The ninth vibration and other stories

  THE BUILDING OF THE TAJ MAHAL

  In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful--the Smiting! A day when the soul shall know what it has sent on or kept back. A day when no soul shall control aught for another. And the bidding belongs to God.

  THE KORAN.

  I

  Now the Shah-in-Shah, Shah Jahan, Emperor in India, loved his wife witha great love. And of all the wives of the Mogul Emperors surely thisLady Arjemand, Mumtaz-i-Mahal---the Chosen of the Palace--was the mostworthy of love. In the tresses of her silk-soft hair his heart wasbound, and for none other had he so much as a passing thought sincehis soul had been submerged in her sweetness. Of her he said, using thewords of the poet Faisi,--

  "How shall I understand the magic of Love the Juggler? For he made thybeauty enter at that small gate the pupil of my eye, And now--and now myheart cannot contain it!"

  But who should marvel? For those who have seen this Arjemand crownedwith the crown the Padishah set upon her sweet low brows, with the lampsof great jewels lighting the dimples of her cheeks as they swung besidethem, have most surely seen perfection. He who sat upon the PeacockThrone, where the outspread tail of massed gems is centred by that greatruby, "The Eye of the Peacock, the Tribute of the World," valued it notso much as one Jock of the dark and perfumed tresses that rolled to herfeet. Less to him the twelve throne columns set close with pearls thanthe little pearls she showed in her sweet laughter. For if this lady wasall beauty, so too she was all goodness; and from the Shah-in-Shah tothe poorest, all hearts of the world knelt in adoration, before theChosen of the Palace. She was, indeed, an extraordinary beauty, in thatshe had the soul of a child, and she alone remained unconscious of herpower; and so she walked, crowned and clothed with humility.

  Cold, haughty, and silent was the Shah-in-Shah before she blessed hisarms--flattered, envied, but loved by none. But the gift this Ladybrought with her was love; and this, shining like the sun upon ice,melted his coldness, and he became indeed the kingly centre of a kinglycourt May the Peace be upon her!

  Now it was the dawn of a sorrowful day when the pains of the LadyArjemand came strong and terrible, and she travailed in agony. Thehakims (physicians) stroked their beards and reasoned one with another;the wise women surrounded her, and remedies many and great were tried;and still her anguish grew, and in the hall without sat the Shah-in-Shahupon his divan, in anguish of spirit yet greater. The sweat ran on hisbrows, the knotted veins were thick on his temples, and his eyes, sunkin their caves, showed as those of a maddened man. He crouched on hiscushions and stared at the purdah that divided him from the Lady; andall day the people came and went about him, and there was silence fromthe voice he longed to hear; for she would not moan, lest the soundshould slay the Emperor. Her women besought her, fearing that her strongsilence would break her heart; but still she lay, her hands clenched inone another, enduring; and the Emperor endured without. The Day of theSmiting!

  So, as the time of the evening prayer drew nigh, a child was born,and the Empress, having done with pain, began to sink slowly intothat profound sleep that is the shadow cast by the Last. May Allah theUpholder have mercy on our weakness! And the women, white with fearand watching, looked upon her, and whispered one to another, "It is theend."

  And the aged mother of Abdul Mirza, standing at her head, said, "Sheheeds not the cry of the child. She cannot stay." And the newly wedwife of Saif Khan, standing at her feet, said, "The voice of the belovedhusband is as the Call of the Angel. Let the Padishah be summoned."

  So, the evening prayer being over (but the Emperor had not prayed), thewisest of the hakims, Kazim Sharif, went before him and spoke:--

  "Inhallah! May the will of the Issuer of Decrees in all things be done!Ascribe unto the Creator glory, bowing before his Throne."

  And he remained silent; but the Padishah, haggard in his jewels, withhis face hidden, answered thickly, "The truth! For Allah has forgottenhis slave."

  And Kazim Sharif, bowing at his feet and veiling his face with hishands, replied:

  "The voice of the child cannot reach her, and the Lady of Delightdeparts. He who would speak with her must speak quickly."

