Zebunissa, daughter of Aurangzeb
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Zebunissa daughter of Aurangzeb
EXCERPTS: Secret power and wisdom
This book is the story of Zebunissa, the once favourite daughter of Emperor Aurangzeb, about whom not much can be found in history books. It also provides insight into the lives and lifestyles of other notable Muslim women during the Mughal rule in India
Annie Krieger Krynicki writes about the latter part of Zebunissa’s life when she was incarcerated in the fortress prison of Salimgarh
Wrapped in black veils like the wings of a night bird, the princess sits. She has a small writing desk on her knees. Her black bodice is outlined with gold ornamentation, and her scarf is fringed with gold and inlaid with dark gemstones. From the dark folds, her face emerges like a pale moon. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkle yet are filled with melancholy, like Aurangzeb’s. Her extremely slender and aristocratic, hennaed hands are laden with rings, a pearl on the index finger, a gold ring on the third. Her rather long, slim feet are also dyed with henna at the tips of the toes as well as the heels. Her lustrous hair cascades down her back, a fine curl elegantly delineated across her temple. She wears an earring of a ruby and two pearls with a teardrop suspended from it. Is it a grey pearl or a pale emerald? Her tapering fingers leaf through a book of poems which rests on a gold tray held by an attendant dressed in bright yellow silk, with a turban of orange sporting a black aigrette.
Two attendants stand behind the princess, adorned with gold link chains and pearl bracelets and earrings. One is dressed in golden yellow and has a fly-whisk on her shoulder, the other wears golden green and holds a china cup filled with dark grapes or pomegranate seeds. Beyond the marble filigree of the pavilion where she is seated, river barges can be seen plying the grey Yamuna. On one of them is a parade elephant; fishermen throw nets from the other. In the foreground, on the green lawn, a black vase containing ink has been placed on a plate. There are two apples on a flat fruit bowl. Everything is symbolic in this miniature.
She lived in a world of poetry and literature, patronizing learning and culture, sometimes even finding herself involved in religious controversy ... The atmosphere at her personal court was pious, refined, and intellectual, as well as witty and enthusiastic
Zebunissa is depicted with all the items most associated with her: pen, ink, books, a writing desk, and wearing black garments, which are a sign of secret power and wisdom. The black contrasts with the sumptuous gaiety of her servants’ livery. For them she chose yellow, the colour of happiness, “solar colour, golden sun,” and the sign of wealth and gold. Yellow is also the colour of youth and dissipation. It has been seen that Aurangzeb mocked Moazzam in a letter when, at the age of 46, he sported a gaudy gown and a yellow turban. Thus everything about the princess shimmers and gleams while a secret, hidden power seems to be concentrated in her form. In a way, it is reminiscent of the monk Father Joseph, who was a very powerful figure at the court of Louis XIII. He wore only the rough habit of his order, and the courtiers, associating his influence with his sombre garb, called him the “grey eminence”.
The two apples symbolize the princess’ adherence to Sufism. A portrait of the famous Mullah Shah in his maturity shows him crushing poppies — emblems of death and intoxication — with his feet. He wears a white garment and turban. In his hand he triumphantly holds an apple.
The princess’ standing as a patron of learning, literature, and poetry steadily grew. She shone like a solitary star in the darker heights of the firmament, while all around sparkled a constellation of geniuses. Mullah Mohammed Ardebil translated a commentary on the Quran by Imam Fakhruddin Razi, entitled Tafsir i’Kabir, from Arabic to Persian. In honour of his benefactress, he gave her the flattering title of Zaib al Tafari (worthy of praise). Mirza Khalil, a well-known scholar, was employed in her services. Bairaaz the great poet, was a regular visitor to her court, as was Sayab Tabrizi Sharush.
Her father was proud of her fame and encouraged her in her patronage: “The letters (full of poetic quotations and references) were appreciated by her father.” She tried to write more seriously than before. Her literary group engaged in a tournament with Nasir Ali Sirhindi, who was considered one of the best Indo-Persian poets. His Sufic verses reflect his religious beliefs and also contain beautiful descriptions of Kashmir. He had travelled widely before settling in Delhi, where he adopted a life of poverty as an ascetic and died in these circumstances on March 29, 1697. He considered Zebunissa a poetic rival worthy of esteem and also attached himself to her court.
