I lose count of the number of times I have seen the Taj – at six as a little girl who was more interested in the ice cream that would follow the outing; at 12 accompanied by guests whose walking-bare-feet-in-the-sun fascination with it I could barely tolerate; at 17, this time the sight accompanied by a performance by Ustad Zakir Hussain (who fascinated me much more with his careless tossing of curls and half shut eyes); and countless times in between.

I have seen it in movie song sequences, in newspaper photographs (the lone Princess Diana sitting on the marble love seat in front when the royal marriage was rocking), in coffee table books, as wallpapers and as cheap marble imitations sitting in people’s drawing rooms. And dismissed it with a grimace and a yawn.

Honestly speaking, I never appreciated the Taj because, well, it was there all the time. A part of the dusty skyline of the city I grew up in, surrounded by the unplanned cluster of buildings with fading paint, the crowded Sadar Bazaar, the no nonsense St Anthony’s with its strict nuns and tamarind trees, the white skinned tourists on creaking cycle rickshaws and the narrow roads with terrible traffic.

Return to a memor
y
Till I returned 20 years later to look at the monument that made it to the seven wonders of the world in a global poll survey. And this time I saw it with new, older, more experienced eyes that had seen a bit more of the world. This time I saw it first from the ramparts of the Agra fort, as I believe Shah Jahan saw it in the last days of his life.
And this time, I was shamed by the years I and my country had spent neglecting its presence. To truly feel the romance of the Taj, you must look at it from the ramparts of the majestic red sandstone Agra Fort, as an ageing, grieving Shah Jahan saw it in the last days of his life.

The elegantly pillared double storeyed octagonal Mussamman Burj is the place where Shah Jahan is believed to have been held captive by his son Aurangzeb for seven long years.This is the place where he sat for hours gazing longingly at the beautiful Taj Mahal across the Yamuna that reminded him of his beloved wife.

Or at least that is what the romantics amongst us would be led to believe by smooth talking local guides.From across the dirty, dwindling waters of the Yamuna, the Taj, appears like an illusion in the stifling heat of Agra. It shimmers gently in the sunlight, its majestic dome softly soaring in the blue sky shrouded by mist or pollution, one can’t really tell.

From here you can’t really appreciate the exquisite geometry of its design, the beautiful calligraphy where every letter appears to be of the same size, the breathtaking inlay work that makes the tombstones shimmer like bejeweled caskets.

Neither can you weep over the unattended cracks in the exquisite marble flowers that bloom on its walls, the dirty, untended city that has never tried to become worthy of it, the names of present day lovers scratched so shamelessly on its smooth interior.

Without any such distractions, you can look at it endlessly appreciating its perfect beauty and feel the immense love that must have made it possible.

Monument of love

As legend goes, Shah Jahan ruled for 30 years, inheriting one of the richest empires of the world. But his happiness was short lived because in the fourth year of his rule, his wife Mumtaz Mahal died leaving him shattered. It is said that after two years of mourning, Shah Jahan went on to build the Taj Mahal, one of the world’s greatest monuments of love in her memory.

It is believed that 20,000 workers – labourers, carpenters, artists and engineers worked ceaselessly for 22 years to build the Taj. The final product is believed to have cost Shah Jahan about Rs 5 million.

And finally Mumtaz Mahal’s remains were shifted from its earlier tomb in a garden by the river to their final resting place in the Taj. In 1666, Shah Jahan was also buried beside his wife in the same chamber which is actually the only disproportionate element in the geometrically perfect Taj.

While Mumtaz Mahal’s tombstone lies in the centre of the octagonal hall, that of Shah Jahan is on its right.
According to the all-knowing guide supplements the belief that Shah Jahan wanted to build a similar mausoleum on the other side of the Yamuna for himself, which he could not achieve.

That is the allure of the Taj. The fact that it is a monument dedicated to love. It represents the helplessness of mortal beings who cannot keep their loved ones with them forever.

However, it is also a monument to the feeling that transcends times and geographical borders. When the Taj sparkles gracefully in the backdrop of the blue skies it doesn’t really need a poll to tell us it’s a wonder of the world. We know it in our hearts. And we wish we had looked after it better than we have.