  Then the Emperor rose to his feet unsteadily, like a man drunk withthe forbidden juice; and when Kazim Sharif would have supported him, heflung aside his hands, and he stumbled, a man wounded to death, as itwere, to the marble chamber where she lay.

  In that white chamber it was dusk, and they had lit the little cressetsso that a very faint light fell upon her face. A slender fountain alittle cooled the hot, still air with its thin music and its sprinkleddiamonds, and outside, the summer lightnings were playing wide and blueon the river; but so still was it that the dragging footsteps of theEmperor raised the hair on the flesh of those who heard, So the womenwho should, veiled themselves, and the others remained like pillars ofstone.

  Now, when those steps were heard, a faint colour rose in the cheek ofthe Lady Arjemand; but she did not raise the heavy lashes, or move herhand. And he came up beside her, and the Shadow of God, who should kneelto none, knelt, and his head fell forward upon her breast; and in thehush the women glided out like ghosts, leaving the husband with the wifeexcepting only that her foster-nurse stood far off, with eyes averted.

  So the minutes drifted by, falling audibly one by one into eternity, andat the long last she slowly opened her eyes and, as from the depths ofa dream, beheld the Emperor; and in a voice faint as the fall of arose-leaf she said the one word, "Beloved!"

  And he from between his clenched teeth, answered, "Speak, wife."

  So she, who in all things had loved and served him,--she, Light ofall hearts, dispeller of all gloom,--gathered her dying breath forconsolation, and raised one hand slowly; and it fell across his, and soremained.

  Now, her beauty had been broken in the anguish like a rose in storm; butit returned to her, doubtless that the Padishah might take comfort inits memory; and she looked like a houri of Paradise who, kneeling besidethe Zemzem Well, beholds the Waters of Peace. Not Fatmeh herself, thedaughter of the Prophet of God, shone more sweetly. She repeated theword, "Beloved"; and after a pause she whispered on with lips thatscarcely stirred, "King of the Age, this is the end."

  But still he was like a dead man, nor lifted his face.

  "Surely all things pass. And though I go, in your heart I abide, andnothing can sever us. Take comfort."

  But there was no answer.

  "Nothing but Love's own hand can slay Love. Therefore, remember me, andI shall live."

  And he answered from the darkness of her bosom, "The whole world shallremember. But when shall I be united to thee? O Allah, how long wiltthou leave me to waste in this separation?"

  And she: "Beloved, what is time? We sleep and the night is gone. Now putyour arms about me, for I sink into rest. What words are needed betweenus? Love is enough."

  So, making not the Profession of Faith,--and what need, since all herlife was worship,--the Lady Arjemand turned into his arms like a child.And the night deepened.

  Morning, with its arrows of golden light that struck the river tosplendour! Morning, with its pure breath, its sunshine of joy, and thekoels fluting in the Palace gardens! Morning, divine and new fromthe hand of the Maker! And in the innermost chamber of marble a whitesilence; and the Lady, the Mirror of Goodness, lying in the Compassionof Allah, and a broken man stretched on the ground beside her. For allflesh, from the camel-driver to the Shah-in-Shah, is as one in the Dayof the Smiting.

  II

  For weeks the Emperor lay before the door of death; and had it openedto him, he had been blessed. So the months went by, and very slowly thestrength returned to him; but his eyes were withered and the bones stoodout in his cheeks. But he resumed his throne, and sat upon it kingly,black-bearded, eagle-eyed, terribly apart in his grief and his royalty;and so seated among his Usbegs, he declared his will.

  "For this Lady (upon whom be peace), departed to the mercy of the Giverand Taker, shall a tomb-palace be made, the Like of whi
ch is not foundin the four corners of the world. Send forth therefore for craftsmenlike the builders of the Temple of Solomon the Wise; for I will build."

