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time to time–there could never be too many loyal bodyguards around him.
    With his sincerity, the young soldier soon captured the confidence of the emperor. Before long, Ali Quli was accompanying the emperor on campaigns to quell rebellions. They rode together through the empire, capturing territories and subjugating errant rulers. With each victory, the emperor rewarded the brave Persian till his mansab had risen to five hundred.
    Ali Quli did not fight because he wanted mansab; he did so because he had a deep reverence for the emperor. When Akbar desired that Ali Quli should be a part of the battle at Baluchistan, the devoted Persian rode to the frontier without hesitation and proved himself to be a soldier par excellence. The tall, broad-shouldered soldier mowed through the enemy lines, his sword flashing as it reflected the sun, striking terror in the hearts of the enemy. After Baluchistan’s annexation, the annexation of Makaran was a foregone conclusion. The invincible forces of the emperor conquered the cities without opposition; stories about the valorous Mughal army had already travelled from lands far and beyond.
    Ali Quli returned from the battlefield triumphant and proud, a conqueror without parallel. The emperor lauded Ali Quli’s invincibility and expressed a desire to reward the soldier with something more than a mansab.
    ‘Ali Quli, we are pleased with your valour and loyalty. You have the courage of a tiger and the cunning of a fox. We can grant you a jagir, but this time we would like to gift you something that you desire. Name it and it shall be yours.’
    ‘Jahanpanah, you have given me much more than I deserve. All I want to do is to serve you till my death,’ replied the soldier earnestly.
    ‘We are indeed pleased with your loyalty, but we insist that you name your reward.’
    ‘In chat case, I will name my reward at an appropriate time, Jahanpanah.’
    ‘Fair enough. The day you decide on your reward, remind us of our promise and we shall grant you whatever you wish.’
    It was not till many months later, when they had returned to Agra, that Ali Quli asked the emperor to fulfil his promise.

3
    I t had been raining incessantly for the last one week. Dark, threatening clouds covered the sky and the chirping of birds was replaced by the continuous patter of rain. Meherunnisa hated it. There was a dank and oppressive odour everywhere. Even the clothes carried a musty smell, making her feel nauseous. There was the ugly green growth of mould in every corner of the house. Insects and vermin cropped up in the store, ruining the grains. She missed the arid atmosphere of Agra and pined for the bright sunlight that was taken for granted in those parts of the country. Even the city’s rains were delightful, as the first showers brought the heady smell of earth, a welcome reprieve from the heat and the dust of the long summer.
    ‘Oh, what I would give for a patch of sunlight,’ she sighed, spraying herself liberally with rose attar. She had tried everything conceivable to get rid of the mildew, without any success. Incense burned almost continuously, its cloying odour hanging over the rooms. The whining of the mosquitoes was a constant nuisance. She found the muslin nets over the beds irritating, for they blocked out whatever fresh air entered the house. Neem leaves burned continuously in the brazier, emitting a sharp odour. The suffocating atmosphere made her want to rush out and breathe the moist air.
    ‘Yah Allah, when will it stop raining?’ she exclaimed, as she snipped off an extra thread in her embroidery.
    In a corner of the room Firdaus was trying to fob off the demands of the bored child.
    ‘No, I can’t play hopscotch with you. I am too old for that. Nor can I play hide-and-seek. Besides, it is raining and we can’t go out.’
    ‘Take me to the stables, then. I want to see Sultan.’
    ‘No, you can’t go to the stables either.’
    ‘All right, if you can’t take me to the stable to