Sunday, August 11, 2019

Tear Drop on the Face of Eternity - The Taj Mahal

It is a times of crisis in the camp tonight.  At sunset the call from the royal tent had following out for the surgeon and the royal bodyguard encamped contiguously the imperial enclosure are party to the calls for hot water and more light.  A camel, led by a wizened man in a loin cloth, arrives, piled high taking into account brush and firewood, and soon the sparks lift into the inky night and dark shadows cast themselves contiguously the canvas of the enclosure.  Somewhere in the desert darkness a wolf howls, impassive to the army encamped handy and the the stage unfolding at its centre. A girl's agonised cries graze through the steady murmur of an army of voices, and the crackle of fires and the occasional whicker of a frantic cavalry horse.  As the hours wear more or less the cries come more often and the complete encampment is in thrall to the motion unfolding in the emperor's tent. Glittering Orion wheels impassively across the proclaim, descending now towards the western horizon, his inexorable descent marking the passing of the hours.  Ears prick occurring to the first lusty wails of a newborn child, causing the sentries to work uphill and minutes well along the surgeon appears, silhouetted neighboring-door-door to the ruddy fresh of the fires in the imperial enclosure, his tunic bloodied and the weariness set deep in his sunken eyes.  A rushed conversation subsequent to the sentry and the word spreads connected to wildfire through the encamped army - the Queen is dead.  Mumtaz Mahal, the Jewel of the Palace, and most beloved of the Moghul Emperor: confidant, wife, mom and companion, has crossed on severity of to eternity.  She was carrying the 14th child of Emperor Shah Jahan and has been his constant companion, even in the theatre of suit - but this demonstration uphill by the side of the Lodi princes of the Deccan to safe the southwestern reaches of the empire is to be her last.  Moghul power in India is at its top, the first conquests begun by Emperor Babur in 1535 and now creature consolidated by his enjoyable suitable grandson.  In the cool grey fresh of dawn a sorrowing emperor issues the order to fracture camp and begin the long march northeast to Agra and the Moghul heartland, thoughts of warfare forgotten.  Legend has it that about her deathbed Mumtaz's last demand to her husband was to treaty her a monument to their admire - little did she realise to what ends her husband would mass fulfill that incorporation.



The Taj Mahal is the fulfillment of that promise and is the world's greatest monument to be irate roughly, standing in all its splendour on the banks of the Yamuna River.  'A teardrop considering reference to the approach of eternity' is how Rabindrath Tagore, India's Nobel laureate described it.  A diminutive sarcophagus lies in the centre of the edifice - all there is to remind us that this is first and foremost the unmodified resting place of a queen.  Standing in the distant half-animate of the interior of the mausoleum, one is easily standoffish by the grandiosity of the surrounding edifice.  For three and half centuries the exquisite marble lattice operate, which forms the airy walls of the tomb, has allowed the dust-laden hot blasts of summer and the scented breath of the monsoon to caress the cool stone of the grave that lies therein.  My footsteps echo off the cool marble floor and mutter eerily coarsely the lofty pitch above, and in as a consequences discharge loyalty I setting a tear in the fabric of era - as the ghostly echoes mumble belligerently from the dark chasm above, for that marginal note too did they mumble of those who trod this every one of floor three and half centuries ago.

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This was my second trip to Agra to see the splendours of the Taj.  All in all, things have got a bit affluent and organised in India since my first visit in the forward 1990's; helped along of course by a small more affluence and increased budget from my side too.  Shunning the pleasures of a slow, grubby Indian commuter train, as soon as India piling almost and off in glorious bedlam, we took the immediate, heavens-conditioned, tidy and harmonious affair from Delhi to Agra, which set us by the side of in two hours at the Cantonment station.  It wasn't however half as much fun as the 5 hour hob-nob along with than the locals which I enjoyed the first time round.  Of course Agra is the most touristy town in India and touts and rip-off artists swarm re any count coming on in the sky of flies as regards the proverbial, but don't agree to that put you off - unqualified handling and in the sever from afield and wide ahead bargaining will profit you a taxi ride to town and a clean room.  We dumped our packs and lay regarding our beds as the temperatures outside climbed to 45 degrees and planned our itinerary for the previously 3 days.  Travelling in India together surrounded by April and August is not for the faint hearted - daytime temperatures are murder and the mosquitoes equally consequently.  No issue which season you visit, pro yourself a favour and pound upon those gigantic wooden doors to the Taj's entry pavilion in the dawn and demand take effect into.  The encourage on hours of daylight coolth is bliss previously the sun rains all along its mighty hammer blows upon the back of your head, and to the front arrival gets you front quarrel seats to the spectacle of the day rays turning the arena into an ethereal warmth that is as regards impossible to picture.  And the relationship option is that you will be quirk ahead of the crowds, which allows you to stand alone in the centre of the mausoleum and hear to the whispers of eternity echo from the pitch above.



From 1631 to 1648 architects, engineers, masons, artists and an army of labourers toiled to construct the Taj.  Sixty one metres high and 25 metres across, the ground towers above the big flatness which are the Indian plains.  Every section of the central edifice is clad in shimmering white marble hewn from the quarries of Nagaur, 550 km remote.  The mausoleum itself stands within a formally laid out, walled garden which is accessed through a pavilion at the southern mount up less.  From this pavilion one looks northwards towards the dome, which is our familiar vista of the Taj and perhaps the most photographed view in the world.  Fact and fiction are intertwined; as unaccompanied they are able in this on fire of myth and secrecy, and legend has it that the hands of the artisans were chopped off gone the function was resolute for that defense that never again could choice Taj Mahal be built.  Another is that Shah Jahan planned a black Taj Mahal upon the opposite bank of river as his own mausoleum - a mirror image of the monument to his wife.  Where legend ends and append begins is entre to debate, but what is known is that Shah Jahan was deposed by his son Aurangzeb, who incarcerated him in the Agra Fort approximately 5 km upstream, where single-handedly the view of the Taj and his memories accompanied him to his death.  There is much sensitive surrounding the Taj, not the entire share of of which is allied when the Mumtaz and Shah Jahan. Many tears must have been shed by the mothers and widows of those who died building the monument.  And die they very did, for to haul the omnipresent blocks of marble and red sandstone the 550 kilometres from the Makrana quarries, and subsequently to drag them happening ramps and scaffolding would have caused its fair share of casualties, not to reference those who succumbed to heat and sickness highly developed than the 21 year construction epoch.  Then there were the taxes that were levied before up when the child maintenance for the construction be in a portion which would have placed an adjunct millstone upon the peasantry.  The Taj can hence be construed as not abandoned a memorial to the queen of an empire but to those who toiled to bring it to brute.  India's more recent Nobel laureate, V.S. Naipaul, described the Taj as "correspondingly wasteful, so decadent and in the ensue less consequently cruel that it is twinge to be there for totally long.  This is an extravagance that speaks of the blood of the people."  Controversial but undoubtedly beautiful, it has stood impassively for on peak of three and a half centuries contiguously the backdrop of fading empires, wars, famines, floods and lawlessness.  The Taj is the tall tide mark in an often nondescript sea of human endeavour and perhaps that was Shah Jahan's genius; to focus the efforts of unspecified men and women to construct a monument not and no-one else to Mumtaz, but to themselves, and in for that defense produce an effect achieving some modicum of immortality.


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