did.'

'The best way is to be associated with Sher Afghan Khan and additionally get the confidence of the Mughals,' Kareem suggested.

'I think he is right,' Nadirah agreed.

Saira also agreed.
Chapter 8

Is Mehr same as Anarkali?

The saga of Mehr's beauty spread in Bardhaman and Hooghly like wildfire. In a century when there was no formal communication channel for the community to get the news, the roaming poets were filling the gap. They were roaming across the localities with musical instruments and songs describing the breaking news. People were gathering around them for listening the fascinating and juicy news and the roaming poets earned decent income. The spicier was the story, the loose was the strings of the purses of the public. It was common to add spices to the story to make them attractive.

Sher Afghan Khan was the Jagirdar (Administrative and Revenue head of a district) of Bardhaman. He was enjoying the power of a sovereign ruler as per Mughal laws and was behaving like a king with his subjects. Discussing his wife's beauty openly in public would have been a serious offence. Roaming poets knew this as it was their professional hazard and avoided spreading such breaking news within the administrative region of Bardhaman. The smartest thing was crossing over that area and spreading the message outside Bardhaman didn't require lots of effort. Word of mouth brought the breaking news to every household of Bardhaman and Hooghly within days.

Aditi was alerted on getting the message about Mehr. She had known before that Emperor Akbar had forced the wedding between Mehr and Ali Quli when she along with Nadirah was searching Anarkali in Lahore. She knew that Crown Prince Saleem was in love with Mehr. Only thing she didn't know that Ali Quli was the same as Sher Afghan Khan. She was surprised to know how Mehr, who was wedded to Ali Quli by Akbar himself, became the wife of Sher Afghan Khan. She wouldn't have been surprised had Prince Saleem, now Emperor Jahangir, forced Ali Quli to divorce Mehr so that he could have married her. She didn't reveal her shock to anyone and ran to Hooghly.

It didn't take long to clear Aditi's doubts. Also, it didn't take long for Suraj to join the ranks of Sher Afghan Khan. With the expertise and experience of fighting the pirates in the Bay of Bengal, he was considered an outstanding fighter and a boon for the powerful Mughal military. Mughal army was strong, so Portuguese never tried to challenge them. They remained content with only business permission in Hooghly by paying taxes to the Mughal exchequer. But Mughal fleet was no comparison to Portuguese navy, which was much stronger. That was the reason Akbar had advised his lieutenants not to provoke them, who were occupying Daman, Diu and Goa in Western India. Akbar had attempted to persuade Portuguese to sell him compact artillery and advanced fighter ships, but failed. Portuguese didn't want to dilute their dominance in whatever field they had. Suraj came as a true missing link between the cup and the lip. He knew the use of the Portuguese compact artillery and had experience of leading their fleet to engage in the Bay of Bengal. Only thing he probably didn't know was the technology to make them. His contacts with the Portuguese could have paved the way for Mughal to secure purchase of this precious compact artillery.

Suraj knew his worth. He also wanted to be close to the Emperor Jahangir with his newfound skill. That was the only way to start an investigation of his parents' death and justice. But he cleverly decided not to move permanently to Bardhaman. His family continued to live in Hooghly. Saira continued to monitor the shipping activity from the mansion in Hooghly. It was the only city within the Mughal Empire where no military action would have been initiated as practically Portuguese was in control. Even Farooq shifted his base to Goa leaving a junior person to take care of the business in Firozabad. The ships of Suraj-Farooq partnership generally conducted their business in Portuguese dominated areas like Goa, Daman, Diu and Hooghly. Suraj was trying to be close to the Emperor. But he didn't trust their system.

Sher Afghan Khan was told about the antecedents of Suraj and his once famous father Purujit. Purujit was his superior when he was fighting against the rebels led by Crown Prince Saleem who was now the Emperor Jahangir. Suraj was expecting he would show some compassion. He didn't. He never recounted about his relationship with Purujit. Rather he was always boasting of his achievements against the Rana of Mewar. Suraj enquired in particular about him. Ali Quli was a mere table attendant of the Shah of Persia. He migrated to Kandahar of Afghanistan after his death. Good luck started smiling at him, and he finally reached at the helm of his career as a Jagirdar (Administrative and Revenue head of a district) of Bardhaman. Rather than being thankful to God he was always aspiring for further hike in his career. Aspiring for advancement is always beneficial. But if you are not obliged for what you got and still aspiring for better, may sometimes lead at the wrong direction.

Sher Afghan Khan was behaving like a king. Part of the revenue collected by him was going to the Mughal exchequer. One part was being sanctioned for maintaining the administrative structure and the small faction of the army which was under his command. There was still a fraction of the revenue which was allocated by the Mughal for development and welfare of the district. He was spending most part of that funds for maintaining his lavish king type life style. He was sending specific envoys to Persia to buy Persian luxury carpets, garments, cosmetics and even ornaments.

People said, he was doing all these to keep his beautiful wife Mehr happy. She was the daughter of Mirza Ghiyas Beg, who was also a migrant from Persia and from an aristocrat family. Mehr was the lover of prince Saleem and could have been the Empress of India had Akbar not interfered with the love story and forced the marriage with Sher Afghan Ali Quli Khan. This story contradicted the other theory that Mehr was none other than Anarkali, a slave girl. The other part of the story ran well with the story of Mehr: love between Anarkali and Saleem and rebellion by Saleem against his father. It might have been possible that Akbar asked Mirza Ghiyas Beg to adopt Anarkali and rename her as Mehr. Beg had unusually few relatives in India, so it was difficult to know whether Mehr was his real daughter.

Suraj tried his best to know the truth about Mehr. It was difficult. She was always living in the harem and was surrounded by Persian maids. Usually maids were the means to divulge the secrets of the harems to the outside world. Here, the situation was different. None of the maids knew the local language, so they were never mixing with the outside world.

Saira suggested approaching for getting a job in Sher Afghan Khan's harem. Getting inside a harem was the only way to get the truth out. Nadirah slammed her feet down over the proposal. Saira was exceptionally beautiful. Nadirah didn't like any nasty eyes turn on her. Powerful men of those days sometimes tried to force beautiful women to be their wives. They were not even sparing married women. Nadirah's own case with Niyaz was one from hundreds of stories of those days.

Saira was adamant, 'I can kill or even get killed if any such incident happens. Mother, you have taught me from the childhood not to be intimidated by anybody. You were behind my weapons training.'

'Yes, I have taught you not to fear anybody,' Nadirah replied, 'that doesn't mean you will run into something without knowing the depth. Your training was essentially for self-defence, not to go to a war.'

Suraj agreed, 'We have already waited so many years, we can wait more to find out the truth. All these years I was expecting to get justice like a gentleman. Now I have just two goals: to find out what happened to Anarkali, and to get revenge of my parents' assassination.'

'Revenge!' Nadirah was surprised, 'the main accused is in dying bed. He was the man who must have planned everything. Ayaaz was just an accomplice who followed his father's instruction without applying his own sense.'

'I don't yet know whether it was Ashfaq or there was someone who used Ashfaq because he knew all the details of our family.' He replied.

'Why do you think so?' Nadirah asked.

'As per my information,' he explained, 'Ashfaq didn't rise in his career after his so called accomplishment. Even Ayaaz is still an ordinary soldier. Their career in Moghul army could have gone through roof had my father Purujit been still alive and in formal terms with Ashfaq's family. The father and son duo bit the same hand that fed them. I guess someone in the power, used them both but abandoned them after their work is done.'

'Mother, I think Suraj is right,' Saira argued, 'our ships are regularly plying to Agra and Firozabad. Father knows most of my in-law's associates. Had he wanted, he could have unearthed the fact that we are still alive.'

'Probably he already knows,' Suraj suggested.

'He loved Saira so much I know,' Nadirah argued, 'she is his only daughter.

He should have contacted you.'

'Maybe he has no guts to face Suraj after killing his father,' Saira said, 'possibly he still can't grasp that I married in another community. He has no guts to face you, his ex-wife, whom he abandoned like a coward, when his support was crucial.'

Suraj continued his association with Sher Afghan Khan and became his trusted partner. Saira abandoned the idea of seeking a job in Sher Khan's harem and unfolding the suspense: Mehr vs. Anarkali. In spite of the fact that Suraj became so close to Sher Afghan Khan, there was hardly any closeness between the families. Suraj had seen how his parents were treating the family of Ashfaq. Ashfaq's family was practically their extended family. The relationship between Sher Afghan Khan and Suraj was merely that of a master and a servant. He tolerated this in the hope that someday his efforts would be rewarded.

Suraj never got a chance to accompany Sher Afghan Khan when he was visiting Delhi. He would boast of his relationship with the Emperor Jahangir. Suraj listened to this without any comment. There was no reason not to trust. After all, it was Jahangir who gave him the title 'Sher Afghan'. Probably the Emperor had accepted the fact that his once beloved Mehr was now decorating the harem of an extremely junior person.

One evening, Sher Afghan invited Suraj for having drinks with him. He guided him to a hall in the compound of his official residence. There was the arrangement for Mujra (performance by dance girls). Suraj had seen mujra for the last time in the mansion of his father, Kala Bhavan. Only difference was that the audience was only male. Unlike the tradition in Purujit's family, females were not invited to enjoy the show. Suraj was disappointed. He was eager to see Mehr even if from a distance.

Sher Afghan Khan arranged to bring nicest looking dancing girls from Lucknow, the mujra capital of the country. For the first time, he was giving individual attention to Suraj. Beautiful maids were pouring wine into their glasses. He became cautious. He started drinking slowly to avoid being drunk and encouraged Sher Khan to drink more and more. Throughout the performance, he kept on thinking of different possibilities. The first one was that Sher Khan wanted some unusual favour from him. The second one was that he wanted to send him on some risky assignment. It was possible that his attitude towards him changed, and he wanted to make up the past behaviour. He couldn't realise when the dance performance ended. He clapped mechanically with others. Sher Khan requested him to stay back when everyone left. He guided Suraj to a horse carriage and directed the coachman to take them to an address. Suraj didn't know the place because he was totally unknown in Bardhaman. He sat quietly as directed by his boss and checked that his sword was hanging properly from his waist. He felt the small swivel gun hidden under his coats. He glanced at the tall, fair and muscular guy called Sher Afghan Khan sitting beside him and then felt the increasing temperature of his own blood. His right hand was going to touch the sword, but he became aware and abstained. His self confidence assured him, 'I shall take care of Sher Afghan if required.'

