Agra and the Taj Mahal (India)

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Agra Fort, also known as the Red Fort (though not to be confused with the fort of the same colour at Delhi), is usually thought of as the second of Agra's World Heritage Sites, although it predates the Taj Mahal by nearly a century. Built on an ancient site by the first of the Mughal emperors, Akbar, as his administrative headquarters, it is a vast complex enclosed within the massive sandstone walls that give it its nick-name, twenty ...
...to see the sights of Agra fully, and if you had a special interest in the history and architecture of it period it might be worth it, but it would entail staying in Agra, and it is not an attractive city apart from its ancient monuments.

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Before we leave Agra's ancient monuments, there is one more that needs to be mentioned, which to my mind was the pick of the bunch.

This is to be found on the ... more

There have been few occasions in my life when I have felt envious of the late Diana, Princess of Wales, but the day I visited the Taj Mahal was one of them.

A celebrated photograph shows her sitting alone in front of the world-famous edifice, which was built as a monument to love, its grounds having been cleared for her visit. The photo was widely interpreted at the time, just after the collapse of her marriage, as a moving testament to her solitude. Queuing among the crowds around the entrance to the Taj, fending off the beggars and touts, I could only interpret it as a moving testament to the privileges conferred by rank and fame.

The Taj Mahal is unquestionably a beautiful building, and splendidly situated, well deserving of its status as a World Heritage Site, but the beauty and splendour come at a cost. The cost is not primarily to the pocket; if you can afford to visit India at all you can probably afford the 750 rupees (£10) entrance fee for foreign tourists (20 rupees to locals). The true cost is more to nerves and peace of mind, imposed by the hassle and herding that visiting such places seem inevitably to involve, and which detracts so much from the enjoyment of them.

This is not really a complaint, just a comment. If I were in charge of visitor admissions to the Taj Mahal, I doubt I'd organise it very differently. With up to 15,000 visitors a day, some queuing and crowding are inevitable, and in many ways the arrangements are admirable.

To minimise air pollution that might degrade the white marble with which the monument is clad, no petrol vehicles are allowed close to the Taj Mahal. Cars must be parked about a mile away, and visitors proceed from there either on foot or by battery-powered bus, a fleet of which shuttles back and forth to the gates. Here one joins the queues to enter - one for men and another for women - which move slowly, since each visitor is thoroughly searched, more thoroughly than I have encountered at any airport.

This is the first of two entrance gates through which one has to pass to reach the Taj itself. The second, reached after a short walk through the outer gardens, is a magnificent structure in its own right, built of the carved red sandstone inlaid with the decorated marble characteristic of the region, as depicted in the photo below. The П-shaped panel above and around the gateway displays some particularly exquisite calligraphy. Although its upright arms appear from below to be of even width all the way up, this is an illusion created by their tapering towards the ground. The style and symmetry of the design is matched, as everywhere in the Taj complex, with the skill of the workmanship.

At this second gate, you have to leave the video camera that has just cost you an additional fee to bring into the grounds, after being allowed just one long shot of the Taj itself from the terrace beyond the gate.

It is an impressive shot, of course, if you can find space to take it among the many other tourists jostling for the best position - straight down over the two long pools that bisect the gardens lengthwise, with the white reflection shimmering in their waters. Equally, it's a shot seen in any number of documentaries and myriad postcards. If you are not careful, it is also a shot in which you will find yourself featuring on a Polaroid snap, taken by a predatory photographer who will try to insist you pay for it.

My wife and I did not at first join the streams of visitors flowing directly down the pathways either side of the long pool, but tried to find a little solitude by skirting the edges of the gardens. They are laid out in keeping with classical Islamic traditions, divided into quarters by the pools (or "canals") that represent the four rivers of paradise. The rows of dwarf cypress that flank the canals signify immortality, and the fruit-trees and flowering shrubs regeneration. The overall symbolism is thus of a happy afterlife, in keeping with the Taj's role as a mausoleum.

The inner gardens are perhaps a couple of hectares in extent, surrounded by walls lined and shaded by foliage. Many species of tree grow here, named and numbered by means of metal plaques nailed to their bark, and little chipmunks with striped backs and fluffy tails play among their branches, their cries almost birdlike. But the clamour of the crowds predominates. There is no quiet corner in which to sit in quiet contemplation, so we soon rejoin the procession to the monument itself.

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The Taj Mahal was built by the emperor Shah Jahan as a mausoleum, a tomb for his favourite wife Mumtaz Mahal who died in 1631 after bearing him fourteen children. No expense was spared in its construction. Twenty thousand architects, craftsmen and labourers worked for twenty-two years to complete it, while a team of a thousand elephants, together with their handlers and guards, lugged materials to the site from all over India.

