Breathing fog out of my mouth, we stride
the streets embraced by the darkness of the winter tail-end dawn. I feel my
body shivering not because of the cold weather, but of my overflowing
enthusiasm knowing only the thick walls separate me before I finally lay eyes on
the Taj Mahal. It has been a long journey for me to get here – both literally
and figuratively.
Ever since we hopped inside an airport cab at Kolkata and seen with my own eyes the wild street activities of our first destination in India, my mind was set in gleeful anticipation of seeing this famous landmark, which the late great Rabindranath Tagore refers to as “a teardrop on the cheek of time”.
Agra, where the Taj is located is penciled
on the first leaf of our 25-day journey across India and our third stop after
Kolkata and Varanasi – two cities that has gifted me with loads of wonderful
experience and a wealth of knowledge, aside from slowly familiarizing me with
the local life in India. Despite the sensory overload brought upon by a myriad
of religious activities we witnessed at the Ghats along the holy Ganges River at Varanasi, I am still betting on Taj Mahal to top that experience.
A 12-hour sleeper train journey later, we
arrived at Agra the previous day under mask of the afternoon dust and the
normal chaos of train stations dotting the length of India’s inner belly.
Figuratively, my journey to Taj Mahal began when I first read a book about
famous landmarks in my school's library way back in grade school. Since then, I became
consumed by the idea that I should visit it someday.
As the sun slowly rises from the
horizon and sunlight began to sweep our surroundings, we're introduced to a flood of
humanity all waiting in line at the gates. Slowly, as the queue starts to move
I feel my heart beating faster. In a matter of seconds later, I catch my first
glimpse of the grand structure and in one synchronized motion I pump my fist
and drop my jaw in sheer awe.
Long gone are the camel trains that
transported the glistening marbles used to construct the Taj Mahal. It is now
replaced by mechanical trains that run surprisingly efficient. The men and
women in bright sari clothing have remained along with the long lasting aura of love still enveloping the magical journey through time of
Taj Mahal. Playing the integral part behind the story of this 17th
century mausoleum was Emperor Shah Jahan, of the Mughal Dynasty. Disconsolate
at the death of his favorite wife; Mumtaz Mahal after giving birth to their 14th
child in 1631, the Shah envisioned the monument he ordered built in the same
year, to be his posthumous gift and never-ending symbol of love for his
departed wife.
It took more than 20 years before the
Taj Mahal rose with unmatched splendor the world had ever seen on the banks of
the Yamuna River in 1654. Artists, marble sculptures and cutters from all over
India were summoned along with more than 20,000 workers and toiled for the
whole duration to decorate the interiors of the Taj Mahal with impressive
carvings and calligraphy that matches its combination of Indian, Mughal,
Islamic and Persian architecture to perfection.
As the crowd made its way to the Taj, I
and my friend Aileen stood behind dozens of visitors parallel to the reflecting
pool giving us a full view of the Taj with the four towering minarets
impeccably framing the main tomb. We took our sweet time slowly pacing our
steps towards the grand building housing the tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz
Mahal.
Like dining on an expensive slab of
steak, I was chewing the experience little by little. Taking photographs from
afar and gazing to appreciate every detail of the Taj’s exterior. As I crept
closer, the main marble dome and the ornamental spires spreading from the limits
of the base walls appear more spectacular – instantly I feel my
architecture-junky-self experiencing optical orgasm. Despite the hordes of us tourists
crawling all over the massive compound, the sheer size of the Taj Mahal dwarfs
my existence and I imagined myself being just one of the thousands of workers
who labored to build this extraordinary landmark.
Inside, visitors can only see the
replica tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal in a plain interior consisting of
marble walls and nary of unnecessary aesthetics, as their actual sarcophagi are housed in the basement where it is locked from view of anyone.
The bare interiors appear anti-climactic in stark contrast from the visceral feast adorning the exterior, where one can
appreciate the several decorative elements believed to be the finest
representation of Mughal architecture. Scanning the exterior walls, one can see
a variety of abstract forms of vegetation motifs, calligraphy of Persian poems
and other intricately designed marble tiles.
As the cool wind descends from the
Yamuna River and gleams of sunlight illuminates the Taj Mahal, an otherworldly
photographic reflection is created making the scene look more surreal than what
I am already feeling at that instant. I mouth the word “wow” for the last time
as I sit still slowly trailing all my thoughts behind. Realizing the high of
the moment, I rejoice at the thought that we are still at the first part of our
journey to India and what better way to spend the passing of time while I stare
at the Taj Mahal. Not soon after, I feel a smile dominating my face as I revel
at the eternal splendor and the love shared by Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal both
in life and in death.
*This article appeared in the April issue of Cruising: Going Places Travel Magazine*
*This article appeared in the April issue of Cruising: Going Places Travel Magazine*