The carriage stopped in front of a small bungalow outside the city. Sher Khan got off and indicated Suraj to follow. Both went inside. To his surprise, there was nobody there. He felt bit secure. If he had to challenge Sher Khan, at least there would be one else to help the enemy. 'This is fair,' he thought.

Sher Khan led him to the roof of the bungalow, 'This is a better place,' he commented, 'open and airy.'

He seated on a seat made of stone and indicated Suraj to occupy the seat in front of him. Sher Khan started again, 'Good, there are no walls.'

'Walls!' Suraj expressed his surprise. This was the first word he said probably since evening.

'Don't you know the proverb, even walls have ears?' Sher Khan laughed.

Suraj looked around. There was not a single house nearby. He didn't believe there would be anyone in that house. What can be such a secret that they needed such a secluded place? He wondered.

Sher Khan started in a low voice, 'I wanted to tell you a secret which you might be searching for years, since the elimination of your parents.'

Suraj suddenly became alarmed. His face became red with anger, and he tightly grabbed the grip of his sword. Sher Khan noticed his body language. A faint smile appeared on his face. Suraj didn't notice that.

'Yes, it was Ashfaq Khan, my father's trusted aide.' He affirmed.

'He simply executed the plans,' Sher Khan said in a confident tone, 'you should have guessed it why no action was taken against the murderer of one of close confidants of the then Emperor, Akbar the Great.'

'I got the information that my father Purujit helped the escape of Anarkali from live burial,' Suraj replied, 'so I guess the assassination was carried out on the direction of Emperor Akbar himself. That's why I never got justice.'

'You are wrong,' Sher Khan laughed, 'the Emperor Akbar could have conducted a hearing in the open court and executed him had he found him of violating his trust. Why would he eliminate someone in such a way?'

'Then who is behind this,' Suraj was dying to know.

Sher Khan looked around to check that nobody was listening, then bended to the front to bring his face close to Suraj's and said in a hushed tone, 'Even this moon and stars have ears. They are all afraid of the Mughal dynasty.'

'Please don't delay Sher Khan,' Suraj was now extremely keen, 'I want to know who was behind the assassination.'

'Crown Prince Saleem,' Sher Khan whispered, 'the present Emperor Jahangir.'

The response was not that convincing.

'He was a rebel,' Suraj argued, 'he was fighting against his own father for marrying a slave girl Anarkali against his father's consent. I am sure, Akbar would have punished him, had he been behind this case. As per my information, it was my father, who helped Anarkali escape. Saleem should have rewarded my father. By the way, can you confirm my hypothesis whether Anarkali is actually alive?'

'Prince Saleem forgave his father for not allowing him to marry Anarkali and in turn Akbar forgave him for ordering the killing of Purujit, his trusted loyal supporter. After all, they have hundreds and thousands of loyal supporters. So sacrificing just one for bringing the harmonious relationship between father and son was a worth compromise.' Sher Khan said without taking the name of Anarkali and without discussing her escape.

Suraj couldn't utter a word, just a heavy sigh. For the first time, someone who was probably an insider to the game was disclosing something about the plot against his father. He couldn't decide whether he should accept this as a reality or make further investigation. Actually there was hardly any possibility of further investigation. Last so many years he had only dreamt of finding the truth about the conspiracy, but could do nothing. He had to rely on Sher Khan or forget about finding the truth forever. But it was extremely hard to comprehend why Prince Saleem would direct the assassination of the man who helped the escape of Anarkali. That means the speculation that Anarkali was alive or Purujit abetted her escape were wrong. Saleem might have made his father responsible for her capture and live burial. It was a case of 'from frying pan to fire' for Purujit. One action was enraging the father who was an Emperor and the only other option was enraging the son, who was the crown prince and present Emperor.

Suraj was now convinced that Anarkali was actually dead. Mehr, the beautiful wife of Sher Khan, was not Anarkali with a new name. Coincidentally she was also Saleem's girlfriend. He took courage and asked bluntly, 'Till now I was thinking that Anarkali has escaped live burial. Am I right now to believe that she is actually dead?'

Sher Khan didn't give an immediate answer. He looked around. Probably, he was thinking how to answer. 'That is not relevant now,' he gave a short answer without taking Anarkali's name. Suraj was surprised.

'You are a Rajput warrior,' Sher Khan started again, 'and son of a hero. I have immense respect for your father even though I got the opportunity to work for only a short period under him. Still my blood boils when I think of the conspiracy against him. I can imagine how you must be boiling from inside. I am sure you must be carving for justice.'

'Yes I am carving for justice,' Suraj's grip in his sword became firm. Sher Khan saw this clearly.

'You can't get justice as long as Emperor Jahangir is the ruler of the country,' Sher Khan started to unveil his plan as Suraj looked at him with surprise, 'and you know there is no power in the country which can dislodge the mighty Mughals.'

'You are right sir,' Suraj agreed, 'there is no power to challenge the dominant Mughal empire.'

'Then how will you seek justice?' Sher Khan asked.

'I don't know.'

'I know.' Sher Khan said confidently.

Suraj looked at him with a surprise.

'You are the link, who can break the mighty Mughal Empire,' Sher Afghan Khan said and looked at him expecting a strange look.

Suraj's expression was not at all curious. He just gave a puzzled look. He was virtually lost. His mind was wandering everywhere trying to find out what was going to happen. He was truly longing for the advice of Satyanand. He did not know where to find him. Last time he was in a small island inside Chilika Lake. He had a habit of roaming around the country, and no one knew where he was.

'Suraj, Suraj,' Sher Khan brought him back to present.

'Yes sir,' Suraj responded.

'I said you are the link, who can bring the Mughals on its knees.'

'Suraj didn't ask 'how'.

Sher Khan was not expecting this. He lost his patience, 'You are the only fighter who knows both the Mughal military and Portuguese. You know Mughal is deficient in sea warfare. Their fleet is nothing in comparison to that of Portuguese. Portuguese has more sophisticated weapons than Mughal. But they are less in numbers and can't defeat the Mughals on the surface. Mughals have more soldiers, war horses, war elephants and cannons. They also know the geography of the country exceptionally well, and the language is on their side. Portuguese can't communicate with the local people.'

'Your analysis is exceptionally talented,' Suraj commented.

'If you want justice for the extermination of your parents,' Sher Khan continued, 'you need to get advantage of Portuguese Navy. You need to convince them to help you.'

'You just told that Portuguese are not proficient on the surface, they are good only in sea warfare.' Suraj commented.

'Leave that to me,' Sher Khan assured, 'a faction of the Mughal troops will be on our side. You take care of Portuguese. Once they decide to help, I will take care of the rest.'

Suraj couldn't digest. Sher Khan was only head of a district and was dreaming of taking over the Mughal Empire. It was like a mouse trying to overturn a mountain.

'Who in the Mughal army will help you?' he enquired.

Sher Khan's face colour changed as if Suraj trespassed into a forbidden area, 'You need not know that. That is none of your business. You just convince Portuguese to establish the relationship with us.'

Suraj felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to commit without being convinced.

'None of the Portuguese commanders based in India can take this decision,' he explained, 'they are allowed to fight back only when their area or property comes in danger. Only the king of Portugal can decide. It may take months as someone will have to send a letter to him. The letter will obviously be carried by some of their ships, which regularly ply between the two countries. Ships take months to reach Portugal and also months to come back. It is a lengthy process. You need to wait that long.'

Sher Khan never expected this situation. He had no answer to this.

'At least start the process,' he suggested.

'I will try,' Suraj said and got up, 'I will take your leave sir. I want to go to Hooghly tonight, and it is already late.'

Sher Khan also got up. He dropped Suraj near his horse carriage on his way home. Suraj rode his horse carriage and hurriedly started for Hooghly.

He didn't go to Hooghly every day as Bardhaman was his workplace now. He was living in a small house there with a cook and a coachman. It was not far from the place where Aditi and her husband were living. Saira didn't move to Bardhaman as she was the one who was managing the shipping business from its headquarters Hooghly. Suraj used to travel to Hooghly at least two to three times a week.

It was already late at night. The city of Bardhaman was in a deep sleep. The road was totally dark. The small oil lamp hung near the coachman was barely enough to see the road clearly. The galloping sound of horses' feet was the only sound one can hear in the otherwise quiet night. The coachman was used to the road and could easily take the carriage in the night. Suraj kept the window open to get some fresh air. Normally he should have felt sleepy at this time. Tonight he was rather feeling restless. Saira was probably eagerly waiting, and he was so late today. Suddenly he heard; someone was crying. Yes, a woman was crying. The sound was faint as if coming from a distance. He took his head out through the window and asked the coachman, 'Can you know from where the crying sound is coming?'

The coachman was perhaps equally tired and was least interested, 'Who knows sir, someone somewhere is crying. I think the sound is coming from some house in the village.'

'But there is no village here,' Suraj was curious; 'there is no house nearby.'

The coachman didn't answer.

Gradually the sound became clearer. A woman was crying uncontrollably, and a man was trying to comfort her. The coachman stopped the carriage. Suraj got off and took the oil lamp from the coachman. He went near the couple. The man got up and saluted him taking his name.

'Do you know me?' he asked.

'Yes sir,' the man answered.

'Who are you?'

'I am Habib,' he said, 'and this is my wife Salma. I work as a gardener in Sher Khan's enormous garden.'

