06/22/14 - 6/24/14: Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India
Agra is destination #1 for nearly every tourist in India. Not because the city is impressive or unique (on the contrary, it seemed much like everywhere else we’d visited), but because it is home to one of the most breathtaking structures in the world, the Taj Mahal. We were enthusiastic about finally witnessing this world wonder in person.
We boarded a train in the morning, crossing the border of Rajasthan and entering the new Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. Our train ride earned points for being air-conditioned, but immediately lost them when we saw a stray hair lying across the “scrambled eggs” served to us on board. We decided to skip breakfast. Instead, we passed the time by poring over matrimonial ads in a local newspaper. These ads were not for dating, mind you. They were for singles aiming to run straight at the altar screaming “I do!” The romance on the page had us swooning, fanning ourselves from the raw heat of printed stats: Well reputed business owner seeking fair, slim bride. Good cook. Caste status no bar.
That afternoon we checked into our hotel and departed for an optional visit to the tomb of Itmad-ud-Daula, a place better known as “Baby Taj.” This mausoleum was built in the 1620s, before the Taj Mahal was ever imagined, but it is said to be the inspiration for the Taj Mahal’s later design. It was erected during the reign of the 4th Mughal ruler, Jahangir, by his 20th wife, Nur Jahan. Her father had been state treasurer and, upon his passing, she asked to build him a place of rest. Cunning in her approach, she framed the mausoleum as a holy Muslim site based on the Islamic heavenly ideal - cruciform in shape with four gardens bisected in perfect symmetry. Jahangir agreed and she proceeded to spend a fortune creating a monument celebrating her father.
Baby Taj feels divine in its conception, with immaculate landscaping and a calm river flowing as its backdrop. The building itself isn’t massive in scale, but it claims pride of place at the center of a large garden. Light reflects softly off its marbled walls which are inlaid with quietly colorful tiles laid out in symmetrical patterns. A chhatri dome caps its center while four corner minarets point skyward to the heavens.
The mausoleum beckoned us closer with its beauty and I instantly fell in love with its graceful architecture. My hand passed over its smooth exterior and I could feel how exact the artists were when fitting each piece into place. The interior ceiling above the tomb showed deterioration and lacked the vivacity of its original inception, but you could still see its elegance in the dim light. It was the calmest place we’d visited in India, aside from the desert. Much like the peaceful cemeteries of America, this mausoleum invited silent contemplation of life and loved ones that came before us.
It was from the grounds of Baby Taj that Aura told us the mythical love story behind the creation of its big brother, the Taj Mahal...
The 5th Mughal King, Shah Jahan, already had 2 wives when he found himself captivated by a pair of eyes peering out from a veil. He was observing the women’s market from atop the walls of Agra Fort and, even at a distance, he was struck by a jewelry vendor below. Interested in seeing more than her eyes, he declared that on the following day women could attend the market without veils. When he spied her full beauty he became desperate to meet her. Knowing men weren’t allowed in the market, Shah Jahan dressed himself as a woman and went straight to her jewelry stall where he bought every piece. The next day he did the same. On the third day when he did it again the woman demanded to know who was buying out her stock! Shah Jahan pulled off his disguise and revealed himself to be the king and asked her to marry him. She said yes.
From that day forward Shah Jahan spent all his days with his most cherished wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Always by his side, she even accompanied him on military campaigns. She was his closest confidant and the keeper of his heart. During their marriage they sired 14 children together, but only half of them survived.
During Mumtaz Mahal’s final pregnancy, her husband was called away to war. He wanted his wife to join him, as she always had, but she insisted he go without her because the baby was nearly due. He reluctantly agreed, but insisted upon frequent updates about her condition. While he was away she gave birth. It was a difficult labor that resulted in her being near death. A messenger raced out to inform Shah Johan of the news but, knowing it would break his spirit and possibly lose the war, the messenger lied and said his wife and child were doing well. He added that Mumtaz Mahal missed him terribly and wanted her husband to hurry back. This infused Shah Johan with strength and determination to win the war quickly and return to his love, which he did.
