A Beautiful Death

A Beautiful Death

Wow.  Seriously, wow.  I know, “wow” is not enough to describe it but there is no word that can describe it.  Is it art?  Is it architecture?  Is it a grave?  Is it a memory?  Or is it a message?  The interpretation lies in the eye of the beholder.  If Shakespeare said a rose could be known as any other description, then the Taj Mahal can be known as every single description. 
As I walked through the gates to enter the palatial gardens, the large arch frames the Taj Mahal like a portrait.  Then you see it.  It hits you.  And it takes your breath away...literally.  No photograph, no painting, and no description does justice to the Taj.  It truly is one of the most amazing wonders of the world. 
As I walked up towards the front of the monument, I turned back and looked at the entrance, and then to the left, and then to the right.  Shah Jahan definitely was particular about symmetry.  Every single arch, every single pillar, and every single etching carved in the marble was done so with the precision of an artisan surgeon. 
What made it truly stunning?  Perhaps it was the 240 feet height of pure white marble with hand carved inlay work containing gemstones.  Perhaps it was the closest structure depicting perfection ever built.  Or perhaps it was the haunting story that a king built this as a mausoleum for his beloved queen, as a symbol of love and eternity for all to see...and perhaps envy? 
Many poems have been written about the Taj Mahal; some describing its beauty and some describing its mocking nature.  That’s the mystery of art.  Nobody knows its intention.  Perhaps the twentieth century poet, Sahir Ludhianvi, described it best:

“Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren't truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.”