The other great poet of Aurangzeb’s time was Mirza Bedil, whom the Emperor often quoted in his correspondence. He too was known to frequent the princess’ gatherings. Mullah Mohammed Said, who was a tutor of the emperor, wrote numerous qasidahs, or eulogies, which were famous for their style.
One of her most ardent admirers was a poet called Waliullah. He idealized this distant poetess who already had become something of a mythical figure. He admired her and praised her beauty in his stylized poetry which was philosophical and, at the same time, full of imagery, of a mysticism inspired by Hafiz and perhaps by Zebunissa herself.
The spot on your cheek is to me,
The hallowed black stone of the Kaaba,
The cleft in your chin is the well of Zamzam,
Your eyes the black idol that vaunts the pagoda.
Alas, my friend, The sylvan-breasted woman did not come. Slimmed by my grief, I’ve become like a hair! My heart’s in anguish, I’ve come far from Gujarat.
Thus the poet Wali complains. In fact, he settled in Delhi to be near his inspiration. Being a consummate courtier, he managed to remain in favour at court after Zebunissa’s fall.
Zebunissa had always been impressed by Hafiz, and this poet exercised a profound influence on her own poetry, although she imbued his Persian construction with an Indian flavour. But Hafiz was not her only influence. She was also fascinated by the Hindu poetess Mira Bai. She was the daughter of a king and the wife of a ruler as well, and she founded a sect dedicated to the blue god Krishna. Her husband was angry at this and attempted to poison her, but she managed to avoid death. Her verses were very popular among the Hindus, and they were sung in the town squares and in the harems of the houses of the nobility ...
Some biographers have claimed that Zebunissa developed a latent streak of syncretism from her great ancestor, the Emperor Akbar, but this hypothesis seems exaggerated. However, unlike most Muslim scholars of her age, she had a thorough knowledge of Hinduism and Zoroastriasm, and this is evident in her writings.
Taking another example from Akbar, she undertook the building of her own library. She began to collect books, and she created a centre for translating into Persian a number of classical and contemporary Hindi, Sanskrit, and Arabic works. Among the authors of her time, Qulish Khan, Khan Zaman, Abu Said, Fasum, Kasmi Khan, and Sarkush Usawi Khan dedicated their works to her and submitted their manuscripts to her for approval or criticism. Each morning she would have some such treatise brought to her for examination, and she would have copies made by the scribes of her scriptorium, or workroom — the paper which came from the imperial factory in Kashmir was famous for its excellence.
Like her father, who woke before dawn to deal with affairs of state, Zebunissa accepted her duties seriously and never abandoned herself to worldly pleasures, nor to chance inspiration for her poetry. Thus she lived in a world of poetry and literature, patronizing learning and culture, sometimes even finding herself involved in religious controversy. No doubt these were constructive, worthwhile, and fulfilling pursuits, necessary in themselves, but they made for a world very different from the intrigues, martial campaigns, manipulations, and power plays of the real court.
The mental attitudes of Muslim women in the princely courts were by and large based on the accepted dicta that they may have heard or read in translations of major works of the time-sacred and secular Arabic or Persian literature — and above all, what they were taught from Quran. But Zebunissa assimilated knowledge for herself and added to what she read. She would often sing verses in gatherings. Her voice was emotionally moving and impressed the audience. She even participated in Azam’s Shia circle. During the emotional meetings of Muharram improvisations were often made in the chants mourning Hussein’s martyrdom. One such improvisation that she contributed became quite famous: “The sky and the earth cried at your death.”
