arrival of a baby -- 7/2/24

02 Jul 2024

arrival of a baby -- 7/2/24

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Today's selection-- from Vagabond Princess by Ruby Lal. A royal birth:

“The rectangular province of Kabul stretched from east to west, surrounded by mountains that looked like rows of clover. As far as the eye could see, there were valleys and glens with scattered tribal settlements. If you turned north, you looked toward the icy Hindu Kush Mountains that separated Kabul from Kunduz. To the east lay the Laghman region and Peshawar. To the south were towns like Barmal and Bannu.

“At the foothills of these mountains, impressed with shrines and spiritual footprints, stood Bala Hisar, or the High Fort. The defensive walls around it dated to the sixth century—the time of the Hepthalites. The solitude of the landscape belied the fort's having stirred with action for centuries. In the tenth century, at the base of the fort, a sultan of the Ghaznavid dynasty examined 1,670 elephants for their readiness for military exploits. Chingiz Khan, the Mongol warrior, wintered here with a massive encampment in the second quarter of the thirteenth century. In the late fourteenth century, Timur, the legendary Central Asian hero, stopped at the fort on his way to invade India. In front of the Leather Gate, below the north side of the fort, the Mughal king Babur conquered Kabul province in 1504. Legend had it that he was broad-shouldered and strong enough to jump along the turrets carrying two men under his arms.

“On the upper level of the Great Fort, the Mughal residential quarters once again buzzed with action. The year was 1523. Dildar Begum, Babur's third-oldest wife, was about to deliver her fourth child. Gracious and quiet in demeanor, she lay under soft cotton sheets, her head enveloped in a long wrap tucked softly around her neck. Her bed was in the center of the birth chamber, a two-tiered rectangular room somewhat elevated by two floral-patterned carpeted steps. Outside, a courtyard with an awning would seat many more royal and non-royal women.

Idealized portrait of Babur, early 17th century

“Those close to Dildar would sit and wait according to their rank. The most intimate and high-ranking lady attendant stood immediately behind Dildar, adjusting the long silken bolster under her neck or raising her head to give her a drink of water. A dai, or midwife, dressed in loose clothing, stayed beside Dildar, ready for any emergency. Could she have been Bibi Fatima? A physically strong woman of Turkish origin now in her mid-thirties, Fatima had nursed the eldest prince, Humayun, son of the most senior Mughal wife, Maham, a decade earlier. Intimate with the household members and of high rank as the wet nurse of the firstborn prince, she would play decisive managerial and diplomatic roles in the years to come.

“The second-ranking co-wife, the placid Gulrukh, an experienced mother of five, three of whom had died, would be in the delivery room. Of a less distinguished background, Gulrukh was always on the sidelines of domestic matters, at least in recorded history. The newest royal wife, the charming Mubarika, decked in her distinctive weighty long skirt with numerous folds and heavy silver jewelry, sat close to Dildar. The women knew how besotted Babur was with Mubarika, who had been brought to the harem four years earlier. Without question, some of them would have speculated why she did not yet have a child.

“Even though the senior-most wife Maham knew that the time of delivery was fast approaching and eagerly awaited the event, a complicated history with Dildar likely made her remain in her own apartment. Dildar's four-year-old son was in Maham's care, but her two daughters, eight and twelve, would be in Dildar's apartment in a separate section away from the birth chamber.

“A couple of loquacious elderly aunts of Babur's were there to give necessary advice. Sitting upon intricately carved wooden chairs, their feet on petite velvet footrests, they would share stories to calm the anxious women in the chamber. Birthing children was a notable and noble task. A male child was truly desirable. They knew all too well, however, that the chances of mother and/or infant dying during or after birth was high. Women elders, bearers of rituals of birthing and caring, alleviated fears. Although the process of delivery was familiar to Dildar, she was still anxious.

“Khanzada Begum, Babur's elder sister, would closely monitor the goings-on. Of somber bearing and statuesque, with a slim face like her brother, she would sit close to her paternal aunts. Lately she had led important dynastic events such as feasts and gift-giving. Advice on kingly matters had increasingly become her forte too. It is possible that she had cultivated a special bond with Dildar since the latter's arrival in the family a decade earlier. Losses drew them close, although their injuries had rather different histories. With great dignity, they carried the burdens that came with being women of the Mughal lineage. Each of these women, part of a circle of fabulous royals, played a critical role in the life of Gulbadan, the baby about to be born.

“Nurses scurried about ensuring everything was ready: hot water and white cloth in which to wrap the new baby. They ensured that the bed on which Dildar lay faced in the right direction. The woman attendant by the bed held her up to assist her, and the midwife drew the drapes that hung from the four wooden poles around the bed to enhance privacy.

“Royal pantries were outside the apartments. The servants ensured that a cauldron of water was kept boiling in the kitchen. They would relay hot water and other necessities such as oil and ointments to be applied to Dildar's body and face. Attendants in the chamber would need a long roll of thread with which the dai would tie the umbilical cord after cutting it as well as rose water to purify the baby with a ritual bath before wrapping her in a white cloth as prescribed in Islam for both male and female newborns. Maids and attendants hurriedly went about their jobs, relaying goods from the kitchen through the courtyard and on to the birthing chamber.

“Gray-haired Atun Mama, Babur's deceased mother's embroidery teacher, would stand near the steps of the room, a border between the open outside and the sheltered chamber. A wise chaperone, she guarded against unnecessary intrusions and, at the appropriate time, dispatched the news of the arrival of the baby to the attendants outside the precincts of the women's apartments.”