84

I　AM　CALLED　“OLIVE”

After the midday prayers； I was ever so swiftly yet pleasurably drawing the

darling faces of boys when I heard a knock at the door。 My hand jerked in

surprise。　I　put　down　my　brush。　I　carefully　placed　the　work…board　that　was　on

my　knees　off　to　the　side。　Rushing　like　the　wind；　I　said　a　prayer　before　opening

the　door。　I　won’t　withhold　anything　from　you；　because　you；　who　can　hear　me

from within this book； are much nearer to Allah than we in this filthy and

miserable world of ours。 Akbar Khan； the Emperor of Hindustan and the

world’s　richest　shah；　is　preparing　what　will　one　day　bee　a　legendary　book。

To　plete　his　project；　he　sent　word　to　the　four　corners　of　Islamdom　inviting

the　world’s　greatest　artists　to　join　him。　The　men　he’d　sent　to　Istanbul　visited

me　yesterday；　inviting　me　to　Hindustan。　This　time；　I　opened　the　door　to　find；

in their place； my childhood acquaintance Black； about whom I’d forgotten

entirely。　Back　then　he　wasn’t　able　to　keep　our　pany；　he　was　jealous　of　us。

“Yes？”

He　said　he’d　e　to　converse；　to　pay　a　friendly　visit；　to　have　a　look　at　my

illustrations。　I　weled　him　so　he　might　see　it　all。　I　learned　he’d　just　today

visited　Head　Illuminator　Master　Osman　and　kissed　his　hand。　The　great　master；

he explained； had given him wise words to ponder： “A