Bābar was separated from his family for over three years after he left Kābul in 1525. The tedium of waiting for news or for his return was broken for the ladies by several interesting home events, and by several items of Indian news which must have stirred the whole community in Kābul. On August 2nd, 1526, Māham gave birth to a son who was named Fārūq, but he too died in babyhood and his father never saw him. In December, 1526, there occurred to Bābar what must have roused anger and dread in all Kābul, for he was poisoned by the mother of Ibrāhīm Lodī Afghān. How Bābar conveyed the news of this to his people at home can be seen, because he has inserted the letter he wrote to allay anxiety, as soon as recovered strength permitted. Gul-badan has given the main points of the crime. She observes that Bābar had called the ‘ill-fated demon,’ mother, and had shown her kindness, a sectional view which leaves out the Afghān mourner, Buw'ā Begam, whose son had been defeated and killed, his dynasty overthrown, and herself pitied by the man on whom she tried to avenge herself. Her fate is worth commemorating. She was first put under contribution—i.e., made over for the exploitation of her fortune to two of Bābar's officers— and then placed in the custody of a trusty man for conveyance to Kābul. Perhaps she dreaded her reception there, for she contrived to elude her guards in crossing the Indus, threw herself into the water, and was drowned.
The letter above-mentioned is full of what one likes in Bābar. He quotes, ‘Whoever comes to the gates of death knows the value of life,’ and says, with thanks to Heaven, that he did not know before how sweet a thing life is. Here, too, he shows that he felt the tie which bound him to the Power in whose hands are the issues of life and death. He, his daughter, and his cousin and literary compeer, Ḥaidar Mīrzā Dughlāt, frequently express religious sentiment; and here Bābar exhibits the human graces of kind thought and solicitude to lessen the anxieties of his distant household and people. He forced himself to live again, in words, the horrible experiences of which he wrote while still in retirement, and four days* only after their occurrence.
Three months later Kābul had news of an uplifting victory, inasmuch as it had been won from men of alien faith, whose overthrow was a plenary religious duty to the Moslim. It was fought on March 13th, 1527, against Hindū Rājpūts under Rānā Sangā, and at Khānwa, on the skirts of the yet uncrowned hill of Sīkrī. It was preluded by dread amongst the Musalmāns, and by solemn acts which should make them more worthy to be the tools of Heaven and to enforce the stern belief that in battle with the pagan there was vengeance of the cause of God. Men declared repentance for sin and took oaths of abstinence; gold and silver drinking-vessels, probably of Persian handicraft and artistic beauty, were broken up and given to the poor; wine was poured out upon the ground, and some was salted into vinegar. Where the libation of penitence was offered, the earth was dedicated to the uses of an almshouse with chambered well. So strengthened, the Musalmāns went into the fight and made great slaughter of valiant foes.
The victory was followed by change in the personnel of Bābar's army, which had long been wearying for home and murmuring against Hindūstān. This was especially so amongst Humāyūn's Badakhshīs, who were accustomed to short service of one or two months, and it was now almost sixteen since they had left even Kābul. Only promise of immediate leave to follow had induced some men to stay for this one fight, and they had been told that when it was over, all who desired it should have freedom to go. Many amīrs had given ‘stupid and unformed opinions’ against remaining in Hindūstān at all, and down to the humblest followers these views had found acceptance. As has been said, nothing would persuade Bābar's closest friend to stay with him, although before his final decision was acted on, his master had called a council, and had expressed himself with directness and vigour.
‘I told them that empire and conquest could not exist without the material and means of war; that royalty and nobility could not exist without subjects and dependent provinces; that by the labour of many years, after undergoing great hardships, measuring many a toilsome journey, and raising various armies—after exposing myself and my troops to circumstances of great danger, to battle and bloodshed, by the Divine favour I had routed my formidable enemy (Ibrāhīm), and achieved the conquest of numerous provinces and kingdoms which we at present held. And now, what force compels, what hardship obliges us, without visible cause, after having worn out our life in accomplishing the desired achievement, to abandon and fly from our conquests, and to retreat to Kābul with every symptom of disappointment and discomfiture? Let anyone who calls himself my friend never henceforward make such a proposal; but if there is any among you who cannot bring himself to stay, or to give up his purpose of return, let him depart. Having made this fair and reasonable proposal, the discontented were of necessity compelled, however unwillingly, to renounce their seditious purpose.’
After the Rājpūt defeat the time came for the promised leave, but there is no mention in the Memoirs of a general exodus. Humāyūn went with his Badakhshīs, and also, as he seemed ‘uncomfortable,’ Mahdī* Khwāja, Khānzāda's husband. He, but not only he, had been through one hot season in the plains and another was approaching,—a discomposing fact, and one to wing the fancy and the feet to Kābul. He, however, left his son Ja'far in his government of Etāwa, and returned to India himself in 1528.
Humāyūn said farewell on April 16th, 1527, and betook himself to Dihlī, where he broke open the treasury and stole its contents. If he had needed money to pay his men, his act might have taken different colour and have been leniently described; but he had had lavish gifts in money and kind from Bābar, and had been allowed to keep the great diamond which the Rānī of Guālīār had given him as the price of family honour and which, there is good ground to believe, is the Koh-i-nūr. Treated as he had been, his act was a crime, and base and mean. Perhaps it may be set to the credit of the older Humāyūn that the record of his theft has survived 1553-4 and his then perusal and annotation of his father's Memoirs. By that time he had suffered many painful consequences of his own acts, and may have concurred with his father's judgment on his younger self. Bābar was extremely hurt by his unexpected conduct and reproached him severely. There was enough now known of Humāyūn's character to awaken doubt of his fitness to rule, and to need all his father's great affection to veil and forgive. From Dihlī he returned to Badakshān, and is next heard of in the autumn of 1528, when he announced the birth of his first-born son, Al-amān. Al-amān was the child of that Bega (Ḥājī) Begam of whom the histories all speak, when in 1539 she is captured by Shīr Shāh at Chausa.
Together with the news of Al-amān's birth came that of a marriage of Kāmrān with a daughter of Sulān 'Alī Begchik. Bābar sent congratulatory gifts to both sons in response; and he has included his covering letter to Humāyūn in his text. It is frank, fault-finding, and affectionate. It objects to the name given to the child; it urges action: ‘The world is his who exerts himself’; it objects to Humāyūn's complaints of the remoteness of Badakhshān, and tells him that no bondage is like the bondage of kings, and that it ill becomes him to complain. It attacks Humāyūn's spelling and composition, and ends this topic with words good to quote: ‘You certainly do not excel in letter-writing; and you fail chiefly because you have too great a desire to show off your acquirements. For the future, write unaffectedly, clearly, and in plain words, which will give less trouble to writer and reader.’ Some remarks about Kāmrān have a coming interest; Bābar faintly praises him as a worthy and correct young man, and enjoins favour for him, without a hint of suspicion that it could ever be in Kāmrān's power to show favour to Humāyūn. Humāyūn is also desired to make friends with Khwāja Kilān and with Sulān Wais of Kūlāb. He failed with the khwāja, who on Bābar's death joined the worthy and correct Kāmrān. Humāyūn kept on better terms with Sulān Wais (Qibchāq Mughal), and at a later date owed much to his daughter, the inimitable Ḥaram (Khurram), who stands up in history bold, capable, haughty, and altogether strongly outlined.