A marble tower peeked over the top of the red sandstone wall.   I decided not to look at it.  I wanted my first view of the mighty Taj Majal to be complete.  I approached a giant gateway, over a hundred feet high, that acted to guard the gardens of the Taj complex.   As I turned on my heel toward the gateway, my first real view of the Taj Majal hit me.  The first time I had seen it was the day before, from the Red Fort of Agra, as it sat in the distance, an almost ethereal display of magnificence through the hazy midday air.   Now it was still slightly ethereal, for the distance from where I stood to the Mausoleum itself was much farther than I expected, but it slowly became clearer.   It was as if it were a beautiful dream slowly solidifying into what could only be a perfected reality.  As I walked slowly towards it, and it's power over me continued to grow I could scarcely take my eyes off of it, drawn to it's majesty.   On the approach I thought of the story behind what I now considered to be the most beautiful building ever made. 

The story was of Shah Jahan, the grandson of the mightiest Mughal emperor, Ackbar.  Like all Mughal rulers he had a harem of many wives, hundreds, but there was only one that he truly loved: Mumtaz Majal.  They say that his love for her was so great, that he was constant to her, something rarely done in those times, and that when she died giving birth to her 14 ^th child, he was almost driven to his own grave as well.  Shortly after her death he designed the Mausoleum that was to be her resting place, requesting only the best artisans and stoneworkers, jewels and marble, so that he almost pushed the state to bankruptcy.   Some years later, he was attacked by his cruel son, Aurangzeb, who captured Agra and imprisoned his father in a corner of the commanding Red Fort.  From his vantage point in the fort, Shah Jahan had a full view of the Taj, and they say he gazed at it, consumed by sadness for the last several years of his life until he could endure no more and died, to be buried alongside his lovely wife for the rest of time, in the shining tomb of his undying love.

            I finally arrived at the Taj, and removed my shoes before climbing up the marble steps that led to it's commanding base.   It was still early, and the marble was cold against my feet.  The lighting on the Taj was beautiful, but I could not bring myself to photograph this perfection, for I knew that no camera would be able to bring the full power of this monument to anyone looking at it.   No picture could possibly do it justice.  I remembered back, ashamedly, of the when I saw the Taj on the newest list of 'Wonders of the World' and thought 'It's an all right building, but It's nothing compared to some of the more incredible architectural and natural creations of our time.'   How could I have been so wrong?  For then, as I looked at it, I could see the Taj Majal on a level above the wonders of Earth.   Nothing else mattered, or could compare.  To make sure I was not deceiving myself of it's size, I walked right up to it and placed my hand upon it's cool marble exterior.  I slowly followed the ancient text and intricate detailing up it's 200 foot face until I could not even make out the shapes anymore, being too angled and far above me.  I slowly walked around the Marble platform counter-clockwise, observing each of the separate towers that were at it's four corners, thinking they looked like lighthouses, guiding people, spirits, and anything else carrying love with it to it's mighty heart.   Around the first side, I walked into shadow, and looked back at the Taj to find that it looked entirely different, though no less grand than it did before.   Across from the Taj, on my left, was a mighty gateway, similar to the one I entered through, that had three curving towers of white marble upon it as well, though the rest of the building was made of red sandstone.   There was one on the side opposite me as well, I found, so that they seemed to flank the Taj as it's personal guards.  They were still beautiful in their own respect, but unable to draw attention from their indomitable queen.   I walked around to the back of the Taj, and looked at it now from a different angle again, so that the sun seemed barely hidden behind it's towers, giving the entire building a thin blanket of light that shone brightly from around it's edges.   Behind me I saw that it overlooked the holy river Yamuna; not as powerful or as commanding as the Ganga, but nonetheless impressive.  It curved towards the Taj, almost making the shining tribute to love seem magnetic to the natural earth, as well as the people.   Upon arriving at the fourth guiding tower of the Taj, I found Renate and my father reclining in it's shade.  They sat and gazed at the Taj as well, making my approach unnoticeable until I began to sit down beside them.  

I sat for several minutes, and slowly brought the real world back into focus.  I suddenly heard the people around me, and saw them too.   I later guessed that there must have been a couple thousand in the area with me at least, and yet throughout my first bit of exploration somehow I had hardly noticed them.   I checked the time.  9:30 am.  I had been wandering around the Taj for over an hour, hardly noticing time, people, or the rest of the world around me as I climbed into it's majestic archways and traced the complex and beautiful patterns of flowers and script upon it's many faces.   It somehow managed to be a perfect balance of design.  It was incredibly detailed, and yet also exceedingly simple, to the point where one's mind can no longer comprehend it's design, and must resign to giving it the simple title: perfection.  

I entered the Taj through a small doorway which had hundreds of people trying to move through and wandered around the central cloister.   It was simple, yes, but also formal, and comfortable.  It had passages of air to blow through the temple, but no holes for the sun, giving it a cool comfort.  Right in the heart of the palace was the tomb for Mumtaz; perfectly centered, so that the entire structure seemed to revolve around her.  And to her right, just off center, but close enough that if they could reach their hands towards each other they might touch, lay her loving husband, Shah Jahan.   I left the central cloister and, feeling my camera again in my pocket, decided that I should take a few pictures so that, even though I could not bring the power and wonder of this experience home with me, I might be able to give a glimmer of understanding to those who wonder how I can praise it so highly.   That is why we travel, I decided, to live life firsthand, instead of through televisions, newspapers, pictures, or stories.  Nothing can explain a place like this and do it justice except a trip to see it yourself, to be inspired by it's power.

I made a counterclockwise picture taking round of the majestic building, and tried to take a few pictures that would at least give scale, or meaning to this location.   I finally descended the marble stairs and put on my shoes.  They felt hot, and uncomfortable on my feet, unlike the cool morning marble I now loved so well.   I wandered through the gardens of the Taj, underneath the trees that lined the beautiful paths.  I sat down on 3 different benches, each for about 10 minutes, and each in a different part of the garden, and watched the people, scrambling for the perfect picture and racing off to the next site.   That's not how anyone should travel, I thought to myself.  I take some pictures, yes, but one needs to live the moment now, when it's really there, because this moment may never come again.  

Twice I began to leave the compound, driven out by my sick body's need for water, but each time I would catch a glimpse of the majestic Taj and walk all the way back to it.   After a couple hours in the mighty Taj's garden, my conscious mind's demand for water to try to make it healthy finally beat out my need to stay within sight of this building's majesty, and I walked away from the Taj one last time.   I got to the exit, took a picture, and then froze for 20 seconds, unable to tear myself away from the Taj.  I finally said a quick whisper of love under my breath, as somehow seemed appropriate, and pulled my body away from it, not looking back.   Someday I'll have to bring someone I truly care about to this beautiful tribute to love, I thought, to be filled with the power of love as I was then, gazing at the Taj Majal.

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