The Taj Mahal

            We took another bus to the train station, and rode the train to Agra. This time it was only a two hour train ride. We arrived in Agra and went to a fancy hotel for lunch. After lunch, we went to the vendors who make Indian marble to see how they make it. Indian marble is infused with diamonds, making it the strongest type of marble. It was breathtaking to see the intricacies of the items they were selling there, so many different detailed patterns. After that, we finally went to the Taj Mahal. When we arrived, we had to get on little golf cart shuttles, as they prevent cars from going nearby to keep from polluting the area around it. While I was sitting on the back of the cart, I saw an old man going through the trash to take out the used plastic bottles. SAS told us that India is notorious for re-used water bottles and I guess I witnessed that happening.

            Well, we arrived at the Taj, entering through the outer gate. Security made me get rid of my rape whistle because you can’t have any ‘noise makers’ inside the Taj. Oh well, I got it for free from UVA. Once inside the gate, you find yourself inside a large open courtyard with the official gate to the Taj’s courtyard to the right. As we walked over there, it came into view. For some reason, I had imagined it to be some massively enormous structure. Don’t get me wrong, it is quite large, but I expected it to be twice its size. This is some unfounded notion I got from somewhere, but I was taken aback and a bit disappointed at first. I also couldn’t believe it was real just because I’d seen it so many times in so many other places. It’s at the end of a four-part garden with reflecting pools dividing the squares. It’s made of the Indian marble, which is why it has lasted so long with very little damage to it. Now, as everyone knows, its dedicated to the wife of Shah Jahan when she died in labor, trying to deliver her 14^th child. While this is true, her grave is at the center of the mausoleum, we read a recent argument arguing otherwise in my architecture class. Essentially, it explained how the unusual aspects of the mausoleum, such as the apocalyptic Koranic quotes inscribed on its walls, its divergent set-up (at the end of a garden rather than the center) and other nuances like that, together, point to a different purpose. This means that the Taj was really built as the Throne of God for when he would judge the earth and Shah Jahan wanted to be his right-hand man, recording the names of those who made it into heaven, if this argument is true. It certainly has much circumstantial evidence that points to this, but nothing conclusive on its own. We read it to see what we thought. I think there may be some truth to this, but you cannot ignore the fact that she is buried in the middle. Anyways, if you are interested in the argument, I can better explain it to you in person. J

            We stayed for the sunset, but it was not behind the Taj so it wasn’t as epic as we were expecting it to be. When we left, we had to wait for another shuttle to get us. This took a while for some reason, meaning that vendors surrounded us. I was looking for post cards and my guide had told me how much I should pay for them. Once I got my price, I got them. This, of course, meant that they all started asking me to buy their stuff. These were mostly young boys and one of them shoved a bag of globes into my hands and retracted his. This is a tactic some of them try to make you buy the product as they won’t take it back, only cash. Well, I didn’t want them and after trying to get him to take them back, I got fed up. I held them precariously and told him that if he didn’t take them back right that second, I was going to drop them. He snatched them from me quickly and moved on. I’m never that mean, but it was pretty funny. This other kid tried to get me to buy his pens by telling me that if I didn’t, his ‘heart would be broke.’ Oh what funny little kids will do to sell their items. Oh yeah, the tourist police drove by once while they were trying to sell to us and they were gone in half a second, like when cockroaches scatter when the light is turned on (not that they’re cockroaches, but it looked just like that). It was pretty funny, mostly because I’ve never really seen a large group of people flee from the police like that before.

Once we finally got on the bus, we rode back to the hotel to get dinner. Some of the other students really wanted McDonalds and had been asking the whole ride back (because they saw one near the Taj). So, he eventually gave in and took them to McDonalds. The rest of us ate the box lunches provided by the hotel. We had to eat it there because it was too dangerous to eat it at the train station. This is because former students used to give the extra to the beggars, but now the beggars just snatch the boxes from their hands. So we had to eat it at the hotel so as not to create a huge scene when we were at the train station. After dinner, we went to the train station for our final train ride. We got there a bit early because the trains are very punctual. Well, the train was late, so we stood around for about an hour waiting. This was so uncomfortable because so many poor people came over to ask for money. This lady came over to me, motioning for food and money while holding her half-clothed, crying baby. She stood there for a half hour, trying to tell me one rupee, please. I was seriously considering pulling out the banana chips from my bag, but they were deep in there and I couldn’t get to it easily. I was also afraid of attracting more beggars once I gave to one, just like the vendors. When she left, her two children came up, a boy and a girl. They asked for money, with hands held out expectantly and motioning for food. After a while, the guide noticed they kept asking me, so he came over. He asked them both in Hindi if they were hungry, to which both said no, they were already full. This made me kind of mad, as they were playing with my emotions to give them money, but for something other than the food that they would need. I had heard about gangs that use children to bring them back money, hardly giving them much to eat. So I wasn’t sure what to do and decided to try to ignore them, like everyone else seemed to be doing so effortlessly. I didn’t want to give them something if it was going to perpetuate their current state, by rewarding them for begging instead of trying to improve themselves. So many of these people have resigned themselves to their castes because of their belief in reincarnation, hoping that the next life will put them higher up. Then, maybe they will try to make their lives better. This is certainly something I noticed that differentiated India and Ghana, even though both had much poor. Ghana is extremely hopeful, so much so that it is bursting at the seams. I just didn’t get that vibe at all in India, maybe some from the venders, but it was more pleading than confidence. Anyways, I still don’t know if that was a divine appointment, an opportunity for me to help the poor, staring me in the face or if I made the right choice. They were right when they said India would be unsettling.

We rode the train back to New Dehli, got into yet another bus and rode to our hotel. Holy crap, they booked us a hotel. Passing groups of people sleeping on blankets in the streets, we pull up to a 20 story building with gaudy blue Christmas lights strung throughout the palm trees, bordering the “Royal Palace” hotel. Literally, it is a tall, flashy and bright building amidst the modest, sometimes shabby homes of the neighborhood and street poor. After going through airport-like security, we enter the hotel. One friend accurately described it as a church decorated by Michel Angelo. Everything was marble, everything – floor, wall, columns. The ceilings were covered in angelic paintings, there were sculptures all over the place and things were trimmed with gold (or something that looked like gold). This felt more like Vegas, or what I imagine Vegas to be. Of course, I had my own room again, which meant a very large bed with a flat screen tv and a mini bar. There was even a telephone in the bathroom, just in case you’re so lazy or indisposed that you can’t get to the phone. This hotel certainly did not belong where it was located. Talk about immediate proximity of the poor and the rich. This was really unnecessary, we could have stayed in something like a Comfort Inn or even Motel 8 – we are in India so this kind of completely shelters you from the ‘real’ India.