The Architect's Apprentice

by Elif Shafak

For apprentices everywhere – no one told us that love was the hardest craft to master

It’s odd how faces, solid and visible as they are, evaporate, while words, made of breath, stay.

Istanbul is a city of easy forgettings. Things are written in water over there,

‘Working is prayer for the likes of us,’ his master often said. ‘It’s the way we commune with God.’

the water-wheel turned serenely, its steady gurgle assuring her with a predictability that life itself always lacked.

Every pitcher, every cushion, every ornament cast eerie shadows that squirmed and writhed on the walls as though they craved to tell him something.

unable to look up at the Shadow of God on earth.

The Prophet Jacob had twelve sons, the Prophet Jesus twelve apostles. Prophet Joseph, whose story is told in the 12th surah of the Qur’an, was his father’s favourite child. Twelve loaves of bread the Jews placed at their tables. Twelve golden lions guarded the throne of Solomon. There were six steps up to the throne, and, since every climb had a descent, that meant six steps down, twelve in total. Twelve cardinal beliefs wafted through the land of Hindustan. Twelve imams succeeded the Prophet Mohammed in the Shia creed. Twelve stars ornamented Mary’s crown.

12 :)

man who stabbed his own companions in the back would never be a true friend to anyone else.

Arabs, Kurds, Nestorians, Circassians, Kazakhs, Tatars, Albanians, Bulgarians, Greeks, Abkhazs, Pomaks . . . they walked separate paths while their shadows met and mingled in knots.

moved towards the boy the way a cat inches towards a stove, in need of warmth.

‘Hide your face, seal your heart,’ said Sangram. ‘Otherwise it won’t be long before they make a hash of both.’

Somewhere in the heart of the inky night, so dense that it subjugated every other colour, he had picked up the scent of the only animal that filled him with fear – the tiger.

hands she had, now raised to her bosom, now nervously clasped. It was this last gesture that got to him: he sensed that, beneath the surface of colours and contrasts, she carried a fretful soul, like his.

‘My nursemaid,’ she said. ‘Dada is always worried about me.’ ‘How can I not worry when my beloved is full of light and the world is so dark?’

a perfume in his nostrils and a jolt in his chest he had never known before.

On board a ship, destined for a city of lights and shadows, far away

her eyelids as heavy as her heart.

Mostly she stayed still – whether numbed by dread or soothed by love, Jahan could not tell.

A gaunt man with flaring eyebrows and a habit of embracing trees, rocks and boulders to feel the life within them.

The year before he had lost his balance and toppled down a cliff while trying to enfold the sunset in his arms.

What did he know about life beyond these walls, beyond his eggshell heart?

Eggshell Heart

‘Hyacinth eyes. Milk brother to an elephant. You are a strange one, Indian. Or else a gifted liar.

There he was, as naked as the hour in which he was born,

‘Be kind to the beast, and to the weak, she might have said.’

Be neither a heartbreaker nor heartbroken.’

‘You have a good heart, mahout. I wish we could spend more afternoons together.’

eyes the pale grey of autumn rain,

He was a man of mesmerizing contrasts: a child’s curiosity in the inner workings of the world and a sage’s unruffled wisdom; brave to the point of recklessness but diffident; full of vigour yet surrounded by an air of melancholy.

‘When one reaches a higher awareness,’ he said, ‘one need not pay attention to haram and halal* as much as to the inner core of faith.’

Prayer should be a declaration of love, and love should be stripped of all fear and expectation,

instead of believing that the worst in humans can be found in God, believe that the best in God can be found in humans.’

Quick as the wind and quiet as a cat after a pigeon, she caught him unawares.

Her eyes, glossy like pebbles at the bottom of a creek, lit up as they caught his admiring gaze. Her lips twisted in a smile, revealing the gap between her two front teeth, which gave her face a mirthful, impish appearance.

elephants were huge not only in size but also in heart. Unlike other animals, they comprehended death; they had rituals to celebrate the birth of a calf or to mourn the loss of a relative. Lions were fierce, tigers were regal, monkeys were smart, peacocks impressive – yet only an elephant could be all of those things at once.

The thought of them sitting around another fire – one that was so far away it could not warm him – filled his heart with despair.

war meant finding your enemy, unless the enemy found you first,

a bridge could be short or long, that didn’t matter, but its foundations had to be as strong as granite.

‘Sometimes, for the soul to thrive, the heart needs to be broken, son.’

in her loneliness he recognized his own.

There was a dark side to his nature, a secret cellar under the house of his soul that he had not yet visited but always sensed existed.

he slipped outside the tent, in need of seeing Chota, who was always sweet-tempered and tender-hearted, and, unlike human beings, knew no arrogance or malice.

the man’s pulse a fading drum.

the icy winds that hummed like sad songs;

‘When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.’

Blissful days these were – though, as too often happens with blissful days, they would be appreciated only when they were no more.

That was the one thing he understood well – the loneliness that came with being different.

Grief was an indulgence only a few could afford. Death had to stop harassing the living for the dead to be properly mourned.

Fear turned into resentment; resentment into rage. And rage was a ball of flame you could not hold in your hands for too long; it had to be thrown at someone.

At night, flooded with light, Istanbul shone brighter than the eyes of a young bride.