Wednesday, April 6th was a remarkable day for us. Not only was it my best friend’s birthday (Auntie’s daughter), but it was also the day we visited the Taj Mahal. We even had an unexpected surprise to top the day off!
The Taj Mahal, arguably the most beautiful building in the world, took 22 years to complete and was finished in 1653. It was commissioned by Akbar’s grandson, the emperor Shah Jahan, as a tomb for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Mumtaz is a nickname meaning beloved ornament of the palace. She was his third and, as the Taj Mahal suggests, most loved wife. Our tour guide told us that she would travel with him, wherever they went, and that she gave birth to 14 children, dying in childbirth with number 14. According to our tour guide, she asked Jahan to build something meaningful for her to be remembered in death. Jahan went into seclusion for one year, came out looking as aged as Moses after talking with God, and started the Taj Mahal the next year.
I had been to the Taj Mahal before, in 2009, and was amazed at its beauty. I honestly expected, before seeing it, to be disappointed. There is so much talk surrounding it, I didn’t think anything could live up to its hype. I felt the same way as a kid when everyone was talking about the movie Aladdin. But I was wrong; the Taj Mahal was just as breathtaking as everyone says, and Aladdin was an amazing movie despite all of the hype.
As with the Delhi Airport, Taj Mahal 2011 was very different from Taj Mahal 2009. When I had gone before, there were lines and lines of shoe cubbies (it is a tomb, so you reach the famous white structure, you cannot actually walk in shoes), and we had gone in the morning to protect our bare feet from the incredibly hot sandstone and marble paving. But Taj Mahal 2011 had moved the cubbies, and provided each guest with a pair of shoe covers. Our guide, though, pocketed the shoe covers and gave us ‘better’ covers provided by the travel agency. I wonder what he does with all of the covers…. So the moral of that little story is that IF you are planning to visit the Taj Mahal, don’t worry so much about your feet. Your shoulders and arms will still feel the sunlight, but at least your feet will be safe from the hot stonework, so feel free to visit it at any time of day. I just wonder at the cause of the change. Was it because of the scene in the movie Slumdog Millionaire?
One more quick comment before I start telling about the day. I have a fairly embarrassing story in here, but I asked for my sister’s permission (way back on April 6th) to put it in the blog, and she said yes. So I am very happy to include it here, because everyone loves a good laugh.
Okay, now to the day:
India is in some ways extremely liberal. They have female political leaders, and reading the front-cover sex advice on their newspapers is enough to make an American blush. But for all the talk, they also are quite conservative, and I had done my best to combat some of the issues that would come up in our travels by telling Sister and Friend K (who are boyfriend and girlfriend), that they were married, and to play up the story. This is not a silly whim on my part. People are sometimes refused hotel rooms if they are not married. In fact, I read in Diary of a White Indian Housewife (a blog, where the married woman is white and her husband is of Indian origin) that she and her husband have twice been refused hotel rooms in the south for being an interracial couple, despite being married. They would have to argue and talk to managers, and would eventually get rooms; but it took a lot of time. So it was best to do everything possible to prevent such situations from arising. Sister and Friend K were an old married couple for this week.
As Friend K was the man of our group, our tour guide took to questioning him, both the day before and today. At one point, while just making simple talk, the tour guide asked, “So how long have you two been married?” Friend K promptly and smoothly answered, “Two years,” which made the rest of us giggle internally. But they both did a good job of pulling it off, and we had checked into our hotel rooms without a hitch the night before.
As we were going to see the Taj Mahal early in the morning, before I had zonked out at 8:00 pm the night before, I had called for a wake-up call. Fez and I consulted, and decided to wake at 5:00 am. I’m not sure why we decided to get up so early (we were meeting at 6:00 am, and not showering or eating beforehand), but we were tired and not thinking logically. When I called, they asked me if I wanted the wake-up call for all three rooms, and I said yes. But the phone died before the call was completed, and I had to call back to reconfirm.
