Agra: Journey to the Taj Mahal

(Continued from Mumbai: The Gateway and the Taj Hotel (Departure))

Featured Photo: “Taj Mahal at Sunrise – Viewed from Afar”  Agra, India—2011

My alarm rang at midnight, tearing me from a brief, but deep sleep. I was still exhausted from my long flight to India, along with the prior day of meetings and sight-seeing in Mumbai, but I awoke excited. I rubbed my eyes, rolled out of bed, and took an invigorating shower. Knowing the hotel restaurant would be closed at this early hour, I brewed a cup of coffee and devoured a chocolate and peanut butter protein bar that I’d brought with me from home.

I had arranged to meet my driver at 1:00 AM—the same driver who had picked us up from the Delhi airport the day before. And I was right on time when I walked through the deserted lobby, nodded to the night clerk, and walked out the front door of the hotel, where my driver stood waiting.

I climbed into the front seat beside him to get the best possible view during the journey, then asked how long the drive would take. When he replied three hours, I began to worry my cup of coffee might have been a poor choice. But how else—other than an early start—to view the Taj Mahal close-up at sunrise? Despite my best intentions, we didn’t quite make it in time.

Before traveling to India, I counted myself among those who were not well-informed about the Taj Mahal. Of course, its status as a remarkable sight was the stuff of legends. But I did not know exactly where it was located, how old it was, or why it had been built. I’d gathered the essential intel from my travel books.

The Taj Mahal is located in Agra, home to three generations of Mughal emperors who ruled India from the early-16th to the mid-18th century. It was built by Shah Jahan—the fifth Mughal emperor—as a monument to romantic love for his favorite wife, whom he called Mumtaz Mahal (Jewel of the Palace). They were married in 1612, and she bore him 14 children before her death in 1631. The emperor’s profound grief found an outlet in the world’s most magnificent mausoleum, a masterpiece in white marble, which took 20,000 workmen from all over Asia more than two decades to complete.

At 1:00 that morning in Delhi, the roadway next to my hotel was empty as we merged into the first of four lanes and slipped quietly away from the sleeping city toward our destination, some 125 miles to the southeast. I managed to stay awake for the trip, but halfway to Agra, along an unlighted two-lane road in the middle of nowhere, I realized I needed a pit stop. I said as much to my driver, and he replied, “No problem.” Steering the van off the road, he stopped beside a narrow ditch with a large field beyond, and gestured into the darkness saying, “Just head over there and come back when you’re finished.”

Unable to see where I was stepping—with only the van’s dim headlights and a thin slice of moon to light the way—I ventured out about ten yards to answer nature’s call. I’m not sure why I went so far as there was no one else around, but feeling relieved, I returned to the van and settled back into the front seat. Later, I shuddered to think of the danger that might have befallen me beside that isolated stretch of road, particularly from India’s venomous snakes: cobras, vipers, and kraits.

After another hour, the driver again pulled off the road. “Go over there and have a look.” Obviously, he’d driven this road before and knew where the best views were. I walked toward a fenced overlook and there—still far off in the distance, with a blazing yellow sun low on the horizon—was the Taj Mahal.

I reframed the shot for an even better perspective to capture what I saw and took another picture—today’s Featured Photo—with the iconic dome and tall minaret towers tinted ghostly gray in the orange-pink light of dawn.

I got back in the van and my driver asked if it would be okay if he stopped to grab something to eat. “Of course!” And a few minutes later, he pulled over at a dhaba—a small roadside restaurant—hopping out and returning with a breakfast sandwich wrapped in brown paper for later.

After another twenty minutes on the road, we arrived in Agra and drove along the Taj East Gate Road, pulling into a small parking lot shaded by several trees. My driver pointed to where I could buy a ticket and said he would wait in the van until I returned from my sight-seeing. We had arrived early but the area around the ticket office was already buzzing with activity. Indeed, it seemed rather chaotic as I pushed past people offering to help me get a ticket and guide me to the Taj entrance.

Reaching the ticket desk on my own, I paid the foreigners’ admission fee of 750 rupees—nearly 40 times that for India’s residents—but still a bargain at somewhere around $15. I took my ticket then turned to go and was surprised when the vendor also handed me a small bag containing a water bottle and shoe covers, included in the visitor’s price. It turns out, water and a camera are among the few “essentials” allowed when visiting the Taj Mahal.

Exiting the ticket office, I opted to walk the short distance to the East Gate—eschewing the persistent offers for transportation from bicycle rickshaw-wallahs—and passed by several restaurants and shops along the way…

…selling marble crafts, trinkets, and drinks…

…before reaching the Chowk-i-Jilo Khana, a lush courtyard with green grass and hedges, complemented by red sandstone buildings.

The walkway opened up to a view of the Taj South Gate to my left…

…and the Darwaza-i-Rauza (a.k.a. the Great Gate, Royal Gate, or Gate of the Mausoleum) to my right. Green garden hoses stretched across the lawns to maintain the verdant appearance.

I continued along the walkway and turned to face the impressive gate, which screened what lay beyond…

…not realizing the dab of bright white marble—just visible through the dark archway at the bottom—was nothing less than the Taj itself. It was time for a closer look.

(To be continued…)