The Tale of the Polycosmosian - Part 1
Written and Illustrated by Arman Chagla (she/they), a visual artist, hand-poke tattoo artist, and creative writer. They are a voracious reader and tend to write in the genres of fantasy, historical fiction, and horror-punk. Currently a student at St. Mira’s College for Girls Pune, Arman is pursuing a Master of Arts in English Literature.
Probably Relevant Author’s Note:
As fate would have it, I was sitting by the window sipping on my apple-cinnamon tea (if you know me that well, there’s no running from it) reading T. J. Klune’s masterpiece, The House in the Cerulean Sea when the idea for this work struck me.
It was a chill monsoon afternoon; my garden was blooming, all of the plants were merrily dancing in a sporadic Indian rain, and my sweet dogs were curled up on either side of me, snoring away in delightful oblivion. And yet, I was caught entirely unaware by a fresh wave of sticky languour; I’d realised that in the hustle and bustle of being a full-time college student and working the rest of the time, it had been ages since I had a moment’s peace to simply enjoy myself. Sure, I had been obsessed with a certain vampire mockumentary recently (What We Do in The Shadows is absolutely *chef’s kiss*) and it was always a pleasure spending time with my friends after the pandemic, but a listlessness had pervaded all of these memories, and for the first time in a long time, fanned by a cool breeze coming in from the window, I’d set down all of these burdens.
I imagined a protagonist who, just as myself, escaped into another world where they found themselves, their family, and their maqsad (this means ‘purpose’ in Urdu, but with a certain lilt of untranslatability); the same way that Klune’s protagonist Linus Baker does.
And so with a burgeoning interest in poetry, a lifelong obsession with science fiction, and the humble encouragement of a friend, do you find yourself reading The Tale of the Polycosmosian.
Let us speak of an artist, their skill considered divine.
The world over turned to applaud their merit
From an old country mistress’s hand that they did inherit.
While embroidery is an art that has been dated to as early as the 5th century BC, it has historically been viewed as a hobby or pastime intended for just women. It was often the case that an elder woman of the community would spend hours with the young teaching them propriety while they practised their stitches!
A. MARY MURPHY (2003) The Theory and Practice of Counting Stitches as Stories
For it was their skill to weave stories out of thread,
Viridian roots bled on pale satin flesh,
The footprint of a long-dead culture on the maker’s loom.
There was great meaning conveyed with the symbols embroidered on items of daily or special use, due to the art as a labour of love. A recurring motif in the Islamic world is that of the 'tree of life'; signifying growth, maturity, death and rebirth.
The tools of their trade were the needle and thimble,
And every fabric had known their touch,
Cotton and linen, khadi and silk, satin and velvet plush.
Cityscapes, like cages of supine steel
Were their evergrowing commercial domain, where
The shiniest gadgets and the latest fashions did supreme reign.
Yet, time had dimmed the glow of popularity.
The echoes of applause sounded hollow and distant,
Glimmering evenings dissolved into empty glasses.
Beautiful people had such beautiful farces.
It was at one such soiree, where the golden crowd serenaded
Our very own Ambrose, broderie extraordinaire,
Nattering on about fashion gurus they’d vetted, all without realistic care.
But in a moment the chatter of the group faded,
For an apparition hovered before them, seemingly suspended in the air.
For it was an apparition she seemed, soft edges and soft hair.
As she dances closer, their gazes meet;
Eyes blooming espresso brown catch
Like a bristling match that caresses the grain of fireash.
In the blink of an eye, she vanishes.
A glimpse of a sharp smile is thrown from behind the exit, just as
Ambrose’s heart flails in frantic alarm.
But the lonely heart stalls; melancholic mortar binding them.
Once the mortifying ordeal of being known has ended,
They allow themselves to think of the woman once again.
But before they knew it, there was a call to be attended:
“Hello, beta! I heard your sister was flying in today. Do you know when?”
The phrase comes to us from a 2013 essay written by author Tim Krieder for the New York Times, the full quote reads: “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”
The needle-smith, storyteller, private creator of art
Within the nets of a demanding society were they caught
And from their loved ones did they part.
Another day finds them seeking refuge in the heart of silence,
A dusty bookshop in a dusty city they call home.
In the work of the old masters do they find guidance,
And at last when Ambrose rises, they are marked by fatigue.
A question draws them out of their reverie,
“Oh, is that Ellis sampler text I saw you reading?”
The 'Ellis sampler' here refers to Marianne Ellis's 'Embroideries and Samplers from Islamic Egypt'; a collection of 10th-16th century textile samples from the Tulunid, Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Sultanate periods. As a text, it helps illustrate the interconnectedness of embroidery as an art and the culture of the time, for example, describing an interlaced knot pattern as being inspired by an ornamental script known as 'plaited Kufic. The fabric collection itself has been housed at the Department of Eastern Art in Oxford University's Ashmolean Museum, and can be viewed during specific exhibitions!
A twinkling gaze and bushy eyebrows raised in inquiry,
It is a stranger Ambrose finds themselves addressing.
Does the man ask, “Did you find what you were looking for today?”
They pause to consider the matter,
“I’m not too sure what I was looking for. But isn’t that always the way?”
He nods rather sagely, lips puckering in thought before saying
“The path does wind but the way is clear, life is often strange.”
Before they have a moment to wonder, did he signal his going
“Oh, and by the way, here’s that change.”