Fast forward nine hours later, and we received two wake-up calls within ten minutes plus my cell phone alarm. We were definitely awake! Fresh from a good night’s sleep, and immune to the awful smell in our room, since we now probably smelled of it ourselves, we got dressed, and then checked out what Mom and Auntie were up to. Auntie had woken up in the middle of the night, and realized her camera wasn’t charged. It sounds like they’d both been up and about for a bit. They had also received multiple wake-up calls! Sorry about that!
Mom realized she had forgotten a hairbrush, and asked to borrow mine. I told her to come back to our room and get it, but first sent her to check and make sure Sister/Friend K were up. After all, I was the only one with a working cell phone, and you can never trust those hotel wake-up calls. Mom never came back for the hairbrush, though she did report that Sister and Friend K were up and about, having also received multiple calls. But now I’m wondering if she brushed her hair at all during the trip…. maybe she borrowed Auntie’s.
I munched on a granola bar, and we went to the lobby to meet tour guide. All of the women were dressed in Indian attire of some degree, must to the delight of our tour guide. But hey, when in Rome…. And the baggy pants are so much more comfortable than jeans in the hot weather!
None of us were sleepy, we were too excited. Besides, with the exception of Fez and I, who knows what time zone their bodies were imagining. We drove up to the welcome center/ticket center, and our guide had us sit and wait while he paid. He came back with six little blue paper bags, covered with pictures of the Taj Mahal. Each bag, with thick white handles, was exactly the right size for the 500 mL bottle of water nestled inside. Apparently the bags were also supposed to hold our thin, hairnet-like white shoe covers, but as I said before, he pocketed those and passed out sturdy blue fabric shoe covers instead. They even had strings to tie them. Very nice.
Bags weren’t allowed inside, unless it was a small purse, so our burdens light, we stepped out of our van to head toward the Taj Mahal. No pollution is allowed in the vicinity of it, so we had to leave our petrol-powered van behind. When I had been there in 2009, we took a tonga ride – basically a horse with a small cart. We sat on the cart, facing backwards. But, as I had said, the Taj Mahal has modernized, and the horses were gone. We instead got on a white open-aired cart-thing, which had several cars, and were driven as close to the Taj Mahal as vehicles were permitted. Maybe it was electric? I’m not sure why that cart could go, but not our van. Regardless, we then hopped out, and walked the remaining distance.
As we walked, of course hawkers walked beside us. Mom keeps making the mistake of looking at them and smiling, so they liked to concentrate on wearing her down. They all kept telling her their name was Rodger, and be sure to remember him on her way out. I’ve apparently perfected my snobbish get-away-from-me look and gesture, because they didn’t really harass me at all.
We reached the security entrance. Boys on one side, girls on the other. We had our small purses checked, our guide forked over our tickets, and we were finally in sight of the Southern Gateway, though the white marble structure nestled behind it was hidden from view.
Just to recap, the Taj Mahal is a tomb. The entire structure consists of a gate to the south, a river to the north, a mosque to the west, and an empty ‘rest house’ structure on the east. Those are built primarily of red sandstone. The famous white marble mausoleum sits on the river edge, centered between the mosque and rest house. It is the actual mausoleum, mosque, and rest house where we are not permitted to wear shoes. But the gateway, and the land between the gateway and mausoleum are shoe-friendly.
We stopped and talked before going through the gateway. Our tour guide, knowledgeable about our future actions, knew we’d stop listening once we got there. So he gathered us a bit from the entrance and told us about the gateway. First, count the white domes on top of the gateway. Eleven on this side. Eleven on the backside. Sums to twenty-two, the number of years it took to build the Taj Mahal. I wonder what they would have done if there was an uneven number…. Second, note the calligraphy. It is actually inlayed jasper and black marble. But the amazing part is that the size of the words are the same, top to bottom. Previously, when making huge gateways, the writing itself would be the same size (let’s call it a size 500 font). But when you were standing near the massive structure, the words at the top looked much smaller than the words at the bottom, because you were so far away. So when the Taj Mahal was built, all of the writing was re-sized, so that from a distance, it looks the same. So the bottom might be a 500 font, the middle 550, and the top 600. Does that make sense? I think that is a very subtle, cool thing to do.
