Visiting “The Wonder”

by Gauri Trivedi

[box]Prompted by her inquisitive five-year-old, Gauri Trivedi makes a trip to the Taj Mahal with her family, where, together with her daughter, she discovers a whole new meaning to the architectural wonder.[/box]

“Is ‘Taj Mahal’ a building?” my five-year-old popped the question from nowhere.  I didn’t have to look far to discover the source, it stood bright and right before me: the television. Disney channel’s Little Einsteins were flying over the Taj Mahal in India and though my daughter had just vague memories of her birth country, the mention of India sparked her attention. And for once I really have to thank the idiot box for igniting the right kind of curiosity.

“It is much more than just a building. It is a very special place and one of the most mesmerising places on this earth,” I responded with the confidence akin to someone who had visited the Taj Mahal a number of times. But if truth be told, I hadn’t, not even once. And yet those words just slipped out of me. Maybe it was the knowledge of Taj Mahal’s distinction as one of the wonders of the world or maybe it was the memory of its beautiful marble miniatures adorning many relatives’ show cases; I said it with a conviction that relied more on hearsay and less on experience. ‘Mesmerising,’ she didn’t quite comprehend, but ‘special,’ she understood. And before she could go on to “what’s mesmerising,” I made a deal with her. We would plan a trip to Agra during our next visit to India in about a month and visit the Taj Mahal. She could then decide if she thought it was special or not. The last part was an obvious lure to convey that her opinion mattered to me even when it came to something as big as a gigantic white palace (as she later named the Taj Mahal).

The month of August was not the best season to travel in India, we were told by wellwishers again and again. And every time I heard it from someone, it made me cringe. “It’s our home, we are not travellers.” This and many such retorts came to my tongue before I swallowed them in. The bottle of mineral water in our hands always made people presumptuous about us, the visiting Indians. And I knew even if I tried with all my heart I could never convince them that other than safeguarding our health, we had no inhibitions about our stay. They were the ones who brought up heat, pollution, corruption and population in conversations, the tone always defiant and apologetic at the same time. So instead of getting into an argument I could never win, I simply said “Since we are going to be in Delhi around that time, it would be a good opportunity to visit Agra”.

A friend who had been to Agra last year enthusiastically poured in some itinerary help and I vividly remember her mentioning the redone roads and the free flowing traffic on the highways. But here on the road and in a rental car, there was no sign of either. Could it be that the rains washed the good things away in less than a year? Apparently, it did. Needless to say, the ride from Delhi to Agra was long and bumpy. What should have taken four hours or so turned into a lot more and by the time we checked into a hotel it was after nearly six hours of sitting in the car.

The ride and the headache suffered on account of uncalled-for honking had not dampened our high spirits, however. After a quick freshen up and a lavish dinner, we asked for directions to the Taj Mahal at the lobby. A short drive took us to a barricade where two guards lazily came up to us and informed that the Taj Mahal was accessible for night viewing only on select dates in a month and tonight wasn’t one of them. We returned, more tired than disappointed, the fatigue now setting in.

The next morning, we awoke to a fresh drizzle which got meaner by the time we finished breakfast. We waited it out for a couple of minutes and soon enough the sun emerged as if the rain had never happened.  And with the rays came back the heat, bursting of renewed energy, any chances of the afternoon being pleasant vanishing with the rain.

A guide was hired right from the hotel. We had learnt from our earlier travels that in places like these that relied heavily on tourism, things had a certain way of working and if you just gave in instead of fighting the system, the voyage went smoother.  There were faster means to get around bureaucracy, if you could afford them. The ticket counter at the grounds of Taj Mahal looked crowded enough for me to look around for a bench to sit on but our guide returned with tickets in his hands in about six minutes, the point here being paying for the services of a travel guide, though not essential, was undeniably beneficial.  We stood in a long line (separated by gender) at the entrance. The queue was long but moved fast. There was a little bit of pushing and scurrying as can be expected at an overcrowded place like this one. All the pushing irritated my companion, who wasn’t a non-resident like us, so much that she had a word or two to say about it openly.  I guess a certain class of the residents were used to and expected privileged treatment everywhere. We, on the other hand, were just happy to be there and didn’t mind what came along the way.