Upon return, Shah Johan fell stunned and heartbroken at the sight of his dying wife. Before death she whispered three requests: That he would never marry again; That he would always take care of their children; That he would build her a memorial the world would never forget. He made good on all three wishes. The Taj Mahal remains one of the greatest shrines to eternal love in all the world.
After his story Aura took us to a viewpoint behind the Taj Mahal as the sun was setting. It was on a dirt road next to a dry riverbed. Barbed wire stood between us and the river, but in the distance we saw the white mausoleum glowing in the ebbing light of day. It looked even more lovely when lightning cut across the grey clouds above it. Wind picked up; a harbinger of stormy weather to come. We managed to flee with only a few raindrops hitting.
The events of the day had deepened our desire to see the Taj Mahal up close. The plan was to arrive at the Taj Mahal by sunrise, so we met at 4:30am and drove in darkness. It seemed we’d finally found a time of day in India without traffic, though for some reason our driver was honking his way through empty streets. We couldn’t drive right up to the eastern gate because authorities only allow electric vehicles within a certain radius to cut back on pollution. So we parked and walked down the road, past stray dogs and cows, until we arrived at the outer wall. The four of us had dressed up in our brand new Indian garb we’d purchased in Jaipur, because when you’re going to visit the Taj Mahal you gotta do it in style.
The sun had risen by the time we walked inside. We approached a red sandstone gate with marble inlaid trim. A blinding light shone through that broke and diffused as the first glimpse of the Taj Mahal was revealed. It looked small and shrunken, like a miniature model fit inside a red bordered frame. But as we walked through the arch the world opened up, and the Taj Mahal opened with it, rising in stature and magnificence. It was immense and astonishing, mesmerizing and beautiful. A true wonder.
Confession time. I’d never thought much about the Taj Mahal before I was standing in its presence. It had never been on my list of places to see before I died, and its pictures had never beguiled me. I can now say the pictures do not do it justice. I found myself enchanted, never wanting to look away. After traveling over dusty roads, through crowded streets, with wires hanging and smells overwhelming, the calm majesty of the Taj Mahal doused me in a warm bath of peace.
We stood for a long time taking photos from the marble platform at the end of the fountain that points like an arrow at the Taj Mahal. So many photos. Group shots, individual shots, seated shots, standing shots, jumping sho-- well, maybe not jumping shots. An attendant told us not to jump. Yes, I suppose it is bad form to jump for joy in front of a mausoleum. Point taken.
The local guide gathered us together to tell the story of the Taj Mahal. I’m so glad Aura had told us this tale the previous day because this man rushed through it and left out lots of detail. He rattled it off as though reading from a page, barely taking a breath between sentences. This was not bad news. This was good news, in fact, because his fast talking meant he was done quickly, which meant more time to explore the grounds.
When Aura asked how much time we wanted to spend at the Taj Mahal several people said 45 minutes. I froze, worried that was all the time we’d be given. I and a few others asked for more time, to which Aura replied we could meet outside the gate in 1 hour and 15 minutes. I was happy even though I felt I could’ve spent hours there.
We broke away from our large group and walked to the main building, eager to climb up the stairs and explore its interior. Up close, the white marble turned creamy and was threaded with grey streaks and pinkish hues. As with Baby Taj, we saw finely etched stonework and smoothed tiles set in the marble like a finely crafted quilt. We entered the sanctuary where the actual tomb resides. No photos were allowed. A gentleman working there told us it’s traditional to walk clockwise around the inner sanctum. A posted sign said to be quiet, for obvious reasons. I could hear the staff member speaking in hushed tones to the newcomers and other visitors whispering. All this subtle sound rose and rebounded around the chamber. It echoed unto infinity, swirling like a whirlpool. I’ve never in my life been in a space like that. Each footstep, breath, and brush of cloth lingered in the air. I whistled a quick note and heard it play in perpetuity, rebounding above my head. This mingling of echoes resembled the tranquil tones of prayer.
