I.N.spired - Legacy of the Shah's

01/01/09:

We woke up very early that morning with high hopes to catch the marble mausoleum in full daylight glory at 7am. After battling the morning’s cold, we realized we should have paid heed to our guesthouse owner’s warning – there’s no use getting up too early as the Taj Mahal would be shrouded in fog as it always does on winter daybreaks. After checking out the interiors, we waited for the fog to lift, which it eventually did 2 hours later. It was then that sunlight revealed why Agra had always lured a steady pilgrimage of tourists. The monument of love unveiled before our very eyes as the white surfaces took in the bright morning light – it was beauty quite unlike what I’ve seen before. As my mind raced to find the right words to describe Taj’s splendour, my finger clicked freely in a vain attempt to capture it’s grandeur for eternity.

We retired to the institutionalised Joney’s Place for breakfast before heading back to the hotel an hour to noon. While the Russians were set to leave for Fatehpur Sikri, we opted for a tour around the city instead as the entrance ticket to the Taj (750Rs) entitled us discounts to Agra’s other attractions – Agra Fort, Sikandra and Baby Taj Mahal. We found Agra Fort particularly impressive, perched on a slight hill on Yamuna’s western bank with sweeping views of the urban sprawl below. It was here where Aurangzeb imprisoned his father, Shah Jahan, in his final days and judging by the clear visual assault of the Taj from his cell, I dare say Shah Jahan had his cards dealt well.

Chini Ka Roza and Baby Taj were uneventful, really, as we’ve seen the two most noteworthy monuments within the city limits but the trip to the dry banks of Yamuna opposite the Taj, affectionately known as the backside Taj, was the climax of the day. Getting across on Agra’s only traffic bridge was an experience of its own. Never have I seen such high concentration of vehicles in such claustrophobic space, not even in Bangkok. By vehicles I mean cars, buses, vans, motorcycles, autorickshaws, bicycles, cycle rickshaws, horse-drawn carriages and bullock carts – primarily anything on wheels that have the capacity to transport. Imagine all these cramped on a two-way street on a two-lane wide bridge.

As the dusk draws an end to yet another day in Agra, the Taj refuses to fade into darkness without pulling a technicolour display of its own. As the heavily polluted air over Agra lent a deep orange tone to the sunset, the white marble of Taj steadily changes from ochre to pink and then purple before heaving a sigh of deep yellow before the eye disappears below the horizon. To put the sequence of events in words would do little justice to the true beauty of Taj Mahal at sunset.

That night, we had dinner with Nasta, Katya and Katya, the 3 Russian ladies, before their departure to Jaipur. It was a simple affair at Joney’s, a pinnacle to 2 great days together. Faruq was only too happy as he got to nurse his crush on Katya whom he affectionately calls Olga-Wong. That night, we turned in early so much so that I only had sketchy recollections bidding them farewell at 11pm the morning after.