He was trying to say something. Suraj saw the coachman was intently listening. He didn't like that. He gestured Habib not to continue and asked him to come inside the horse carriage. Habib and Salma quietly obliged. Suraj didn't talk to them till he reached his home at Hooghly. He asked one of the servants to show a room for the couple and went to sleep. It was already late at night and Saira was in deep sleep with his baby son; junior Puru. He silently went to the room and stretched himself on the bed. His body and mind both were tired and desperately required some sleep. Unfortunately, sleep seemed to be a rare commodity that night. He tried in vain for an hour and finally gave up.

He went to the room where Habib and his wife were sleeping. He thought for a moment. 'It would be inappropriate to wake up someone who is equally tired, both mentally and physically. I can simply wait till morning.'

He was already near Habib's room before deciding whether to knock his door, but he didn't have to. Habib was standing on the veranda and watching the sky. His mind was in a different world. Suraj quietly went and stood near him keeping his hands on his shoulders, 'Didn't you go to sleep my friend?'

Habib came to sense and quickly moved away a little bit. Suraj's hand came down from his shoulders. He looked at Habib in surprise. Habib stood with folded hands and said, 'my status is low in society and I have no capacity to stand near to you sir.'

Suraj smiled, 'You are a human being, and for me all humans are equal. Now you can tell me your story without fearing anything or anybody. I promise you complete protection.'

'My family will be killed sir,' Habib was shivering.

'Hooghly is in a different jurisdiction; ' he tried to explain, 'Sher Afghan can't do anything here. It is under Portuguese. Your life is perfectly safe here.'

'You are correct sir,' Habib said, 'Sher Afghan himself is a threat to me.'

'What did you do?' Suraj asked.

Habib hesitated to continue. Suraj could imagine his dilemma. After all, he was also on Sher Afghan's payroll. People thought, he was faithful to him. He said, 'I will never reveal anything to Sher Afghan about you. This is the promise of a Rajput. Trust me.'

'I am a gardener in his palace sir,' Habib started his story, 'yesterday there were beautiful roses in the garden. I plucked some roses and made a beautiful bouquet for Mehr; Sher Afghan's begum.'

'So you went to give the bouquet to the lady of the palace?' Suraj asked.

'No my lord,' Habib answered, 'how can a male dare go to the harem of a powerful man? I am well aware of etiquettes. I asked my wife to go to the harem and present the bouquet to her.'

'Did she meet her?'

'No, she is always surrounded by Iranian maids. One of the maids stopped her. She gave the bouquet to her and came back. Within hours, few guards came and took me out. They beat me black and blue sir before releasing me.'

'Did they hit you just for supplying flower?' Suraj was hesitating to believe his story, 'you need to tell me the truth.'

Habib thought for a moment and said, 'My wife asked the maid whether Mehr and Anarkali are one and same.'

Suraj was surprised. He was not only one who was curious in knowing about Mehr. There were others too.

His curiosity was over. He decided not to investigate further before the morning sun appeared and prepared to go back. But Habib was in a mood, to spill the beans.

'Sir, can I say something if you permit?' Habib said.

Suraj stopped and turned back to him, 'What?'

'Sir, I know your father was devoted to the Mughal dynasty till his last breath,' Habib started, 'and you are loyal too.'

Suraj didn't reply.

Habib continued, 'I was with Sher Afghan from the days his name was Ali Quli, from the days he was fighting against crown prince Saleem along with your father Purujit. It was he who planned to eliminate Purujit.'

Suraj looked at him intently, 'How did you know that?'

Habib felt uneasy when he looked at his tired eyes. They were looking fierce.

'I just heard it sir,' he felt the dilemma whether it was wise to give such sensitive information. Probably the timing was not appropriate. It was past midnight, and Suraj was tired, both mentally as well as physically. 'I am not hundred percent sure sir,' he tried to be politically correct; 'I am a small fish in a big ocean. I have gotten this from hearsay.'

Suraj continued his silence and looked at the sky.

'My gut feeling says that the hearsay must be correct sir,' Habib tried to impress his rescuer with something valuable from his side.

'You must be tired,' Suraj said, 'please go and have some sleep. Remember, Sher Afghan can't do anything in Hooghly. Even though it is part of the Mughal Empire, Portuguese is in effective control of the city.'

Next morning he didn't try to obtain any more information from Habib. He wrote a letter to some confidential person in the Mughal administration about the motives of Sher Afghan. There was not enough time to wait for the reply. He decided that he would continue to operate as the confidant of Sher Afghan so that he could understand the modus operandi of his plan for the rebel.

The information network of the Mughals was strong and powerful. It was started by the Emperor Akbar. Emperor Jahangir (Saleem) not only continued the trend but also improved the network. Within few days, there was the allegation that Sher Afghan was siding with Afghan rebels. Qutbuddin was the foster-brother of Jahangir. He was made Governor of Bengal replacing Raja Man Singh when Saleem became the Emperor Jahangir. Qutbuddin got directions to move Sher Afghan to court. Sher Afghan refused to obey. Qutbuddin started off for Bardhaman. He sent Ghiasa, son of his sister, to pacify Sher Afghan and make a peace treaty. Sher Afghan hesitantly agreed to meet Ghiasa. He brought with him Suraj and two body guards. Qutbuddin was following Ghiasa. On the arrival of Sher Afghan, Qutbuddin signalled his men to arrest Sher Afghan. Sher Afghan was also prepared for any possible treachery. He stepped forward in panic and attacked Qutbuddin in retaliation. It was not a happy ending for either. Qutbuddin was fatally wounded and died later that night. Sher Afghan was also seriously wounded, but he managed to escape and fled. He managed to get to the door of his house with the intent to kill his wife Mehr-un-Nisaa so that she didn't fall into the hands of the Emperor. News of the attack had already reached his home. Asmat Begum, Mehr's mother, was living with them. She was a very practical and intelligent woman. She could feel the intent of Sher Afghan. She didn't allow Sher Afghan to enter the home, instead gave him the wrong news that on hearing his defeat, Mehr had committed suicide by throwing herself into a well. Her acting was so natural that Sher Afghan believed her. She advised him to mind his wound. The deadly wound and the sad news of Mehr's suicide took its toll. He died.

Suraj was accompanying Sher Afghan when this incident happened. He was not expecting such an unexpected turn of events. He didn't even try to help him. Rather he remained a mute spectator. This was probably the biggest blunder of his life. Sher Afghan didn't survive to learn that he was betrayed by Suraj. On the other hand, the Mughals thought he was on the side of a rebel as he didn't even try to help Qutbuddin, the Governor of Bengal. This was a serious lapse on his part. It was too late when he understood the implication and tried to escape to Hooghly, the city within the Mughal Empire that was controlled by Portuguese. Qutbuddin's men caught Suraj before he could cross Bardhaman. He was taken into custody. He pleaded with them that he was the one who informed Mughal administration about the rebel plans of Sher Afghan. Unfortunately, Qutbuddin's men didn't know the name of the informer. In the absence of their Governor, Qutbuddin, there was none to take any sane decision. Their anger over the death of the Governor, lack of information about Suraj and lack of a leader, all went against the luck of Suraj. He was sent to Delhi as a prisoner in a war ship.

There was a day, when Suraj's father Purujit had arrested rebels Niyaz and Wasim from Hooghly. Today, his son Suraj, was arrested on the same charges. He was also sent to Delhi in a war ship. He was shocked but not discouraged. He was sure to get justice. He had sent letters to Mughal authority in his own handwriting. What else was required to prove his innocence?

The bottommost floor of the warship was being used as makeshift prison. The entire floor was below the water level. There was no window to entice any kind of light. Perhaps a store room was vacated to make room for him. The room was stinking. The whole atmosphere was terribly depressing. He got a feeling that probably hell was far better than this dark room. Few weeks of the journey in such circumstances can easily take its toll on any prisoner. The brave Rajput soldier was different. He was brought up by Purujit in such a way that he became mentally prepared for such a fate. Rather than doing self pity, he used the darkness as an opportunity for long meditation. Who knew whether one day he would thank this situation for becoming a successful Yogi proficient in high level of meditation?

It was difficult for him to know when daylight was coming or when there is night. There was no entry of sunshine to the little cell. He tried his best to keep count of days. At first he thought that he would be served breakfast, lunch and dinner and he would know when another day started from the next breakfast time. After few days, the serving time for food became erratic. There was no specific time when he was served food. Attendants were strictly instructed not to talk to him.
Chapter 9

The Prison

Finally, the day arrived when he expected to see some light. Four guards came to take him out of the ship. He didn't know which city he had been taken. Hopefully this was his dearest Agra. He knew guards would not answer his question. No problem, he could see for himself. His dreams shattered when his eyes were covered with a black cloth. He silently tolerated. Finally, he was taken out. He smelled the air. Definitely it was not Agra, and there was no daylight too. He could hear the singing of all the night birds and insects. He was taken to a horse carriage and driven to some unknown location. Suraj's eyes were kept blindfolded. But his ears were alert. After travelling some time, he could hear the sound on the road, the sound of many other horse carriages. He was sure they were going through the busy area of some city, and the time was evening. He guessed that the city was Delhi.

As expected he was taken inside a fort like structure; a prison. When his blindfold was removed he found himself in a small cell. After long he saw some light coming out of a small opening near the ceiling. He checked the cell; that was the only outlet for light and air. It was almost at a height of two feet from his head. The door was of solid steel. Suraj had seen many prisons before, not as a prisoner but as the son of a ruler. Usually extremely dangerous prisoners were kept in such cells having solid steel doors and virtually no outlet to the outside world.

That night he ate well and slept peacefully. Shortly he would be produced for a trial of his case. That was the tradition of Mughal administration. He could prove his innocence. After all, he was never a rebel. He was the one who actually informed Mughal top leadership about the plans of Sher Afghan.

Days and nights passed. He didn't find any evidence of taking him for a hearing. He tried to ask the attendants when they brought him food. Most of the time, he didn't get any reply. After long, one attendant told him that this was the prison meant for people who had already completed judicial process. They were either serving their life in prison or waiting for the death sentence to be carried out. In short, they had lost all avenues for another appeal.

