shamelessly pilfered two of these gold pieces that I’ve spent my entire life
collecting。 I thought about how we’d be searched again on account of this
410
wretched murderer—and I was right。 If that last picture were with me; it
would be here。”
It was a mistake to utter this last sentence; nevertheless; I could sense that
they were put at ease and no longer afraid that I’d strangle them in a dark
corner of the lodge。 Have I gained your trust as well?
At this time; however; I was overwhelmed by a severe restlessness; no; it
wasn’t that my illuminator friends; whom I’d known since childhood; saw
how I’d been greedily squirreling money away for years; how I bought and
saved gold; or even that they learned about my sketchbooks and obscene
pictures。 In truth; I regretted having shown them all of these things in a
moment of panic。 Only the mysteries of a man lessly could
be exposed so easily。
“Noheless;” said Black much later; “we must e to a consensus about
what we will say under torture if Master Osman happens to turn us over
without any forewarning。”
A hollowness and depression descended upon us。 In the pale light of the
lamp; Stork and Butterfly were staring at the vulgar pictures in my sketchbook。
They displayed an air of plete indifference; in fact; they were even happy in
some horrid way。 I had a strong urge to look at the picture—I could very well
surmise which one it was; I rose and circled around behind them; gazing
silently at the obscene picture I’d painted; thrilled as though I were recalling a
now distant yet blissful memory。 Black joined us。 For whatever reason; that
the four of us were looking at that illustration relieved me。
“Could the blind and the seeing ever be equal?” said Stork much later。 Was
he implying that even though what we saw was obscene; the pleasure of sight
that Allah had bestowed upon us was glorious? Nay; what would Stork know
of such matters? He never read the Koran。 I knew that the old masters of Herat
would frequently recite this verse。 The great masters used this verse as a
response to enemies of painting who warned that illustrating was forbidden
by our faith and that painters would be sent to Hell on Judgment Day。 Until
that magical moment; however; I’d never even once heard from Butterfly those
words that now emerged from his mouth as if on their own:
“I’d like to depict how the blind and