We stood, taking in the beauty of the gateway, yet also itchy to get inside and actually see the Taj Mahal. Eventually we stop talking, start taking photos, and then walked through the gateway. Couples in love are supposed to hold hands as they walk through, so our guide instructed Sister and Friend K to do this.
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| Gateway |
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| view from the gateway |
Honestly, words can’t really describe how beautiful it is. It was very early morning, around 6:45 when we actually walked inside, and, though bright out, the sun wasn’t yet shining on the Taj Mahal. The air was chilly, actually, and quite pleasant. We walked forward, gawking, enjoying the beauty, and eventually the sun started to rise and turned the slightly grey dawn-color of the Taj Mahal to a brilliant white. It was just as beautiful the second time around as the first.
We took way too many photos. Our guide (again, to our frustration) tried to convince us to hire the professional photographers, but we refused as we had five cameras (As the ‘local’ I didn’t carry one) between the six of ourselves, and didn’t want to bother with the photographers. So we took our own photos. We slowly walked through the lawn, approaching the Taj Mahal. We stopped at a bench and took many, many more photographs. We look like complete dorks, because our guide posed us, but oh well. If you are my friend on facebook, check them out. Complete dorks, right?!
Our guide pointed out the location of where Princess Diana had her famous photo, and we admired the ponds and trees. But always with one eye on the Taj Mahal. We cut across the yard, and he posed Mom and Auntie so that their sunglasses would have a reflection of the Taj Mahal. I thought it sounded silly, but it makes a great profile picture for my mom on Facebook, so I’m glad she got it.
Eventually the distance between the actual Taj Mahal and ourselves reached a close, and we stopped to put on our nice blue shoe covers. A few of us (If I remember correctly, Mom and Fez) decided against the shoe covers and went barefoot. We had to rip Friend K’s covers to get them over his tennis shoes, but in short time we were covered, paid the guy who pushed his way in to help Mom with her feet, and then of course expected a tip, and walked up a short staircase to the east side of the Taj Mahal.
The stairs were originally white marble, but were now covered in wooden planks. They were still a bit slippery, though. The landing was a pattern of white marble and red sandstones. We walked close to the actual Taj Mahal, and our guide told us about the beautiful inlay and carving work done on the tomb. The inlay work is all done by hand. The tiny pieces are shaped, and then the marble carved to fit it. So much work just to do such a tiny piece of the building.
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| inlay work |
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| marble carving |
After we admired the craftsmanship, we walked into the actual structure. The bodies are buried, in tombs, beneath the floor, invisible to us. On the floor, directly above the bodies, and visible to us; are empty replica tombs, called cenotaphs. Only one part of the Taj Mahal isn’t symmetrical, and that is in the center of the mausoleum. Mumtaz is located in the center, as it is her tomb, but her husband, the emperor, is also buried inside, and located between the wall and her tomb, ruining the symmetry. His cenotaph is elevated to a higher height, being an emperor, but both are ornate and beautiful. Photography wasn’t allowed inside, so there are a couple of pictures here if you are interested.
An incredibly ornately carved fence, to keep visitors a few feet away, surrounded the cenotaphs. Unfortunately, the fence has been abused, people picking off the gemstone as souvenirs, so a boring modern fence keeps the visitors from touching the pretty one. It was dim inside, and four small, incredibly high windows had softly hooting pigeons.
After we left the central room, we walked through exterior rooms of the mausoleum. They were unfinished, with plastered ceilings, and four hundred years of sweaty palms left darkened stains on the walls. It was hard to believe they were part of the same structure. Plain. Boring. Separated by just a wall were beautiful floors and decorated cenotaphs.
