Re: SEMINAR ON LINE -- English Morphology Online Seminars

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Subject: Re: SEMINAR ON LINE

Author:
Diogo Domingues Carvalho

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Date Posted: 11:23:08 10/01/09 Thu
In reply to: ROBERTO WINTER 's message, "SEMINAR ON LINE" on 08:16:56 10/01/09 Thu

Since it seens no one took your text to analyze yet, I'll work on it.

> THE SHELTER OF THE WORLD
>
>STUDENT: ROBERTO WINTER
>
>
>
>At dawn the haunting sandstone palaces of the new
>“victory city” of Akbar the Great looked as if they
>were made of red smoke. Most cities start giving the
>impression of being eternal almost as soon as they are
>born, but Sikri would always look like a mirage. As
>the sun rose to its zenith, the great bludgeon of the
>day’s heat pounded the flagstones, deafening human
>ears to all sounds, making the air quiver like a
>frightened blackbuck, and weakening the border between
>sanity and delirium, between what was fanciful and
>what was real.
>Even the Emperor succumbed to fantasy. Queens floated
>within his palaces like ghosts, Rajput and Turkish
>sultanas playing catch-me-if-you-can. One of these
>royal personages did not really exist. She was an
>imaginary wife, dreamed up by Akbar in the way that
>lonely children dream up imaginary friends, and in
>spite of the presence of many living, if floating,
>consorts, the Emperor was of the opinion that it was
>the real queens who were the phantoms and the
>nonexistent beloved who was real. He gave her a name,
>Jodha, and no man dared gainsay him. Within the
>privacy of the women’s quarters, within the silken
>corridors of her palace, Jodha’s influence and power
>grew. The great musician Tansen wrote songs for her,
>and Master Abdus Samad the Persian portrayed her
>himself, painted her from the memory of a dream
>without ever looking upon her face, and when the
>Emperor saw his work he clapped his hands at the
>beauty shining up from the page. “You have captured
>her, to the life,” he cried, and Abdus Samad relaxed
>and stopped feeling as if his head were too loosely
>attached to his neck; and, after this visionary work
>by the master of the Emperor’s atelier had been
>exhibited, the whole court knew Jodha to be real, and
>the greatest courtiers, the Navratna, or Nine Jewels,
>all acknowledged not only her existence but also her
>beauty, her wisdom, the grace of her movements, and
>the softness of her voice. Akbar and Jodhabai! Ah, ah!
>It was the love story of the age.
>The city was finished at last, in time for the
>Emperor’s fortieth birthday. It had been twelve long,
>hot years in the making, but for a while he had been
>given the impression that it rose up effortlessly,
>year by year, as if by sorcery.
>
>SOURCE: >href="http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2008/02
>/25/080225fi_fiction_rushdie">http://www.newyorker.com/
>fiction/features/2008/02/25/080225fi_fiction_rushdie >>

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