Advertisement
Published: November 24th 2005
Edit Blog Post
It is delightful in this world of mega hype to find something that not only meets your expectations but goes on to exceed them. I am happy to report that the Taj Mahal is indeed utterly stunning and deserves all the rich accolades and countless compliments it receives.
We spent several hours watching the pearl walls subtlely change with the shifting light as morning gave way to afternoon. From further away the Taj seems purely white, but on closer inspection the marble is embroidered with colourful flowers (albeit within a tasteful palate range) and bold flourishes of scripture from the Koran. Even in the hustle and bustle of what must surely be the most visited tourist site in India, there is a serenity about the place, an awe inspired hush.
The story goes that the Taj Mahal is Shah Jahan 's enduring memorial to his most beloved wife. Mumtaz died delivering her 14th child in a period of 19 years! (Proverb for the wise - there is only so much loving one woman can take). The Taj Mahal was built as her mausoleum, and also went on to house Shah Jahan's remains when he expired at a very respectable 74. More cynical probing into the motives of this world famous romantic has revealed a more narcissitic side to his loving. The wording from the Koran that decorates the walls invites the faithful to "Enter thou my Paradise" and the actual layout of the Taj Mahal carefully reflects a diagram of the 'throne of God' (scholars know the Shah had access to this text). It seems plausible that meglomania may have been more of a motive than any deep heart felt admiration for another. And it has certainly hit the mark - building such a beauty ensures that generations will not only know his name and admire his taste, but also visit his final resting place in their millions.
Agra itself is a one trick pony, having little to offer besides being fortunate enough to house such glorious handiwork. And that is enough. People drink their fill and move on.
Our moving on took a little longer than planned. 8 hours to be precise. We took a sleeper train at 10pm from Agra to Varanasi with an expected arrival time of 10am the next day, we finally rolled in late afternoon. The complete lack of explanation for why we were so behind schedule was incredibly frustrating and gave me a new found admiration for the regular public information announcements we Brits enjoy on our trains and stations - however unwelcome the news. We had eaten a light dinner before embarking fully expecting to arrive in time for a hearty breakfast. Our entire provisions for the journey amounted to 1 litre of water. I had passed a comfortable enough night on the top bunk (sheet, pillow, blanket and cockroaches provided), Steve was stowed with his guitar in the bunk below and by the wild eyes and peaky complexion I could tell he had kept the night good company. We spent the next section of the journey refusing to play chess with a volatile dwarf (he had trounced us 2-against-one the night before in insultingly few moves and we were still smarting) and reminding ourselves why we shouldn't buy anything from the various hawkers that moved through the carriage at every station with highly spiced, delicious smelling temptations. I made a mad dash at one station early afternoon to buy some biscuits and crisps (you never know how long the train will stop, sometimes it seems barely enough seconds for the sprightly and brave to leap aboard, never mind the elderly and lame. At other times the train seems to wait an inordinate amount of time for no apparent reason) and at such times even a miserable spread can seem a delicious feast.
We stopped at one point for too long, I looked out of the window to see a man lying motionless alongside the track. His face was a moving mass of black flies and he was naked aside from a dirty t shirt. A small boy was standing on a nearby mound of mud and watching the dead man, he can't have been more than 6 or 7. I wanted someone to take his hand and lead him away. It seemed so sad that such young eyes should see such a sight. Everyone else in the background was getting on with their daily business. An unremarkable event.
On reaching Varanasi we travelled to our hotel through the dusty streets and manic kamakaze traffic we had started to regard as normal. This was to be our last stop in India.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.112s; Tpl: 0.01s; cc: 8; qc: 51; dbt: 0.0527s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Helen
non-member comment
been there...done that....