The morning train ride from Jaipur to Agra displayed yet another new landscape to be seen in India. Fields of tall green grass interrupted by groves of trees were foreground to the silhouette of towering hills, and the sun rose languidly as it burned off the mist of the cool blue and green morning. We dozed on and off on the train, and felt energized as we walked through the station and into the bustling scene outside. We were approached by many offers for rickshaws, only one of which we accepted from the tourism company. Our driver, "K.K.", was an adorable middle-aged man whom we all liked immeadiately. He told us he'd make sure we saw exactly what we wanted to see in Agra, and he gave us his notebook, similar to Rafiq's, with multi-lingual descriptions lauding his excellent services. He took us to a cafe close to the south gate of the Taj Mahal for breakfast, and we were able to store our bags for the couple of hours we'd been in Agra before we headed on to New Delhi. With the promise that he'd be waiting for us when we returned, we struck out on our Taj Mahal mission. We made several wrong turns down side streets, accruing a group of teenage boy followers, but eventually found the south gate to the Taj Mahal.
There were separate lines for males and females, and we were intimidated by the ridiculously long line for the men that seemed to stretch back for miles. We bought our tickets, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach when the guard told us that the gates would be closing at 2 PM because a foreign diplomat was visting. My watch said 1:30 PM, and there was no way that the mens line would move fast enough for Michael to get in with us. The girls and I jumped in the womens line and in desperation, began pleading with the men across from us to let Michael in with them (Julie and I may or may not have told them that he was our husband, and that we'd come all the way from America to see the Taj...some of that is true:). Always willing to help out an American lady, they kindly obliged us, and in nail-biting suspense, Michael slipped by the watchful eyes of the guards and into line, and all of us made it through in the nick of time before the gate closed. We had to cross through several more towering gates and beautiful Persian gardens before the Taj Mahal came into view, and my anticipation built like an ocean wave, finally breaking as the heavenly structure came into my line of sight. I inhaled sharply as I drank in the view, feeling goosebumps break out all over my body. It was similar to the feeling I had when seeing the Colosseum for the first time, but even more powrful with the pure white set against a powerful blue sky. Something I had envisioned for so long was standing before my eyes, and the physical materialization of a fantasy becoming reality had me spellbound. Even though it's insufficient to compare the structure to a mundane object, the thought that popped into my head was 'wedding cake'. The most decadent and elegant one that even the most skilled artist could only dream about.
The walk past the long rectangular pools with shooting fountains was like a path of purification, and we arrived at the steps of the Taj Mahal in a pensive and peaceful state much different than in the hectic way we had entered. We waited in line with people of all nations and ages, from Tibetan monks to women from Missouri, all here to seek a moment in one of the greatest man-made wonders that most people will ever see in otheir lifetime. I couldn't help but think about the eternal romance that the Taj Mahal represented. Emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj as a memorial for his second wife, Mumtaz Mashal, who died in childbirth. They say that Shah Jahan was so grief-stricken and heartbroken that his hair turned to gray virtually overnight. The Taj took eight years to build and was completed in 1653, and was beautifully described by Shah Jahan itself when he said that it made "the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes".
From close up, the seemingly simple white of the structure was actually a myriad of intricate flowered marble carvings and inlaid designs of precious stones. The detail in one square foot was incredible, and this same magnitude of detail was everywhere I looked, from the delicate honeycombing of the marble screens to the towering minarets at the top. What was interesting was that the extravagant exterior gave way to a relatively simple, albeit elegant interior. I stepped into a circular room that marked the false tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz (their real tombs are in a locked basement chamber and cannot be viewed), and marveled at the peaceful, austere resting place inside the magical structure. The marble carvings and inlaid precious stone designs continued to the inside, and I learned from watching a tour guide place a penlight against the portion of the wall, that cornelion, the orange stone that made up parts of the flower designss, glows like fire when light illuminates it from behind. I wandered through other parts of the magnificent structure, and emerged on the back side of the Taj Mahal, getting a view of the Yamuna river that flows behind the monument, its natural beauty complimenting one of mankind's greatest architectural achievements.
We spent the next hour in ridiculous tourist mode, snapping photos in front of the Taj Mahal, often times being asked to pose with people in their photos. There's not many times when you're background is the Taj, so though we felt a little cheesey we took advantage of it, coming up with a variety of poses. We all whipped out our OU College of Medicine t-shirts for several of them to show our appreciation for the reason that we were able to come to India in the first place.
It was hard to leave the Taj Mahal, and as we walked away from it I kept looking back, trying to permanently fix every detail in my memory. No matter if I come back again to see it, it won't ever look the same. I tried to preserve everything: the way the Taj Mahal seemed to emit its own light, the way its reflection danced on the pools and the looks on the faces of the people as they gazed upon its splendor.
The rest of our short time in Agra was spent touring the city by rickshaw. K. K. gave us an excellent brief history of the fort, located just two kilometers from the Taj Mahal along the same river, but on different parts of its bend so you get a brilliant view of the white beauty from the fort. K. K explained that soon after the Taj was finished, Shah Jahan's son, Aurangzeb, overthrew his father and had him imprisoned in the Agra Fort where, for the rest of his days, he could onlygaze out at his creation through the windows. It was only in death that Shah Jahan returned to the Taj Mahal, to be laid to rest beside hiswife. I can't imagine what kind of selfish and heartless son could do this to his father, banishing him away, but giving him a direct line of sight to what eludes and tortures him.