Suraj at first didn't believe what the attendant said, but couldn't sleep. He thought it was just another negative thinking which would gradually vanish from his mind. It didn't. He wished the attendant was naive and didn't know the truth. He planned to ask some other attendant to find out what was the fact. He didn't dare to do that. He was afraid to get the similar reply: only convicted criminals were housed in this prison and many were on death row. He had never been communicated what his crime was and what punishment had been decided for him.

He tried, in vain, to sleep, but couldn't. He was not afraid of death. He was afraid of uncertainty. He considered such death as cowardly. How can a Rajput fighter like him welcome death without fighting? He tried to soothe his mind. He started to think about the gratifying moments he had spent with Saira and also Satyanand.

His sleeplessness was temporary. After few days, he accepted his fate and became normal. The Mughals wanted to give the death penalty to him. How foolish? They didn't understand the death penalty would actually free him. Satyanand had blessed him to have at least seven lives with Saira. As long as he was in this body, he would be identified by the Mughals as the son of Purujit, whom they punished against the false accusation that he was a traitor. He would be treated as an accomplice of Sher Afghan, another rebel who was just killed. It was possible that his letter to the Mughal administration describing his position vs. Sher Afghan had never reached them. They misunderstood him and awarded severe most sentences without even giving him a chance to defend himself. The Emperor was all powerful and could take any decision: fair or unfair. No one could question him.

For few days, all these kept Suraj disturbed. But once he accepted the fate as it was, he was at peace with himself. Yes, the memory of his infant boy flashed before him from time to time. That didn't stop him from his fantasy. When he started fantasising, he felt remarkably relaxed.

Weeks, months and even years passed. He was never taken to slaughter gallows. The attendants were wrong. He had probably been given a life sentence. He was never told formally what the accusation against him was or what punishments had been decided for him. His small dark cell became the world for him for the rest of his life. Sometimes he was thinking what might have happened to Saira. One thing he was sure, Saira and her mother Nadirah both were born fighters. They rather would fight and die than surrender them to someone's evil intentions.

The fantasies of treasured moments in his life kept him relaxed. One day he was meditating. He suddenly found himself coming out of his tiny dark cell and was standing on a long hallway. There was no watchman to stop. Have they all slept somewhere? Or they might have deserted the prison. Anything was possible. All the prisoners had been securely lodged in their own cells, and steel doors were securely locked. There was no chance for anyone to escape. This was enough reason for the guards to be comfortable and take rest.

He observed the long hallway. It was unusually long, housing hundreds of tiny cells on both sides. One side looked dark, and the other side looked quite bright. It was long since he had seen the brightness of the day. He felt thirsty, not for water, but for the daylight. He walked along the corridor. He knew the doors must be locked. His temporary freedom was limited to the big hallway. He would have to go back to his little dark cell. At least he could get some hole in the gate and steal the view of the bright light outside. He finally came to the gate. The gate was not locked. Strange! Did something terrible happen to the Mughal Emperors? This was not the time to think of them. He needed to enjoy the sunshine before coming back to his cell. He pushed the ultra heavy Iron Gate with all his might. The gate opened making way to the outside free world. He walked away. There was nobody to stop him. There were no guards. After long he came under the bright sunlight and inhaled fresh open air. He started walking without any fear. He knew he couldn't go far in the powerful Mughal Empire. Once again he would be caught and lodged in jail. Unfortunately, the mighty Mughals couldn't award any more punishment. He was already in the death row. They couldn't punish him twice. This thought made him more fearless, and he walked ahead. There were hills and trees all around. 'Is this prison located in a dense forest?' he thought.

For a long time, he didn't see any human being. Then he heard a human voice. He looked around. He felt people were following him. Probably, the guards could know about his escape from prison. No, there were no guards. He saw two men from a distance. Both were climbing a tree. He moved bit close hiding him behind bushes. He could see their activities clearly. The younger one was climbing the tree more slowly than the other. Both men were dressed like royal Rajput fighters like him. Swords and swivel guns were hanging from their waist. The older man was coming down to the young one and was saying something. He couldn't clearly hear what the older man told the younger one, but from his action he understood that he was probably training him climbing a tree quickly.

'It is fascinating,' Suraj thought.

He had learnt many was skills from his father and could even beat him in sword fighting, shooting etc. But he lacked his father's mastery of speedily climbing trees. Purujit often told him, 'You may not need this skill in a normal war. But you don't know what circumstances await you and when. If you are in a jungle and are being pursued by enemy, skills like climbing trees and mountains will give you extra edge to survive. Suraj kept that lesson pending for next time. That 'next time' never came. Purujit was assassinated. He was deprived of learning a vital lesson. Suraj started concentrating on them and tried to learn some skill. He tried to imagine what the elder person was instructing to the young man as he couldn't hear them.

He gathered courage. The two men were certainly not prison guards. He looked at what he was wearing. It was not the dress for the prisoners. Surprisingly he was still wearing his normal clothes. Only difference was the clothes were dirty. He was also looking different with his unshaved face. There was a decent chance they might not know that he was a prisoner. Suraj moved closer, enough to see them and hear their voices clearly. He positioned himself properly behind a bush and started watching the practical demonstration.

Suddenly he noticed the man's face. He couldn't believe himself.

'How can this be possible?' he thought.

The man's face resembled with that of his father- Purujit. He felt dizziness.

'Is my father alive?' he asked himself.

He had never seen his father's dead body. Was it possible that he was alive and was hiding in a jungle? Till now there was uncertainty about the death of Anarkali. He was not finding any way to solve that. Suspense was added. This time it was about his father.

'Then who is the young man my father is giving instruction?' he thought.

He could see the young man's back as he was climbing the tree. Suraj kept his eyes fixed and soon encountered another surprise.

It was him.

'There is something seriously wrong,' he thought and watched the young person again.

Yes, it was none other than Suraj.

He never remembered that he had a twin. He scratched his head. No, he was the only son to his parents.

'Is he another son of my father from another wife?' He thought again. Keeping more than one wife was allowed in the society and there was no reason Purujit would have to hide that fact. Then there was the third option: that his father had a twin and his son also looked like Suraj. The young man was exactly looking like him. He was looking healthier, happy and with clean clothes.

The young man now looked at Suraj. Suraj didn't think he should hide any more. He came out of the bush and moved towards his lookalike. He couldn't see his father's lookalike anymore. His lookalike walked towards him without uttering any words. Suraj could smell the perfume on his body. He was looking confident like a true Rajput warrior. Suraj couldn't decide how to greet him. His lookalike opened his arms, so did Suraj. Both hugged each other. His grips were tight but comfortable. Gradually he felt the grips were loosening. Suraj's eyes were closed. He couldn't see what was happening. But he just felt that his lookalike was merging with his body. Then he felt there was no one in his arms. He opened his eyes. Neither his look alike nor his father was around. The whole event seemed unusually mysterious to him. Probably there was something wrong. Who knew whether ghosts were coming to him in the guise of himself and his father? He felt so unsafe that, for few moments, he thought prison was a safer place and started running without giving a second thought. He heard his lookalike saying to him, 'Climb the tree to escape the prison and then swim.'

The prison gate was open as if no one had noticed it since he escaped through it. He entered the prison and closed the gate behind him. Then he ran into his tiny dark cell, closed its heavy metal door and sat down on the floor in the meditation pose. Few moments later he opened his eyes. Everything seemed normal. No one had noticed him going out. He could hear the guards moving along the corridor. Surprisingly he was not feeling exhaustion after all this running, rather he felt more energetic. He was not quite sure whether he actually went out and saw the mysterious things or he slept and saw them in his dream. It couldn't be a dream as he found himself in a sitting position when he opened his eyes.

He recollected the last words of his lookalike, 'Climb the tree to escape the prison and then swim.'

'Nonsense,' he uttered to himself, 'the boundary walls of the prison were so high that anyone who tries to jump out would either die or be seriously injured. There must have been some obstacle on the other side of the fence. Prison guards usually spread broken glass, nails on the field to terrorise those who try to escape.'

That night he slept peacefully as usual. Towards midnight he woke up to some knocking sound. Someone was knocking on the stone wall. The stone walls were so strong that it was extraordinarily hard to get any sound from the other side. The knocking sound continued for hours. He could imagine that the prisoner on the side chamber was trying to make a tunnel. He quietly laughed, 'Poor guy is making unnecessary effort. He doesn't know that the hole will not take him out of the prison, rather lead to another dark cell.' The knocking sound stopped before dawn. Again next night he heard the same noise after midnight. One thing he was sure: if guards find it after the tunnel opens in his cell, they could doubt him too. Still he kept quiet and didn't inform the guards.

Several nights passed. The same routine continued. The digging continued regularly at past midnight. He had no idea how deep the wall between two cells was. He mentally compared it with the walls of forts. Given proper instruments, it was possible to dig tunnels even through the strongest forts. It was not possible for a prisoner like him to get hold of those sharp digging instruments. Besides, the instruments were so long that it was almost impossible to hide them in a small cell from the spying eyes of the prison attendants.

One morning he got up to see tiny pieces of rock on his floor. He looked at the wall, to find out if the tunnel had actually opened. To his surprise there was an extremely small hole, not enough for a baby mouse to move through. Suraj laughed at the irony of the man who spent weeks of unslept nights and hard effort to seek freedom. First the tunnel was so narrow and secondly it opened to another cell instead of outside the prison wall. He found one fabulous idea. He recollected his first meeting with Satyanand in the jungle, and he asked him, 'What blessed event has happened to both of you during last two days?'

Saira could think up to ten lucky events while he was sure there was none. He started to laugh loudly but stopped abruptly. Now he was not alone. There was someone across the wall. He became aware of his presence. He started counting the lucky events.

Number one: the so called tunnel was so narrow; it could be concealed easily from the prying eyes of the guards and attendants. There was no point for digging a real tunnel for a man to escape that didn't open up outside the prison. Probably the prisoner was unsure whether he had chosen the right way to dig his tunnel, so he intentionally decided to make it as narrow as possible to save on his efforts and also to hide it easily.