  So, taking counsel, they sent in haste into Agra for Ustad Isa, theMaster-Builder, a man of Shiraz; and he, being presented before thePadishah, received his instructions in these words:--

  "I will that all the world shall remember the Flower of the World,that all hearts shall give thanks for her beauty, which was indeed theperfect Mirror of the Creator. And since it is abhorrent of Islam thatany image be made in the likeness of anything that has life, make for mea palace-tomb, gracious as she was gracious, lovely as she was lovely.Not such as the tombs of the Kings and the Conquerors, but of a divinesweetness. Make me a garden on the banks of Jumna, and build it there,where, sitting in my Pavilion of Marble, I may see it rise."

  And Ustad Isa, having heard, said, "Upon my head and eyes!" and went outfrom the Presence.

  So, musing upon the words of the Padishah, he went to his house in Agra,and there pondered the matter long and deeply; and for a whole day andnight he refused all food and secluded himself from the society of allmen; for he said:--

  "This is a weighty thing, for this Lady (upon whom be peace) mustvisibly dwell in her tomb-palace on the shore of the river; and howshall I, who have never seen her, imagine the grace that was in her, andrestore it to the world? Oh, had I but the memory of her face! Could Ibut see it as the Shah-in-Shah sees it, remembering the past! Prophetof God, intercede for me, that I may look through his eyes, if but for amoment!"

  That night he slept, wearied and weakened with fasting; and whether itwere that the body guarded no longer the gates of the soul, I cannotsay; for, when the body ails, the soul soars free above its weakness.But a strange marvel happened.

  For, as it seemed to him, he awoke at the mid-noon of the night, andhe was sitting, not in his own house, but upon the roof of the royalpalace, looking down on the gliding Jumna, where the low moon slept insilver, and the light was alone upon the water; and there were no boats,but sleep and dream, hovering hand-in-hand, moved upon the air, and hisheart was dilated in the great silence.

  Yet he knew well that he waked in some supernatural sphere: for his eyescould see across the river as if the opposite shore lay at his feet;and he could distinguish every leaf on every tree, and the flowersmoon-blanched and ghost-like. And there, in the blackest shade of thepippala boughs, he beheld a faint light like a pearl; and looking withunspeakable anxiety, he saw within the light, slowly growing, the figureof a lady exceedingly glorious in majesty and crowned with a rayed crownof mighty jewels of white and golden splendour. Her gold robe fell toher feet, and--very strange to tell--her feet touched not the ground,but hung a span's length above it, so that she floated in the air.

  But the marvel of marvels was her face--not, indeed, for its beauty,though that transcended all, but for its singular and compassionatesweetness, wherewith she looked toward the Palace beyond the river as ifit held the heart of her heart, while death and its river lay between.

  And Ustad Isa said:--"O dream, if this sweetness be but a dream, let menever wake! Let me see forever this exquisite work of Allah the Maker,before whom all the craftsmen are as children! For my knowledge is asnothing, and I am ashamed in its presence."

  And as he spoke, she turned those brimming eyes on him, and he saw herslowly absorbed into the glory of the moonlight; but as she faded intodream, he beheld, slowly rising, where her feet had hung in the blessedair, a palace of whiteness, warm as ivory, cold as chastity, domes andcupolas, slender minars, arches of marble fretted into sea-foam, screenwithin screen of purest marble, to hide the sleeping beauty of a greatQueen--silence in the heart of it, and in every line a harmony beyondall music. Grace was about it--the grace of a Queen who prays and doesnot command; who, seated in her royalty yet inclines all hearts to love.And he saw that its grace was her grace, and its soul her soul, andthat she gave it for the consolation of the Emperor.

  And he fell on his face and worshipped the Master-Builder of theUniverse, saying,--"Praise cannot express thy Perfection. Thine Essenceconfounds thought. Surely I am but the tool in the hand of the Builder."

  And when he awoke, he was lying in his own secret chamber, but besidehim was a drawing such as the craftsmen make of the work they haveimagined in their hearts. And it was the Palace of the Tomb.

  Henceforward, how should he waver? He was as a slave who obeys hismaster, and with haste he summoned to Agra his Army of Beauty.

