The Taj

I haven't read the Da Vinci Code. Although it has been on the bestseller list for ages, and numerous friends, from Israel to India to England, have given it positive reviews, I can't bring myself to read it. There's something about the fact that everyone and their mother has read it that makes me shy away from it. Call me Jonathan Franzen (the author who openly expressed disgust at his book, The Corrections, being placed on Oprah's Book Club list), but popular mass
fiction often doesn't live up to the grand reviews and adulation it receives.

Before seeing the Taj Mahal, I felt the same way—reluctant and a bit wary about this place that everyone raves about. Surely someone has hated it and just hasn't had the courage to say so. For some reason, visiting the Taj felt like more of an obligation than a treat, and I seriously considered just not going. But, when my friend, Dr. Steve (a doctor I met at the orphanage in Orissa) came to Delhi and offered to drive me to the Taj, I couldn't refuse. I'd have a friend to go with, get the Indian perspective, and skip out on the tourist bus filled with masses of camera-snapping white folks. Ideal.

Dr. Steve picked me up early and we visited the ruined city of Fatephur Sikri first. Quite fascinating old ruined city that had to be abandoned not long after it was built, because it's creator forgot that water was not readily available anywhere in the area. I have a feeling that it's best when you can spend a day or two walking around, but we only had a couple of hours so we made the most of it. It was stiflingly hot, so after Fatephur we broke for lunch, and recouped on masala dosas and sweet lime soda. Bolstered, we set out for the Taj.

To protect the Taj surroundings from the masses, its caretakers have blocked off the roads leading up to it so that cars and busses can't proceed. You can either walk up the long road to the entry gates, or wrangle a bicycle rickshaw, auto-rickshaw, or tonga--our choice--which is a horse drawn carriage. They aren't as regal as the ones in Central Park, but it's still quite nice to be pulled up the gates of the Taj by a white steed. After you go through the rigmarole at the gates, i.e. emptying your pockets, passing through the metal detectors, being patted down, etc. you can relax and prepare yourself. It isn't in sight yet, so you have a moment to collect your thoughts, and then proceed...ready?

Although I've seen pictures of the Taj many times, there is nothing like laying eyes on it the first time. Resplendent in its bright white marble symmetry, the sight of it opened my eyes wide, and lifted my cheeks a bit. I found myself drawing air into my lungs suddenly and had to sit down to take it all in. Four hundred some odd years old and it is still dazzling!

On a scale of Indian things, I'd say it's not quite as good as hearing 110 children praying at once, but much better than a camel safari, and on par with bathing baby elephants. It truly is the greatest monument to love, and if my significant other ever decided to build a magnificent marble tomb with exquisite inlaid semiprecious stones, and ornate carvings in my honor, I wouldn't object.

Up close, it's nice, too…but I wasn't as impressed by it as I was from afar. In fact, I was much more interested in watching the people visiting the Taj. There were busloads of children wandering about (imagine if this was your typical fourth grade field trip!), and they were the most entertaining. Dr. Steve and I spent a couple of hours taking it all in, and then headed out the front gates where hundreds more people were queuing up to see the sun set on the Taj. Truthfully, I doubt I'll ever go again—once was enough and the impression will, no doubt, last. But, it was most definitely worth the trek.

Note to self: go buy Da Vinci Code.