Early morning we arrive at the Taj Mahal. For me, it is like a dream. Early morning is much better than the day to see the Taj Mahal. Tourists do not abound in the early morning. The sun peaks through the clouds, but its heat does not scorch your skin nor do its rays pierce your eyes. The hawkers are still incessant, but not as bad as when paired with the dehydrating heat in the day.
The Taj Mahal itself is an optical illusion, adding to the surrealism of my visit. When looking at the Taj Mahal through its front gate, it appears much closer physically than it really is. After stepping through the gate and seeing more of the context, including trees, people, and walkways, you see the Taj Mahal a kilometer away, beckoning. It is different from Humayan’s Tomb. The Taj Mahal is ostentatious and welcoming. She is a palace built in the name of love. Shah Jahan, the fifth great Mughal, built it as a token of his deeply set love for his second wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died while delivering her 14th child. After serving 8 years in prison at Agra Fort, with view of his muse’s crown palace, Shah Jahan was given pardon by his son before his death, and was buried in the Taj Mahal too. It’s a royal love story, and one that lends itself to the palace’s warmth and hospitality.
Peggy and me at the Taj Mahal at sunrise
Sun rises over a mosque beside the Taj Mahal
Later that day, we met a shopkeeper at the oldest store in Sadar Bazar who invited us to his house for dinner. It was a kind gesture, though apparently with ulterior motives. Early on, I suspect he will ask us for money, but curious for a peak into the life of a local shopkeeper, I welcome his invitation. At his home, we quickly see that he is a Hindu zealot. He talks a lot, and listens a little. He tells me graciously and repeatedly, “guest is god”, and to this day, I cannot tell you how sincere he was.
With the merchant and his mom
Sunday 6/26 ~ Monsoon hits the north a few days early.
The first monsoon rain is supposed to bring good luck. So after a fruitless attempt to find a meditation class, we walk through the first monsoon showers in northern India. It is cold, but a relief after our strange and dramatic night with the potential swindler from Sadar Bazar.
At 3 o’clock, we leave Agra for Faridabad. Our volunteer work begins tomorrow.
Getting my hair cut by the Jaipur railway station
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