a painting of the passing of the mughal emporer, Shahjahan, looking at the taj, with his favourite daughter, Jahanara by his side
“bapa,” she whispers, clasping his wrists to feel his pulse. a damp wind rises over the yamuna river & flutters through her silk ghagra. the moon shines in its full glory, witnessing the reverence of this royal family. princess jahanara gently rocks her father whose cold skin remains still. titled the king of the world, Shahjahan, descends into the after world as a pauper. she wipes her tears, wailing and calling out to her brothers with whom he’ll unite soon.
“farewell, bapa,” she kisses his hands that smell like kashmiri apples. she rises from his side, her flushed cheeks smeared with dried salt. across the indigo river she can see the luminous tomb of her beloved mother, resting by the flowing river. she weeps, but relived that her father is out of his misery. nine years of agony & finally he can be with his begum, his aziz.