The Best View of the Taj

The first thing Sonu shows me when we get to Agra is the “Baby Taj” which is exactly what it sounds like. He walks me to the front entrance and speaks rapid fire Hindi at the ticket guy, procuring for me a universal ticket to the Agra Red Fort, the Taj Mahal, and the Baby Taj. To my western ears, a calm, rational conversation in Hindi sounds like a catfight. After a minute or so of dickering, Sonu passes the cash I gave him earlier through the window, and receives my ticket in return. He turns to me and presents the ticket with his trademark smile.

Sonu’s smile is like a bright morning. It stretches from ear to ear on the landscape of his face, his bright ivory teeth shining like marble pillars. His eyes twinkle with a mischievousness that is completely without malice. It puts you utterly at ease, while also giving you the impression that you’re participating in some good-hearted prank or privy to some inside joke. It is the smile of a happy man.

The Baby Taj is beautiful, and in my opinion the most under valued monument in Agra. It is much more quiet than the Red Fort or the Taj itself, and for that reason seemed much more intimate. I wandered barefoot along the stone pathways, watching the monkeys play along the walls and glancing at those others that had chosen the Baby Taj that day. A large Indian family with young children who played in the grass. A few other tourists with oversize cameras. Young couples holding hands shyly beneath the trees.

As I lean up against the red sandstone and watch the water buffalo being herded down the Yamuna river, I wonder how little or how much the scene has changed from a hundred years ago. Two hundred. Three.

An hour later Sonu drives the car through the twists and turns of Agra’s roads. Unlike my first India experience, he keeps his eyes on the road, and even though much larger cars, motorcycles and every other imaginable vehicle zoom around us with reckless abandon, I never feel anything but totally safe when he’s behind the wheel. I make a mental note that if I ever become rich enough to afford a driver, I would import Sonu from his native land.

As the car crests the hill I catch my first glimpse of the Taj. I suck in my breath and breathe out an “Oh Wow.” Sonu looks over with a grin.  He is taking me to “Best view of Taj!” This is apparently not on the side of the river that the Taj is on, but rather the opposite. Sonu parks the car in a grove of trees, and we start walking towards the river.

We pass a camel. This is not the first time I’ve seen a camel, but it is the first time I’ve seen one this close. The driver comes rushing up, burbling Hindi at Sonu. “You want to ride?”

YES. But I politely refuse. I want to see the Taj.

We continue down a short path to the river, passing between groves of trees on our left, and a small community that had grown up on the other side. It wasn’t quite a slum, but not quite a permanent settlement either. Seconds later we emerged from a break in the trees.

Sonu’s right. It is the best view of the Taj. From my vantage point I could see the massive white marble edifice towering over the ant like figures surrounding it. I could see them moving along the side, reminding me of the pictures and videos I’d seen of Muslims at the Qibla in Mecca. As I watch this horde of tourists, it suddenly occurs to me that there are literally none on the riverbank with me. I have the best view of the Taj and I didn’t have to pay a cent.

Sonu is grinning at me. I grin back.

-Doug