AN EVENING AT TAJ MAHAL.

It was a chilly and foggy morning in Agra; I woke up late and was dead tired because of two day long railway travelling, still under the blanket struggling to beat idleness, cold and pangs of sleep. I turned my head towards the bed of my friend who was sleeping besides me; he was not there after enquiring heard he went outside. In the meantime, when I was recollecting my conscious, he appeared at the door and said get ready after lunch we will go to see Taj Mahal. My continuous obsession and longing desire pushed my friend to cut short his busy schedule and accompany me to explore Taj, Red Fort, Skindra cemetery and other historical places in the Agra city. In complete ecstasy, I stood up wear clothes quickly and sat on the dinning clothe to swallow rice and mutton hurriedly. After finishing lunch we locked the room and start heading towards the four way road. On the way I saw people in flocks consuming tea and snacks at the roadside tea stalls to keep warm themselves as the northern India is continuously shivering under a severe cold wave. The street vendors were busy in washing, ordering and beautifying their vegetables and fruits to attract customers. In the meantime we reached on the four way road where we pick up an auto rickshaw but first seeing our wheatish complexion the auto driver hiked the normal fair, for me it was very difficult to handle and comprehend a person armed with typical UP dialect mixed with tobacco ingredients but thanks to my friend, who has been in the city from the last couple of years convinced him to hundred rupees. The rickshaw drivers were clothed in sweaters, jackets and wrapped their half faces and ears with mufflers; puffing on desi beedi’s greeting and enquiring every passerby about their destinations. It was not the first time that I was going to visit Taj some six years ago I had a privilege to see this breath taking spectacle of engineering with an elder person but couldn’t enjoy too much as he was more a typical merchant than a visitor, always had a disease of praising the articles put on display by the shopkeepers than the Taj Mahal. The drive from four way road to the Taj Mahal showed me an interior monologue of the city poverty, slums, sewerage water dilapidated the streets, roads buzz with pressure horns, bull carts, tractors, BMW cars running shoulder to shoulder in a complete harmony and people relishing street food is the hall mark of almost all major cities of Uttar Pradesh.

The history of India without Agra is incomplete because it’s this city which is the centre stage of a white marble mausoleum blend of Turkish, Persian and Mughal architecture and the international identity of India in the world. This historic city was once the capital and centre of learning in India during the lodhi and Mughal times but today it stands one of the most populous and polluted city in India. It’s said that if you want to know any city just see the roads and civic sense of people, you will come to know about them but here the tobacco spitting and the bad odor emanating from the roadside garbage’s sums up the argument that the sun of mannerism is yet to dawn in the 21st Agra. Here the auto rickshaws and the man pulled rickshaws though the main modes of transportation are operating in such a way as they are the F16 fighter jets. You will be amazed and spellbound if you look at their seating arrangement and how overcrowded, it looks as if people are leaving the city in fear of enemy attack and the administration looks me dumb and deaf. On the way to Taj, I hardly see any cleaned and well maintained area which can show that Shah Jahan’s Agra is still keeping the flag, the city which possess the crown of palaces.

We reached Taj at 3’0 clock and first went to the ticket counter from there joined a long queue at the main gateway of the mausoleum, where security personnel were frisking and checking the tickets of both foreign as well as national tourists. We waited almost for an hour in the queue and finally succeeded to reach the checking spot, where a security guard tried to make a fun by tickling me under the armpits while frisking. When we start walking on a pathway between the main garden, which is also called Chaar bagh with patches of roses, daffodils and fruity trees, I saw from distance Taj glittering in the twilight and welcoming its Trans world guests with cool breeze blowing from the east of Yamuna River to the jal Mahal. It reminds me the lines of an English poet, Sir Edwin Arnold. “Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor’s love wrought in living stones.” Whether the Mughals were right or wrong towards their subjects or governing the state of affairs but one thing is sure that their love and fantasy with the architecture have no match whatsoever. The beautiful calligraphy on the walls of white doomed marble mausoleum and the four minarets can force guilty to make asylum here. Actually it is an integrated complex of structures like gigantic gateway, mosque, Mausoleum and Jal Mahal. It is because of these marvelous architectures which immortalized the Mughal king in the pages of history forever, from Latin America to Middle East after watching Taj every tourist find words short to express their esthetic praise. So exquisite is the craftsmanship that it is said the giants designed it and finished by jewelers. I along with my friend start taking pictures as we were coming nearer and nearer to the mausoleum to make our visit memorable. The decorated texts from the holy Quran on the exteriors of the tomb can be seen, while going to the upstairs to reach the square marble plinth on which this beautiful symmetrical building stands. After taking photo shots and circulation around the mausoleum, we went inside where the tomb of shah jahan and Mumtaz lies. It has become the symbol of solitude and a tribute to beauty, although the Mumtaz was shah Jahan‘s third wife who died on the way accompanying his husband to crush the Burhanpur rebellion while giving birth to his 14th child but to build such wondrous structures illustrates his grief, and eternal love for his wife. He lost everything after the completion of Taj Mahal even his kingdom and was imprisoned along with his courtiers in the nearby Red fort by his own son Aurang Zeb, latter he died there but his wish to be buried next to his wife was fulfilled by his rebellious son. After exploring all most all the parts of Taj Mahal, I sat on the plinth and start contemplating that why the emperor put everything on the stake even his kingdom to fulfill the wish of his wife? Was he wanted to leave a message to the coming generation that beautiful and faithful women need a tribute like Taj Mahal. We heard great legendry love stories of kings and princes but this one is unique itself where a king built a symbol of love in memory of his wife and left it a pilgrimage site for the devotees of love forever. It was now almost evening, we start heading towards the main gateway as an obedient devotee satisfied and happy. We took a man pulled rickshaw to drop us at Saddar bazzar, while passing on the road I saw Taj sparkling in white light in the evening. I heard from a local that Taj changes three colours in a day, pinkish in the morning, milky white in the evening and golden in the moonlight and they believe it depicts the different moods of women. However there are different interpretations and myths related to the emperor and Taj Mahal but one thing is clear and crystal that it has own life that leaps out of marble.

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