We exited and turned right before crossing the grounds and sitting next to one of the red sandstone structures that borders Taj Mahal. We welcomed its shade, for it was hot despite the early hour. We were happy where we sat. It was quite the view. We took our time taking photos and soaking in the serenity.
Eventually it was time to leave. We didn’t want to go and were practically dragging our feet on our way back to the east gate. As I walked, I admired the red gateway ahead of me with its 21 small domes on top denoting the years it took to build the Taj Mahal. With its impressive lines and craftsmanship I thought this structure alone would be worth visiting. Then I turned around and nearly fell to the ground at the sight of the Taj Mahal. It took my breath away. I kept doing that - looking forward at the gate, looking back at the Taj Mahal - feeling breathless by its grandeur over and over again before finally saying goodbye.
We met at the cafe, as planned, and then went back to our hotel for a nap. Since we were traveling on the India “on a shoestring” tour, we needed to check out by noon but wouldn’t be departing for our overnight train to Varanasi until 10pm. Granted, there was an optional trip to Agra Fort in the afternoon, but damn! That still meant a whole lotta waiting in the lobby. Aura said we could spend an extra $15 to hold onto our grungy, tiny, kitty-litter smelling rooms for the rest of the day (my words, not his). The four of us “old ladies” threw down the cash without hesitation. You can’t put a price tag on the simple joy of lounging on a bed. And watching World Cup soccer helped us ignore the smell of piss.
In the afternoon we gathered with the rest of our group to go on a tour of Agra Fort, also known as the Red Fort. Aura didn’t join us, which felt like a first, and I was glad he got a little time to himself. Once again, though, he went that extra mile and gave us a brief history, told us how to walk through the fort, and listed sites to see before we set off.
Agra Fort is an immense red sandstone fortress built during Akbar the Great’s rule, the 3rd Moghal emperor. The structure contains a series of open quads, fortified walls, labyrinthine halls, and secret tunnels. Essentially, a kid’s dream come true. As a child, I would’ve been in heaven exploring it. As an adult, I was just as excited. Too bad the withering heat melted me down to a puddle, leaving me to slowly ooze my way around the premises.
Agra Fort has the notoriety of being both the place where Shah Jahan first spied his beloved Mumtaz Mahal in the women’s market, and where their son later imprisoned him. Aurangzeb overthrew his father and took his throne in 1658, but he didn’t have the heart to make him suffer in a dark, dank cell. Instead, he provided his father comfortable quarters in Agra Fort where he had a clear view of the Taj Mahal across the way. Everyday Shah Jahan would gaze upon his creation and remember the woman he loved. When he passed away in 1666 his daughter snuck his body across the river and laid him to rest beside their mother; together forever in love.
As we learned the dramatic tales spun from Agra’s past, I wondered how much was fiction and how much was fact. It’s possible the Taj Mahal is crafted more from romantic lore than historical reality. But in a world of cynicism a symbol of eternal love seems a refreshing notion to embrace.
That night the four of us finally checked out of our rooms at 10pm prepared to depart. Unfortunately, the departure wasn’t prepared for us. Our train was delayed by 2 ½ hours. We all settled in for a long night of charades and Heads Up in the lobby. Everyone happily joined in. This ate up our waiting time and kept people laughing. Anne was in especially good form, though we struggled with her interpretation of Star Trek, which for some reason had her crawling across the ground exploding herself before giving birth. Yeah, no one guessed that one.
I was feeling quite drowsy by the time we arrived at the station at 1am. Despite our extremely early morning, I’d forced myself not to nap during the day in hopes that exhaustion would help me sleep on the train. In retrospect, a nice, long nap would’ve been a very good idea. Our night was far from over...
