"The sound is truer than the echo..." - Agra, March 17

I have been waiting to the see the Taj Mahal since I saw my first picture of it.
I have been waiting to see it with someone I love.

I wanted it to be one of those perfect moments; orchestrated so that all my ideas of happiness and contentment would converge at that one place.

That did not happen....as is often the case with fantasies.
Instead, I'm here during a very hard time in my life with virtual strangers.

And it didn't matter at all.

The Taj still took my breath away.
Tears sprang to my eyes when I saw it.

It is so beautiful, so overwhelming, so perfect and symmetrical and ethereal, that any thought of me or my problems was impossible in that moment.

The Taj Mahal demands your undivided attention.
And I willingly gave it.

There are many great quotes about the Taj Mahal, but my favorite was written by the author Salman Rushdie, who was skeptical about whether the Taj would hold up when seen in person: "The building itself left my skepticism in shreds...insisting with absolute force in its sovereign authority, it simply obliterated the million counterfeits of it occupied by its simulacra and this, finally, is why the Taj Mahal must be seen; to remind us that the world is real, that the sound is truer than the echo, the original more forceful than its image-saturated times, to transcend imitations."

The story behind it is, of course, part of the allure. A paradise on earth built for a dead queen who was the king's one true love....

Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal after she died giving birth to their fourteenth child in 1631. His court reporters said "his eyes wept pearl drops of sadness." His hair turned white overnight. He started building her tomb the next year and it was complete in 1653. Not long after it was finished, one of his and Mumtaz's sons overthrew him and imprisoned him in the Agra fort, where he could only gaze out a window at the Taj Mahal across the river until his death.

I highly recommend the book "Taj Mahal: Passion and Genius at the Heart of the Moghul Empire" by Diana and Michael Preston for anyone who is interested, or anyone planning on coming here. It is a small, but very informative and easily read history of the ruling family, the architecture style and that period of history. It has been immensely helpful to me here.

There are all kinds of tourists who come to see the Taj Mahal, of course. We met a group of women from Bengal, and Madan's wife is from there, so he was able to speak to them in their native tongue, which tickled them. They showed off their saris and were all smiles.

We met another group of women from southern India, and some of them had their faces covered with turmeric, so they had a yellow glow to them. They didn't want their pictures taken, until they requested a picture with me. Then they started laughing, because I could have rested my elbows on their shoulders. I think they thought I was a giant. One woman reached up and pinched my cheek, then kissed her hand and said, "So beautiful." That was the first time I've had a cheek pinched in a foreign country.

We returned to the hotel for breakfast, then immediately headed for the Agra
Fort. This fort was begun by Akbar (Shah Jahan's grandfather) in 1565. Shah Jahan added to it with white marble, and turned it into a palace. This is where he was imprisoned after his son Aurangzeb took power.

After lunch, we headed to a showroom to see how they make inlaid marble. I snuck out once the selling began and took a walk up and down the street. I found one of the little shrines I've seen everywhere here. They are just gorgeous. This one was under a massive tree, with shrines for the Monkey god, the Mother, and Shiva. Some men sitting nearby explained it all to me. A boy approached with a cobra, but he put it away quickly when I freaked out.

They are quite considerate here.

I finally found my street side barber,too. I've been seeing these men getting shaves on the side of the road and I knew it would make a wonderful picture. He didn't have any customers, so I just went over and started to him and the men sitting there. When I said he needed customers, he said he would cut my hair for me. I politely declined.

I took B., the videographer, back over there, and this time he had a customer. The concentration on the barber's face is priceless. I commented that he looked like an artist at work - which is a good thing, since he's using a straight razor on the guy's throat. It was such a great experience. I think the customer thought it was hilarious that we were snapping pictures of him getting a shave.

One man asked us what country we were from; and was shocked to learn that B. and I were both Americans. He said, "But you look different." Yes, that's what America looks like!



As we drive along, we see stacks of cow patties.
I can see the essence of the person who made them, the hand imprints.

Small valleys and ridges of the fingers splayed and pressed into an organic material that will provide warmth and fuel to cook food for the family. They are small, beautiful details that tell me so much.

Our guide arranged for us to have tea at a small family-run guesthouse here in Agra. A chance to see how a middle class family lives, and the opportunity to ask any questions about India.

The host, Mokesh, asked us, "What part of the world is suffering without you?" This is a phrase we've been asked a lot, and I love it. It is such a generous thought. Again, it harkened back to that idea of the soul in each of us being something unique, and at the same time, familiar.

We talked mostly about education, marriages, and India's future. His wife, Ratchna, made samosas and wonderful crunchy snacks and served us tea.

Upon returning to the hotel, a couple of fellow travelers were getting their ankles hennaed, so I joined in and got my arm done. I've always wanted to have it done, and what better place than in India?