India, So Far

It's impossible to capture a country, let alone one whose history trounces that of Western civilization, in a week, but there is something about India in my veins already. It oozes out of every sandstone building; each cut brick possesses its own tale of how it came to be placed in this fort or that mosque. Each marble brick placed oh so symmetrically to the greatest testament to love ever built, the Taj Mahal, is identical, but each was carved by a specific builder. Today, we were fortunate enough to go to the Taj, and it was truly unbelievable. Leaving our hotel at 6.30 to beat the rush and the heat, we arrived not long after dawn, and without any coffee, this proved a feat. But once we were there, walking amongst the buildings that are nearly four hundred years old, I was overwhelmed by the history and the tale of it all. The Taj, according to legend and history, was built by Shah Jahan after the death of his second wife. Legend has it that the morning after her death, his hair turned white so powerful was his grief. To honor her and display his love, he ordered the construction of the Taj- perfectly cut white marble bricks form the four minarets which are pointed just a hair away from the mausoleum itself in case of an earthquake- they would fall to the side- and two sandstone buildings, one a mosque and the other a guest house Shah Jahan would stay in every Friday, the day of his wife's death, flank the east and west sides of the mausoleum, which itself is covered by some of the most beautiful in-lay work (marble carved to allow for the placement of semi-precious stones inside the rock itself!) that has ever been done. A few more days, though, and we return, with a much, much longer post on India, where, if all goes according to plan, I will return soon.