It seemed like a dream compounded of episodes good and bad. And as sometimes happens we were violently roused from our dreams by an explosion which sounded like a thousand claps of thunder. The walls of our palace shook as in an earthquake. A few minutes later we were informed that English soldiers had set a torch to the powder magazine in Kashmiri Gate; several hundred of our subjects had been killed by the explosion. The whole city was in tumult.

Alice Aldwell alias Ayesha Bano Begum

I have never trusted the word of an Indian and I have been proved right every time. But as I said that afternoon we had no choice. I told my husband: ‘Alec, let’s not put all our eggs in one basket. You go with the others. I’ll take the girls to Mirza Abdullah.’ Alec agreed.

I dressed my girls in the native costumes that Begum Zeenat Mahal had given them. I borrowed a clean pair of salwar-kameez from my ayah and put on her dirty burqa. I sent for two palanquins. I put the two older girls in one and took the baby with me. One of our servants agreed to come with us. The flaps of the palanquins were lowered as they are when native women of rank travel in them.

Mirza Abdullah was, as I said before, grandson of the king. He lived in Urdu Bazaar close to the Royal Mosque. He had received many favours from my husband. His wife and sister had often called on me. ‘You are our sister,’ they used to say and called my children betis.

The crowd let us pass. We got to Urdu Bazaar without anyone questioning us. The ladies of the Mirza’s household received us very kindly. His sister kissed my children and said that as long as she was alive she would not allow a single hair on their heads to be touched. I assured them that as soon as the trouble was over my husband would compensate them for their hospitality.

Urdu Bazaar was a Mohammedan locality. It had some bookstores and an assortment of shops—butchers, dyers, kite-makers, sweetmeat-vendors, betel-leaf-sellers. Behind these shops were the mansions of the rich nawabs. Although the approach to Mirza Abdullah’s house was through a narrow lane, with a foul-smelling drain running alongside, the inside was very airy, with a large courtyard and verandahs. In the centre of the courtyard was a big peepal tree with boxes for Mirza’s flocks of pouter pigeons. The verandahs were lined with potted palm and jasmine. On one side of the courtyard were the women’s apartments where lived the Mirza’s wives, mother, sister and a host of other female relatives and maidservants.