Number two: he was not alone anymore. He could spend his time gossiping with someone, could share his thoughts. He could even tell him his experience with his lookalike.

He was eager to call him through the narrow hole, but abstained. The poor guy had spent an entire night to dig the last part of the tunnel. He must have been extremely exhausted and disappointed of the unwanted result. He should get some rest.

It didn't take long. He heard chanting of prayer from the other side. Suraj sat straight and gave attention. The sound was not particularly clear, as if, someone was chanting from a distance. Still it was soothing to his ears. He felt relaxed and listened to the chanting even though many of those words were not clear to him.

The chanting continued for hours. Then there was a long tranquil. The hole was at a height of two inches from the floor. He quietly kept his clothes near the narrow tunnel so that attendants coming to provide food would not see. In the afternoon, he decided to start conversation, 'Hello,' he started.

For some time, there was no response from the other side. 'Probably the man is disappointed at the poor outcome of tunnel digging, so is exhausted.'

He came to a crawling position so that his mouth would be at the same height of the hole and started again, 'Please don't be disappointed because the tunnel opened in a wrong direction. You and I are both extremely lucky for this narrow tunnel. At least we both can talk to each other and avoid frustration. You will be surprised to know long ago I had met a monk who has taught me how to filter out lucky instances from the most adverse events. I will tell you about me if you accept my friendship.'

There was no answer. He still continued patiently, 'I think you are too much worried about your conditions. You and I both are under nearly similar situation. If you talk to me, I will tell you how Satyanand has taught me to deal with life.'

Still there was no response from that side. Suraj thought probably the man had closed his side of the tunnel fearing discovery, so now could never hear his voice. He was disappointed. Then he mixed some water with the soil that came out of digging of the tunnel, to close it from his side. Suddenly there was a voice from the other side, 'How are you Suraj?' the man asked.

He was surprised, 'How do you know my name?' he asked, 'I don't remember that I have told you my name so far?'

'I got the information that you are in this cell. Then I decided to start digging the tunnel,' the man from the other side said. 'But I was not sure whether you have been moved to another cell. Thank God, your voice confirmed that you are still available.'

'So did you know that you are not digging this tunnel to find freedom?' Suraj asked.

'Who said this tunnel was not for freedom? I got the freedom to communicate with you, to share my thoughts to you,' the man replied.

'That sounds philosophical,' Suraj commented, 'but a convenient means to cheer yourself when you can't get real freedom. Anyway I am also happy with this freedom to communicate. At least we both can avoid some boredom. Sorry I forgot to ask your name, and I am also surprised how you knew my name.'

The man laughed loudly. Suraj was dumbstruck to hear the laugh. The voice seemed familiar. He scratched his head. His surprise didn't last long.

'I am Satyanand.'

Suraj couldn't say anything for some time. It was beyond any imagination that Satyanand could be made a prisoner by Moghul authorities. As far as he knew, he had no political connections. He always remained absorbed in his spiritual life and researching of the unknown facts of life.

'I am sorry I didn't recognise your voice,' he apologised, 'though your voice was very much known to me, I could never imagine that you can be in a prison. How can you be accused of any crime?'

'Everything is possible in this world,' Satyanand explained, 'circumstances led my destiny to this place.'

There was sound of unlocking of the door. Suraj quickly covered the narrow tunnel with his clothes and sat down covering it with his back. The attendant came in with the plate full of delicious food. Moghuls were extraordinarily generous in the matter of providing delicious meals to prisoners. Mughal monarchs themselves were fond of delicious, spicy foods and invested heavily on high profile cooks to research and develop new delicacies. This was another area where the Empire liked to spend liberally besides spending on weapons. They generously extended the hospitality of serving fresh and existing delicacies to their armed forces and even to high profile prisoners. In fact, cooking career was a large industry in Mughal economy and an excellent career opportunity to aspiring cooks.

Satyanand and Suraj continued their conversation for days, and he couldn't certainly keep count of how many days passed between them.

Suraj was particularly interested in knowing how a saint like Satyanand landed in jail.

'I was coming to meet you in Hooghly,' Satyanand explained, 'that was when the events took an ugly turn.'

'I don't understand why I am being taken as a traitor,' Suraj interfered, 'I have clearly written a letter informing the Emperor the evil intentions of Sher Afghan. I also suggested that I would behave as a trusted person to him so that I can understand his moves.'

'How many days after your sending the letter did the fight happen between Sher Afghan and Qutbuddin?' Satyanand asked.

'I guess just two or three days,' he replied.

'Do you think your letter might have reached the Emperor during such a short period of time?' Satyanand enquired.

'Impossible,' Suraj affirmed, 'but it must have reached him after the incident. Only that letter can prove that I am innocent.'

'I can visualise several possibilities,' Satyanand said after a thoughtful pause.

'Firstly, Sher Afghan had probably kept you under close observation. You might be thinking you are one of his trusted men, but he never trusted you. He was the main conspirator behind your father's murder.'

'How did you know?' Suraj's eyes started glowing with the excitement of getting additional facts and evidences about his father's murder.

'My source of information is the same as yours,' Satyanand replied, 'I reached your home the day after you were arrested. Habib, the gardener of Sher Afghan, told me about this plot. I guess he is right.'

'Sher Afghan wanted me to convince Portuguese to help him against Mughals,' Suraj disclosed to Satyanand, 'but I was not in a mood to help him.'

Satyanand laughed, 'Portuguese are not fools to help a man who was not even capable of inflicting slightest harm to the mighty Mughal Empire.'

Suraj didn't say anything but stared at the tunnel with admiring surprise.

'You are probably thinking how I can comment about a foreign force with so much confidence,' Satyanand commented.

Suraj just nodded his head. Satyanand couldn't see this from the other side of the narrow tunnel.

'Well I have been curiously studying their actions and development since long.' Satyanand clarified, 'I have even been in touch with their top brass in Goa.'

'Have you ever been to Goa?' Suraj asked.

Satyanand replied after a pause, 'Yes, I went there few months after you saw me in the island in Chilika Lake. I was curious to know about them. I lived there for few months and continued studying their ways.'

Suraj didn't say anything, but his eyes indicated that he wanted to know more. Satyanand could feel this from his cell.

'These Portuguese are not just traders,' Satyanand commented, 'they are in an expansion mode. They want to make the whole country their territory.'

'I know,' Suraj replied, 'they are already occupying Goa, Daman and Diu. Hooghly is part of Mughal Empire for namesake only. They have so many warships in Hooghly that Mughals can't reoccupy that city from Portuguese. Of course, they are paying enormous taxes to Mughals for using Hooghly as their base for doing business. That was the deal when Emperor Akbar gave them permission to build a city for making a trading centre. Gradually they made it their military base. Mughals are pretending not to know anything because they are afraid to confront them.'

Satyanand didn't say anything, just smiled in affirmation.

'One thing I don't understand,' Suraj continued again, 'if Portuguese is so powerful and want to colonise the entire country, why aren't they attacking the Mughals and occupying their empire?'

'Because there is a strange balance of power,' Satyanand analysed, 'Mughals have extensive army, Portuguese lack such an army. Portuguese has modern weapons and a powerful Navy. Mughals lack all modern technological knowhow. They have tried to acquire modern weapons from Portuguese without success. The moment the balance will shift, one power will displace the other from the country.'

'Do you think some day the balance will shift?' Suraj asked.

'Of course it will,' Satyanand confidently replied, 'someday this equilibrium will go. But it is difficult to predict when, how and in whose favour will go. Portuguese is desperately trying to find an ally. If they can get some ally, who can help them with a large army, they can take over.'

Suraj seemed to be displeased. He felt as if Satyanand is supporting a foreign power against an internal one and indicating him to support the Portuguese against the Mughals.

'I don't want to be another Jai Chand,' Suraj said.

[Prithviraj Chauhan was the king of Delhi in 12th century. Jai Chand, his relative, was king of Kannauj. Prithviraj eloped with Jai Chand's daughter Samyukta and married her against the wishes of her father. Jai Chand wanted to take revenge. As Prithviraj's army was mightier than Jai Chand's, the later took advantage of Muhammad Ghori of Ghazni, Afghanistan. Ghori had unsuccessfully fought several times against Prithviraj and lost all hopes to capture Delhi. At this time Jai Chand, in order to take revenge, extended support to Ghori against Prithviraj. Ghori took advantage of internal conflict between two powerful relatives. Finally, Ghori captured Delhi and killed Prithviraj. Thus, Delhi fell into foreign hands. Till now Jai Chand is the most hated king of India's history.]

Suraj's answer seemed to be rude. Satyanand probably didn't expect this. He tried to keep his composure and just smiled. After a pause he started again, 'You can't be another Jai Chand even if you want. Jai Chand was a king. He had an army and resources which he extended to Muhammad Ghori. On the other hand, you have just your talent and knowledge. Portuguese may require several heroes like you. But what they want desperately is an Indian king or Nawab with resources. Just remember you were in Goa for a considerable period. They extremely well knew your expertise as an officer in Mughal army. Have they ever even proposed you for your help to attack Mughals?'

'No,' Suraj saw the light in the remarks of Satyanand. The remarks were convincing, but the voice was never offending, 'I am sorry for my rude reply.'

'Never worry for that,' Satyanand assured him, 'I knew your mental state.'

'I may not be of any use to them,' Suraj started again, 'but is it not an unpatriotic action to help a foreign country to conquer our motherland?'

'Isn't the Mughal also an external power?' Satyanand questioned.

'But Mughals have adopted our country as their motherland and have virtually no relationship with the land of their origin. Logically they are no more a foreign power who is occupying our land.'

'That is your view point,' Satyanand replied, 'and it depends upon from which direction you want to look at it. However, you and I are nobody to determine which force will run the country. You have never been so ambitious to dream yourself as the ruler of this country. Rather you and your father have been loyal to the Mughal rulers in spite of all the distrust and harassment by them. On the other hand, I am a monk who is travelling on the spiritual path. The purpose of my life in this birth and lives in future births is different. Yes, while travelling long distance, you sometimes notice events which affect your thoughts. It is extremely difficult to be immune from them. I developed curiosity about Portuguese and travelled to Goa to obtain firsthand information about them.'

