It is very convenient that Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, is only a short train ride from Delhi. With the amount of tourists heading there daily, trains ply the route frequently and quickly, whisking you there in the morning, giving you 8 hours to see the city, and then returning you to Delhi in time to get a good night’s sleep. It was nice to finally have a single easy trip to my weekend destination, though this one did take me several tries to book—the lure of the Taj means that the root is one of the most popular in India.
However as soon as you step out of the train in Agra, be ready to fight for every last penny. Because of the touristic nature of the city, the hawkers and touts are worse here than in many parts of the country. As soon as I had hit the platform, I was mobbed by drivers asking if I wanted a rickshaw or, as they rightly guessed, I wanted to see the Taj. Wading through the mob of people, I found the pre-paid auto-rickshaw booth (use one if you can—always) to book my driver for the day. Here, however, was a clever driver who was waiting just for people like me. Though he seemed kind enough by offering to, for the same fare and pre-paid slip, drive me in his A/C car rather than a rickshaw, I was to learn that he was not the same as a driver in a rickshaw. First, after I had been frustrated at his pushing more expensive options on me, he finally settled for what I wanted but then just as I was about to hand over my money slyly slipped in that I would have to pay for parking at all stops as well, about 20 rupees per stop. Feeling cheated, I told him no until he finally relented and gave me the price on the board. As I’ve come to learn in India, even when a sign says something is a certain price or is available, don’t assume that is true until you sk. You may still have to fight tooth and nail to get the advertised price.
Finally we were on our way to the Taj Mahal. Though the driver went slower than I thought he should (we were being passed by rickshaws), we finally made id, and I was off on my first adventure of the day. After standing in the long line for security (like everywhere in India, you must go through a metal detector just to get in the door), I entered the grounds of this most famous of all Indian buildings. What I walked into was an entry plaza ringed with sandstone buildings beautifully ornamented and skillfully carved, arranged around a central plaza of grass and walkways. To my left, just over the top of one of the buildings I got my first glimpse of the white marble beauty hiding in the next court. I moved slowly to the center of the plaza, turned to my left, and there beheld my first sight of the Taj Mahal. Through the doorway of the ornate sandstone gateway it sat, visible and yet framed in such a way as to draw you closer—clearly there was more to be revealed.
I crept closer, keeping my eye on the doorway and the marble beauty beyond until finally I had gone up the steps and through, emerging into the grand plaza beyond. There it sat, resplendent in the late morning sun and brilliantly white against the blue sky in the back. The forecourt led visually and literally up to its steps as pool after pool ran elegantly from the gateway to the magnificent marble tomb at the end. An appropriate distance away on either side sat a sandstone outbuilding, one a mosque, where devotees still pray every Friday.
The sight was breathtaking. It was an absolute masterpiece visually, and the brilliance of the Taj was gorgeous. I stood for a few minutes simply admiring the sight, that is when I could get to the banister overlooking the courtyard. Between the other tourists and the photographers regularly clearing the banister for a paying customer to pose (rather annoying since I paid to see the thing just like everyone else), it was hard to get a chance just to gaze on the building. Even with the hustle around, the sight of it was peaceful. In fact, the crowded nature was almost invisible at times as I stared out over the pathway leading up to the Taj. When not in my trance, I couldn’t help but think how incongruous the loud throngs of tourists were in this place of peace. You have to recall that this was built as a memorial for Mumtaz, Shah Jahan’s favorite wife. It was not meant to be a public gathering place but rather one man’s memorial to his beloved. Its intent was as a peaceful place of reflection and remembrance. It is almost desecrating the grounds, in my opinion, to have tourists boisterously overrun the site.
As you approach the Taj, the beauty changes and the details come into focus. Rather than seeing the beauty as a whole, you begin to see the carefully scripted Arabic around the doorways, the marble bricks and seams, and the incredible precious stone inlays in gorgeous flower patterns. The dissolving effect of the whole to these details is incredible and provides another layer of depth to the whole building.
Head into the building, and aside from being crammed in with lots of loud tourists, many of whom are disrespecting the “No Photography” policy and prompting a whistle from the understaffed guard, there is a reverence to the space. The interior suffused with light and filled with still air gave the spot a holiness suitable for an emperor and his wife. Through jalli screens the tombs of the two were visible, lying eternally in the center of the main room. Again, I couldn’t help but think that the noise and illegally snapped photos destroyed the intended ambience of the tomb, but with the masses parading through daily, I suppose that is inevitable.
