Nasim Banu peeked out of the curtained howdah as her trusted eunuch led the elephant through the winding alleys behind the bazaar. They were going to meet the Pir of Lal Bagh and the roads were narrow with vendors on either side.
Nasim meditated on her predicament. She needed to maintain Shayista’s interest so he did not marry a second wife. She needed to tone down his enthusiasm for unorthodox pleasures such as alcohol and music to appease the Emperor. She needed to convince him to ask the Emperor to promote their son. She needed to ...
‘We have arrived, your Highness,’ announced Eunuch Ambar.
Following the mahut’s prodding ankus, the elephant sat down. Nasim Banu gingerly dismounted. She noticed a bevy of cats surveying her. There was something haunting about the place. Questioning her decision to come, Nasim knocked on the door.
A bony young lady with a purple scar on her cheek greeted her. From the confidence in her demeanour, Nasim could make out that the lady was a family member not a servant. She was dressed in a simple cotton kamiz but comported herself with dignity. She led Nasim down a corridor to a chamber.
‘Come in,’ said a voice from inside.
Nasim entered. Eunuch Ambar waited outside. The room was lit dimly with a single candle. She could vaguely make out a large desk with many books and a caged falcon.
‘Sit down,’ said the pir, dressed in black garbs, a black turban, a sapphire broach. ‘You are unhappy.’
Nasim nodded.
‘You yearn for youth,’ said the pir.
Nasim nodded though he was not asking so much as proclaiming.
‘Is it so important?’ the pir asked.
Nasim mused for a moment. No, perhaps it was not.
Pir Baba stroked his beard thoughtfully then handed Nasim a silver mirror. ‘Are you beautiful?’
Nasim blenched at her haggard reflection. ‘I was once.’
The pir frowned. ‘Every woman is a creature of divine beauty.’
‘Perhaps it was my destiny to marry a man blind to my beauty.’ She regretted her petulance but her words had already slipped out and not unnoticed. The pir pulled the loose thread.
‘If he cannot see the beauty in you, it is because his vision is obstructed by his ego,’ said the pir. ‘The ego divides. Love unites.’
Nasim nodded. The Empire could only be run properly if she and her husband were united in their aims. He needed her to guide him, to manage his ego, and it would be much easier to do so if he loved her deeply rather than passively.
‘I can help you,’ said the pir. He gathered three jars from the shelf behind his table and from each took a pinch of its contents to place in a mortar. With a wooden pestle he ground the mixture and decanted it into a glass.
‘Drink this,’ he commanded.
Nasim Banu took one sip and gagged. It was the foulest concoction she had ever tasted, grey and globular. The pir urged her on. Pinching her nose, she slurped it up.
At last, she asked. ‘What was it?’
‘The placenta of a black cat, dried stool from a pig and ashes from a Hindu crematorium.’
Nasim gagged and might have vomited but for the strange sensation of tingling on her skin.
‘Behold,’ said the magician.
She gazed into the mirror and saw to her immense wonderment, her face metamorphosed. Was it her imagination or were her wrinkles less visible? One by one, the age marks, the dark circles and the tired lines dissolved leaving her reflection that of her younger self, some twenty years younger. Nasim could not believe it. She touched her face tentatively, the texture was altered. Shayista would love her now!
‘Take this cream,’ said the pir, handing her a jar. ‘Rub it on your face daily.’
Delighted, she offered to pay the pir.
‘Anything more I can do for you?’ he asked.
Nasim was confused. What more?
‘I have astral powers,’ said the holy man. ‘My prayers can manifest your deepest desire. There must be something you wish for, your Highness?’
Nasim was stunned. ‘How do you know who I am?’ Was he clairvoyant?
The pir laughed and pointed to the royal insignia on her cloak.
She blushed.
‘Look deep within, your Highness. What do you love most?’
Nasim Banu scrunched her brows together. Love most? She loved her palace, the hammam, her jewellery, fancy parties, her sons. What else could she ask for? ‘Pir Baba, there is nothing more I desire.’
‘Look deeper,’ said the pir. ‘Close your eyes.’
Nasim did as she was told.
The pir began chanting Al-Haq, Al-Haq, Al-Haq with such energy, Nasim felt the table shake. Her heart beat began to race. She peeked and saw the pir turning red in the face from the exertion.
‘Look with your third eye,’ he instructed. ‘Awaken your intuition. There, your Highness, look deep within. What do you see?’
Nasim Banu saw a modest boy sitting quietly on a swing, a boy she loved even more than life itself, his feathery hair ruffled by the wind.
Nasim opened her eyes.
‘What did you see?’ urged the holy man.
‘My youngest son.’
‘Then he is your deepest love.’
She nodded. Abul Fateh she loved beyond all the riches in the kingdom, alas ... ‘But he’s dead,’ exclaimed Nasim, wringing her hands. O how his eyes beamed when he saw her, how he wrapped his fingers around her hair when he slept.
‘I see.’ The pir nodded slowly.
‘What is it?’ asked Nasim, a tremor in her voice.
‘More challenging than I anticipated,’ said the magician. ‘But not impossible. I cannot resurrect him but I can summon his departed spirit. To do so, I need to channel his energy through a jewel. If you want to speak to your son, bring me the biggest jewel you can find.’
Nasim did not know what to think. She had heard pirs claim they could channel spirits but they had all turned out to be tricksters. Was this also a hoax?
She thanked the pir for his time and left feeling bleak. Outside, Ambar helped her into the decorated howdah.
On their way back to the fort, two thugs in orange turbans accosted their elephant with wide-bladed gauntlet rapiers. Nasim Banu trembled from behind the chintz curtains as Khajah Ambar spoke to them in hushed tones. When they left, she demanded, ‘Who were they? What did they want?’
‘No need to worry, your Highness. I have taken care of it.’
Thank God for her trusted Ambar. It was Shayista’s fault that she was out on the streets in the first place, sneaking off to meet the pir. Nasim wondered if the holy man was genuine. The youth serum had worked but could he really call upon her son? It was too good to be true. She prayed to God for a miracle.