The atmosphere at her personal court was pious, refined, and intellectual, as well as witty and enthusiastic. Verses would flow to and fro across the filigree screens separating the ladies from the men; there would be many impromptu gems of thought from the most brilliant contemporary literary minds of Delhi; there would be poetic jousts and much acclaim and appreciation all around, while nearby fountains played and the Mughal garden lent its ambience to the enclave. But all to naught. When they were over, maybe the echoes of these memorable sessions would linger in the arches, while a breeze toyed with the spray of the fountains and swept the remaining petals around the empty pavilion. Too late, the prisoner in Salimgarh would remember these moments.
But tell me, Makhfi, where the feast is made?
Where are the merrymakers? Lo, apart,
Here in my soul the feast of God is laid,
Within the hidden chambers of my heart.
— Diwan V
There is always that hope and higher realization. Chide not that amidst the flowers The bulbul doth waste her ecstasy. Her passion, yea delight, are her own, Along the garden path meandering. — Diwan XXXVI
- * * * *
Zebunissa died in isolation, abandoned by her contemporaries, but posterity has accorded her a very prominent position in Persian literature, and she is remembered as a mysterious and romantic figure. She herself forecast her posthumous triumph when she wrote, “For I have risen to fortune from despair.”
Forty-five years after her death, in 1752, her works at last saw the light of day. Her scattered writings were compiled and published under the title of Diwan i’Makhfi. It comprised 421 ghazals and several quatrains. Hitherto, only the literati had heard of this obscure lady who was accounted a good poetess, even maybe come across an occasional verse by her. Once her complete works were brought out, people could appreciate the full depth and scope of this painful and passionate poetry, this dialogue of a soul with its creator. Her personal legend adds a dimension of drama and tragedy to the vast history of Persian and other related literature. Her myth was magnified by other writers.
Scholars and historians scrutinized and pieced together what they could about this lady who wore black veils lined with gold and for many years had ruled over the intelligentsia of the Mughal Empire, patronized religious and literary figures, and built up a library to rival that of the Emperor Akbar. Though they were able to admire her works and gauge her contribution to literature, little is known about her personal life. Makhfi remains an enigma.
Among the panoply of women prominent during the Timurid dynasty, she forged her own characteristic and outstanding position. They were independent and free-minded females who contributed immensely in spite of their seclusion: Nur Jehan, Jahanara, who certainly proved she possessed political foresight and took a strong stand opposing jazia and on the many restrictions weighing down on women, Raushanara, who displayed immense ingenuity and cunning in aiding Aurangzeb to the throne. Both these latter ladies adhered to mystical brotherhoods and thus had acquired a spiritual quality that allowed them to transcend the ordinary level of palace intrigues. Zebunissa was different:
As a tulip’s burning petal glows
A spot yet more intense of deeper dye,
So in my heart a flower of passion blows.
— Diwan XVI
Initially she was the pride of Aurangzeb, both as a father and as a sovereign, and he encouraged her literary pursuits and the patronage she bestowed, even though he himself did not approve of such activities. One cannot help wondering what would have happened if a quasi-maternal weakness for her young brother, and maybe an ambitious thirst for personal power, had not led her to fall from her pedestal. She might have remained limited to harem activities, or, in aiding Akbar in affairs of state, ultimately become a very powerful person. But without Salimgarh, her poetry might never have gained the beauty and heights of passion which have passed down to posterity.
Even in this sphere her unkind fate dogged her. For a while, her work was attributed to a poet called Fakhalms, but scholars soon realized how wrong this assertion was. In fact, according to Sharif Jafar, other works can also be attributed to the Princess, like the Zibul Munshaat or a collection of her letters. The similarities between the author of this work and what is known about the Princess are unmistakable.
Excerpted with permission from
Captive Princess: Zebunissa, Daughter of Emperor Aurangzeb
By Annie Krieger Krynicki
Oxford University Press,
Plot # 38, Sector 15, Korangi Industrial Area, Karachi
Tel: 111-693-673.
Email: uppak@theoffice.net
Website: www.oup.com.pk
ISBN 0-19-579837-6
216pp. Rs450
Annie Krieger Krynicki has studied public law and Urdu from Paris. She has written many books and articles about Pakistan’s constitutional and political life. She is also a recipient of the Knight of Merite and the Sitara-i-Quaid-i-Azam
