This past week I took a long weekend, and with four of my friends, journeyed to the North for the first time. We did a condensed "golden triangle," visiting Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, with the Taj Mahal as the centerpiece of our trip. Though it's completely stereotypical, the Taj was my favorite part. We woke up at 5:45am so we could buy our tickets when the Taj opened. All of the Indian monuments have a separate ticket price for foreigners, which tends to be drastically more expensive than the Indian price. The Taj was no exception. I paid Rs.750 while Indians pay Rs.20. My ticket, however, included a bottle of water and these red booties to put over your shoes for when you actually go into the Taj. They made me look like I was wearing elf shoes. Somehow, I decided that I didn't need to save them as a souvenir. Originally I wasn’t considering visiting the Taj. Hyderabad is in South India, where there is plenty to see, and so I figured I would see this half of the sub-continent while I was here. I’m so glad I changed my mind. I first started reconsidering my travel plans when Indians—my host-brother and his friends—told us that me that I couldn’t come to India and not visit the Taj Mahal (though ironically my host parents have never seen it). Now I understand why.
At 7 in the morning, the Taj is shrouded in mist—the off-white marble melting into the grayish fog surrounding it. After going through security you pass through a large gate and suddenly the Taj is in front of you. The monument is much larger in person than you would think from looking at pictures. Its sheer physical massiveness just descended upon me. It rendered me speechless or more like thoughtless—the only coherent thought that crossed my mind was, “I can't believe that I’m at the Taj Mahal,” which wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated reaction.We gradually made our way across the grounds—first to the reflecting pool and then up to the mausoleum itself, taking an absurd number of photos as we went.
As I've been thinking about it afterward, the Taj, embodies the continual streams of dichotomies that is India. On the one hand, it is the symbol of India—a majestic architectural marvel from one of the high points in Indian history—that is recognized across the globe as one of the 7 Wonders of the World. The Taj is one of the first images that appear in someone’s mind when they think of India. While I was actually experiencing the Taj, however, I felt like I had stepped out of India into this carefully manicured version of what India wishes it actually were. Entering the Taj grounds was like entering an enclosed bubble, while the smells, sounds, and people of India remained outside. At the Taj I could breath in and not inhale the combination of urine, exhaust and the occasional whiff of incense that I have come to know and, not exactly, love. I was suddenly transplanted form the world where men (because women rarely seem to drive) use the horns on their trucks, cars, rickshaws, and motorcycles to communicate: “hey, I’m over here,” “hey, I’m going to pass you,” “hey, get out of my way,” or most often, it seems like their general frustration with the world; a world where I am continually being invited to look at the unique merchandise being sold by one shopkeeper that happens to share a remarkable similarity with what’s being sold next door; a world where people actually move their cell phones from their ears to directly in front of their mouths—all the better to yell in. At the Taj, I didn’t do a double take each time I saw a white person, assuming that I knew them, but instead, there seemed to be more foreigners than Indians. I’m not suggesting this break from reality was a bad thing. I enjoyed myself immensely—it was like I was in that magical, mystical India that the Orientalists used to write about, but I had yet to actually experience.
One of my friends made a great observation: she said that we were able to appreciate the wonder of the Taj more than the typical Western tourist because this wasn’t our first Indian experience. Many tourists step off of a plane in Delhi and head directly to the Taj because it is the thing to see when you come to India. I’m sure it fulfills everything they imagined (I don’t think the Taj could ever disappoint) because the Taj is exactly what India is supposed to be. I, however, have a very different view of India after being here for almost two months. I’ve moved beyond my initial disbelief, when I couldn’t really comprehend that I was in India. I think the Taj Mahal exceeded my expectations because now I am living in and not merely visiting India. My understanding of India has evolved as I experience India through my day-to-day interactions with my surroundings. Because I am gaining an intimate knowledge of the smells, sounds, and people of India, I can appreciate what a departure the Taj Mahl is from the very real, not always appealing, India.
