12:00 AM: Tuesday morning(For all of the beautiful photos, click here for my photo blog of the Taj Mahal)
After a blissful dinner at the Amar Villas, I had returned to the hotel, which, was unfortunately a let down. The service at the hotel left much to be desired although at first sight, I did like the hotel room. It was roomy and had space for a lounge area, and claimed to get WiFi service. Well that service either hadn’t been paid for this month or it was simply on the fritz because that wifi never came through. To make matters worse, when I came home from dinner there was an ambush of cockroaches to greet me, “Turn the light back off, bitch” I heard one say. Nice. After what looked like a rehearsal for the Dance Dance Revolution contest, I squashed all that couldn’t run fast enough. “Ew, disgusting!’ I said aloud, and then went into a litany of curses at the travel agent for booking me here and the hotel for not having better pest control. I cocooned myself in the sheet I brought from home and slept with the lights on.
That next morning, bringing me to the third day of my trip, I awoke at 5am to catch sunrise at the Taj Mahal. What a spectacular vision. Here was this gorgeous white marble sandcastle, rising from ground like a stone giant, gorgeous in all its snow white splendor, vain and graceful all at once. The Taj Mahal is the most extravagant monument ever built for love, a sublime emblem of India's attention to detail. May have tried to sum up its beauty - ' a teardrop on the face of eternity' according to an Indian poet Rabindrath Tagore, 'the embodiment of all things pure' according to British writer Rudyard Kipling. As an architectural masterpiece it stands alone, head and shoulders above any contender. More pictures can be found by clicking here.
My tour guide Maneesh, gave a hasty tour of the grounds and sped through the history of the Taj as if he were to slow down, he wouldn’t be able to recite his memorized tour. “Buzz off then”, I thought. He was also a part of the strategic hustle that I was quickly learning that all everyone plays a part . Here’s how it works in India, and if you ever plan on visiting India, listen up. Everyone gets a cut of your dollar. Every single dollar that is spent by you. From your lunch to souvenirs, your tour guide and driver, and the hotel that you’re staying in, have all elaborately planned your purchase patterns from the moment you arrive. For instance, Sherma was sent to me through the Indian Tourism office at the airport who referred me to a hotel. When Sherma got there, he referred a driver and the driver gives a commission to Sherma for the recommendation just as Sherma gave a commission to the hotel I stayed at and just as the tourist office gets a commission from the hotel for referring me there. You get it? It’s awful. Of course, all these commissions are paid by the hapless tourist who pays more for the hotel, transportation and souvenirs as a result to cover all the pay offs. So when we were at Taj, of course my guide knows all the hustlers since he does these tours all day, all week. So when those pesty photographers come up to you asking you if you want professional photos of you in front of the Taj, good ol Maneesh, is egging me on to pay for it. He wants his cut!Finally on to his game, I ask Maneesh, “I just bought a $400 camera, what do I need a professional photographer for?”. Maneesh shrugs, unaccustomed perhaps to such directness. Yea- he don’t know me. The photographer keeps pushing the envelope on the 24 photo package deal that costs 40 bucks. I say to the photographer, “One! I’ll take one professional photo”. He agrees and follows me into the Taj Mahal grounds.
The Taj Mahal is absolutely the most splendid experience so far. The photos I took really do describe it best. I got there at 6am just as the gates opened to catch the famous monolith at the break of dawn.After walking the grounds for an hour, Maneesh is angrily waiting for me at the entrance, “You’re late”, he huffs.
“Yea well it takes a bit longer than an hour to walk the grounds”.
“Where did you go?”
“Around the entire perimiter. I didn’t even get into the Taj until 7:45.” I reply, feeling defensive, as if speaking to a parent.
“Well I was worried. I thought maybe you had left”. He storms ahead of me, forcing me to walk in his dust. My disdain for Manessh was growing and I was glad that this was the end of our acquaintance.
We headed back to the hotel and we exchange clumsy handshakes as I thank him for his services. I thought I was very nice, but since the start, Maneesh seemed like he had somewhere else to go so his goodbye was quick. Later that evening, my driver would politely chastise me for not tipping Maneesh. Whatever. It wasn't on purpose, I didn't know I had to tip. Oh well.
Another brief respite and we were now headed to Fatephur Sikri, famous for the beautiful Jama Masjid (Dargah Mosque), completed in 1751 and a perfect example of the marriage between Persian and Hindu design. My driver is also in a hurry to get there, and asks if I want to do the museum of just the mosque, but the way he phrases his question, I could tell that he was leaning towards a quickie trip to the mosque and then to bust on outta there. ‘Why is everyone in a hurry?’. I may have to put these people in check if they keep on rushing me. The mosque was gorgeous, and leads me to my upcoming story of Chand.
