Prior to the evening prayers, there came a knock at the door and I ope without ceremony: It was one of the ander』s men from the palace, a , handsome, cheerful and being youth. In
addition to paper and a writing board, he carried an oil lamp in his hand, which cast shadows over his face rather than illuminating it. He quickly apprised me of the situation: Our Sultan had declared a test among the master miniaturists to see who could draw the best horse in the shortest time. I was asked to sit on the floor, arrange paper on the board and the board on my knees and quickly depict the world』s most beautiful horse in the spadicated within the borders of the page.
I invited my guest inside. I ran ached my ink and the fi of my brushes made from hair clipped from a cat』s ear. I sat down on the floor and froze! Might this test be a ruse or ploy that I』d end up paying for with my blood or my head? Perhaps! But hadn』t all the legendary illustrations by the old masters of Herat been drawn with fine lihat raweeh ay?
I was filled with the desire to illustrate, yet I was seemingly afraid to draw exactly like the old masters, and I restrained myself.
Looking at the blank sheet of paper, I paused so that my soul might rid itself of apprehension. I ought to have focused solely on the beautiful horse I was about to render; I ought to have mustered my strength and tration.
All the horses I』d ever drawn and seen began to gallop before my eyes. Yet one was the most flawless of all. I resently going to rehis horse whiobody had been able to draw before. Decisively, I pictured it in my mind』s eye. The world faded away, as if I』d suddenly fotten myself, fotten that I was sitting here, and even that I was about to draw. My hand dipped the brush into the inkwell of its own accord, taking up just the right amount. e now, my good hand, bring the wonderful horse of my imagination into this world! The horse and I had seemingly bee one and we were about to appear.
Following my intuition, I searched for the appropriate place within the bordered blank page. I imagihe horse standing there, and suddenly:Even before I was able to think, my ha forth decisively of its own volition—see how gracefully—curling quickly from the hoof, it rehat beautiful thin l, and moved upward. As it curved with the same decisiveness past the knee and rose quickly to the base of the chest, I grew elated! Arg from here, it moved victoriously higher: How beautiful the animal』s chest was! The chest tapered to form the neck, exactly like that of the horse in my mind』s eye. Without lifting my brush, I came down from the cheek, reag the powerful mouth, which I』d left open after a moment』s thought; I ehe mouth—this is how it』s going to be then, open your mouth wider now, horsey—and I brought out its tongue. I slowly turned out the nose—no room for indecision! Angling up steadily, I looked momentarily at the whole image, and when I saw that I』d made my lily as I』d imagi, I fot entirely what I was drawing, and the ears and the magnifit curve of the spectacular neck were rendered by my hand alone. As I drew the backside from memory, my hand stopped on its own to let the bristles of the brush sip from the inkwell. I was quite tent while rendering the rump, and the forceful and protruding hindquarters; I was pletely engrossed in the picture. I seemed to be standing beside the horse I was drawing as I joyously begaail. This was a war steed, a racehorse; making a
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