Marble Dreams

When the high Creator decided to bestow stone on the planet, in its myriad shapes, textures, colours and forms, little did the Mighty One, or anyone else for that matter (if they existed) realize that one of the most fascinating stones would be that with the perfect shape, the smoothest texture, the purest white colour, the most dazzling form. A stone so highly prized people dreamt of having it as their floor, because nothing speaks of affluence so much as the ability to have the whitest stone below the feet, used for the basic purpose of a living surface, when so many people could not afford even cheap stone for it, and lived on a surface of mud.

Marble. A stone that fascinates. A stone that is fascinating, because though it is abundant, it is highly prized and highly sought after. Especially pure, white, blemish-free marble, of the variety that was used to create the Taj Mahal, is very highly desired. At least it is, by a older generation of people who defined class by the ability to walk on marble floors. People nowadays prefer tiles of various kinds; those are much easier to clean, and don't really get very dirty in the first place.

Marble is not a precious stone. Indeed, it is not so precious that humans would give it the kind of importance that rubies or diamonds have: the honour of being worn upon the human body has not been granted to marble. But marble is an expensive and beautiful stone for construction, and is in that field, treated like diamond. Temples, community halls and other places of public use and worship are created using marble, the outer facades and porches of huge mansions are made with marble. The average middle class houseowner doesn't use marble for his floor; there are cheaper and more convenient floors available. Thus comes the idea that anyone who uses marble for his floor must be rather affluent indeed, and must be enjoying the greatest of joys and comforts.

My left foot and my right eyeball. This very same marble is a pain in the neck for me, because my mother, subscribing to the same old school of thought, installed marble floors in her house, making it impossible for me to move about the house, whether it be my body or the furniture I work upon, for fear of damaging the beautiful white floor. I am under strict orders to never even contemplate shifting any furniture, which would inevitably involve running the risk of scratching the floor. I'm sick of this. I wish I could move normally. I wish I could move my table the way I like without having to worry about scratching the floor. I wish I didn't have to worry about spilling anything onto the floor (because if the marble gets stained there's no way to remove the stain). I wish I didn't have to deal with the extraordinary amount of fine dust that creeps into the marble and eats it away, if the marble is not cleaned everyday. I wish I didn't have to worry about accidentally using acidic cleaners to clean the floor (because if you mix acid with CaCO3, which is what marble is, you're going to get a salty residue that would be the permanent ruin of your expensive marble).

But all the same, you have to admit it: the marble is magnificent. There's nothing to match the feeling of beautiful, sparkling, cold white stone that feels like butter when you sit upon it, after you've given it a thorough scrubbing. You feel royal, you feel like the queen sitting upon her throne, only the throne is not just a chair that you sit on, but has extended to become the very floor you live on. And this is why the old school, brought up to live life at just the right pace - neither unbearably slow nor excruciatingly fast - who didn't need to worry about spilling stuff or dragging furniture, harboured visions of pure cold white stone - marble dreams.