My attention suddenly shifted from Humayun’s sword, dagger, suit of armor, et cetera to the man who had been watching them carefully for the longest time. He struck me as a personality much more ancient than all the ancient things kept in the museum. He most certainly did not seem to be of this time. To find out what time he did belong to, I put to him a question, oblique like Humayun’s sword:

“I cannot believe that such a heavy sword belonged to the same man who wore this puny suit of armor. A man that size could not lift this sword, let alone wield it properly.”

In a voice steady yet deep with emotion he said, “Obviously, you know nothing of badshahi swords. The badshahs always kept two kinds of swords… a smaller one for fighting, and a bigger one for show. One hung at the badshah’s waist, the other at the horse’s. The sword you’re looking at is the one for show. Badshah Salaamat’s fighting sword was lost…”

The confidence with which he told me this doubled my interest. I felt I could get from that man what I could not have got even if I roamed all the world’s museums for a hundred years! I asked him, “Who are you? Where have you come from?”

“I am a native of Kabul. My name is Shamsuddin. I was here on my travels, so I came to this place as well.”

“How come you know so much of history?”

“I have some interest in the Mughals…” He fell silent, so I goaded him.

“They say in Humayun’s time a bhishti…?”

“Yes, yes. A bhishti became badshah – that’s what you want to ask, isn’t it?” Then he composed himself and said, “Who doesn’t know that story. Every child learns the story of Nizam Saqqa first, and the story of Humayun later! And maybe no one knows the story of how…” Suddenly he fell silent.

Seeing my eagerness, though, he spoke again, “I’ll tell you about the day Nizam Saqqa came to Agra looking for badshahat. Who wouldn’t lose his head about badshahat? Of course, Saqqa lost his. He could hardly walk straight. Handing a piece of leather, as baksheesh, to a man standing outside a regal building, he said, “Go inside and tell them I have come…”

The hajib looked at the piece of leather, turned it around, looked at it again and shouted, “And who the hell are you?”

“Saqqa.”

“And what’s this?”

“A coin.”

“Meaning?”

“It will be valued.” The hajib looked at him, astonished, and then shouted again, “Silent! Stay within your limits or I’ll beat your head in with my shoe. All your jest will disappear.”

“Jest?” Saqqa lifted his head and said regally, “I don’t jest. It is now my work to govern…”

The hajib couldn’t believe his ears. If this man wasn’t totally mad, he was showing great courage.

“Govern my foot! If you know what’s good for you, beat it, otherwise I’ll beat all the madness out of you. Ullu ka pattha!”

“No. Badshah…”

The hajib advanced towards him but the bhishti signaled him to stop in such a regal manner that his anger suddenly turned into a burst of laughter.

The bhishti said, “If you care for your well-being, go inside and tell the amir hajib that I want to meet him.”

The chaoosh, who was standing near, was having fun watching the spectacle. He said, “It’s nothing – he’s just drunk. All he needs is a little whipping and he’ll forget all about badshahat.”

The hajib seemed to like this suggestion. The bhishti gathered as much and said, “You’ll regret it.” Then, handing a piece of leather to the chaoosh as well, he said, “Here, you also take one and…”

But before he could complete his sentence, the chaoosh grabbed his neck tight and told him, “Abey, come to your senses or I’ll take your head off like a turban. Take these leather coins and tie them to your child’s arm as an amulet… to protect him from the badshah’s anger… otherwise he’ll be orphaned.”

*

The amir hajib was perplexed. He alerted the doorbash. “Seems to be a madman.” Some said, “He’s a prophet!” Some said, “He’s a cook.” Some said, “He’s an ass.” The gatekeeper said, “Bhishti.”

“Name?” the amir hajib asked.

“Nizam.”

“Aulia?”

“Saqqa.”

“…!”

“Abey, so go somewhere and fill water,” a farraash could not stop himself, “what are you doing here?”

“Waiting.”

“Waiting for?”

“The badshah!” Everyone looked towards the naqeeb. The naqeeb said nothing, but went and grabbed hold of the bhishti’s beard. Then he said,

“Waiting for the badshah indeed! Mind your tongue or it will be pulled out, and I’ll skin you and turn you from a bhishti into a mashak.”

But the amir hajib was thinking something else. The matter couldn’t be so simple… otherwise, how could a bhishti be showing so much courage! Times were sensitive. Badshahats were wavering. Every other day a badshah turned into a bhishti. Then could a bhishti… The amir hajib’s head started spinning. Caution was called for. He had to get to the root of the matter.

He tossed the leather coins into the air, then asked Saqqa, gently, “What’s the secret, tell me the truth!” And he threw a dinar towards Saqqa.