I spent more time outside admiring the building and sitting in the warm spring air contemplating the whole beauty of the site from behind a row of flowers and bushes, but before I knew it, I had to move on to see the rest of Agra’s history before my train back to Delhi. I rejoined my driver who said we were off to the Agra Fort. But first, he said, we were going to see another of Agra’s famous sights. A note to fellow travelers: anytime a driver says something like that, it almost always means you are going shopping, and likely to a store where he will get a commission. That’s what happened to me. We ended up at a jewelry store where I was pressured into viewing stones that supposedly only come from the region around Agra. They are exceptionally beautiful in their color and the fact that when subjected to a single light, they throw a star across the whole stone. The jeweler tried to explain to me that the fact that the center of the star moved over the stone when he rotated it was because the “mica,” this mysterious fourth element inside, was moving within the rock. Wanting only to get on to seeing the real sights of Agra, I didn’t argue the point with him, but my training at Harvey Mudd had taught me much better than to believe this explanation (in my head, lessons on crystallography, refraction, etc. were running around, working out the true answer. I’d be happy to discuss with anyone interested).
Finally getting a chance to excuse myself, I headed back to my driver, told him the disappointing news (for him) that I did not buy anything, and then we headed to the Agra Fort. This mighty sandstone edifice was once the seat of power for the Mughal rulers before the capital was shifted to Delhi. It still retains its regal look even despite centuries of minor decay. While not, in my opinion, as impressive as the Rajasthani forts because it is not as well preserved, it is still worth a visit in part for its views of the Taj. One whole side overlooks the Yamuna River and the Taj sitting elegantly on the bank, including the tower where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his son for the last years of his life. For those unfamiliar with the history, not long after the Taj’s completion, Shah Jahan was deposed by his son (quite a violent race the Mughals were) and imprisoned in a tower in the Agra Fort. Here he lived out his days only able to gaze on his monument to his beloved without being able to visit her.
I wandered through this impressive structure, or at least the part that is open to the public. A section is still used to house troops, and for obvious reasons I could not get in there. Yet after the Taj, it was not as magnificent, and soon I was back in the car to head to the “Baby Taj,” another Tomb, also in marble, for a court advisor named Itimad ud-Daulah that sits across the Yamuna from the masterwork. Yet once more, before arriving at this destination, I was off to see another masterpiece of Agra—this time a stone works. After being shown how the workers inlay precious stones to marble “just as their ancestors did when they worked on the Taj,” I was led into the sales room. A bit frustrated by the pressuring and pitches of the salesman (plus dubious about whether these workers received much if any of the sales money), I told him I was a poor student and thought I had escaped before being led into the cheaper goods room. Now, reservations and knowledge that I was being scammed aside, I did find the pieces beautiful and ended up buying a couple of small trinkets for loved ones and friends. So, then, how did I know I was being scammed this whole time? When I emerged with a bag from the store, I got a hug from my driver. Clearly my purchase meant he got some money too.
After this, we were off again to the Baby Taj. Now in the late afternoon sun, the white marble and sandstone used to create this building were gorgeous in the orange light of the evening (made more orange by the industrial smog around Agra—I don’t entirely believe that the city is free of industry as the craftsmen tried to tell me in the shops). Though not as large or magnificent as its cousin across the river, this tomb has its own charm and is much more peaceful that its famous relative. I was able to sit and enjoy the building as it was meant to be—in quiet and with an atmosphere of peaceful reverence. Again, the interior of the building was clearly perfectly designed for the function. Light shone in through the doorways in shafts that created a diffuse light throughout and at times cast a spotlight on the tombs in the center—the main features of the domed center. It was a gorgeous effect and fitting for the afterlife of a famous and wealthy man.
After some peace and running into a couple of Minnesotans, it was off to the station to end my day. I thanked my guide and headed back to Delhi for the end of my Agra trip. However, before I let you all go, a few more things. As you’ve been reading, perhaps you have been recalling some stories of the Taj from school days or common culture. I know I did while visiting. I remember my 10th grade World History teacher explaining that there was intended to be another Taj in black marble across the river to house the body of Shah Jahan but that it was never completed and then destroyed. I also recall being taught in school that the craftsmen lost their hands so they could never again make something so beautiful. If you go to India, you will hear these stories as well as a multitude of others including one I was told that the ceiling has a hole that lets in a small shaft of light and rain but that no one can find to seal up.
Well, sorry to spoil your fun, but according to all fact-checked sources, none of these three are true no matter what your guide may say. According to Lonely Planet (which typically is more accurate than Indian street guides) there is no archaeological evidence of a black Taj despite extensive excavations and no historical record or proof that the craftsmen were mutilated. Finally, there is no corroboration of the story of the hole in the ceiling, and visually there is no mysterious shaft of light. If someone has evidence to prove any of these wrong, feel free, but I just thought I’d share before I signed off. One other thing: for those literary types, the title of this post is not my invention, but rather the words of Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore. I'm not quite so romantic or eloquent.
One more thing before I sign off—the obligatory photos of me enjoying the sights. It’s been a while since I posted pictures of me enjoying these places about which I write. And to pre-empt the comments, yes my hair and beard are getting long, and as I write (three months later), they are even longer!
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