Art and Culture Quotes in Beneath a Marble Sky

"Do you know, Jahanara, what I think of when I design? I think of you. I hold your face in my mind and seek to mimic its loveliness. I remember the shape of your body and try to equal its brilliance."

"You do?" I asked, immensely surprised.

"I watch how the sun reflects off your cheek, and I build so that the sun will dance off the marble in the same manner. I survive your absence in my heart, not having you as the mother of my children, by shaping stone in your image."

"Not my mother's?"

"No," he whispered, then sighed. "I can't share my love with you as I'm supposed to, the way a man shares such love with his wife. And so I build. I build to honor you, because this is the only way that I can love you, by sharing my love with the world. The first stone I laid had your name chiseled into its underside and the last—please grant me this wish, Allah—shall carry both our names." (8.54-58)

I bit my tongue. If Isa had no vision, Aurangzeb was blind, deaf and dumb. "The vision," Dara countered, "of an artist can't be compared with that of a warrior. What vision does it take to kill, to rape, to plunder?" (10.141)

I had never seen such beauty, not even in Allah's best gardens. For these flowers weren't of water and light, but of semiprecious stones. They were infinitely more colorful than the rings of a rainbow, or the hues of a sunset.

"Our masters cut thin tendrils of stone, which they inset into the marble," Isa said animatedly. "They fit the tendrils perfectly into the marble, then bond and seal them." His voice, serene as always, gathered speed. "You gaze at lapis from Afghanistan, jade from China and Burmese amber. There are pearls and coral from our coast, as well as jasper, green beryl, onyx, agate, amethyst and quartz from our interior."

At some places the marble was free of semiprecious stones but had been carved away to reveal immense white bouquets. These sculptures were smooth to the touch and had been polished until they glistened. Even the room's floor was a godlike work of art, boasting geometric patterns of black marble set within the white. Each line was as straight as the horizon and each angle as sharp as a blade.

No one spoke for some time. Finally, Isa said, "Try to envision it, my lord. The dome, of course, shall be pure white marble, as will the minarets. But the arches, the kiosks, the walls and the ceilings will be draped with such images."

I tried to imagine the finished Taj Mahal, and the mere thought of its beauty made me tremble. Father traced the flowers with his fingers, his palms. "One shall step inside the Taj Mahal and think he has entered Paradise." He looked toward Mecca and I knew he was begging Allah to let him live long enough to see the sight. "So much beauty," he whispered. (11.10-14)