“A dinar!” Saqqa laughed. He measured it against the pieces of leather and said, “It so happened one night, that after having been defeated by Sherkhan, Hazrat Jahanbani headed towards the Ganga and, finding the bridge broken, splashed into the river astride his horse. Unfortunately, the horse floated away from under him and he was left bobbing in the water. At that moment I, a bhishti, became his rescuer and with the help of my mashak brought him out of that eddying hell to the heavenly shore. Hazrat Jahanbani asked me, “What’s your name?” I said, “Nizam” and he said “Nizam Aulia” and in his kindness promised me that when he regained his Sultanate I would be made badshah for half a day…”

Hearing this everyone was dumbstruck. No one could believe their ears. The amir hajib, head bent, stared at his shoes. He could only say, “Ap… ol… ogies…!”

“Accepted,” the bhishti said with confidence, then added pompously, “I am not merely a badshah, I am also a bhishti. I know the worth of leather. For me every type of leather is equal – whether it’s my mashak, or a slave’s shoe, or someone’s head. I consider it against humanity to differentiate between leather and leather! And this is what I want to prove when I become badshah. Even a small piece of leather can show a gold dinar what’s what.” The bhishti’s face was radiant.

“If you don’t mind, may I say something?” the amir hajib said very carefully. (He was worried that the badshah might really let this wretch sit on the throne. It would be disastrous. The rich would be very badly affected. The throne of Hindustan on which badshahs like Babur sat, occupied by a bhishti! Dear God… The thought of killing him then and there crossed his mind. Then he thought he’d better speak to Mirza Kamran and Mirza Askari first. There was still some time before Hazrat Jahanbani was due to arrive.)

“Certainly,” the bhishti said, now completely at ease.

“Masha-allah, you should worship Badshah Salaamat’s feet for wanting to bestow such a great honor upon you and tell him that the intention alone is enough. Dreaming of the throne may prove dangerous…”

“For badshahs, not for bhishtis. It’s dangerous for hereditary badshahs who know nothing else besides badshahat. But I’m a hereditary bhishti…”

The amir hajib was raging inside. Such arrogance from a bhishti! Somehow he composed himself and tried, again, to make him understand, “And what use will half a day’s badshahat be anyway? Except for this – that it will leave you capable of nothing, afterwards. Granted, you are intelligent and will take care of yourself even after badshahat. But spare a thought for the condition of those thousands of illiterate and ignorant bhishtis who, after your badshahat, will start thinking of themselves as sons of badshahs – and will suffer for it… That is why, for all of Hindustan’s bhishtis, I want to tell you once again to stay away from this faux-badshahat and to be humble, as befits a bhishti.”

Saying this, the amir hajib stood with his head bowed before Nizamuddin (not Aulia).

“Don’t you worry about bhishtis. Worry about your badshahs instead and pray to God that when a good and honest badshah like Hazrat Jahanbani is defeated by a treacherous badshah like Sherkhan and is drowning in the rapids, may he be lucky enough to find a bhishti savior like me.”

That was the limit. It was impossible for the amir hajib to control himself any longer. He screamed, “Bloody bhishti! Such arrogance! Talk about the Badshah when you’ve learnt some lessons on badshahat from one of his humble subjects….”

But before he could move, the bhishti fell at his feet and said, “Like you I am also a humble subject of the Sultanate. But today I would like to be excused from subject-hood because today, to your misfortune, I am badshah. It will be good for you, and even for Huzoor Badshah, if you spare me your valuable lessons and, for a short while, without anger, learn time’s real lesson which a bhishti can teach even a badshah.”

The amir hajib looked carefully at the bhishti, then heavenwards and silently took off his turban and placed it at his feet.

*

When the amir hajib arrived, bare-headed, with Nizam the bhishti, Mirza Askari was sweetly drugged on opium and savoring a beautiful concubine. The amir hajib announced respectfully, “Sir, this is the bhishti who saved Hazrat Jahanbani from drowning after he was defeated by Sherkhan.”

“Well done! Send a camel laden with dry fruit to his house,” said the Mirza and returned to his concubine.

The amir hajib had come wanting to say a lot more but, seeing what Babur’s descendants had come to, what could he say! He realized that the bhishti would sit on the throne, come what may…

*

And in the end, he did sit on the throne. Mirza Kamran beat his head. “It’s the end of the world! Why this poetic sort of favor! The slave could have been given other gifts and concessions. Was it necessary to give him the throne? And at a time when Sherkhan was causing so much trouble, how wise was it to indulge a slave?”

Mirza Hindal also stayed away from court. He excused himself saying he had to get the army prepared. When it was announced that, “All the amirs must come and pay homage to the slave Saqqa. The slave may grant whatever he likes to anyone, or appoint them to any post he likes,” the faces of the amirs were a sight. It seemed like their prestige would be flayed.

*

Shehenshah Humayun’s life was spared and, for this reason, there were celebrations all around him. He didn’t have a kingdom; otherwise, there would have been celebrations across the kingdom. When he reached Agra, he granted a concession to Shershah: “You may keep Bengal!” Shershah’s reply: “You may keep Kabul!”

Preparations for battle began on both sides. On one side, a clever foe like Shershah; on the other side, innocent friends like Humayun and Mirza Kamran, Hindal and Askari!