The predominant material is the translucent white marble of Rajasthan, but this is seldom used in plain slabs. Rather it is carved into patterns, and inlaid with decorative motifs that rely on semi-precious stones for their colouring: green malachite, orange-red carnelian, jet black, blue lapis lazuli, and so on. Here and there the abstract patterning gives way to Arabic calligraphy. Apparently, the outer surface of the main dome is inscribed with the entire Koran, but one cannot see this from the ground.

Indeed, little of the decoration is visible as one approaches. Instead attention is focussed on the scale and symmetry of the overall design, the proportions of the main dome perfectly offset by the two lesser domes that flank it, and by the surrounding quartet of minarets. These appear upright, but in fact are ever so slightly tilted outwards, so that, if they were to collapse in the event of an earthquake, their masonry would fall away from the main building.

Reputedly, the colour of the marble exterior changes through the day, and connoisseurs of the place have their own favourite hour at which to view it. It is often said to be is best seen in moonlight, when it reportedly exudes a golden glow, with starlike sparkles from the inset stones, though it would be hard for the average tourist to judge, since it is not open to the general public after dark. In any case, many prefer the pale pink of morning or the mellow milky tones of dusk. Having myself only seen the Taj looking startlingly white in midday sunshine, I cannot comment definitively. However, the fact that dawn and dusk have many adherents means that there is no uncrowded time at which to visit. Early or late, you will still be among a throng.

Shoes can be left at the base of the terrace leading up to the mausoleum, or, for a few rupees, elasticated cotton coverings can be bought for them. We follow the latter option, and pad carefully around the inner sanctum, marvelling at the intricacy of the stone-work as we queue to view the inner chamber with its tombs. Contrary to his own original intentions, Shah Jahan is interred here beside his wife, but despite, or because of, the opulence of the surroundings, the tombs are curiously impersonal and unmoving. Emerging, we discard the cotton shoe-coverings among others in a litter bin, from which they are quickly retrieved by a waiting hawker for resale.

From the terrace behind the Taj, one sees the river Yamuna for the first time. When we were there, in the dry depths of January, it flows as a thin trickle down the middle of its bed while the mudbanks to either side are planted with water-melons, the young plants shielded from the wind with screens of woven pampas grass. Beyond, a flat scrubby area was scheduled to have been the site of a matching mausoleum in black marble, to house the remains of Shah Jahan himself, like a mirror-image in negative.

Needless to say, it was never built. Baulking at his father's extravagance and neglect of more pressing affairs of state, Shah Jahan's son, Aurangzeb, to whom he had entrusted command of the army, deposed him. Shah Jahan spent his declining years in comfortable confinement in the Red Fort, a mile or two further along the Yamuna, from which he could see the Taj Mahal and the untouched site across the river.

Always a mistake to entrust complete control of the armed forces to anyone, as the Pakistanis among others have recently discovered.

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Agra Fort, also known as the Red Fort (though not to be confused with the fort of the same colour at Delhi), is usually thought of as the second of Agra's World Heritage Sites, although it predates the Taj Mahal by nearly a century. Built on an ancient site by the first of the Mughal emperors, Akbar, as his administrative headquarters, it is a vast complex enclosed within the massive sandstone walls that give it its nick-name, twenty metres high and two and a half kilometres in circumference.

A deep moat surrounds it. In the fort's military heyday this was flooded and infested with crocodiles and snakes to discourage intruders. Now it is predator-free, but foetid and festering and probably just as dangerous to anyone falling into it.

Much of the interior of the fort is still used by the Indian military and is not open to the public, which is just as well for the day-visitor, who barely has time to see the principle attractions that are accessible. Once through the gigantic gates, overshadowed by walls and turrets, and up the narrow approach to the interior, you can choose from a wide variety of sights, spaciously arranged around gardens and courtyards. I shall not describe them all in detail, for fear of sending you to sleep with endlessly repetitive descriptions of hand-carved sandstone and inlaid marble. The craftsmen employed by the Mughals were great artists in these materials, but restraint and understatement were not among their guiding principles.

There are diwans - throne-rooms where the Emperor sat to receive emissaries and grant audiences; mosques, no fewer than three in total, including the famously lovely "pearl mosque"; royal chambers, including the elegant pavilion with ornate bedroom and balcony overlooking the river where Shah Jahan spent his final years; the zenana - the segregated palace for the emperor's wives and concubines, with windows screened by finely perforated stone, together with their own secluded courtyards and pavilioned gardens; and endless quarters for functionaries, underlings, servants and guards. And so on.

