I have just returned from India's token site. The Taj Mahal in the city of Agra. Everyone says that no trip to India is complete without a visit to the Taj Mahal. I must agree. Some landmark sights are not worth the effort. Simply looking at a photo is sufficient. This place leaves the beholder in complete awe. A little history first.
The Taj Mahal is said to be the most amazing structure ever built for love. The Emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj as a mausoleum for his second wife, Mumtaz Mahal. She died during childbirth in 1631. Legend says he was so heartbroken that his hair turned grey overnight. Construction of the great tomb began immediately and was not finished until 1653. Upon completion, many of the master architects has their hands or thumbs amputated so that the glory of the Taj could never be duplicated.
I was told that the best time to visit the Taj is at sunrise. The air is cooler, and you don't have to deal with hundreds of touts and thousands of tourists. I didn't think this was possible for me (you know how much I like to sleep), but through my own ironic misfortune, I made it at sunrise. You see my hotel room was so hot, that I never fell asleep. I must admit that it was a horrible night. To cool down I would stand in the shower, then I would lie back down. Five minutes later I would be blazing hot again and sweating through every pore in my body. This cycle was repeated all night. Also, I was attacked by crickets. Between the searing heat, constant chirping, and the leaping bombardment, I never slept a wink. So, you can imagine that as I saw the sun creeping through the window, I was only too happy to remove myself from the inferno.
It's 5:45am and I am hungry! All of the restaurants near my guest house are closed. People are waking well-rested from their makeshift beds on the street and cows are eating from garbage cans, but Mark can do neither. After exchanging morning pleasantries and a little haggling, I am thundering down a dirty dusty road in the back of an auto-rickshaw. Fifteen bottom-numbing minutes later, we stop at a barricade at the end of a small street. The thought of breakfast came back again as I walked past a rubbish pile complete with grazing cows, goats, monkeys, and pigs.
Agra is an industrial town with a fair share of pollution. They say that the Taj is becoming discolored by acid rain. The loud two-stroke engine of the auto-rickshaw only makes the problem worse. To combat the problem a 10,400-sq-km exclusion zone for new industry was set up in 1994. Also, no motorized vehicles are allowed within the 4km area surrounding the monument. This is the reason we stopped in the alley. You must walk the rest of the way. I was dropped off in a neighborhood called the Taj Ganj. It's a dirty labyrinth of small streets and shops. I walked towards the West Gate entrance, but still could not see the great monument. This walk is the most difficult part of visiting the Taj. You are constantly hassled by beggars, shop-owners, guides, local photographers, pickpockets, animals, and touts of all persuasion.
At the gate you encounter the final obstacle, admission and security. As of 2000, the admission price for foreigners jumped from a few cents to about $17US. This extreme price increase was declared illegal by the district supreme court, but the ruling is unenforced and the cost remains. Security has a massive list of prohibited items. Fortunately, you can still bring a camera. Unfortunately, I had to consume all of my recently bought snacks on the street before entering. Actually, I'm sure prohibiting food is a good idea because it reduces the potential for litter and scavenging animals.
What a festive occasion my breakfast turned out to be. Normally, you must always turn the beggars away. This is a very difficult task both mentally and physically. When walking the streets of India, a minute won't go by without you being confronted by a beggar. Poverty here is rampant and the population is staggering. You want to help but there are so many poor. It's very hard to turn away a mother holding her starving infant. She has a smile on her face, as most Indians do, but she has tired sad eyes. She tugs on your shirt with one hand while holding the child in the other. The infant always looks lethargic and catatonic. You hold your hand up and continue walking. You must do this because on the next street there is another woman just like the first. Then on the next street, there are three women like the first. The cycle continues. Also, let's not forget about the elderly, the disabled, and all of the young children who are constantly reaching out to you. Their cries haunt you! Anyway, I said my breakfast turned out to be a festive occasion. Sorry, for the tangent.
What a festive occasion my breakfast turned out to be. I had bought loads of snacks because I was so hungry. One pack of crackers would have done the job, but I violated one of my personal rules. "Never buy groceries while hungry." I was devastated when I learned that I couldn't bring any food inside. I could have put my day-pack in the cloak room, but instead, I had a fun idea. Time to eat. I made my way past the "tour guides" and sat on some stairs next to a small plaza outside the West Gate entrance. As I sat, I began to open my day-pack. People watching me began to approach, until I gave a hostile look. I don't want unwelcome guests. The crowd stopped. Then, after a moment, I gave the word. "Aow Chaley!" (Come) At that moment, the small crowd came, but this time, it was welcome. They were confused, as was I, but excited. I motioned for everyone to sit. They did. Then I opened my pack, and began offering everyone my snacks. Occasionally someone would accept a gift and then rise to leave. I would say "Nahee" (no). This was to be a gift of the moment. To be shared with me and new friends. The rest of the crowd understood. They realized that I could not bring my food inside the Taj and that I wanted to have a small feast with them. I passed out everything. Words were exchanged, "Shoo cree ya" (Thank you). We ate in quiet pleasure, but all with smiles. Some of the children laughed with brilliant smiles because of the chocolate bars I bought. Some even began to sing. A song about what, I do not know. It was a cherished moment to me. I feel it was the same to them. Upon exiting the Taj Mahal, I would give nothing. I can't. However, for the moment, this was something special for all of us.
