Cried a soul in love
tears, pain, sorrow, crying
your heart sings a sad song
one hand, tired, after window closed
There from his palace, from his window
admires this white teardrop
poetry as art, the passion starts art
for you, my beloved, my wife, my soul mate
… And the Taj Mahal is this: poetry as art, a love song, a sublime work that only a loving soul would be able to offer the world. There, just above the entrance portico, you can read some verses from the Quran that describe the paradise that give you an idea of what we will find and what we feel, as magic words, that we bronze gate find a “pearl palace surrounded by gardens.”
There is nothing deeper to any traveler to sit in one of the benches found throughout the Garden of Paradise and admire the impressive silhouette of the mausoleum silhouetted against a clear sky, which gradually stains pink at dusk, while background, outside the temple in the city, in Agra, a small town in northern India in the State of Uttar Pradesh, we hear the chants and prayers of these people. So while we admire the magnificent perfection of the whole, its symmetry, the ponds, a perfect golden key, open the way to the marble temple, among lotus flowers floating on the water, our mind wanders absorbed , lonely, forgotten by both tourists and around us, and we remember almost with tears in his eyes the sad story of Emperor Shah Jahan.
Shah Jahan to his beloved Arjumand met in a bazaar where it was selling crystals. Admired for her beauty was not able to speak to him at first, pursued by the armies of his father, the Emperor, because of that relationship, after two wives and five years since that first meeting, joined in marriage. Arjumand became known as Mumtaz Mahal, “the chosen of the palace.” For years they were a loving couple who lived on each other, she was her faithful companion in all his campaigns, he showered her with gifts, details, flowers, diamonds. After the death of Emperor Jehangir, Shah Jahan ascended the throne. Two years later, in 1630, tragedy struck …
There, sitting on the bench, with the last rays of sun reflected on this work of art, while my gaze was directed toward the silhouette that was emerging in the waters of the pond, I imagined the final sequence … in full military campaign in Burhanpur, the new emperor had warned that the 13th delivery of his wife was complicated. Shah Jahan was in despair at his shop, just in time to take her hand and give him his last goodbye. The emperor and was never the same. Were detained in the Red Fort, on the left bank of the river Yamuna, where he lived, confined by his son, the last years of his life, leaving the Empire in the hands of their successors. Against the strong, visible from all windows, and the other side of the river, he built the most impressive Mausoleum human mind could ever conceive. Top builders, the best workers, the best jewelry, the best stones … all was little for the resting place of his beloved even Yamuna was diverted to the Taj Mahal could be reflected in its waters. And there, after two decades of construction in 1648, was buried in his beloved Mumtaz Mahal. And there, beside her, was buried years later the Emperor himself to repose always be together forever.
Slow, sad on the one hand, impressed by the other, happy to meet any traveler’s dream, walked through the gardens, as symmetrical, so colorful, so natural. As if it were a delicacy, that I left for the final work of art. There, after climbing the first rungs of access, and up close, the more immense mausoleum was more impressive. Something that attracts you, a force that carries you want to play with your own hands and discover that the marble is not a dream or an illusion. And awe admire the many jewels that are embedded in its facade: lapis lazuli, jasper, malachite, turquoise, carnelian … Inside, alas, the chamber in which lie both true, it is visited, only one can be visited first burial chamber very large, with windows that play with the colors of the sun’s rays that enter it. Inside, the visit is short, and the dream is true, always remember the image that is on the outside … slowly I turn my steps towards the outskirts of the complex, along the pond … there at the end of the pond, turning my gaze back and dedicate those last few minutes to admire the Taj Mahal once again … to see how the sun begins to hide behind the dome, after the towers …
Tags: India, Mumtaz Mahal, Taj Mahal, the Taj Mahal
