He sat by the southern window after the sun had set. It was the best hour to view the Taj- the saddest. He heard nothing, just the silence of the completed mausoleum free of labourers and architects. Not a leaf stirred in the garden, the river still like a mirror. The bazaar and the caravanserai were empty, not even a beggar stooped for alms before the mosque's closed door. The Emperor had left with his soldiers on a campaign far from Agra.
He saw the Chota Mimar crossing the mountains on a mule as he returned home to Persia, stopping every now and then to cast a look back at the queen's tomb - glowing in the dark like the heart of an angel.
the ending of The Accountant, from the Japanese Wife by Kunal Basu.