We made our way back to the train station and boarded our car, sipping chai on the way and reading the good books we had brought along. I was glad that I had bought "The Space Between Us", a novel written by an Indian author about Mumbai, before the trip and brought it with me, because there were now so many references and nuances in the book that I now understand from living in India for the past three weeks. As always, we made some new train friends who helped us get off at our next stop...New Delhi!
There were separate lines for males and females, and we were intimidated by the ridiculously long line for the men that seemed to stretch back for miles. We bought our tickets, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach when the guard told us that the gates would be closing at 2 PM because a foreign diplomat was visting. My watch said 1:30 PM, and there was no way that the mens line would move fast enough for Michael to get in with us. The girls and I jumped in the womens line and in desperation, began pleading with the men across from us to let Michael in with them (Julie and I may or may not have told them that he was our husband, and that we'd come all the way from America to see the Taj...some of that is true:). Always willing to help out an American lady, they kindly obliged us, and in nail-biting suspense, Michael slipped by the watchful eyes of the guards and into line, and all of us made it through in the nick of time before the gate closed. We had to cross through several more towering gates and beautiful Persian gardens before the Taj Mahal came into view, and my anticipation built like an ocean wave, finally breaking as the heavenly structure came into my line of sight. I inhaled sharply as I drank in the view, feeling goosebumps break out all over my body. It was similar to the feeling I had when seeing the Colosseum for the first time, but even more powrful with the pure white set against a powerful blue sky. Something I had envisioned for so long was standing before my eyes, and the physical materialization of a fantasy becoming reality had me spellbound. Even though it's insufficient to compare the structure to a mundane object, the thought that popped into my head was 'wedding cake'. The most decadent and elegant one that even the most skilled artist could only dream about.
The walk past the long rectangular pools with shooting fountains was like a path of purification, and we arrived at the steps of the Taj Mahal in a pensive and peaceful state much different than in the hectic way we had entered. We waited in line with people of all nations and ages, from Tibetan monks to women from Missouri, all here to seek a moment in one of the greatest man-made wonders that most people will ever see in otheir lifetime. I couldn't help but think about the eternal romance that the Taj Mahal represented. Emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj as a memorial for his second wife, Mumtaz Mashal, who died in childbirth. They say that Shah Jahan was so grief-stricken and heartbroken that his hair turned to gray virtually overnight. The Taj took eight years to build and was completed in 1653, and was beautifully described by Shah Jahan itself when he said that it made "the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes".
From close up, the seemingly simple white of the structure was actually a myriad of intricate flowered marble carvings and inlaid designs of precious stones. The detail in one square foot was incredible, and this same magnitude of detail was everywhere I looked, from the delicate honeycombing of the marble screens to the towering minarets at the top. What was interesting was that the extravagant exterior gave way to a relatively simple, albeit elegant interior. I stepped into a circular room that marked the false tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz (their real tombs are in a locked basement chamber and cannot be viewed), and marveled at the peaceful, austere resting place inside the magical structure. The marble carvings and inlaid precious stone designs continued to the inside, and I learned from watching a tour guide place a penlight against the portion of the wall, that cornelion, the orange stone that made up parts of the flower designss, glows like fire when light illuminates it from behind. I wandered through other parts of the magnificent structure, and emerged on the back side of the Taj Mahal, getting a view of the Yamuna river that flows behind the monument, its natural beauty complimenting one of mankind's greatest architectural achievements.
We spent the next hour in ridiculous tourist mode, snapping photos in front of the Taj Mahal, often times being asked to pose with people in their photos. There's not many times when you're background is the Taj, so though we felt a little cheesey we took advantage of it, coming up with a variety of poses. We all whipped out our OU College of Medicine t-shirts for several of them to show our appreciation for the reason that we were able to come to India in the first place.
It was hard to leave the Taj Mahal, and as we walked away from it I kept looking back, trying to permanently fix every detail in my memory. No matter if I come back again to see it, it won't ever look the same. I tried to preserve everything: the way the Taj Mahal seemed to emit its own light, the way its reflection danced on the pools and the looks on the faces of the people as they gazed upon its splendor.
The rest of our short time in Agra was spent touring the city by rickshaw. K. K. gave us an excellent brief history of the fort, located just two kilometers from the Taj Mahal along the same river, but on different parts of its bend so you get a brilliant view of the white beauty from the fort. K. K explained that soon after the Taj was finished, Shah Jahan's son, Aurangzeb, overthrew his father and had him imprisoned in the Agra Fort where, for the rest of his days, he could onlygaze out at his creation through the windows. It was only in death that Shah Jahan returned to the Taj Mahal, to be laid to rest beside hiswife. I can't imagine what kind of selfish and heartless son could do this to his father, banishing him away, but giving him a direct line of sight to what eludes and tortures him.
We made our way back to the train station and boarded our car, sipping chai on the way and reading the good books we had brought along. I was glad that I had bought "The Space Between Us", a novel written by an Indian author about Mumbai, before the trip and brought it with me, because there were now so many references and nuances in the book that I now understand from living in India for the past three weeks. As always, we made some new train friends who helped us get off at our next stop...New Delhi!
No comments:
Post a Comment