We thought it proper to address words of counsel to our errant sons. To Azam we wrote: ‘I came alone and I go as a stranger. I do not know who I am, nor what I have been doing. The instant which has passed in power has left only sorrow behind it. I have not been the guardian and protector of the empire. Life, so valuable, has been squandered in vain. God was in my heart, but I could not see Him. Life is transient, the past is gone and there is no hope for the future . . . . I fear for my salvation, I fear my punishment. I believe in God’s bounty and mercy, but I am afraid because of what I have done . . . . ’

And to Kam Baksh: ‘Soul of my soul . . . . I am going alone. I grieve for your helplessness; but what is the use? Every torment I have inflicted, every sin I have committed, every wrong I have done, I carry its consequences with me. Strange that I came into the world with nothing, and now I am going away with this stupendous caravan of sin! Wherever I look, I see only God . . . . I have sinned terribly and I do not know what punishment awaits me . . . . ’

These were not words written by an old man who feared death when he knew his end to be near but who feared that he was taking leave of life without fulfilling his mission. We saw the infidel Marathas, Rajputs, Jats and Sikhs rising in arms all over Hindustan. And we saw how feeble of mind and purpose were the progeny we were leaving behind. We knew that after we were gone the empire of the Mughals founded by Babar would begin to totter to its fall and only tumult remain: Azma hama fasad baki.

We had already chosen our place of rest, a simple, unadorned grave in the courtyard of the tomb of the saintly Shaikh Zainuddin at the foot of Daulatabad fort.

We knew our end was near. Our companions also understood that the time for farewell was nigh. They asked us if we would give away our elephants and diamonds in charity to ward off the final hour. Our tongue had lost its speech but we scribbled on a piece of paper that such practices were not becoming to Muslims. ‘Give all you want out of the treasury to the poor. And build no mausoleums over my body.’ we wrote. ‘And carry this creature of dust quickly to the first burial place and consign him to the earth without any useless coffin.’

Bhagmati