The cool lands of the Central Asia were a heaven on earth in comparison to the lands of this new place in India. The sun sips on our strength every second of the day and even after it has bid farewell for the day, it leaves its humid touches in the night sky that feels as though a suffocating coat hanging on the heads. It is really after the moon finally settles deep into the cover of the nights that some cool breezes sway along the fields.
The sky tonight does not restrain any cool breezes from dancing about and with it, my curtains swirl. I sit on the floor in the open courtyard with a cushion supporting my frail back. And I stare into the dark hollow of the sky.
The moon plays hide and seek with the clouds but this is not where my gaze is trimmed on. My eyes search for a sign, as my lips chant His ninety-nine names. I call for His health, for He is the giver of health and curer of all diseases.
This foreign land has brought me more surprises than I had ever thought of. The temperature teases our temperament and is much beyond what we can bear. The fruits and flowers back in Central Asia were lush but the land over here is still next to barren. Maybe we are yet to be amazed of what wonders this land has to bring.
But for now, there is an unhappy knock of an unknown demon on our door. This fever for expanding my rule to unknown lands has brought me at the doorstep of a deadly disease that has dared to trip into my child’s spirit. Never have I felt so defeated as I have felt due to a disease that has threatened to kill my son, Humayun after trapping itself in his soul.
Some ancient elders back in Central Asia call this an invasion by the djinn. When lands are conquered and new habitants are spread in previously unoccupied areas, they say that it disturbs the harmony in which live the djinn. But I do not believe in these shallow stories of the feeble hearted whose faith is anything but strong. These are mere reflections of the hearts painted with duplicity. For nothing, not even the small feet of an inch escape His notice and He has created a balance in all kinds of universes.
A disease is a disease, something still not accurately comprehended by the human kind. And when the heart does not fully accept its weakness and the mind does not entirely accede to its defeat, both conspire and dress the idea, which they do not understand, into rags of the unknown.
Humayun is not a fragile soul. He is the most sensible as well as sensitive from among my three sons. The other two are selfish and clever as the foxes, never sparing even their own blood brothers. When it comes to land, it is their property and they mean to establish it for themselves by the spill of blood or by the treachery of the soul.
But this is not how a king thinks, this does not make a good Badshah. A good leader is what I see in each of Humayun’s steps and every minor calculation of his brain, for he thinks of things at large; his thoughts do not spin on the unhealthy axis of selfishness. But my Humayun is nearing death and the pain I see coming with it is beyond the hold of my sanity.
