My little one asked me if Papa would also make a monument for me like the Emperor Shah Jahan did for his beloved Empress Mumtaz. I said..well, he could try!
At which the five year old screws up his nose and says: nah, that would take up all his life and he would become really old and when it is finally done, both of you won’t be able to enjoy living there:) I thought that made a great deal of sense and told him so. It was his first trip so I could sense the enormous wonder he felt on seeing it.
He was pleased but couldn’t stop marvelling that a man, be it a king even, could have done it all for LOVE:)
Is love that important? His second question. I had to nod, hoping he’ll make some girl incredibly happy one day.
And I guess that’s what we all, no matter how many million times we may have visited the Taj Mahal, always end up thinking about. A love as great. A love that was unchanging and a love that crystallised into the worlds best tribute in the form of this white dreamy structure.
It makes you believe in love again. Yes, even a practical cynic like me can get soppy here.
At 6.30 am in the morning, the Taj looked ethereal like the clouds had descended into it and were wafting, billowing, all over us as we stood with bowed heads to such magnanimous, soulful love.
Rest In Love.