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“Symbolising eternal love of a man for his wife” |
To be published in Travel 2007
“Don’t bother going,” said an Aussie tourist of the Taj Mahal. “It’s a blinding white glare”.
We were sitting in a restaurant in the desert town of Jaisalmer, Rajasthan on the border of Pakistan. His statement bothered me. I didn’t want to be disappointed by what is India’s most recognisable icon, what Table Mountain is to South Africa.
Travelling to Agra the problem rattled through my brain until it dawned on me. He must have seen it in the middle of the day, under the sun’s full force. Forewarned is forearmed and I decided to go to the Taj at the crack of dawn, as well as for another reason.
Agra forms part of the Golden Triangle with Jaipur and Delhi and was the ancient capital of the Moghul empire. It took six hours to drive 280-km from Delhi, due to camels, rickshaws, sheep, cows, cyclists and so on. Agra is dreary town filled with chaotic of traffic, pollution and horns but it’s the base to visit the Taj, Agra’s Red Fort and Fatepuhr Sikri.
Early next morning, still dark, we drove to a car park from where visitors continue by electric bus or horse cart, apparently to prevent pollution of the Taj (although pigeons are a threat). Outside the red sandstone walls of the Taj complex vendors sell inlaid marble boxes, whips, shawls, carpets and other curios. Passing through a security check we entered the outer courtyard and followed a footpath to the Chowk-i Jilo Khana, a massive red sandstone arched gateway, directly aligned with the Taj, topped with delicate domes and inscribed with Koranic verses.
“The gate symbolises the entrance to paradise, representing the transition between the outer and inner world”, said my guide.
Passing through a narrow archway in the gateway, there it was, at the end of a long waterway reflecting the Taj and a favourable photo opportunity. To either side of the water, scented with rose and jasmine, are immaculate gardens representing the Garden of Paradise and dissected into four quadrants. The waterways converge at a marble tank in the centre that corresponds to al-Kawther, the celestial pool of abundance, mentioned in the Koran.
The mausoleum stands on a raised marble platform against a backdrop of the Yamuna River and is topped with a 10m-brass spire. At each corner of the platform are by 50m high minarets.
“They were built slightly skew so that they would fall away from the mausoleum in the event of an earthquake”, informed my guide.
For me, this visit to the Taj was a pilgrimage of sorts. In 1992 Diana, Princess of Wales, visited the Taj on a state visit while struggling to accept the end of her disastrous marriage. The picture of Diana, seated on a bench alone was interpreted as a statement of her solitude, juxtaposed against the backdrop of this Mughal mausoleum, built with such extravagance for love. The story ran through my mind as I made my way to the famous bench.
The mausoleum was constructed by emperor Shah Jahan as a symbol of love for Mumtaz Mahal, who died giving birth to their 14th child (that would kill anyone), although Jahan had many wives.
Jahan spent approximately two decades, and much of the money in the royal treasury, fulfilling his wife's dying wish by building a monument to their love. Construction began in 1631, taking 20 000 workers with 1 000 elephants, 22 years to complete, each year marked by eleven attached chhatris (towers) on the north and south sides of the Chowk-i Jilo Khana. The material for the mausoleum was brought from all over India and central Asia the architect from Iran.
The death of his beloved wife had such a devastating effect on Jahan that his hair turned white overnight. In 1657 he fell ill and the following year, his son Aurangzeb, imprisoned him and seized the throne. Jahan remained in captivity until his death in 1666 and it is said he spent the last days of his life staring into a piece of glass at the reflection of the Taj. He is buried in the mausoleum with the wife he never forgot.
My other reason for arriving early was to have my picture taken on Diana’s bench and after queuing I made my way to the mausoleum. Replacing my shoes with blue bags I moved closer and could see that the “blinding glare” started to break up into mixtures of white and grey. Even closer, I discovered precious and semi-precious stones inlaid to form designs – flowers of onyx, jasper, malachite and coral with 132 pieces in one flowerhead. The workmanship is so exquisite that it is smooth to the touch. Looking upwards at Koranic verses, more than on any other mausoleum, engraved in such a way that all verses are readable from the platform and look like they are the same size, no matter how high on the building they are.
Everything at the Taj is symmetrical and I entered through one of four entrances into a high, echoing octagonal chamber, flushed with pallid light. In the centre of the tomb are the cenotaphs of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan, surrounded by a marble screen decorated with precious stones and cut so finely that it seems almost translucent, scattering dappled light. The 99 names of Allah adorn the top of Mumtaz's tomb, while set into Shah Jahan's is a pen box-the hallmark of a male ruler. In accordance with Mogul tradition, the monuments are representations of the real coffins, which lie in the same positions in an unadorned and humid crypt below, opened on the anniversary of their death.
On both sides of the Taj are two mosques, only one is used today, the other for symmetry is now the Hall of Audience.
Taj Mahal means Crown Palace and is regarded by some as the most beautiful tomb in the world. It is one of the proposed New Seven Wonders of the World. The original plan included a black Taj Mahal on the other side of the Yamuna River, like a mirror image, which would house Shah Jehan’s tomb. But this was destined to be a dream. The construction of the Taj is woven with gory stories. Apparently the Shah employed the best craftsmen, but once the job was done their hands were cut off to ensure that they did not replicate the work of art elsewhere. Sadistic!
As I explored the area, constantly taking pictures, the tomb's luminous quality constantly changed as the sun rose. More and more visitors entered and it was difficult to leave but I wanted to see the Taj from Agra Fort across the river. As I was leaving a cluster of Indian ladies floated past, like living jewels accompanied by delicate jingling, , illuminating the grounds, each one bedecked in luminous saris, nose, wrist and ankle jewellery. No matter whether young or old, rich and poor, Indian women look stunning.
If you do go there, don’t miss the view of the Taj from Agra Fort where the mausoleum appears to float above the river like a dream. Miniscule as it may look, the view gives you an idea of how Jahan’s dream building appeared during his last days.
The Taj Mahal is far more impressive in person than in pictures. It’s the embodiment of perfection and is one of those rare buildings that transcends its original purpose and becomes something more than a building. You need to see the Taj, walk around it, touch it, appreciate it. All the squalor disappears for a while. It's one of the reasons why you have to travel.
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