Who can escape Thy chain? no heart is free
From love of Thee.”
So passioning for the Divine she spent her days in longing, and a great wisdom came upon her, for even as her mighty father narrowed in vision, persecuting the Hindus, and breaking the very Empire against the rock of their tortured faith, so she like the sun at setting illumined all beliefs, even the lowliest, with her level rays, declaring that where any prayer is made that place is the mosque and the Kiblah.
Had that lady been Emperor it is not too much to say she had saved the Empire. Would to Allah that she had been. But He knows all.
Yet a better fate was decreed for her for she lived, exhaling love as the lily its perfume, and departed in a white peace, a gently fading light like the cresset that for a little illumines the quiet of a tomb, and this she said in dying,
“I am the daughter of a King but I have taken the path of renunciation, and this shall be my glory, as my title signifies that I am the Glory of Women.”
This she is, for in India she is remembered by all who burn in the fire of love, human or divine.
Yet, since she was a woman and therefore a creature of unreason, must I condemn her passion for the worthless prince to whom her royal life was dedicate.
And here I set down the last words that Makhfi—the Hidden One—wrote with her dying hand, and they were these—
“Yet, Makhfi, unveiled is thy secret,