With ticket in hand and no contra-ban, I am permitted entrance to the west gate of the majestic Taj Mahal. Inside, I look out at a large walled courtyard. Still no view on the Taj. Far in front of me is the east gate, diagonal to my right is the south gate, but diagonal to my left is a grand Gateway. Obviously this is where I will go. As I approach, I am fascinated by the large red sandstone archway. Inscribed on it are verses from the Quran in Arabic. A very suitable and regal entrance. The mood is set. I eagerly climb the steps.
Gazing through and out the other side of the gateway, BEHOLD, I have my first look at the great Taj Mahal. It seems to be framed perfectly through the exit. My heart begins to beat faster and I am truly excited. I exit the gateway and look out in astonishment. Manicured gardens on my left and right. Running straight down the middle is a waterway of elegant rectangular reflection pools. Front and center I see the great mausoleum built by an Emperor to entomb the woman he loved. It's white marble glistens in the early morning sunlight. The mighty structure sits on a massive raised marble platform. Four tall towers stand on each of the platform's four corners. On top of the Taj are four small domes cornering one massive dome in the middle. Perfect symmetrical artwork. The Taj is a wondrous sight to see. A rewarding journey this is. Few man-made objects move me this way. The Taj Mahal is one of the world's greatest.
I stroll forward along a path between the gardens and reflection pools. There is the smell of fresh cut grass. On the open lawn, two bulls are pulling a large mechanical mowing machine. Men on their knees are completing the more detailed work with large clippers. The man guiding the bulls waves to me as I take a photograph. This is a very tranquil place. I pause often as I walk forward. Moments like this are best savored, not rushed. I reflect on many things. What would I see standing on this very spot during the construction of this great structure? What was life like back then, here in Agra? Many thoughts and many questions. I envision my own answers. I continue forward to the steps leading up to the marble platform. I climb.
A hot wind is blowing and I can smell a river. I look up at a massive vaulted arch carved into the side. It is encrusted with colorful semi-precious stones laid out in beautiful patterns. More prominent, I see the scroll-work and Arabic quotations framing the arches. I walk around the Taj to the left. Looking out to the west, I see a large red sandstone mosque. Muslims are gathered here to pray. I continue around clockwise. I am on the back side of the Taj. I look out upon a large flood plain. Here I see the Yamuna River. It isn't deep, but it is wide. There many tall white birds standing in the water. Downstream I see a few cows as well. Continuing around, I look to the east. I see another mosque identical to the other one. No one is gathered here. I wonder why. I speak to a nearby man who is sweeping the marble with a handmade broom. He doesn't speak good English, but he understands my question. "No mosque, no mosque" he says. He explains to me with broken English and hand gestures that this not a real mosque because it doesn't face the proper direction. It doesn't face Mecca. I offer my hand and thank him, "Shoo cree ya." He shakes my hand and smiles. He appears very happy to have taught me something. Since everything here is symmetrical, I assume this structure is built only for symmetry with the other as well. I continue back to my starting point at the stairs. Again, I look up at the vaulted arch. I know now that there are identical arches on all four sides. This one however, has the door to the inside.
I enter the Taj Mahal. There is a small stairway leading down. It is covered with a grate and padlocked shut. I am told that the chamber below is the true resting place. I walk around it and enter the inner chamber. It's even darker in here. The only light enters through fine slits cut into the giant dome above. The walls and dome are covered in even more fine patterns encrusted with semiprecious stones. Many of the lower ones have been chipped away. In the center of the room is the Cenotaph of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan. Mumtaz Mahal is directly in the center. Oddly, the one for Shah Jajan is off-centered to the side. This is the only item at the Taj Mahal which is not symmetrical. Obviously it was added after his death. The most impressive thing I see is the "fence" surrounding the two Cenotaphs. It is a thin wall of marble that has been carefully carved into thousands of small shaped holes. It looks like lattice work. I am impressed that it is still intact after all these years. A woman walks inside and takes a photo. Immediately she is scolded and escorted outside. She has ignored the multi-language "no photos" sign posted at the door. I stand in the back and admire everything. This is not the Sistine Chapel. The artwork inside doesn't rival some of the great cathedrals of Europe. However, this IS a place of great beauty and craftsmanship. I stand in awe. I am inside the Taj Mahal.
I take my time and many photos as I walk back to the west gate. My experience was quiet, emotional, powerful. There are scores of people here now. The paths are full of tour groups and families. I hear a loud murmur of voices emanating from the grounds. Movement is everywhere. The quiet stillness is gone. A pack of children run past me as I walk back. I wave at the men cutting grass as I pass. They smile and wave back. At the Gateway, I oblige a request to take a couples photo. I take one long, deep, final look before exiting the Gateway. There are people here from all walks of life. Indian, European, and Asian. Hindu, Muslim, and Christian. Some rich, some very poor. It occurs to me that we all have a commonality. Today, it is our mutual admiration for this amazing place. We are all very excited and feel privileged to be here. Here, at the Taj Mahal. For this is a place which inspires all.