I have a confession to make. We went to the Taj Mahal last night to see it at sunset. We didn’t tell our guide this and we vowed to pretend to be gobsmacked when we see it with him this morning. Turns out it was gobsmackable a second time… this time aided by the morning mist drifting in from the Ganges River that is behind the Taj. This same river helps create the reflected illusion of “the Black Taj” when viewed from the other side. We didn’t make it over there but we did get to take in the rolling mist pierced by the rising sun.
I have a second confession to make. I didn’t find it to be a life-changing experience. I mean, I’m really glad to have seen it. It is a wonder of the world. It’s beautiful. But Isaac at the Udaipur cooking class said he shed a small tear at seeing it and felt like it was a symphony of choral music rolled into one glorious melody. I didn’t get that. I think more than anything it was a sense of, “yeah, that’s truly amazing…” from an intellectual and physical level but emotionally it left me oddly… unmoved?
Was that because we rushed through in 45 minutes last night? Was it because I’m a cold hearted sod who doesn’t understand love? Was it because I have mixed feelings about the Shah building this mauseleum to his favorite of his three wives, a woman who died in children birth delivering their 14th child together in 19 years of marriage?
Still, I snapped away with the other tourists, trying to soak in the vibe of the place. And I took enough photos that I think I could rebuild the Taj Mahal using those as blueprints. I could not recreate the interior, which in truth is a recreation of the tomb proper that lies beneath our feet there. The 5.3 million who visit the Taj each year couldn’t possibly fit in the small confines of the crypt tomb proper so they added an exact copy without having people descend into the Taj’s depths. As well, they didn’t allow photographs inside the tomb out of respect for the dead… and told us as much via carved marble signs that also admonished “quite [sic] please.” Even if it was “quiet please” there was no end to the murmuring and voices echoing about the chambers. ]Kevin’s Note: Not that I should be throwing stones in the marble house — I’ve mispelled probably 95% of the words on this blog… including the word “misspelled”].
The tomb proper is also the one bit of asymmetry in the architectural masterpiece that is the Taj Mahal. As originally built, Mumtaz Mahal lay instate at the center of the room. When the Shah died, 13 years after the Taj was completed, his daughter had him in a larger tomb placed off to the side of his beloved. Which messes up the balance but perhaps in a good way if you believe in one true love (amongst his three wives I might add).
The symmetry of the place is what really got me. The four gates leading into the main courtyard from the street, each one a mirror of the other. The reflecting pools that provided water copies of the surroundings. A functional mosque on one side facing Mecca is mirrored with an exact copy of the building that because it was facing the wrong direction of Mecca could not be used as a mosque. And the Taj dome itself is perfection personified, with optical tricks of perception to make it all appear uniform even if up close there’s a size difference (but mirrored on all sides so symmetry remains. The four minarets are tilted slightly outward in the event of an earthquake so they would fall AWAY from the main dome structure… a forward thinking plan since up to that point nobody could remember an earthquake ever happening in the area.
But I kept feeling… me. There was no parting of the mist to reveal an insight into love or humanity or self or place in the world. Ultimately it’s a place of beauty, it’s a thing of beauty. But it is still just a thing.
The quest for self-actualization continues… as it should I suppose. Self-actualization by definition is for oneself, by oneself. It isn’t defined by others or what others have done or will do. It comes from within. People often speak of India as a spiritual place, a place that people have come to find enlightenment. The Beatles, your granola loving college roommate, and yes, even me. To commingle rock bands, we may not always find what we want, but if we try real hard, we just might find, we get what we need.
And perhaps all we need is love.
Is the Taj Mahal monument to one’s soulmate the pinnacle of love? Or is it more the IDEA of the monument that truly matters?