Before I get down to appreciating the beauty of Taj Mahal, a quick mention of the things that impressed me other than the magnificent dome itself.  The pristine conditions surrounding this famous attraction made for an ideal visit and in a country boasting of such a large population and for a spot that attracts more than a million visitors every year, this is no mean feat. Right from the perfectly manicured gardens, to the orderly walkways leading to the shoe racks and the gleaming marble steps taking us to the floors of the Taj Mahal, a little wet from the rains, but clean and welcoming, it made me proud to see that the structure that became India’s identity internationally and a gateway for so many foreigners to come and visit, was being taken care of just like it should be. Additionally, the entry fee of Rs.20 per head for an Indian National demonstrated an intention to keep the monument particularly accessible to the general public as well.

Back to the beautiful Taj Mahal: there is nothing that hasn’t been said or written about this Mausoleum built by Shah Jahan, a Mughal Emperor, in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal. This ‘Crown of Palace’ (as the name translates) took 22 years to build and stands out distinctly as a piece of Mughal architecture filled with marble, mosaic, Calligraphy and motifs. A lot of stories surround this stunning creation and of all the myths, the most disgusting is the one which says the hands of the skilled workers who helped built Taj Mahal were cut off on the Emperor’s orders. There is no truth to it, our travel guide confirmed, and we were relieved to be free of the age-old prejudice against the Emperor whose love for his wife became a legend.

But these are mere statistics, all on paper for anyone to read and remember. What goes unrecorded is the emblematic emotional journey of each traveler who comes face to face with this symbol of eternal love.

The beauty of the Taj Mahal is like love at first sight, it wows you the minute you set your eyes on it – its splendour does not wait for your acceptance, its magic does not need to grow on you, it captures your senses immediately and stays on.

If the front view is that of absolute grandeur, the side of Taj Mahal that opens to the flowing waters of Yamuna exudes harmony. It is here, sitting on the banks of the thunderous river that the marble sepulchre reveals a moment of serenity not quite expected. It is the kind of calm that comes when you feel transported in time, alone in the midst of scores of tourists, miles away from the eager photographers.

For some it is the beauty and elegance of the Taj Mahal that surpasses everything. For many it is the joy of witnessing an exceptional architectural marvel. For me, I came back with a vision of opulence that no camera could fully capture; in my heart I will always remember Taj Mahal as the final resting place of Mumtaz Mahal, loved and cherished even after her death.

The five-year-old however returned with much more than that. At first she was awestruck by the sheer number of people at the monument. I could read her eyes which seemed to be saying “Look Mom, so MANY people wanted to see the Taj Mahal, just like me. ”Once they moved beyond the background and on to the gigantic white palace, she had all kinds of palpable questions like “Why are the pillars so tall?” and “Why did they paint it white and not pink? (it’s as if for little girls nothing is good enough if it ain’t pink!) and a few anomalous ones like “What if the water from the river below came up and filled up the Taj Mahal?” to “Why does Daddy only have one wife?” Of the whole group, she was the one listening most earnestly to what the travel guide had to say; Hindi was as fascinating to her as French. Once inside the Taj Mahal we had a hard time trying to keep her voice low. In time, she sneaked away a few steps behind us and we found her staring at the wall, silent and intent. “I love these flowers on this wall, they are so pretty,” she said, as I clasped her hand in mine and started walking. It was in that plain statement made by a little girl who will probably remember nothing of this wonderful trip when she grows up, that I found my abstract; it was the apparent simplicity of the Taj Mahal that struck a chord. From the pallid color to its uncomplicated motifs, it was an artistic masterpiece and yet simple enough to earn a child’s reverence.

That night as we snuggled up in bed, weary but content with the sightings of the day, sleep did not come easily. “So, was it special for you?” I asked the person actually responsible for the excursion. “Mommy, it was mesmerising,” she said getting it right at the third attempt.

Taj Mahal Pic : montuschi – http://www.flickr.com/photos/montuschi/

Gauri Trivedi is a former business law professional who makes the law at home these days. A Mom to two lovely daughters, her days are filled with constant learning and non- stop fun. All of her “mommy time” goes into writing and finds itself on her blog pages http://messyhomelovelykids.blogspot.com/ and  http://pastaandparatha.blogspot.com/ and if she is not writing she is definitely reading something!

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