We walked out of the north side of the mausoleum and gazed down at the river. There are some fairly well refuted theories that the emperor was going to build a black Taj Mahal, across the river, to mirror the white marble Taj Mahal. I wonder how different the world would be if both existed. A silver bridge was going to connect the two. That would have been a sight to see!
We looked up at that large central dome, which has small looped hooks in it. The hooks were for scaffolding that goes up during wars to make the Taj Mahal less visible of a target. I guess that seems pointless with GPS, though. But it is so sad to imagine something so beautiful being a war target.
The four corner minarets are not actually perpendicular to the ground, but rather very slightly angle away from the central tomb. We were told there were two reasons for this. The first, in the event of an earthquake, they would hopefully fall away from the central tomb rather than toward it. The second was that, from a distance, they still look like they are pointing straight up. If they were parallel lines, then they’d form a point (like looking down railroad tracks), thus making the mausoleum less impressive looking.
Each exterior corner of the tomb had a fun column that played tricks on your eyes. I’ve included a picture below. When you looked at the column, the chevron pattern makes it appear to have many sides- in this photo, if you look near the top; it appears to have eight visible surfaces. But look at the base- there are actually only four!
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| How many sides? |
We wandered through a sandstone structured located east of the tomb. An identical structure, a still functional mosque, was on the west side. We did not go in the mosque, but looked through the other structure, which served as a place to rest for visitors. Beautiful on its own, but fairly boring when compared to the white marble.
Eventually, slowly, we made our way down from the tomb and took off our shoe covers. Being a weirdo who saves too many things, I pocketed them rather than pitching them. We slowly walked back, our faces frequently turning to get one more glimpse.
Now, our irritation at our tour guide, due to his encouragement of the hawkers, had subsided in the beauty of the Taj Mahal. But we found a new thing to be annoyed by. Each time he walked past someone of Asian origin, he would go up and say “konnichiwa”. And, by the way, having actually taken Japanese, that is the incorrect greeting for the morning. Or, he would go up to someone and say, “you are Japanese/Hong Kong/Chinese, etc”. He was pretty much always wrong. Anyhow, as we were walking back, he stops in front of two women resting on a shaded bench, and asks, “You Korean?” They shake their heads no. “You Hong Kong?” Yes, that really is how he phrased it. No. “You Japanese?” Well, the third guess was right, and they reluctantly nodded yes. Triumphantly, our guide announced, very loudly, “Konnichiwa” and walked on his merry way, leading us toward the exit. Dragging my feet at the end of our group, I pointed at him, spun my finger to indicate a weirdo, and said, “I’m sorry” in Japanese, and fortunately walked away to their giggles.
As we left, we noticed swarms and swarms of people. We were so grateful we came early. It was much easier to get photos when it was empty! The sun had also risen, bathing the east side in a glorious glow. It really was beautiful.
We stood near the southern gate, reluctant to leave. Auntie remembered that she promised to take a photo of her feet for her daughter (AEI, you’ll have to explain that to me at some point), Sister and Friend K wandered near a bench to take more photos, and I just dawdled around.
Sister and Friend K were now sitting on the bench, talking. Suddenly, they kissed. Just a tiny little peck, but still, this is India and that is a big no-no. Slightly shocked, I watched them, concerned about them being approached by someone and chastised. Soon, Friend K’s hand wandered to Sister’s backside! In India! Mom was clicking away at that pose. And then they kissed again! All of a sudden, I knew exactly what had happened and exclaimed, “Oh my God, he just proposed!” But no one was close enough to hear me.
Dying of curiosity, I stood there, unsure what I should do. Clearly, the correct answer is to give them privacy, if it were true. But was it? Our tour guide, who of course, thought them already married, had also noticed the kissing and was alarmed. He walked over to interrupt them, so I figured any special moment they had was over, anyway.
