Monsoon Honeymoon: An Indian Travelogue: Part IV: Is the Taj Mahal Worth It?

Thursday, June 20: Agra to Jaipur

My girl rises before the sun.  Today we rose together at 5:30 AM so we could enjoy the Taj Mahal at dawn.

As we walked twenty minutes to the entry gates, I couldn't hep but wonder: Could the Taj live up to all of the sensational hype thrown at it?

Leigh and I stepped through the towering gate to the Taj, clutched each others' hands, and the answer became clear: Yes.   We gazed past the reflecting pool, past the flanking gardens, between the mosque and the royal residence, and up to the unequaled, towering, white marble tomb.

Shah Jahan must have been a cowering, co-dependent, crazy man.  He and his wife were married in their late teens, and shared some two decades together before her premature passing.  Blinded by grief, Shah Jahan gave up the pretense of ruling an Empire, which he hadn't done a very effective job of anyway, and spent the treasure, lives, and energy of thousands of builders over twenty years to construct this monument to love.  What's strange about this Super-sized mausoleum is that it doesn't have much of a purpose.  It's not a gathering place, it's not a living space, it's not for the people.  It's essentially an ostentatious grave.  I informed Leigh that should such premature passing ever strike us, I would likely not construct a Taj Mahal sized tomb for her, though my love is no less than Shah Jahan's. . .

Awe-inspired, we clambered back through the rising heat to our hotel, scarfed down an Indian breakfast (Chai tea, sugary jam, poached eggs, veggie cutlets), and drove away from Agra by 11 AM

Today our driver Karan would be driving us somewhere between three and six hours (Indian time!) to the West. We would be leaving the State of Uttar (Upper) Pradesh and entering the colorful, desert-dusted, magical State of Rajasthan (Land of the Rajs).

We were both relieved to leave the urban crush of Agra.  An hour out of Agra, we pulled off the road to tour another Mughal fortress- Fatehpur Sikri.  This roadside stop overflowed with hustlers, pushers, "tour guides," salespeople, and more.  I understand that these hundreds of Indians are trying to eke out a living from tourists, but the net affect was irritating.

This Mughal Palace was in the middle of nowhere.  One of the Emperors had fallen under the influence of a Holy Man living in a cave nearby, so he decided to build an entire fortress on the adjacent promontory.  The Palace was hugely impressive, with courtyard bazaars, five story astrology towers, stable-style housing for maidservants, and even a game house where Parcheezee was played.  Also, the Emperor liked to play chess with women as pieces.  His wives he kept locked away in various courtyard wings, where, faithful to chauvinist Muslim tradition, women were trapped inside of enclosed corridors.  Lord Acton was spot on: "Power corrupts."

Above the Palace was a monumental mosque open to all at no charge.  This was the most jarring place we had yet visited.  Hundreds and hundreds of people thronged inside the soaring courtyard, doing everything you could imagine: Eating, sleeping, hawking, praying, begging, shopping.  Hustlers wouldn't leave us alone, and some of them were middle school age.  We had trouble concentrating enough to appreciate the white marble temple in the center of the mosque.  We took flight. . .Back in the car, Karan raced westward.  We stopped for lunch, where an elder gentleman played a string-like zither, and a gorgeous dark-skinned girl adorned in a gold-fringed red sari smiled, circled her hands, swayed her head from side to side, and blew kisses at Leigh and me.  She earned her tip with her smile. . . .

We pulled into the Hotel Vimal at Bani Park in Jaipur in the late afternoon.  Jaipur is a city of 3 million people- the largest city in Rajasthan- but of course Leigh had worked her magic on Trip Advisor to find us a leafy green sanctuary.  One hundred years earlier the Vimal was the private residence of a prosperous family, and in the name of tourism, the beauty had been enhanced.  Explosions of every color- especially green, red, and blue- emanated from stones, paint, and furniture, and contrasted strikingly with the brushed sandalwood banisters and trim.  At the front desk, concierge Harry delivered the most gentle, positive, and endearing hotel introduction I've ever witnessed, finishing his speech softly with: "Anything you want, you can have it."

All I wanted was sleep.  Before the sun set I fell into a slumber that would last for twelve hours. . .