Surviving the Taj

This holiday season saw me hopping right across the length and breadth of India doing the tourist beat soaking in many a heritage sites, national parks, caves, temples, rave parties and yes, the Taj Mahal. It was only my third time visiting the Taj but Taj by the night was a first both for me and my significant other - Yilmaz. He more than I was much enthused about ringing in the new year over fireworks, a sparkling Dom Perignon and the majestic splendor of the Taj for a backdrop. Over the years I have grown most fond of Islamic architecture and everywhere I go I like to bring home with me a piece of that brilliance caught in a painting, a ceramic, an artwork on silk or in the case of the Taj; a marble replica. So you can imagine how I was feeling every bit the Alex in Wonderland up until that fateful morning of the 2nd of January when a little biopic on Emperor Shah Jehan fell into my lap in the hotel lounge. I remember coming back to my room a profoundly perturbed man , with an uneasy feeling under my diaphragm that refuses to go away even now. Had I just been dropped a lemon or was it the real McCoy ? For the life of me, I cannot surmise how it had escaped me that Moghul emperor – Shah Jehan had built the Taj as mausoleum for his favourite wife, Noor Jehan whom he had lost during her ninth confinement only. Holy Moly! Here was a man whose lust for his wife was probably far greater than his love of her. Sounds familiar, innit ? Even if some part of him may have truly loved her , boy, he sure had a warped way of showing it by first siring a brood of nine and then going on to build her a memorial to try and make it up to her in the after life. What a cheapskate! Indians have made much hullabaloo over the Taj winning top place in the official list of the Seven Wonders of the World but little if any, thought seems to have been spared to the story behind the making of the Taj Mahal, with all the labour pains that lay frozen in time, in the many marble archways and minarets of this world heritage site. It is out of character for me to rubbish what is essentially a piece of stunning Islamic architecture but I cannot not abhor the man who required it built . To me, as I am sure for many others, the means are just as important as the ends. Is the Taj then truly deserving of top spot among the Seven Wonders given its sordid history? National and global pride aside, why must we celebrate that which stinks of lust, an inability to zip up the fly, arrogance and ingratitude ; the very things that receive the most flak from every civilized quarter today.
Legend has it that Shah Jehan who was a sucker for the Wahaabi way ordered the chopping off of fingers and limbs of all the artisans and craftsmen who had worked their magic in creating the Taj . That this dude was at the end of his rope from the time of his conception right till the time he kicked the bucket, there’s no doubting that.
Cynics would argue, we are only celebrating here the Taj as a monument , an architectural icon saluting the handiwork of those who helped realize it. But to my mind the Taj will always remain shrouded in pain and agony as much as in grief and loss. On balance, the very least, the international community can do is to urge the sovereign of India to drape the monument in black on International Women's Day (IWD) in solidarity and support of the grand multiparous woman everywhere. After all, much too much water has now flown under the bridge that we can no longer sweep such an ignonimous piece of royal wife battery through relentless procreation, under the carpet.