Taj Mahal (Deleted Scene)
My book has a lot of deleted scenes, but this is one of my favorites. When I lived in Bahrain, I decided to take a trip to India because…well…I tend to go wherever my heart directs me. It was a tremendous opportunity and the number 1 highlight was seeing the Taj Mahal. Like other pivotal moments in my life, my experience was shaped by an opportunity to completely divorce myself from what I had come to know as my reality.
In this case, I sat in a car from New Delhi with no real idea of how long the drive would be or what I would see along the way. When we got to the Taj Mahal I was more tired and hungry than excited. In some ways I had forgotten that I was going to see a modern Wonder of the World.
That is, until I saw the first glimpses of that romantic structure.
I’m not a big fan of pictures. Trying to find the right angle always keeps me from experiencing life. Besides, I’m sure some famous photographer took better pictures of the Taj Mahal than I ever will. What I did do, however, was take quick shots that represent how I felt when I was there. I wish I could be witty or sarcastic—but the history, the image, and the architecture of the Taj Mahal was amazing.
When I got out of the car, I felt this anticipation of finally seeing a wonder of the modern world. I vaguely knew the story of the love-struck King who constructed the mausoleum for his beloved wife, but as I walked up to the Taj (that’s what the cool kids call it), I was reminded of my visit to the Pyramids in Cairo: matter of fact. You get out of the car, see the Pyramids, drop your jaw, see the Sphinx, fend off street vendors, turn around, and head back. I expected the same at the Taj, but the Taj made me wait.
“No food, no chocolate, no pudding, no toffee!”
“No sir, I do not have any toffee, you can check if you like.”
The stern faced Indian guard/toffee police waved me through, but it was obvious he didn’t appreciate me mocking the toffee.
Once I made it through the outer gate, I found a chatty tour guide that talked to me like I was twenty people:
“And yes, gentlemen, some of you will be amazed at the love Shah Jahan had for his wife.”
It was just me.
“Does anyone know when the Taj Mahal was finished?”
I was embarrassed…should I raise my hand or wait for another imaginary student to chime in?
The tour guide stood me in the entry courtyard for 15 minutes telling me about the history. I still couldn’t see the damned Taj Mahal.
The anticipation was building as I tried to get a look before I was actually there.
It seemed fitting that the Taj was making me wait. Like a lover waiting for his beloved—happy to wait; feeding off the anticipation. Fitting, because the Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan in the 17th century as a resting place for the wife he loved very much—after whose death he chose never to marry again.
Type “Taj Mahal” into the interwebs and you’ll see what I saw. Probably better.
But here’s what you didn’t see. All of the white stone in the Taj Mahal is marble. Yes, boring, white, durable, sometimes smooth and sometimes rough marble. But. All of the color in that marble is whole precious stones—like rubies. Imagine: all of the red in the Taj Mahal is actual stones of ruby and the green is actual stones of emerald. I was shocked that it wasn’t paint. Some artisan (they took me to a shop where they continue this process today) took a slab of marble, inked a design, chiseled the marble based on that design, inlaid the stone, secured it with glue, and polished it all. From the 17th century. The 17th fucking century.
It impressed me so much I bought a marble slab from the equivalent of a Midwestern used car dealer whose commercials are self-directed with circus props. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it. When you come visit, I won’t show you any pictures, I’ll just hand you a flashlight. Experience the Taj.