Sorry for the formatting issues on this post - copying and pasting that mumtaz at the beginning caused unforeseen difficulties. 


Upon discussing this word, mumtaz ( الممتاز, this is actually the definite, pronounced al-mumtaz, my

Google Translator skills have a case of the Fridays), with my friend MC, I mentioned that it was

captivating. He said it was merely pleasant. Allow me to explain why this word is so excellent -

dare I say, pun intended?

I was first introduced to the mumtaz upon somewhat successfully reciting the entire Arabic alphabet. I say 'somewhat' because I am fairly confident that I will never master the letter that gives the 'kh' sound. There is a lot more throaty gurgling involved in my attempt to use that letter and I still don't get it right. Thus, I have never actually addressed my Arabic teacher by name and have no intentions of ever doing so. Usually I attempt to use his name as often as possible in email so that it will not be noticed that I have yet to say Khalid out loud, aside from between peels of laughter with KM, discussing our camel investment business, and the passions of a Bedouin romance, riding camels into the sunset. Perhaps you can understand why we laugh so hard. Anyway, this delightful man with a twinkle in his Arab eyes

congratulates our vocal attacks on the most beautiful desert language with a quiet, yet enthusiastic

mumtaz. It feels good. After the stress of trying to put together a sentence for the first time and everyone

is watching you, that mumtaz is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. That Arab twinkle is the icing

on the cake. Like MC said, the word also just sounds pleasant, it just rolls off the tongue.

The other connection with this word is the fact that it is the name of the empress the Taj Mahal was built

for. Her full name was Mumtaz Mahal, wife of Shah Jahan (Lord of the World). Taj was the nickname of Mumtaz. This building is the greatest monument to love on the entire planet. And yes, that puts stars in my eyes. The very much shortened version of the story is that Shah Jahan was so in love with Mumtaz

that he did not leave her at during his required military travels, and did not pay any attention to his other

wives, as was customary of emperors during that time. Mumtaz bore him 14 children, though only 7

survived. She died as a result of the fourteenth pregnancy at the age of 38 years, requesting that Shah

Jahan "build for [her] a mausoleum which would be unique, extremely beautiful, the like of which is not

on earth." Directly quoted from her eulogy, by Shah Jahan, "She always had the glory of distinction and

honor of pre-eminence of the felicity of constant company and companionship and fortune of closeness

and intimacy with His Majesty. The friendship and concord between them had reached such an extent

the like of which has never been known between a husband and wife from among the classes of

sovereigns, or the rest of the people and this was not merely out of carnal desire but high virtues and

pleasing habits, outward and inward goodness, and physical and spiritual compatibility on both sides had

been the cause of great love and affection and abundant affinity and familiarity." After her death, Shah

Jahan let all of his responsibilities slide, and accomplished nothing else in his lifetime aside from the

building of the Taj Mahal.

Sadness, it is not my photo.

I fully realize that this is still somewhat of a fairy tale, but it's REAL. 

And thus, I am captivated by mumtaz because of all these things I attach to it. 
However, in response to further questioning from MC about my feelings for this word, I will NOT be bearing fourteen children in her honor.

I am currently reading A Teardrop on the Cheek of Time: The Story of the Taj Mahal, by Diana and Michael 

Preston. I had to have it imported from London, so let me know if you would like to read it. It is actually

very factual and involves more emperor feuds than lovey-dovey romance.