The Beautiful Bride

This entry relates events that happened June 26th. We have flown from Chennai to Dehli finally to arrive at our destination: Agra and the Taj Mahal.
After Akbar's tomb we were nearly there. Road signs began to read Taj Mahal, and we got excited. Without warning, our driver pulls over at the side of road and this gentleman hops into the combi:

This A.K. Mudgal, our Official Taj Mahal Tour Escort. His nickname was Arri, but his full name is a word that means "sun". He introduced himself in a convivial, animated fashion that was in stark contrast to out tactiturn driver Harpeet. After some basic notes he asked us if it was straight to the Taj or did we want lunch first? Up to this point food was the furthest thing from my mind, but once he said it, it sounded like an amazingly good idea. We readily agreed and went to lunch at a place he chose.
We have done this enough to understand that drivers and tour guides get paid to tout certain stores and hook in the touristas like us. The place he took us to was clean, cool and nice enough. The food wasn't great, but we got to try some more Northern dishes. Good fresh lime soda, though.
Afterwards we drove to the Taj parking lot. It was a quarter mile or so from the compound; they don't allow cars too close because of the pollution. So from there we hop on a small electric bus with Japanese tourists and buzz over. We get out and walk the gauntlet of shops and hawkers.
Arri had warned us about this of course and also of the photographers we would face inside. We were unconcerned and shook them off easily. The oppressor that we couldn't dodge that day was the sun. Arri would joke that due to his name we faced two suns that day, but the one in te sky already felt double strength. Let me tell you, kids: it got to 47 degrees C, which is 117 back in the USA and that was tough work. I was glad that we had had lunch and moved an hour later into the afternoon, because that was a corker. And Arri said the previous day had been hotter.
As Arri navigated us to a shady spot to explain some things, I was staring at the gate you see below and tripped over a pothole in the pavement. Aha, Arri told us: the Taj is all about Love and in Love you must be very careful all the time!


As you surely know, the Taj Mahal was built by the Mughul emporer Shah Jahan as a mausoleum to his wife Mumtaz Mahal. She was a baby-making machine to him, but finally died giving birth to their fourteenth child. Grief-striken, his hair turned gray and he set about to build a monument to her and to love.
The story takes a Shakespearean turn later as the Shah's son throws him in prison and makes war on his brother. The brother is killed, humilated and beheaded, his head sent to the still-greiving shah in prison.
But hey - this is a love story. The gate you see above is red sandstone, like Akbar's tomb. The guide said it was red because it was metaphoric of the Hindu bridal veil: the red veil outside and the white beauty inside. He explained the themes of the day were symmetry, pattern and inlays. He also mentioned more than once that these were crafts still being practiced here in tax-free Agra. Hmm. Tax-free you say?


Even after the first quick speech, Arri was visibly sweating. But he always kept his compure even as he said things like "the compound is broken into four symmetrical gardens which are then broken themselves into four gardens each, right there beyond the men fighting there"


But that happened later and wasn't really a big deal. After the talk at the South Gate, we passed through and saw the Taj for the first time.

I've seen many pictures of the monument and they fail to move me. It's like seeing pictures of the Grand Canyon or reproductions of the Mona Lisa. They don't express it correctly. They don't express it at all. Stepping through the dark cooridor and seein the Taj took my breath away. I said "Oh my God" out loud. I was astounded in just the way that seeing this picture now will completely fail to do to you. It is an astounding, somehow personal experience completely at odds with the magnitude of it.


Some buildings have a specific, stirring feeling to them. The Lincoln Memorial for example seems to crystalize a very true, primal thing about the American experience. You feel proud and sad and understand the burden, the price and even a little shame. You have a great sympathy for the man and the country being there. You feel your Americanness sharply there. Or maybe that's just my Northern view of it.
In any case, the monument has singularity to it. The Taj was powerful in that way. Even across cultures, centuries, languages and beliefs there was something strong. You felt in the presence of something far beyond you. Like it was not of this place. I don't know if I'm over-selling it, but it took my breath away.

Now, the Taj is a symmetrical building on symmetrical grounds. The one exception is the Shah's tomb which was added later. The whole thing radiates around her grave. He sits alongside, perhaps stealing the spotlight by not conforming. It really was about him after all. His grief, his love. His empire.

But for such a symmetrical building, it has a lot of unexpected vistas and angles to offer. Looking at my snaps, there are many where it's not obvious that they are even the same building. On a cooler day I could have spent a long time there. Being in the Taj's presence was amazing.

We went through the tomb and around the back. Stepping out of the dark onto the palisade I thought my retinas would explode it was so bright. We had to get back to the shade and the car. But we lingered and delayed as long as we could. There were people who wanted pictures with Americans after all!

But in the end we had to head for shelter.

We went back through the gauntlet, the electric bus and back to the car.

In the AC we fell down. melted through and dumbstruck. A fly was in the car buzzing around and Arri pointed it out. "Ah, a fly has come for a kiss- to give you his love" he said. I smiled and said "Ah, in love you have to be very careful all the time!" Arri chuckled at the mild jape, but the driver Harpeet shook his sad head. "Love has been left back there" he said, pointing back to the Taj.

Next: Tax free, you say? And we see how the other half lives