'Were you so impressed by them that you thought they might one day rule over the country?' Suraj asked.

'I am just an observer,' Satyanand said, 'I went to observe what is happening. You don't know, there are other players as well who are dreaming to establish colonies in this country.'

'Who are they?' Suraj looked surprised.

'Portugal is just one European country,' Satyanand explained, 'obviously there are other European countries there, and some of them are planning to come to India for trade.'

'Do you know who they are?' Suraj was interested in knowing.

'England, France and Holland,' Satyanand said, 'and they all are competitors of Portugal. So I guess they all will aim to colonise this country, partially or wholly.'

Suraj looked promising, 'I got some idea.'

'What?'

'Have you got any idea how these countries have maintained relations among one another?' Suraj asked.

'They fight with one another,' Satyanand replied.

'That's good,' Suraj said with a bright smile, 'they will spend all their energy fighting with one another and can't conquer this country. Afghan and Mughal rulers could conquer our country because there was no unity among our rulers.'

Satyanand laughed, 'Do you think when these European countries come here, our rulers will fight united against them?'

'No,' Suraj said, 'unity is against our nature.'

'One thing you should try to observe,' Satyanand brought another compelling point, 'never remain in the impression that Afghans conquered our country because of great unity among them. Don't forget Sher Shah Suri defeated Humayun, father of Akbar, and occupied Delhi. Both Sher Shah Suri and Humayun were Afghans. There was infighting on both sides.'

Suraj didn't say anything. Satyanand started again, 'The main reason why our brave Rajput rulers succumbed to defeat in the hands of Afghans is because they lived in past glories.'

'Our history is no doubt glorious,' Suraj interfered, 'and I don't think there is any reason we shouldn't feel proud of this.'

'Feeling proud of your past glory and living in the past glory are two different concepts my child,' Satyanand explained patiently, 'the gap between the two is like the gap between sky and bottom of the ocean. Most of those who live in the past glory are not innovative. And innovation leads to progress. That is where Afghans outdid brave Indian rulers.'

Suraj did not understand the monk, 'When there is conflict between two forces, one which is more dominant wins. Am I wrong?'

'No, unless you think power is just muscle power.' Satyanand replied, 'Our kings thought the traditional weapons their ancestors were using were the best weapons for ever. They hated the idea of using cannons saying that killing enemies from a distance without face to face combat is an act of a coward. Their ancestors were not fighting after sunset. Muslim invaders attacked them after sunset and killed their soldiers. Still these rulers didn't learn from their mistakes. They still maintained that attacking the enemy in the evening is an act of a coward. You still think Prithviraj was a hero! He defeated Mohammad Ghori several times. Every time Ghori would promise him not to strike again, and he would free him. Finally, when Ghori got a chance, he killed him. He didn't forgive him even once. Prithviraj might have been a hero, but he was a fool. He got so many chances to kill Ghori. But he thought he will be called brave if he pardons Ghori. He missed the golden chance, not once, but several times.'

Suraj nodded in satisfying affirmation. Satyanand couldn't see. He was in another dark cell with three feet wide wall between them and an extremely narrow tunnel which allowed only sound to pass through.

'I have few more questions sir,' Suraj begged.

'You may ask,' Satyanand said, 'I want to hear your voice.'

'Are the Europeans more innovative than the Mughals?'

'Why don't you try to explore this yourself?' the Monk suggested, 'you have been a vital part of the Mughal military and used all their weapons. You are acquainted with their tricks. You have also spent time with Portuguese and tried their weapons. What do you think?'

'Portuguese have a much better fleet,' he replied, 'and they have much more varieties of modern weapons. Even Akbar has tried to acquire those weapons from them in the past, without success.'

'That means Mughals are aware that there are better weapons and have tried to get them from the Portuguese,' Satyanand commented, 'but they have never tried to develop themselves. They came to India from Afghanistan as there is way through roads. Their ships can sail in the rivers and have limited access to the sea. On the other hand, Portuguese have travelled the oceans to make business here and started making colonies. Mughal Empire is expected to remain stable for years to come. They will spend most of their time in luxury rather than innovation. On the other hand, these Portuguese and other European countries will stay miles ahead of Mughals in innovation. They will call the shots in coming centuries.'

It was already late night. There was no clock. There was no external link to indicate time. The prison attendants came in the evening, to serve food. That was the only indicator of time. Satyanand needed rest so that he could get up again in the early morning and start his rituals like meditation.

This honeymoon didn't last long. One evening after dinner Satyanand told through the tunnel, 'Tomorrow is my last day.'

'Thank God,' Suraj expressed his satisfaction, 'finally they are letting you free from the prison.'

Satyanand laughed loudly, 'Yes, ultimately they are letting me free not only from the prison, but from the body as well.'

Suraj took a long pause. Death is not something to be feared about by a warrior. He had seen many deaths in his life. He had killed many during various wars he fought. He had never felt any sympathy for the enemy whom he had killed. Tonight it was different. He felt his soul was about to leave the body. He was always been a devotee of God, although he had never thought that he could see Him. But he had felt the presence of God in Satyanand, who gave a meaning to his life.

'Are you alright?' Satyanand enquired from his cell through the narrow hole in the wall.

'I am not sir,' Suraj replied, 'I can't believe my ears. How can everything end like this?'

'End? Whose end?' the monk replied, 'this is not going to be my end. You know this.'

'I know they can't kill your soul. But this is a quote from religious book to console others. I am not convinced.'

'Don't forget that you and Saira's journey together will last at least for seven lives,' Satyanand reiterated, 'so be sure that we will meet again somewhere.'

'I have a doubt and thinking of asking you since long,' Suraj looked hesitant.

'If you don't ask me now you may have to wait long to find the answer,' Satyanand laughed.

'There should be a reason behind remembering the past lives for so many births,' Suraj asked.

'I believe this is against the law of nature,' Satyanand admitted, 'memory comes to an end with death of a person. Some people can remember the events of their past lives. I think the memory never dies with destruction of the physical body. It is stored somewhere in your soul, and some people like me are able to retrieve that memory with strong will power. I don't know exactly where it is stored. I am always curious to explore so many unanswered queries. My curiosity has led me to continue my studies. I became a monk so that I don't have to spend my productive years in worldly life like earning money to support the family etc. I got lots of free time to do what I want. Then I realised that this research will not be finished in years or even decades. Even one life is short for this. If I have to follow up some souls, their multiple births, multiple deaths, I need hundreds of years for that. That means I also have to go through those phases like multiple births and several deaths.'

'I have another small question,' Suraj begged, 'Is there a life between death and birth?'

'There is a parallel world between death and next birth,' Satyanand convincingly said, 'but I will let you know more when time comes.'

'When that day will come? Do you expect to be spared from the gallows?'

'You are still behaving like a child,' Satyanand laughed, 'gallows can't kill my soul you know. It will help me to spend and explore the parallel world between death and next birth. It will certainly help me to obtain another new body.'

Suraj looked convinced and also composed now, 'All these years I was thinking that you are another monk who is travelling the path of spirituality. Now I realise that you have a much greater goal and am glad that I will be your team mate for hundreds of years.'

Satyanand smiled indicating his assertion that yes Suraj would be part of his team. Then he casually asked, 'By the way, what is the purpose of your life?'

Suraj looked blank. He started after a thoughtful pause, 'Now my goal is to escape the gallows, leave this prison somehow, and be reunited with Saira and my baby boy. I don't know how, but I am confident of a miracle.'

Satyanand smiled, 'What was your goal before?'

'When I started my career as a soldier with my father's teaching, I was dreaming of getting the attention of the Emperor and becoming a Governor of some state. That dream was shattered when my father Purujit was assassinated. My goal suddenly changed. I strived for getting justice. That desire was converted to avenge.'

'But the main culprit Sher Afghan is gone now!' Satyanand replied with a smile.

'Yes,' Suraj said, 'but what about my so called father-in-law and brother-in-law?'

'So you believe them guilty.'

'Yes.'

'It might have been possible that they might have gotten the orders from higher authorities, and they just executed the orders.' Satyanand tried to explain the actions of Ashfaq Khan and Ayaaz.

'I admit they might have gotten orders,' Suraj argued, 'but they should have verified the allegation before executing the orders.'

'All right, I will ask you a question,' Satyanand reiterated, 'your father Purujit has also executed the orders of the Emperor and eliminated many rebels. Most of the time many people had been eliminated on the basis of just information that someone was planning for a rebel and before actual rebel took place. You have also accompanied him to some such expeditions. Has your father or you ever thought of verifying the claim before attacking the so called rebel? It might have been possible that the allegation was unsubstantiated, or someone made a malice allegation to get rid of the victim. Didn't Ashfaq and Ayaaz do the same thing? You are thinking that they killed your father because you married his daughter against his wishes. That may just be a coincidence! They have done exactly the same thing what you and your father have done in some cases.'

Suraj looked convinced. He thought for a while and said, 'You are right sir. All those actions are done on the instructions of the Emperor. In that case, I will not make Ashfaq or Ayaaz guilty before verifying the facts. But my target will be the Emperor.'

Satyanand didn't smile this time. He just laughed loudly.

Suraj looked puzzled, 'Did I say something stupid?'

'I know you are capable of targeting the Emperor for achieving your goal of revenge,' Satyanand opined, 'and it is not impossible though difficult. Just for the sake of argument, let's assume you are the ruler of a state; an independent ruler or even an Emperor. You have a massive army, an organizational system and also have spies to send you information about your opponents. You know that the information is essential for your survival as an emperor or a king. One day you get information that someone is planning for a rebel. What will you do?'

'I will send forces to nab the culprit immediately,' Suraj replied, 'or even eliminate the culprit.'

'Can't you wait for verifying the claim?' Satyanand asked.

