Lovers Are Mountains
Wait, they are?
They are if you ask Shah Jahan:
Father once told me that would-be lovers were similar to mountains. Two peaks, wonderfully akin and compatible in every way, may rise to the clouds but never witness each other's majesty because of the space between them. Like a man and a woman from different cities, they would never find each other. Or, if the peaks were blessed, as my parents had been, they might be two mountains of the same range and could bask in each other's company forever. (2.91)
Thanks, Shah. This passage is particularly poignant because it captures that familiar fear that everyone experiences at some point or another—you know, that fear that makes you ask, "What if I never find my person?" It's beautiful imagery. Almost makes us want to burst into song.
The point here is that, well, maybe not everyone will find love. Real, true love, if you ask Shah Jahan, is kind of a rare gift—so if you get it, you should consider yourself really, really lucky. That's probably one reason why this guy feels like he should build a huge, beautiful mausoleum to his wife—not just to honor her memory and the memory of their love, but to build a monument to that rare gift itself.