The secrets of Taj Mahal
(In keeping with the spirit of the season, I am reprinting below the column, originally titled “A tribute to beauty,” which I wrote on April 3, 1998 during a visit to Taj Mahal, in India.)
AGRA, INDIA—Agra, once the capital of the Mughal Empire during the 16th and early 18th centuries, is one and a half hours by express train from New Delhi. Around 10,000 tourists visit Agra not to see the ruins of the red sandstone fortresses built by the Mughal emperors but to make a pilgrimage to Taj Mahal, India’s most famous architectural wonder, in a land where magnificent temples and edifices abound to remind visitors about the rich civilization of a country that is slowly but surely lifting itself into an industrialized society.
India’s railway system is extensive: railway stations are overcrowded with people, including beggars, and sacred cows wander unmolested on parking lots. But at the end of the journey, so long as one does not look for the comfort of the European trains, one is rewarded.
The postcard picture of Taj Mahal does not adequately convey the legend, the poetry and the romance that shroud what the Indian guru Rabindranath Tagore calls “a teardrop on the cheek of time.” Taj Mahal means “crown palace” and is in fact the most well preserved and architecturally beautiful tomb in the world. It is best described by the English poet, Sir Edwin Arnold, as “Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor’s love wrought in living stones.” It is a celebration of womanhood built in marble and that’s the way to appreciate it.
Taj Mahal stands on the bank of River Yamuna, which otherwise serves as a wide moat defending the Great Red Fort of Agra, the center of the Mughal emperors until they moved their capital to Delhi in 1637. It was built by the fifth Mughal emperor, Shah Janan, in 1631 in memory of his second wife, Mumtaz Mahal, a Muslim Persian princess. She died while accompanying her husband in Burhanpur in a campaign to crush a rebellion after giving birth to their 14th child. The death so crushed the emperor that all his hair and beard were said to have grown snow-white in a few months.
When Mumtaz Mahal was still alive, she extracted four promises from the emperor: first, that he build the Taj; second, that he should marry again; third, that he be kind to their children; and fourth, that he visit the tomb on her death anniversary. He kept the first and second promises. Construction began in 1631 and was completed in 22 years. Twenty thousand people were deployed to work on it. It was designed by the Iranian architect Istad Usa and it is a model of simple but elegant symmetry which is best appreciated when the architecture and its adornments are linked to the passion that inspired it. It is a “symbol of eternal love.”
The Taj rises on a high red sandstone base topped by a huge white marble terrace on which rests the famous dome flanked by four tapering minarets. Within the dome lies the jewel inlaid cenotaph of the queen. So exquisite is the workmanship that the Taj has been described as “having been designed by giants and finished by jewelers.” The only asymmetrical object in the Taj is the casket of the emperor which was built beside the queen’s as an afterthought. The emperor was deposed by his son and imprisoned in the Great Red Fort for eight years but was buried in the Taj. During his imprisonment, he had a view of the Taj.
As a tribute to a beautiful woman and as a monument to enduring love, the Taj reveals its subtleties when one visits it without being in a hurry. The rectangular base of the Taj is in itself symbolic of the different sides from which to view a beautiful woman, according to the former curator of the Taj who acted as my guide. P.N. Raizada, who has guided prime ministers and state visitors and who is an archaeologist, impressed upon me the beautiful woman analogy so the passion that inspired it can be recaptured.
The main gate is like a veil to a woman’s face which should be lifted delicately, gently and without haste during a honeymoon, my guide said. In Muslim tradition, the veil is lifted gently to reveal the beauty of the bride. As one stands inside the main gate of the Taj, his eyes are directed to an arch which frames the Taj. If you stand on the center of the gate, you get the full view of the dome and its four minarets. If you step a foot away from the center, you get a view of only two minarets. From the gate the minarets stand straight. But as you approach close to the tomb, they lean slightly outwards. The idea is that if they collapse, they won’t fall on the tomb.
The dome is made of white marble, but the tomb is set against the plain across the river and it is this background that works its magic of colors that, through their reflection, change the view of the Taj. The colors change at different hours of the day and during different seasons. Like a jewel, the Taj sparkles in moonlight when the semi-precious stones inlaid into the white marble on the main mausoleum catch the glow of the moon. The Taj is pinkish in the morning, milky white in the evening and golden when the moon shines. These changes, my guide rhapsodized, depict the different moods of women.
He cautioned me against rushing toward the mausoleum. Walk slowly from the gate, the Taj seems to walk away from you. When you walk back, it appears to move toward you.
Again, my guide talked about the metaphor of the beautiful woman. Beauty must be appreciated and discovered slowly and gently, and when you chase women, he said, they elude you but when you leave they move toward you.
This is my guide’s view and one may not always agree, but it is enough to say that the Taj has a life of its own that leaps out of marble, provided you understand that it is a monument to love. As an architectural masterpiece, Professor Ravel says, “nothing could be added or subtracted from it.”