'Ideally verification should be done before reaching at a conclusion,' Suraj agreed, 'but most of the times immediate action becomes inevitable. The more you wait to take action against an alleged rebel, the more difficult it becomes to suppress the rebellion. Because each rebel also runs a spy network before planning insurgent movement. If you waste time in finding out the truth of the information, you may lose the war itself.'

'My guess is that is exactly what has been done in case of your father or even in your case,' Satyanand concluded, 'often people can see one side view of the incidents, but you are lucky to view from both sides. You should consider yourself lucky that you got this knowledge through experience. It is unfortunate that the experience is a tragic one.'

Suraj didn't say anything. As the pause became longer Satyanand asked from the other side of the narrow tunnel, 'Are you all right Suraj?'

'Yes I am,' he replied, 'I am just thinking what I will do with this valuable knowledge. Should I wait for the gallows and utilise the knowledge if I become a ruler in my next birth? I will have a regret: in spite of getting proper education I didn't set any worthwhile purpose for my life.'

'You are too young to die my son,' Satyanand said from the other side, 'you should strive to escape from here.'

A glimpse of hope appeared on the face of Suraj, 'Sir I am sure you can explore the future and certainly know what lies ahead of me. Will you please ...'

Satyanand interrupted, 'If I know the future, I would have warned you of the dangers coming when I met you in the Island of Chilika Lake. And I could have saved my life too. I am not keen to die on the gallows. I was expecting a natural death in ripe old age as a smooth transition to my next life. That didn't come to me. You can plan for the future, but you can't predict the future.'

'I am genuinely keen to escape from here,' Suraj expressed his desire.

'Sometimes life gives you clues to achieve what you otherwise think is impossible,' Satyanand disclosed, 'you should be vigilant to notice that. Also, you should know how and when to use the clue. You have mentioned once that you could escape to a jungle near the prison and no guard could notice you.'

'Yes,' Suraj said.

'Do you think the prison guards in Mughal Empire are so relaxed that they can't notice the escaping of a high profile prisoner waiting for the death sentence? You escaped to a jungle and saw your father there!'

'Yes I saw my father,' Suraj said, 'and I couldn't believe my eyes. He doesn't have a twin brother. The only explanation possible is that his assassination news is wrong.'

'And you saw a duplicate copy of yourself too.' Satyanand said, 'though you are sure that you don't have a brother.'

'Yes I saw someone who exactly resembled with me.' Suraj confirmed.

'Are you sure this is not a dream?' Satyanand asked.

'Whatever I saw was so perfect,' he confirmed, 'it can't be a dream. I have experienced so many dreams in my life. I forget most of them following morning. This time it was unusual. My father was teaching tree climbing to the duplicate Suraj. I am not proficient in tree climbing. I remember I had a plan to learn this skill from none other than my father. Now I feel so confident that if I am actually asked to climb a tree, I can do it easily. When I came back into my cell, I was tired and closed my eyes for some time. Then I found myself sitting cross legged on the floor.'

'I don't know exactly what happened,' Satyanand said, 'but I am sure there is no jungle near this prison. One side wall of this prison is facing river Yamuna. Yes, if you travel in the river you may come across some Jungle. Did you see any river when you escaped out of the prison?'

'No,' he admitted.

'I have arrived at some conclusion after getting all the facts from you.' Satyanand said in a decisive tone.

'What is that?'

'You have never been outside the prison, and you were also not dreaming. You were in meditation and without knowing drifted into deep meditation. It is possible you met your father's soul who was eager to teach you something which is sometimes tremendously vital for survival. The replica of you whom you saw is none other than yourself. You learnt and practised climbing a tree which you wanted to learn from your father. When your lesson was over, you again came back to your prison cell and found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor. The only reason the doors of your cell and the prison gate were open for you is that your physical body never went out of your cell. How can the guards notice your escape when your body didn't actually go out? And one last argument: if indeed you went out physically, a person smart like you shouldn't miss the chance. You should have gone in hiding and never came back to the prison cell.'

Suraj didn't reply. He didn't have any point to challenge the argument of the monk. He changed the subject.

'Sir, I must admit I love Saira more than my life,' he started another topic, 'and you have blessed us to be together for at least seven lives. Can I safely assume that if I don't survive in my attempt for escaping, I still have a chance to meet her in my next life? Also, how long the soul will take to get reborn after death of a body?'

'Your question is quite difficult,' Satyanand replied, 'I would suggest being positive. Never assume that you are meeting death in an attempt to escape. I would recommend, always dream even when you are awake that you are being reunited with Saira. Also, you both should keep imagining that you are meeting again in your next life and recognising each other with full recognition of your past lives. It is possible that, by the time, the Mahashakti (Infinite Intelligence) reunites you she might have already become someone else's spouse, and you might have also become someone's spouse. If you truly love her, you will never feel embarrassed in that situation. About your last question: how long your soul will take to reborn. I have seen souls wandering for hundreds of years before getting another body. My research is still incomplete in this field. One thing I believe, your imagination and strong desire will guide you to the right womb at the right time.'

'One last advice Suraj,' Satyanand started again.

'I am always blessed by your advices sir,' Suraj said in a depressed tone, 'please bless me again.'

'If you are lucky to escape from here,' Satyanand continued, 'which I am sure you can do, please go to Goa. Try to learn as much possible about the western countries especially their technologies. During my stay in Goa, I felt that they are technologically much advanced than us. Your shipping business is an enormous advantage for your learning. If possible use your ships to transport goods to other European countries like England, Holland and France. These countries have the potential to come to India and give a tough time to the Mughals. You will get the opportunity to study their political system and more importantly their military system. I have heard they have so many modern weapons which will look like magic to Mughals.'

'Your advices are all vital to me sir,' Suraj said humbly to the monk, 'I have a small doubt. You hate Mughals because they are foreigners. Then how should we support the western powers who are also foreigners?'

'I will support India being ruled by Indians,' Satyanand clarified, 'you do not need a better army to conquer an empire. You need a high level of innovative brain. You are worried that you have not set any positive goals for your life. Whatever goals you have set became worthless after sometime. You dreamt of becoming closer to the Emperor Akbar and become a Governor. That goal was shattered when your father was termed as a rebel suspect and was killed. You then made another goal to expose Sher Afghan to the Mughal Emperor and establish yourself clean. He was killed by the Mughal forces, and you were imprisoned on the same charges which should have been against Sher Afghan. Practically all your life goals have been shattered. If you think this life as the beginning and end of your existence, then almost half of your life is already gone. But if you are convinced you will continue to live with full past memories for at least seven lives, then your life is long enough to consider this life as an early childhood. Like any child, you should spend this time in studying, and that is exactly what I am advising. I have no particular sympathy towards the western countries. But I know you need an advanced knowledge which is not available locally.'

'I am now convinced sir,' Suraj said finally before both decided to stop the conversation and go to bed.

Next morning was remarkably refreshing. Suraj got up from a goodnight's sleep with fully recharged. He became optimist. He was not afraid of death anymore.

The morning breakfast was delicious. After long he got such a delicious food. Another guard came and gave him some new clothes. He was surprised. The guard ordered him to wear the new clothes after taking bath. This was another surprise. He didn't ask. He knew there would be no response from them. The launch was also extremely palatable. This time it was Mughlai Biryani; one of the tastiest dishes believed to have been invented by food loving Mughals. At around early afternoon, the guard came, opened the door of his cell and ordered to go to the assembly area. Suraj didn't ask, but the guard told him the reason: the Emperor Jahangir was in prison for some special occasion. Now he understood why the prisoners have been served with delicious food. He wanted to talk to Satyanand but didn't get time.

The assembly area was a wide open field with a high boundary prison wall on one side and prison cells on other sides. There were few trees and an expansive lawn of grasses and weeds. It seemed that the lawn had been cleaned in a short notice, to organise an event. There was a stage on one side, and it was covered with clothes. Suraj looked at the crowd of prisoners and guards. He didn't find a single familiar face. He tried to find Satyanand. He had not seen him since long after they both met in Chilika Lake. He searched him amongst the crowd but failed to locate him. He tried to stand on the side of a makeshift corridor with a red Persian carpet on the floor. Definitely the Emperor would walk on it to the stage. He asked other fellow prisoners. Nobody was clear what was happening. Someone told the Emperor was here to let some convicts free on some auspicious occasion. Another told that there might be mass execution of convicts who dared to challenge the Empire. Suraj was not comfortable with this guess. He was never a rebel, but was accused of helping rebel. His father had been a victim without even dreaming of being a rebel. He stopped speculating and just watched the drama without any interest.

It didn't take long for the drama to unfold. Slogans by prison guards and soldiers indicated that the Emperor Jahangir was arriving. Soldiers stood on line on both sides of the red carpet to create an armed human wall as the Emperor walked slowly towards the stage. He stood on the stage and waved his hands. All of a sudden the noise stopped to a pin drop silence. A specially designed gallows were unveiled on the stage. The soldiers brought a chained convict. The man was walking confidently with his heads high and a smile on his face. It seemed some drama was being staged with the Emperor, chained convict and the soldiers, as the actors. All other convicts gathered to watch the show were the audience. Suraj looked at the chained convict. He couldn't see his face properly because of the spot he was standing. But he quickly recognised the way he was walking. He was none other than Satyanand. He didn't believe his eyes that his most admired personality's life would come to an end suddenly, unless he genuinely believed that they would meet again in the next life.

The heavy voice of the Emperor roared, 'Hello monk! Do you now realise the result of opposing an Emperor? Are you now afraid of the gallows?'

Satyanand laughed, 'Emperor, you are afraid of death, not I. You are here in person to ensure that I will actually be killed. This shows how much stress you are passing through. The Emperor of this vast and powerful Mughal Empire can't ensure that his soldiers will carry out his orders. This shows your weakness.'

Jahangir laughed loudly and asked, 'You predicted the Empire will go down. You can't even predict your own destiny! How dare you predict the future of the Empire and give false hopes to rebels?'

