The Architect's Apprentice

by Elif Shafak

‘You are a bright boy, mahout. I want to help you. But there are many bright boys around.’ Sinan paused, as if waiting for his words to sink in. ‘If you wish to excel at your craft, you have to convince the universe why it should be you rather than someone else.’

‘Resentment is a cage, talent is a captured bird. Break the cage, let the bird take off and soar high.

That was the thing about colossal buildings. While they did not change, the people who ordered, designed, built and eventually used them constantly did.

Not even once had the master returned slander with slander. He reminded Jahan of a turtle that, upon being prodded by children, retreats into its shell, waiting for the madness to pass.

It was after this incident that Jahan understood his master’s secret resided not in his toughness, for he was not tough, nor in his indestructibility, for he was not indestructible, but in his ability to adapt to change and calamity, and to rebuild himself, again and again, out of the ruins. While Jahan was made of wood, and Davud of metal, and Nikola of stone, and Yusuf of glass, Sinan was made of flowing water. When anything blocked his course, he would flow under, around, above it, however he could; he found his way through the cracks, and kept flowing forward.

And, once again, Jahan could not believe how suddenly the public mood changed from sorrow to rejoicing, how quickly their river of tears ran dry. If they moved between gloom and glee with such ease, did this mean they could pass from love to hatred just as effortlessly?