Khusrau’s uncle, Raja Maan Singh, who had been appointed governor of Bengal by Akbar, and other powerful ministers had been plotting to place Khusrau on the throne in the last few years. Much of the dissidents’ activities took place in Bengal where Maan Singh was stationed. Now that the emperor was ill, the machinations were stepped up.
The clammy climate of the east gave way to the cold of the north. Icy winds tore through the forests sending shivers through the soldier who pressed forward relentlessly, urging his horse to cover the last few kilometres. He had to reach Agra before destiny played her hand. There was a sense of foreboding in Sher Afghan’s heart as he tore through the countryside towards the Mughal capital. He was too late.
On 17 October 1605, Akbar succumbed to his illness. Within minutes of Akbar’s death, Raja Maan Singh called a meeting of his adherents.
‘It is time for the nobles to come together and make a decision. We all know that Shahenshah Akbar was disappointed with Prince Salim. He wanted Prince Khusrau to be crowned as the next emperor.’
‘Yes, the last wishes of the emperor must be followed!’ they cried in unison. ‘Prince Khusrau must wear the crown!’
Prince Khusrau was broad-minded, learned and generous. He had endeared himself to the masses by his virtuous nature. He was the popular choice for the emperor’s throne, a total contrast to his debauched father who drank excessively and lived a colourful life. Salim’s violent temper, capriciousness, and cruelty made him unpopular amongst the ministers in Akbar’s court. In fact, there were rumours that the emperor had not died a natural death. Muted whispers that Salim had engineered his death through poison administered by the royal hakim, travelled through the court.
But the nobles were divided. While some sided with Raja Maan Singh and Khusrau’s father-in-law Aziz Koka, most of them believed that Prince Salim was the rightful heir to the throne. Swords were drawn, sides taken and war declared. Realising the futility of an open confrontation with the loyalists, Khusrau’s supporters withdrew, leaving a clear path for Salim to ascend the throne.
A week after his father’s death, Salim ascended the throne as emperor of Hindustan, and assumed the lofty title ‘Nuruddin Muhammed Jahangir Padshah’.
Once he had been enthroned, Jahangir, much to the surprise of the nobles, decided to pardon all those who had rebelled against him. Raja Maan Singh and Aziz Koka, who had been fearful of Jahangir’s reprisal, were taken aback when he declared clemency for them. The emperor ensured, however, that they were stripped of the important posts that they had held during Shahenshah Akbar’s time. Although he would have liked to execute Maan Singh, the emperor could not do so as the Raja had a large following amongst the Rajputs. Jahangir was intelligent enough to realise the benefits of pardoning Maan Singh.
Mirza Ghias Baig, who had proved his loyalty, was promoted to an important post.
The responsibilities of an empire have a strange way of moulding a king’s character. Jahangir, awed by the immense expectations of the people, transformed almost overnight from an indolent and whimsical prince to a magnanimous and gentle emperor. The excesses of a king, however, are not easily forgotten and Jahangir realised he would have to work hard to build a new image. He had to win the confidence of his subjects.
The first thing the emperor did was to install a ‘Chain of Justice’. This was a huge chain weighing four mans, made of pure gold and with sixty golden bells on it. The chain–thirty yards long–was suspended from a battlement of the Agra Fort and the other end attached to a stone column on the bank of the Yamuna river.
Drummers went around the town announcing that the Chain of Justice had been installed to help people: all seekers of justice had the liberty to appeal to the emperor directly, by tugging at the