Sister told me later that he came over and asked, “sharing secrets?” to which they just laughed off. But when I came and sat next to them, I don’t really remember exactly what I said, but a flash of a diamond confirmed my guess! They were engaged! I was giggly and ecstatic. They were both behaving normally! They confided that they would announce it at breakfast, and the three of us got up from the bench, secret kept.
As we left, I told Sister and Friend K (hereafter referred to Future Brother-In-Law, FBIL) that they had to buy something to commemorate the day. But they ignored me. Probably better choice on their part.
We stood outside, waiting for our van to pull up. It took a solid ten minutes. Our tour guide got antsy, but the rest of us were calm. How could they be so calm? I was bouncing around with excitement…
We got into the van and drove to the hotel. Can you believe that for all that had happened it was only 9:00 am?
Now, when Fez and I had left that morning, we shut our room door, and she immediately asks me, “do you have our room key?” Oops. No, no I did not. Nor did she. We shrugged it off, and figured we’d get it when we came back to the hotel. Three hours later, and everyone else was headed back to their rooms and we were at the front desk, asking for a new key. We were all going to meet in the lobby for breakfast, and we were surprised that Sister and FBIL were already back from their room and in the lobby before we had gotten our key. But no, actually they had forgotten their key, too! And so it turns out that Mom, the one we always tease about forgetting things, was the only one of us who remembered her key!
Once we all had keys again, we sat down to the hotel breakfast. My sister kept her hand behind her back, but I was the only one who noticed. There was a lot of food; cereals, breads, cheeses, Indian foods, hash browns. You name it, it was there. There were also terrible juices, but I have yet to really like a juice in India, so it was only surprising to the rest of the group that they were bad.
As we stuffed ourselves, I waited for Sister and FBIL to make their announcement. We all chatted, talked about the beauty of the Taj Mahal, and greeted the South African dude from the day before, who happened to be at the same hotel. But mostly I just waited. The build-up was so much that I unfortunately don’t remember what they actually said!
I think it was something simple. I THINK my sister said something like, “We got engaged!” Mom, though, I won’t forget her reaction. I was sitting opposite her, at the other end of the table, and looking directly at her when they announced it. Mom put one hand on each cheek, and just gasped. If I hadn’t seen her do it for good news before, you’d swear she was in pain like the kid from Home Alone when he puts the aftershave on his face. But I’ve seen her make that face before, while on the phone, so I giggled at it, but it wasn’t unexpected. She was so excited, even more excited that me. We (we meaning everyone at the table except for the engaged couple) immediately started planning their wedding.
FBIL was fun to question. Was he nervous? Had he been carrying the ring around the whole time? Yep, in his pocket. He didn’t seem too nervous. But his plans had been thwarted early by the presence of the tour guide. He hasn’t been expecting that. So it was difficult to get Sister alone. Compounding the difficultly was the ‘already married’ lie, innocent and funny to the rest of us when he’d been mentioning how they’d been married for two years, but painful for him, as he couldn’t even propose in front of the tour guide!
Now, my sister and I have a joke about who the ‘favorite’ daughter is in the family. Last Christmas, Sister and FBIL bought my folks a flat screen TV. They won the favorite daughter contest. So when mom jokingly told FBIL that he didn’t ask her permission before asking my sister, I temporarily gained favorite daughter status, as my husband took my parents to dinner and allowed them to grill him for hours. But then Sister said the simple words, “HighDef TV” and I was back to second place. Well, actually Fez is always number 1 in the family. So I was back to third.
After we finished planning their wedding for them (I think we decided on Ireland, hehe) we went back to our hotel rooms (at least we all remembered our keys that time) and packed up.
We still had a big day ahead of us- we were going to visit a store that did the same marble inlay work we saw at the Taj Mahal, see another fort, called Fatehpur Sikri, and then drive to Jaipur. It was, after all, only 10:00 am!
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