Ok, end of my philosophical digression. If you couldn’t tell, I loved the Taj Mahal. From a distance, its massive size is imposing. Up close, however, you are able to see all of the intricate details on the marble itself—how the stones in the archways entering the mausoleum are carefully cut in a countless number of angles, creating a sense of texture on the marble, while different colored stones are inlaid in the inner walls forming delicate flowers and geometric patterns. Sometimes monuments are meant to be seen from a distance, and up close they lack the details that continue to inspire true wonder. The Taj, however, is stunning from any distance, far or near, demonstrating its genius. It’s amazing.
At 7 in the morning, the Taj is shrouded in mist—the off-white marble melting into the grayish fog surrounding it. After going through security you pass through a large gate and suddenly the Taj is in front of you. The monument is much larger in person than you would think from looking at pictures. Its sheer physical massiveness just descended upon me. It rendered me speechless or more like thoughtless—the only coherent thought that crossed my mind was, “I can't believe that I’m at the Taj Mahal,” which wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated reaction.We gradually made our way across the grounds—first to the reflecting pool and then up to the mausoleum itself, taking an absurd number of photos as we went.
As I've been thinking about it afterward, the Taj, embodies the continual streams of dichotomies that is India. On the one hand, it is the symbol of India—a majestic architectural marvel from one of the high points in Indian history—that is recognized across the globe as one of the 7 Wonders of the World. The Taj is one of the first images that appear in someone’s mind when they think of India. While I was actually experiencing the Taj, however, I felt like I had stepped out of India into this carefully manicured version of what India wishes it actually were. Entering the Taj grounds was like entering an enclosed bubble, while the smells, sounds, and people of India remained outside. At the Taj I could breath in and not inhale the combination of urine, exhaust and the occasional whiff of incense that I have come to know and, not exactly, love. I was suddenly transplanted form the world where men (because women rarely seem to drive) use the horns on their trucks, cars, rickshaws, and motorcycles to communicate: “hey, I’m over here,” “hey, I’m going to pass you,” “hey, get out of my way,” or most often, it seems like their general frustration with the world; a world where I am continually being invited to look at the unique merchandise being sold by one shopkeeper that happens to share a remarkable similarity with what’s being sold next door; a world where people actually move their cell phones from their ears to directly in front of their mouths—all the better to yell in. At the Taj, I didn’t do a double take each time I saw a white person, assuming that I knew them, but instead, there seemed to be more foreigners than Indians. I’m not suggesting this break from reality was a bad thing. I enjoyed myself immensely—it was like I was in that magical, mystical India that the Orientalists used to write about, but I had yet to actually experience.
One of my friends made a great observation: she said that we were able to appreciate the wonder of the Taj more than the typical Western tourist because this wasn’t our first Indian experience. Many tourists step off of a plane in Delhi and head directly to the Taj because it is the thing to see when you come to India. I’m sure it fulfills everything they imagined (I don’t think the Taj could ever disappoint) because the Taj is exactly what India is supposed to be. I, however, have a very different view of India after being here for almost two months. I’ve moved beyond my initial disbelief, when I couldn’t really comprehend that I was in India. I think the Taj Mahal exceeded my expectations because now I am living in and not merely visiting India. My understanding of India has evolved as I experience India through my day-to-day interactions with my surroundings. Because I am gaining an intimate knowledge of the smells, sounds, and people of India, I can appreciate what a departure the Taj Mahl is from the very real, not always appealing, India.
Ok, end of my philosophical digression. If you couldn’t tell, I loved the Taj Mahal. From a distance, its massive size is imposing. Up close, however, you are able to see all of the intricate details on the marble itself—how the stones in the archways entering the mausoleum are carefully cut in a countless number of angles, creating a sense of texture on the marble, while different colored stones are inlaid in the inner walls forming delicate flowers and geometric patterns. Sometimes monuments are meant to be seen from a distance, and up close they lack the details that continue to inspire true wonder. The Taj, however, is stunning from any distance, far or near, demonstrating its genius. It’s amazing.
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