But another sort of danger was troubling Mirza Kamran. Hazrat Jahanbani was bent upon fighting Sherkhan at the same place, in the same way – at the bank of the Ganga, on Sherkhan’s land, on Sherkhan’s terms. This time we’ll surely win, like we should have last time. But what if, like last time, something which shouldn’t have happened, happened? Just to be sure, one should take all necessary precautions so that, in his time of need, the emperor doesn’t come across some bhishti. The situation was explained to a trusted slave.

“I’ve understood, sir. You can rest assured.”

“One more thing. Don’t you dare accept anything more than badshahi gifts, or you’ll regret it! Mukkadam Beg is keeping a watch on you.” And leaving a thousand men under Iskandar Sultan for Humayun’s aid, Kamran himself left for Lahore.

*

The badshahi army reached the banks of the Ganga. It camped there for a month. The Badshah was on one bank of the river, Shershah on the other. That was when something happened which happens even today in Hindustan – that is, defection. Muhammad Sultan Mirza, also from the line of Timur, and to whom Babur had been very generous, realized that Sherkhan would win and crossed over to his side. This paved the way for others as well. Everyone started deserting Humayun and running to Sherkhan’s side. People shouted, “It’s very hot in the encampment, let us go home and rest.” Most of Kamran’s men disappeared towards Lahore.

There were no more than 25,000 men in Sherkhan’s army, but all of them were good fighters. The Chagtai army had more than 40,000 men, but hardly 10,000 of them were good fighters. On average, for every 100 soldiers there were 500 hangers-on who were better at fleeing than fighting. There were seven hundred carriages, pulled by four pairs of oxen each. Each one of them carried a cannon which fired cannonballs weighing 500 miskaals. There were 21 other carriages pulled by eight pairs of oxen. From these, cannonballs made of brass, weighing 5000 miskaals were fired – their range was two and a half miles. But moving all this heavy artillery from one place to another was a battle in itself.

When the men in the badhshah’s army began running away without even fighting, it was decided to cross the river so that the men might not flee as easily… So, the river was crossed. Camps were set up and ditches dug all around. But misfortune followed – a tremendous downpour began. Water accumulated everywhere. Tents started floating on water like bubbles. Mirza Haider was sent in search of higher ground where they could, at least, be safe from this unseasonal attack of water.

Safety was found. And one day, somehow, the weather cleared and an opportunity to fight was also found.

The drums of war sounded. 27 amirs on horseback with flags, swords, bows and matchlocks, followed by soldiers, subordinates, eunuchs and jesters stepped into the battlefield. But when Sherkhan came out of his tent to inspect his army, not one flag out of the 27 was to be seen! They say it was a washout, not a war! Such an extraordinary melee that no one was injured – neither friend nor foe! No one was left to light the cannons, which lay useless. Before you knew it, the field was clear for Shershah. (The fleers left behind not only their cannons, but even their harems. Later, they say, Sherkhan kept the cannons but returned the women.)

When the Badshah made as if to stay on the battlefield, someone grabbed his horse’s reins and turned him towards the river – quoting a matchless couplet which meant “when even friends desert you, consider defeat to be a gift from God and flee.” So the Badshah fled. At the riverbank, he saw an elephant (named Paarisaal) among the elephants belonging to Firdaus Makaani. A mahout was sitting in the howdah. Badshah Salaamat got into that howdah, and Khwaja Kaafoor Ghulam as well. The mahout wanted to turn the elephant towards Sherkhan’s armies… with one stroke of his sword the Badshah beheaded him. Somehow Kaafoor managed to take the elephant across the river… but… there was a great obstacle before them. Getting on to the bank was not so easy. In the Badshah’s words, “The river’s bank was high… I wasn’t able to climb up. At that moment someone grabbed my hand and pulled me to safety.” A thousand thanks to God, who created the world. Who just said, “Be” and the world was. The Badshah’s life had to be saved, it was. The Sultanate was to be lost, it was…

*

The man fell quiet after saying this. Then he sighed and said, “So that’s it. I’ll take you leave, now. Khuda hafiz.”

The first thing I did after coming back home was to try and find out the truth behind his story. The result stunned me! I found out that the slave who saved Humayun’s life was named Shamsuddin Khan Atka and he was a native of Ghazni. On February 1539, he went to Babur’s army as a messenger for Khwaja Kalaam and, then, took Babur’s letter back to Kabul. Maybe Kamran got him from Khwaja Kalaam…

Glossary:

amir = nobleman
amir hajib = chamberlain
bhishti = water-bearer, water-carrier
Chagtai = of the line of Chagtai (Chengiz Khan’s son) i.e. Mughal
chaoosh = a person who walks at the head of the army
farraash = person responsible for laying out mats etc. in court
hajib = gate-keeper
khwaja = governor, chieftain, nobleman
mashak = a skin or bladder used by bhishtis to carry water
mirza = a member of the royal family
miskaal = about 5 grams
naqeeb = herald
Timur = Timur Lang / Tamerlane / Tamburlaine

(The original story appeared in the collection “Aakaron ke Aas Paas”, published by Radhakrishna Prakashan, Delhi: 1973.)