A short toss and a thick coin rests in Ambrose’s palm,
Heavy and stamped with a crude little leaf, green with fine rust.
Warm from the heat of a hand, with an antique charm.
The ‘crude little leaf’ mentioned here was a common feature of the Ummayad Caliphate coinage (coins emerging after the Arab conquest of Iran that were inspired by the Iranian Sasanian empire that spanned from about 224-651 A.D.) was the use of Arabic legends to the coin-face. The leaf here symbolizes 'The Tale of the Hashish Eater'; a parable that warns against alluring escapism.
Only then does the cashier interrupt; “I’m a few rupees short.”
In the confusion of a cryptic almost-prophecy,
Do they use the coin to cover the cost;
This visual, to me, was quite reminiscent of the payment made to Charon; the ferryman who ushers souls to the shores of Hades in Greek mythology. This exchange cements the journey Ambrose is about the embark on (and spoiler alert: foreshadows their inability to return to the world before.)
Signalling the beginning of their own testing odyssey.
A holographic iridescence seems to pulse in the air,
When they rise to depart.
The door handle seemed weighted enough to pause their start.
What about themselves do they know to be true?
And so with expectation and hope in their eyes,
Do they hurriedly pitch through the door,
And with a belated thought do they come to realize
The world is not the same as it was before.
And so with expectation and hope in their eyes,
Do they hurriedly pitch through the door,
And with a belated thought do they come to realize
The world is not the same as it was before.
For a magnificent mahal now towers about them;
A marble dome and red sandstone jharokhas
Encrusted with stones- ruby, emerald, and luminous gem,
With hand-painted tiles with sweet words of devotion atop wide verandahs.
They step forward in wonder, hands cool in the night,
As the moon shimmers with soft luminescence
A sharp tug at the darwaza and the foyer fills with light,
Dust motes dance, like wind-borne effervescence.
Jharokhas, a classic feature of Rajasthani architecture, are protruding windows or verandahs that overlook the street or gardens below. They tend to be ornately carved, with multiple engraved capitals and pillars.
Parchinkari, a jewel-inlaying technique that is attributed largely to Mughal architecture, is a process of placing coloured or semi-precious stones into marble. A beautiful example of the art may be found in our very own Taj Mahal; where the crowns of the pillars depict flora crafted out of gems like lapis lazuli, onyx and carnelian.
Traditional Islamic architecture features verses of the Quran inscribed in both tile and stone in looping calligraphy as religious ornamentation. The Buland Darwaza in Fatehpur Sikri was one of my primary references for this visual in the poem!
Mouldering tapestries hang off of stone walls,
Bookshelves bent, scattering leaves to the floor.
Peeling murals of court life grace these cursed halls,
Getting larger and more extravagant as they continue to explore.
That is, until they come to a cove in the wall
Where a folding double-sided door awaits.
Probably Relevant End Note
This is our first time working with not just fiction, but also poetry, as a way of bringing you, dear reader, some enjoyable reading. The annotations above have all been put together by Arman and we hope you find them as intriguing and insightful as we did. The Tale of the Polycosmosian will continue next month. Until then, tell us what you thought of this beginning and what you think will unfold next. Reach out to us at hi@artnowthus.com or on social media @artnowthus.
References and Further Reading
As I’ve mentioned in the introduction, a stellar book to read is ‘The House on the Cerulean Sea’ by TJ Klune. It’s perfect for this weather; when the cold seems to have gotten you down and the shimmer of golden sunlight on thick ocean waves is just what you need to pick you up. As Goodreads user “chai” refers to it, the book is a ‘nonstop pleasure’, and I quite agree. (Another book that gives me the same ooey-gooey’s is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern!)
The book I refer to for Ambrose’s mid-day reading is Marianne Ellis's 'Embroideries and Samplers from Islamic Egypt'. I chose to use this text for a number of reasons; the first is that it is a collection published by a woman- largely underestimated in academia and a veritable treasure trove of period-accurate archival work. The second is that it reinforces the skill and resplendent imagery of Islamic artisans throughout history. And the third is that it is a rather niche work that obscures itself in popular culture, when one is to consider the sources that fashion designers draw their inspiration from.
“The footprint of a long-dead culture on the maker’s loom” refers to how cultural nuances often find the longevity of preservation in art. For example, this article by Atlas Obscura details how the process of oil-pressing depicted in ancient Egyptian wall paintings may guide readers to make their own olive oil in the 21st century. One of the sources they cite is the relief in the tomb of Nebemakhet, dated to around 2600-2500 BC. Just as these paintings convey subtextual information about the civilization they originated in, so does the art of embroidery serve as a record of the past and as a cultural heirloom in the present.
The term ‘old masters’ is synonymous with the painters of skill, an almost entirely male group, that operated before 1800. With the exception of Artemisia Gentileschi, Angelica Kauffman, Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, and Rachel Ruysch, a list of over 270 male artists graces the Wikipedia page for ‘Old Master’. I therefore specifically used the term here to refer to the feminine-aligned profession and art of embroidery.
The folding double-sided door is a staple in many antiquated households, likely to be found in older constructions and evoking a sense of old-world India. It traces its history in the continent back to the early Vedic and Chinese civilizations; and an early example of the folding door was found even in the volcanic ash-and-pumice-covered ancient Roman city of Pompeii that was overtaken in the 1st century AD.