The Red Fort is impressive, massively impressive. But it lacks charm and human scale. You come away from it a bit punch drunk from its sheer vastness and complexity, especially if, like me, you have already seen the Taj Mahal on the same day. Several days are needed to see the sights of Agra fully, and if you had a special interest in the history and architecture of it period it might be worth it, but it would entail staying in Agra, and it is not an attractive city apart from its ancient monuments.

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Before we leave Agra's ancient monuments, there is one more that needs to be mentioned, which to my mind was the pick of the bunch.

This is to be found on the far side of the Yamuna, and upstream from the Taj and the Red Fort, reached through a particularly dingy corner of the city, and across the bustle of a narrow bridge. Fortunately, not everyone does find it, so it is far less overrun with tourists than are the other two. On the afternoon when my wife and I were there, we were among perhaps fifty fellow visitors, most of them Indians, and a similar number of the monkeys that make it their home.

The tomb of Itmad-ud-Daulah is sometimes known as the "Baby Taj", and certainly must have influenced the design of the Taj itself, though it is on a much smaller scale. Built on the orders of the Empress Nur Jehan to commemorate her father, it pioneered the use of white marble, inlaid with pietra dura and similar semi-precious materials as are those at the Taj itself. Here too are found chiselled stone screens, and extravagantly painted and patterned ceilings. But its essential features are the simple elegance of its design - the four minaret-like towers integrated into the corners of the building, their domes balancing the cupola that tops the pavilion on the centre of the roof - and the quiet charm of the surrounding garden. Here, unlike at the Taj itself, one can sit in peace and soak up the atmosphere, contemplating the greenery of the gardens and the backdrop of the river beyond.

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Another under-discovered gem - and another World Heritage Site - is the ruined palace of Fatehpur Sikri, about 35 kilometres to the west. Akbar, the first Mughal emperor, decided to move his capital to this site, and only discovered after the palace and the walls for the surrounding city were built that there was insufficient drinking water on hand to sustain the necessary population. As a result, it was soon abandoned, and seems like a ghost palace to this day. But, being outside Agra, it is also, strictly speaking, outside the scope of this review, and I shall not attempt to describe it here in detail.

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Of course, I tried to see far too much in far too short a time. Probably, one ought to spend several days in Agra, experiencing the Taj in all its moods and colours at different times of day, spending a full day at the Fort and allotting another day to the Baby Taj and the other attractions in the city. There are, by all accounts, some interesting mosques and gardens that I missed.

I was glad, though, to see the sights in one rapid foray and to move on. Quite beyond the noise and dirt that can be found in any Indian city, there is an oppressive atmosphere to the place, and to the immediate vicinity of its main tourist attractions in particular, that made it difficult to enjoy.

Saying this makes me feel churlish, carping even. The Taj Mahal is a majestic masterpiece, and the Red Fort magnificent. I know that there are any number of people who would love to go to see them, but may never do so, and will envy me the visit that I failed to appreciate to the full. I wish I'd enjoyed it more for their sake.

Failing to appreciate it fully may simply be a character defect on my part: my claustrophobic dislike of crowds and clamour, or worse, my conceit in wanting to feel I've discovered somewhere for myself, rather than simply followed a well-worn tourist trail to arrive there. No one can visit the Taj without feeling they have followed a well-worn tourist trail.

This brings me to another aspect of my reaction to Agra, something that I have also experienced elsewhere at World Heritage Sites, in Florence for example: that one feels under a kind of obligation to admire what is on offer and a sense of heresy if one cannot. If you have a contrary nature, as I do, this is almost guaranteed to irk you and diminish your admiration as a result. A character defect, as I admit. I hope it's not one you share.

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Don't be put off by my contrariness. If you get the chance, Agra is well worth a visit. Almost any inclusive tour to the main sights of Northern India will include it - most follow some variation on the theme of "the golden triangle," the other points of which are Delhi and Jaipur. Apart from which, it's easy for any independent traveller to India to reach, only a few hours from Delhi by train or bus. There are any number of places to stay, of all styles and prices, from palace hotels and plushy multi-nationals, down to basic backpacker hostels at very basic prices.

The best time to go is between October and March, although prices will be predictably higher then than during the hot weather (April to July) or the monsoon that follows it. Go prepared for hassle and hubbub, beggars and thieves. Or, better still, go as a royal dignitary, have the place cleared for you in advance and avoid all that. Maybe then you will have a chance to see the Taj Mahal as it should be seen, as "a teardrop on the cheek of time", in the words of Rabindranath Tagore. Such delicacy of perception is impossible - or at least it was to me - at the regular tourist times.

© torr 2006

A review of Rajasthan can be found at:
http://travel.ciao.co.uk/Rajastan_India__Review_5559875 

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