On Thursday, the 2nd Zī-l-ḥijja, corresponding with the 1st Farwardīn (19th March, 1608), the Sun, which enlightens and heats the world with its splendour, changed from the constellation of Pisces to the joyful mansion of Aries, the abode of pleasure and rejoicing. It gave the world fresh brightness, and being aided by the Spring clothed those who had been plundered by the cold season, and tyrannised over by the Autumn, with the robes of honour of the New Year and the garments of emerald green, and gave them compensation and recuperation.
“Again to Not-Being came the world's lord's order,
‘Restore what thou hast devoured.’”
The feast of the New Year was held in the village of Rankatta,* which is five kos off (from Agra), and at the time of transit (of the sun) I seated myself on the throne with glory and gladness. The nobles and courtiers and all the servants came forward with their congratulations. In the same assembly I bestowed on Khānjahān the rank of 5,000 personal and horse. I selected Khwāja Jahān for the post of bakhshi. Dismissing Wazīr Khān from the Viziership of the province of Bengal, I sent in his place Abū-l-ḥasan Shihābkhānī; and Nūru-d-dīn Qulī became kotwal of Agra. As the glorious mausoleum of the late king Akbar was on the road, it entered my mind that if in passing by I should have the good fortune of a pilgrimage to it, it might occur to those who were shortsighted that I visited it because it was the place where my road crossed. I accordingly had determined that this time I would enter Agra, and after that would go on foot on this pilgrimage to the shrine, which is two and a half kos off, in the same way that the Ḥaẓrat (my father), on account of my birth, had gone from Agra to Ajmir. Would that I might also traverse the same on my head! When two watches of day had passed of Saturday, the 5th* of the month, at an auspicious hour, I returned towards Agra, and scattering with two hands 5000 rupees in small coins on the way, entered the august palace which was inside the fort. On this day Rāja Bīr Singh Deo brought a white cheeta to show me. Although other sorts of creatures, both birds and beasts, have white varieties, which they call ūyghān,* I had never seen a white cheeta. Its spots, which are (usually) black, were of a blue colour, and the whiteness of the body was also inclined to bluishness. Of the albino animals that I have seen there are falcons, sparrow-hawks, hawks (shikara) that they call bīgū* in the Persian language, sparrows, crows, partridges, florican, podna* (Sylvia olivacea), and peacocks. Many hawks in aviaries are albinos. I have also seen white flying mice (flying squirrels) and some albinos among the black antelope, which is a species found only in Hindustan. Among the chikāra (gazelle), which they call safīda in Persia, I have frequently seen albinos. At this time Ratan, son of Bhoj-hāra, who is one of the chief Rajput nobles, came to the camp and waited on me, bringing three elephants as an offering. One of these was much approved, and they valued it in the office at 15,000 rupees. It was entered among my private elephants, and I gave it the name of Ratangaj. The value of elephants of the former great Rajas of India was not more than 25,000 rupees, but they have now become very dear. I dignified Ratan with the title of Sarbuland Rāy. I promoted Mīrān Ṣadr Jahān to the rank of 5,000 personal and 1,500 horse and Mu‘aam Khān to 4,000 personal and 2,000 horse. ‘Abdu-llah Khān was promoted to 3,000 and 500 horse. Muaffar Khān and Bhāo Singh each obtained the rank of 2,000 personal and 1,000 horse. Abū-l-ḥasan diwan had 1,000 and 500 horse. I‘timādu-d-daulah that of 1,000 personal and 250 horse. On the 25th Rāja Sūraj Singh, the maternal uncle of my son Khurram, came and paid his respects to me. He brought with him Shyām, the cousin of the turbulent Umrā. In truth he possesses some skill and understands well how to ride elephants. Rāja Sūraj Singh had brought with him a poet who wrote verse in the Hindi tongue. He laid before me a poem in my praise to the purport that if the Sun had a son it would be always day and never would be night, because after his setting that son would sit in his place and keep the world in light. Praise and thanksgiving to God that God gave your father such a son that after his death men should not wear mourning which is like the night. The Sun had envy on this account, saying, “Would I might also have a son who, taking my place, should not allow night to approach the world, for from the light of your rising and the illumination of your justice, notwithstanding such a misfortune, the spheres are so bright that one might say ‘night had neither name nor sign.’” Few Hindi verses of such freshness of purport have ever reached my ear. As a reward for this eulogy I gave him an elephant. The Rajputs call a poet Chāran (name of a caste who are many of them poets). One of the poets of the age has turned* these sentiments into (Persian) verse—
“If the world-illuminator had a son,
There would be no night; it would be always day;
For when his gold-crowned head was hidden
His son would display his tiara peak.
Thanks that after such a father
Such a son sits in his place.
For from the demise of that king
No one made black robes for mourning.”