INDIA: Taj Mahal

"Like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.”  

-Rabindranath Tagore, on the Taj Mahal

I remember my Indian friend telling me that if her boyfriend would propose marriage to her, she would like him to say it in front of the Taj Mahal; the greatest monument of love, as she put it. I have heard a dearth of legends and myths about this monument-cum-mausoleum from friends and travel books. Legend has it that, devastated by his wife's death Shah Jahan's hair turned gray over night. He built the Taj Mahal to house the remains of his beloved. He did not want the architect to build anything as beautiful as the Taj Mahal so he ordered for the architect's hands to be chopped off. 

On the train to Agra, 4 hours

(no AC = torture)

These stories subconsciously stoked my expectations and I was preparing myself for a letdown once I see it. Yet, in spite of the hype, I remember shivers running down through my spine as I saw the effervescent white glow of the marble monument peer through the arched gateway before it. It's one of those places that hold a palpable aura, like meeting the star of the show entitled Indian civilization. 

The Taj Mahal

Chillin'

Spot Jamal from Slumdog Millionaire

Brimming with people in spite of the heat

It was extremely hot when I was there. The 47 degree temperature wore me out sooner that I expected. In spite of the heat, more and more people still came. I heard that if you visit the Taj at dawn you would see the monument change color and hues as the sun sets. That means spending the night in Agra though because the last train leaves at around 5PM. Nevertheless, walking around the Taj at the peak of heat was still enchanting to say the least. 

Seeking refuge from the scorching sun

Mughal marble art

I also went to nearby Agra Fort which, with all due respect, was quite empty and boring. Diminishing marginal returns, I guess, since I have been to the Red Fort in New Delhi. After some time, forts seem to look the same (save for some in Rajasthan) and if you frequent them too much you'll soon be "fort-ed out." Agra Fort's saving grace though was the story of the traitor prince Akbar and Shah Jahan's prison cell. Akbar betrayed his father, Shah Jahan, in his lust for power and the throne. When Akbar ordered for his incarceration, Shah Jahan requested for a prison cell from which the Taj can be seen in full-view. He wanted this to keep his loving's wife memory alive with until his death. 

Around Agra Fort

The throne, the prison cell and the Taj

Around Agra you will see a number of shops that sell Mughal-style marble carvings. I wouldn't advise you to buy there though because Agra is known for being a tourist trap (not to foreigners but even to the locals). Most probably the carving would be a fake, overpriced or both. The artisans at work outside their shops provide entertainment while you drink a bottle of cold water.

Artisan at work

The devil is in the details

The way back to New Delhi was quite an experience. I was a good 30-minutes early for my train. I patiently waited on the platform and I tried to amuse myself by people-watching. The platform was teeming with people as it was the last train to Delhi for the day. From afar, I saw the train chugging closer and closer. As if avoiding a tidal wave, the people rushed to the coach door as the train came to a complete stop. They forced themselves inside even though the train was already jam-packed. Trying to remain calm, I looked for my coach and, like the others, pushed as hard as I could to enter it. I waved my ticket, a reserved seat, to one of the standing passengers by the door and urged him to let me through. He looked at me with rabid eyes and spat insults and curses at my face. At this point, I thought that it's impossible to get on this train.

No vacancy

The train was like a can of sardines. Seats that were meant for three people had six people seated on them. Passengers were standing in the aisles and it made the heat inside unbearable. No wonder some people have died from suffocation while riding Indian trains. As the train left, the people inside cheered like barbarians, rejoicing over the sight of other passengers being left behind.

Some persevered while others lost hope

Indignant

Luckily, I met a group of Thai tourists and we managed to hire a taxi to take us back. The sinister taxi man fleeced each one of us 16 USD for the ride. It was a total rip-off. It took us ten hours to get back while it was only supposed to be four hours. The driver bluffed and said that there was a big festival so it was better to stop first and wait for the roads to ease up. Little did we know, he just wanted to sleep! After the intersection a few hundred meters from where we stopped, the road was virtually empty!

Did they miss the train too?

Sleeping Beauty