  Then were assembled all the master craftsmen of India and of the outerworld. From Delhi, from Shiraz, even from Baghdad and Syria, they came.Muhammad Hanif, the wise mason, came from Kandahar, Muhammad Sayyid fromMooltan. Amanat Khan, and other great writers of the holy Koran, whoshould make the scripts of the Book upon fine marble. Inlayers fromKanauj, with fingers like those of the Spirits that bowed before Solomonthe King, who should make beautiful the pure stone with inlay of jewels,as did their forefathers for the Rajah of Mewar; mighty dealers withagate, cornelian, and lapis lazuli. Came also, from Bokhara, AtaMuhammad and Shakri Muhammad, that they might carve the lilies of thefield, very glorious, about that Flower of the World. Men of India, menof Persia, men of the outer lands, they came at the bidding of UstadIsa, that the spirit of his vision might be made manifest.

  And a great council was held among these servants of beauty, so theymade a model in little of the glory that was to be, and laid it at thefeet of the Shah-in-Shah; and he allowed it, though not as yet fullydiscerning their intent. And when it was approved, Ustad Isa called tohim a man of Kashmir; and the very hand of the Creator was upon thisman, for he could make gardens second only to the Gardens of Paradise,having been born by that Dal Lake where are those roses of the earth,the Shalimar and the Nishat Bagh; and to him said Ustad Isa,--

  "Behold, Rain Lal Kashmiri, consider this design! Thus and thus shalla white palace, exquisite in perfection, arise on the banks of Jumna.Here, in little, in this model of sandalwood, see what shall be.Consider these domes, rounded as the Bosom of Beauty, recalling themystic fruit of the lotus flower. Consider these four minars that standabout them like Spirits about the Throne. And remembering that all thisshall stand upon a great dais of purest marble, and that the river shallbe its mirror, repeating to everlasting its loveliness, make me a gardenthat shall be the throne room to this Queen."

  And Ram Lal Kashmiri salaamed and said, "Obedience!" and went forth andpondered night and day, journeying even over the snows of the Pir Panjalto Kashmir, that he might bathe his eyes in beauty where she walks,naked and divine, upon the earth, and he it was who imagined the blackmarble and white that made the way of approach.

  So grew the palace that should murmur, like a seashell, in the ear ofthe world the secret of love.

  Veiled had that loveliness been in the shadow of the palace; but now thesun should rise upon it and turn its ivory to gold, should set uponit and flush its snow with rose. The moon should lie upon it like thepearls upon her bosom, the visible grace of her presence breathe aboutit, the music of her voice hover in the birds and trees of the garden.Times there were when Ustad Isa despaired lest even these mightyservants of beauty should miss perfection. Yet it grew and grew, risinglike the growth of a flower.

  So on a certain day it stood completed, and beneath the small tomb inthe sanctuary, veiled with screens of wrought marble so fine thatthey might lift in the breeze,--the veils of a Queen,--slept the LadyArjemand; and above her a narrow coffer of white marble, enriched ina great script with the Ninety-Nine Wondrous Names of God. And theShah-in-Shah, now grey and worn, entered and, standing by her, cried ina loud voice,--"I ascribe to the Unity, the only Creator, the perfectionof his handiwork made visible here by the hand of mortal man. For thebeauty that was secret in my Palace is here revealed; and the CrownedLady shall sit forever upon the banks of the Jumna River. It was lovethat commanded this Tomb."

  And the golden echo carried his voice up into the high dome, and it diedaway in whispers of music.

&n
bsp; But Ustad Isa standing far off in the throng (for what are craftsmenin the presence of the mighty?), said softly in his beard, "It was Lovealso that built, and therefore it shall endure."

  Now it is told that, on a certain night in summer, when the moon isfull, a man who lingers by the straight water, where the cypresses standover their own image, may see a strange marvel--may see the Palace ofthe Taj dissolve like a pearl, and so rise in a mist into the moonlight;and in its place, on her dais of white marble, he shall see the LadyArjemand, Mumtaz-i-Mahal, the Chosen of the Palace, stand there in thewhite perfection of beauty, smiling as one who hath attained unto thePeace. For she is its soul.

  And kneeling before the dais, he shall see Ustad Isa, who made this bodyof her beauty; and his face is hidden in his hands.