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Published: October 12th 2009
The Taj Mahal is everything thing they said it would be. It’s beautiful and it is easy to see why it is one of India’s most photographed sites. Even though it has been attempted hundreds of times before, we join the rest in trying to get the perfect picture. As we snap pictures, we are first approached by the other travelers--who ask in broken English with thick Japanese accents for us to take a picture for them. We, of course, oblige. I, of course, take this duty very seriously and spend over five minutes composing and re-taking a series of pictures for one Japanese couple. They are very grateful and we exchange happy nods at the resulting image on the LCD screen. I ask for the same picture and they quickly agree.
The Taj Mahal grounds are littered with groups of people taking pictures. Large families dot the landscape--standing in long lines--grandmother, grandfather, mother, father, and children. Babies are held proudly in their arms. Teenagers tentatively smile at the camera--appearing to say that this process is entirely too much. As we weave through people, I begin to notice that we are receiving a lot of stares. One brave soul emerges
from a group of young Indian men and asks for a picture. I offer my hand to receive the camera and instead he grabs my hand--smiling wildly--and places himself directly next to me while he says the vague “Madame, please.” and gestures to a particular spot on the ground. Pierce readily interprets this correctly and says “he wants a picture with you, I think.”
This has actually happened to me once before while traveling (an Asian lady in Australia had asked for my picture in Byron Bay--probably mistaking me for an authentic Australian. At the time I had been beach bound and was carrying a boogie board, so I spiritedly held the board up in one hand and threw my arm around her for the picture). After our first picture, I break away, but find that I am again trapped. “One more, one more” they begged. Each young man took his turn standing next to me--sometimes shoving others out of the way--before throwing an arm around his “western girlfriend.” On several accounts, Pierce is invited to be in the pictures with a simple “Sir, please, come.”
Countless babies are thrust into our arms as our shoulders are grabbed
and we are steered into place for the perfect photo. One man asks me to be in a picture with his chubby three-year-old son. When I decline, he asks me in a soft and slightly hurt voice “But why?“ I lack the language (and perhaps gumption) to say that I have just escaped another photo session and I only want to get out of the oppressive sun and admire the Taj Mahal from the comfortable shade of a tree.
Inside the Taj Mahal, it is the same story. On one occasion, I pose in front of the intricate inlaid white marble. Under Pierce’s direction, I shift along the wall in search of the best lighting. As we settle on a spot, I catch a glimpse of an advancing colorful blur in my peripheral vision. Moments later, I find myself shoulder to shoulder with an Indian woman, who grabs my hand tightly and smiles at her boyfriend’s camera. I automatically re-direct my glance to him and dutifully smile. One group of boys asks for our picture and we ready to pose, but quickly realize that they do not have a camera. To avoid any hassle, we offer to take their picture with us on our camera. First, I take my turn and we assume this is good enough, but this group is persistent and commands “now boys” as they grab Pierce for a picture.
We give into the discomfort and we accept many picture invitations. We pose, we smile, we hold hands, we cradle babies, we shift, and we stand tall. I begin to imagine these pictures adorning a shelf in someone’s home. The man points to the picture and says “and these are my friends from London” as Pierce and I smile dumbly in the sun. We are also often the subject of candid shots--stolen as we go about routine things (such as removing a rock from my sandals or reapplying sunscreen). People rotate into and out of our space as we go about our site seeing. Ultimately, I decide that it is only fair--as I am snapping pictures of Indian women dressed in beautiful attire, tiny children playing in the gardens, and the masses of people lounging on the shaded marble overlooking the river. These people stare back at me and we size each other up--taking in the spectacle of it all. As I review their images on my camera, I resolve that we are all spectators and that is fine.
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Beth
non-member comment
You're famous!
I guess now you know what the celebrities go through.... This reminds me of what it was like when I was in Russia. The kids just want to be in pictures, even if it's on your camera and they'll never see them. So cute.