'I predicted correctly Emperor!' Satyanand replied with equal loud voice, 'but your brain is so week that you didn't understand what I said. Remember that I am not an astrologer and have never claimed to predict the future. I just warned you that the way Mughal Empire is operating, one day the Western powers will take over. I am not loyal to any Western power. I just dreamed that you will learn something from them and provide better governance to the people. But you didn't understand. I also didn't realise that son of Akbar has such a poor underdeveloped brain.'

'Shut up monk,' Jahangir ordered. How could an Emperor tolerate such an insult in front of so many people?

Suraj felt helpless. He couldn't even help the man whom he regarded as equivalent to a god. He closed his eyes and prayed God that each word of the monk comes true. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the sky as if God would appear from the air and do something to protect Satyanand. God didn't appear. What appeared was an unusual red coloured sky. He didn't believe his eyes. He was stressed, and thought that he was visualising weird things as he saw his father and his own replica. After some time, he realised that everyone else was also looking at the sky and giving remarks about the red coloured sky. Even the Emperor Jahangir was looking at the red sky with suspicion and fear. Satyanand was also looking at the sky with a smile on his face.

Jahangir turned towards the prison guards and ordered to execute the monk as soon as possible. Guards covered Satyanand's face and pulled him towards the gallows holding his arms. Satyanand shouted loudly, 'Jahangir you are a fool. You can't kill me. I will again come back to haunt the Mughal Empire. And keep in mind, white Europeans one day will grab the Mughal Empire.'

By the time he finished, there was humongous uproar. It seemed as if an entire ocean came roaring towards them. Jahangir shouted, 'Don't waste time. Hang him immediately.'

Soon the suspense of Red coloured sky and roaring sound unveiled. A fierce sand storm was approaching. Convicts and armed guards ran here and there to protect themselves. Suraj didn't want to go. Rather he slowly moved towards the prison wall. The soldiers who stood as a human wall on both sides of the red carpet stood still looking nervously at the sky. It seemed the wrath of the Emperor was more dangerous than the anger of the nature.

Suraj stood below a tree adjacent to the prison wall. He quickly jumped onto the tree and climbed like an expert and rose to a height above the prison wall. To his surprise he found Satyanand's information was accurate. The river Yamuna was flowing exactly opposite to the prison wall. He looked at the gallows expecting some miracle would happen, and Satyanand's life would be saved. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Satyanand's body was hanging from the noose. Jahangir was running to his safety from the storm. All guards and soldiers also started running in. Suraj saluted the body of the monk with folded hands and jumped into Yamuna.

He was a terrific swimmer. Monsoon was over, so there was no flood in the river. It was difficult for him to keep the head over the water as sands were hurting. He tried to go as far as from the prison wall. He was afraid that once the storm was over prison guards would be aware of his escape. It wouldn't be difficult for them to find him out in the river. He was clearly not the first inmate who escaped using the tree and river. He was an optimist. He imagined, Satyanand was helping him. He felt abundant energy in his body and mind. Satyanand often talked of infinite energy. He felt as if he had been connected with the source of boundless power and forcefully propelled his body in Yamuna. The love of Saira and his little boy Puru pulled him. He swam in underwater as long as possible and sometimes raised the head to get a grasp of air. After some time, the sand storm stopped, but heavy rain came. He thanked God. As long as the climate remained like this Mughal guards would not find him.

As the rain started to slow down and the sky started clearing, he saw the faint sunray of dusk covering the water. Now was time to come out of water before the darkness came. There were ferries and ships plying in the river. But there was also risk. If someone doubted that he had escaped from the prison, he might have been handed over in anticipation of reward. Fortunately he was not in prison uniform. All the convicts were allowed to wear normal clothes in view of the presence of the Emperor.

He decided to take the risk and approach some ferry. He located a ship and started swimming towards her. It looked like a vessel containing merchandise and was large enough to travel even in an ocean. He shouted at the top of the voice and waved his hands so that someone could spot him. He was right. Someone noticed him. The ship slowed down, and a man threw a rope towards him. Soon Suraj found himself on board of the ship just before darkness descended. He was tired but was composed.

The man guided him to a cabin and gave him clean clothes to wear. He changed his clothes and planned a story for the ship captain. He would tell them that he was experienced in working in the ship and beg to get a job. This would be a careful plan to hide inside the ship and travel to a far off place. He came to the brightly lit hallway planning his story. It was difficult to imagine a story as to how he fell in the river. Suddenly a tall, fair and well built man came from the other side. He was well dressed like a warrior, with a sword hanging from his left waist and a pistol hanging from the left waist.

Suraj looked at him, and his plans for a story vanished immediately. He was Ayaaz. For some time, he felt as if he fell from the frying pan to the fire. He looked around to find out by chance he could lay his hands on any weapon. Either he would kill Ayaaz or would be killed by him. He was looking fierce like a wounded lion.

Ayaaz took out the sword in one hand and the gun on another. Before Suraj could realise anything he threw both of them on the floor close to Suraj, 'Now they are yours Suraj,' he told calmly, 'you can kill me now.'

Suraj was surprised. 'Is this a mischievous way to intimidate me before killing?' he thought.

He didn't pick either the sword or the gun. He looked straight into the eyes of Ayaaz. His eyes were not threatening. Both knew each other since childhood. It seemed as if he was undergoing some trauma and was in need of psychological support. Suraj slowly came towards him and opened his arms. Ayaaz quickly came into his arms, and both were locked up in a long tight hug. Tears started pouring from Ayaaz's eyes. He was muttering incoherently, 'This ship and I both belong to you. We have named this ship 'Yamuna Nagin' but this name has not been displayed to avoid scrutiny by Mughal spies.'

The Mount Everest between two friends melted in minutes. Suraj was hungry. Both friends sat together for a sumptuous dinner. The ship was moving forward tearing the blue waters of Yamuna. Both friends sat together in Ayaaz's cabin, which overlooked the waters of the river through a window.

Ayaaz started.

'The order came from the top at around midnight,' he recollected, 'and we were not actually told what it was. There were soldiers and their commanders. We were not even allowed to ask what is all this. My father and I knew all the details of Chandra Mahal. As we both were with the soldiers, your father's security guards didn't doubt and didn't try to stop them. That was the only reason why we both were chosen to accompany the operation. What happened next was just in our presence and against our will. It is true my father was not happy with Saira's decision to marry you. I was also not happy. We could have accepted this after some time. But the events didn't let us resolve. Even we didn't dare to maintain relations with you. We were afraid to be branded traitors. All this was plan of Sher Afghan. Kareem didn't keep any communication with us. My father fell ill after that. He never recovered from his illness till his death. His wish was to meet you and Saira and bless you both. That remained unfulfilled.'

'Did you meet Saira?' Suraj asked.

'Yes,' Ayaaz answered, 'I took her to Goa. She is managing your shipping business there. It was beyond my imagination that a woman can run a business so successfully and take it to such heights. Your ships are now sailing to European countries. Kareem has gone to England to transact business with some prominent business people there. You came at a right time. This ship will halt at Hooghly and then move into Bay of Bengal. We are going to Goa.'

Suraj's body language changed to reflect immense joy. Satyanand's body might not yet have been cremated. His last advice to him was still ringing in his ears, 'Go to European countries and understand their system.'

Suraj came back again to his old self.

'I am happy today. I never imagined this situation even today morning. I don't know how I will thank Satyanand. He was like a God-sent to me. You know Ayaaz I have set many goals for my life. And each of my goals has failed till now. There was a time, when I was dreaming of climbing the career ladder in Mughal Empire. I aspired to become a Governor of some province. That dream was shattered when Mughal government instructed the elimination of my father. Then I set another goal for me. That was to prove his innocence and punish you and your father. How wrong I was? Then I targeted Sher Afghan. I was trying to find out, whether his wife Mehr-un-Nisaa and Anarkali both are one individual. Till now I strongly believe there is a link between the downfall of my father and the story of Anarkali. I tried to expose Sher Afghan and rewarded by Mughals for my loyalty. See how fate betrayed me. He was eliminated, but my letter to Mughal court vanished somewhere. I was sent to prison as an accomplice to a rebel.'

Both friends were talking throughout the night. The darkness of the night was slowly fading away. They walked together to the deck to welcome the lovely sunlight of the dawn.

'Do you have any idea whether Anarkali changed her name to Mehr-un-Nisaa before marrying Sher Afghan? I have always been thinking that this will give me some clue about the plot to eliminate my father. You know Emperor Akbar ordered to bury Anarkali alive. There is another gossip that she escaped through a tunnel. Whether Akbar himself allowed her escape or it was facilitated by my father without Akbar's knowledge, is a mystery. Then Mehr appeared from nowhere, and she was also in love with Crown Prince Saleem (now Emperor Jahangir). Akbar didn't appreciate this relationship and organised her marriage with Sher Afghan. This must be the cause of tension between Emperor Jahangir and Sher Afghan. Saira and her mother spent few months in Lahore to find out the truth. They met so many people. But they didn't find any evidence that Anarkali and Mehr, both are different name of one individual.'

'Are you still expecting to approach Jahangir to get justice?' Ayaaz asked.

'No,' Suraj replied, 'I have escaped from his prison. If I approach him, I will be again thrown into some prison without any trial. I don't want that.'

'Your decision is right,' Ayaaz complimented, 'you have no future in the Mughal Empire. Kareem and I have also decided to settle in Goa. I am sure you will support your wife's decision to settle in Goa.'

'That's correct,' Suraj admitted.

Ayaaz started again, 'As per my knowledge Sher Afghan is behind the elimination of your father. Mehr was taken to the harem of Jahangir after Sher Afghan's death. You are right she was the cause of tension between Jahangir and her husband; Sher Afghan. Subsequently Jahangir married Mehr. She is now known as Nur Jehan, which means Light of the World.'

'So are Nur Jehan, Mehr-Un-Nisaa and Anarkali are all one person?'

'I don't know,' Ayaaz answered.

Suraj looked at the reflection of morning sunlight on the blue waters of Yamuna. 'Yamuna Nagin' steadily moved ahead on its way to Goa.

– THE END –

