The city of Agra where a majestic tomb devoted to the muslim wife of a king stands – The Taj Mahal, was my first resting point in India. I could feel the pride in the air, for unto this day one of the greatest architectural miracle stands there almost untouched by the winds of time.
I like to see the mausoleum as a monument devoted to the soul, to that which is eternal. The king was living with his wife – queen Mumtaz – in a palace much less grand and with lesser splendor than the tomb he build after her death. While nobody remembers their palace, the tomb of Mumtaz is well known by the whole world, and once again – seem to be immune to the touch of time.
The beauty and poetry of this place lies in it’s aliveness. The entire complex honors passing of the belowed. It is devoted to death, and yet – it’s so alive. Hundreds and hundreds of visitors from around the globe is coming to this place each day to marvel and admire it’s splendor. Each morning you can hear muslim prayers in the mosque till this day. Thousands of workers are constantly making sure that the mausoleum will never get old. There are many events and concerts in the evenings that celebrates life in it’s fullness – the day of the living, and the night of the departed. Being in India, the land where so many believes in life after death and reincarnation, this place is a living reminder of life that only cycles, but never dies.