The Emperor arrived a few days later upon a golden howdah. He had travelled by land, the rivers were not yet swollen with the rains of Srabon. Caparisoned elephants marched before him. Behind him, a retinue of horses, camels, musketeers and columns of infantry.
The entire imperial army of Dacca stood in formation to receive him. Shayista welcomed him with a fleet of dhols, trumpets and a statue made of gold. Nasim Banu had a velvet carpet two miles long laid out across the walkway leading up to the fortress with flowers planted along both sides.
That night, the Emperor, his family, attendants and soldiers feasted heartily on spit-roasted chicken with herbs, koftas and kebebs, lamb cooked in the tandooor, Persian pulao, and then retired to luxurious tents set up for slumber.
The next morning, Shayista greeted the Emperor in the Durbar Hall. Aurangzeb was dressed in a starched kurta, rigid and austere. By his side were his Vizier, his Amir-i-Akhur, his Diwan-i-Baksh and an Englishman introduced as Governor of the East India Company. To Shayista’s surprise, the Emperor was accompanied by Madeline. She was wearing a wide-skirted gown and a wig of curls. She avoided his gaze and shuffled behind the Englishman.
Shayista had not seen his nephew in over two years and they had much to discuss. He was not pleased to have so many outsiders present. He had not even allowed Dhand to attend the meeting.
‘Uncle,’ began Aurangzeb, ‘Thank you for this grand reception.’
‘Emperor Aurangzeb Alamgir this is but a humble offering compared to what you deserve,’ said Shayista, bowing.
‘I am grateful to you for bringing cultivation and commerce to the far eastern stretches of the Empire. Revenues have never been higher. Rice has never been cheaper.’
Shayista bowed humbly.
‘You have brought about an epic transformation in Bengal. For this, all of posterity should salute you.’
‘It was my duty,’ said Shayista, bowing again.
‘Mostly you have done well but I have a few concerns.’ He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
‘Yes, your Highness?’ said Shayista.
‘You reprimanded a Hindu zamindar for trade with the English?’ said Aurangzeb.
Shayista didn’t blink.
‘We need the jiziya to pay for our battles,’ said Aurangzeb.
Shayista resisted the temptation to tell him it was wrong to divide people by religion to extort advantages from one group in favour of the other. People of all faiths should be treated with dignity and respect. Diversity was to be celebrated not used to create hierarchies.
Aurangzeb continued. ‘I have been informed of an incident in which thirty members of the ulema were killed accidentally by your mansabdars.’ His voice was arctic.
Aurangzeb had always been narrow-minded. It was Dara who had absorbed the words of their Sufi Huzur. Shayista masked his anger.
‘Most disturbing of all ...’ Aurangzeb shook his head in disapproval. ‘Rumours suggest you and your friends killed a revered pir. There are riots in Indur Goli. This is not what I expected when I removed Azzam and posted you back here.’
The snide remark dug at Shayista. How dare Aurangzeb compare him to his whimsical son? Still Shayista maintained a stoic veneer.
The Englishman leaned to the Emperor’s ear and whispered.
‘Ah yes,’ said Aurangzeb. ‘One more thing. I hear you have a diamond from the Kollur mines, a diamond that rivals the Kohinoor?’
Shayista could not believe his eyes. Aurangzeb was taking counsel from the Englishman? This was too much to bear.
‘I want that diamond,’ said Aurangzeb. ‘It belongs to the Empire.’
‘Your Highness, it is cursed,’ said Shayista.
‘Hang on a minute,’ interrupted the Englishman. ‘Did you say, cursed? You see, Sire, the old Viceroy is trying to hood-wink you! Cursed, my ar...’
‘It’s alright,’ said Aurangzeb. ‘It’s alright, Uncle, I have deciphered the cause of your strange behaviour. You are under a spell of black magic. Fortunately I am here to rescue you. Guards,’ he shouted. ‘Bring the witch.’
The gates of the durbar opened and two soldiers marched in carrying a rough spun cloth parcel that they laid at Shayista’s feet. The bundle unravelled to reveal a livid Champa within, tied and gagged at the mouth.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ said Shayista, jumping to ungag her and remove her bonds. ‘If you have hurt her, you will pay.’
‘Step aside, Uncle,’ said Aurangzeb. ‘She has poisoned your mind and made you kill her father and grandfather. She has tricked you but fear not, tomorrow she will hang.’
‘NO!’ shouted Shayista. He could no longer uphold the construction of the Empire. The illusion had cracked.
The room was brighter, the path clearer. He felt a transformation beginning. Success was not defined by externals, what he earned, what he built, what he accomplished, who he killed, but how deeply he loved.
‘I will not let you hurt her. And I will not kill for you again.’ Shayista threw Azdahar to the ground before the Emperor. It fell with a minatory clatter.
Aurangzeb gasped in shock.
‘How dare you address the Emperor in such a manner!’ said the Englishman.
Aurangzeb glared at Shayista. ‘Give me the diamond and the witch can live.’
Shayista lowered himself to his knees before Champa, her bruises flashing before him, her eyes pained. His meager offering he lay before her: the diamond.
‘Champa, I bring to your feet all my failures and my life’s most precious possession. If you can forgive me or look at me with compassion even for a moment then all my wasted efforts I will bury and begin anew.’
Champa’s eyes glazed over with tears. ‘I forgive you, Talib,’ she said. ‘Let it go.’
Shayista turned to the Emperor. ‘You want it? This cursed diamond? Take it then.’ He tossed it to the Emperor who had murdered Dara and Huzur. He deserved the curse.
Aurangzeb caught the dark diamond, his eyes expanding at the sight of its fantastical proportions.
‘All that you cherish will perish,’ Shayista warned, laughing.
Aurangzeb turned abruptly and stormed out. With him marched the Englishman followed by Madeline, his Vizier, his Amir-i-Akhur, his Diwan-i-Baksh and his guards.
The trajectory of the cursed diamond was a mystery to Shayista: Delhi, London, Paris. What did it matter? So long as he stayed positive, he was free from its curse. He would love again and Bengal would thrive.