Great writers across the ages have described the Taj Mahal in the most exquisite ways. Take English poet Sir Edwin Arnold, who declared it “the proud passion of an emperor’s love wrought in living stones.”

Or this one (my favourite) from Bengali polymath Rabindranath Tagore:

Only let this one teardrop, this Taj Mahal, glisten spotlessly bright on the cheek of time, forever and ever.”

I am certainly no great poet, nor do I have anything new to add to the innumerable pieces of media that already exist of the Taj. But I can certainly see why it brings out the romantic side in people, and why it continues to captivate the imagination, even hundreds of years after it was built.

They say no two visits are the same, so lucky me that I got to experience the Taj twice – once in the evening, after pulling in from a long ride from New Delhi, and at dawn the next day, to catch the sunrise. So, is what ‘they’ say true? Read on to find out!

HOW TO GET TICKETS

If you’re part of a tour group (like I was), you don’t have to worry about buying tickets on your own, as your provider / guide will likely have this covered (perks of joining a tour, especially in a place like India).

If you’re on your own, however, it is still pretty convenient and can be done in advance online, via the official Archaeological Survey of India website at https://asi.payumoney.com/. You’ll get a barcode which you can save to your phone and scan when going through the entry gates. There are also ticketing booths on site near the east and west gates.

Locals pay just 50 rupees (RM2.38 – or 56 cents USD), while foreigners are charged 1,100 rupees (RM52.37 – about 12 USD). I don’t think it’s exorbitant, considering you’re visiting one of the most beautiful monuments in the world.

THE TAJ – A SYMBOL OF ENDURING LOVE

At 17 hectares, the complex is pretty massive, so expect a walk from the gate across manicured lawns, before you eventually come to a darwaza (main gate) made of red sandstone. This is where I catch my first glimpse of the mausoleum, over a sea of bobbing heads and flashing phones.

I know the word breathtaking is overused, but that was truly what I felt laying eyes on her for the first time. There’s something overtly dream-like about the building, especially when viewed from the dark, tunnel-like entryway (I’m sure designers of old accounted for this to create maximum visual impact).

The framing is perfectly symmetrical, with a view of all four minarets, so it looks almost like a 2D painting. And with the high humidity and in the light of the fading sun, the mausoleum seems to shimmer like a mirage, or a fairytale come to life.

Once you step through, you’ll come to the massive gardens, which are done in the traditional Mughal charbagh style, where the gardens are divided by waterways into a quadrant, to symbolise Paradise. In its heyday, the gardens were apparently filled with various flowers such as roses and daffodils, as well as fruit trees.

Most people aim for the coveted reflective pool shot in the centre (where the water reflects the image of the Taj) but there were too many people crowded there so we skipped it.

Speaking of crowds, we were rather fortunate as we came on a quiet day, which meant that we could soak in the sights without jostling elbows. Recommended times to visit are on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Photo of self for posterity’s sake.

There were many people dressed in red, which we were told were part of a relgious group. Made for great photos, because their vivid clothing contrasted so starkly against the Taj’s white.

Up close, the monument is truly a sight to behold, not only for its sheer scale and symmetry, but also the superb craftsmanship.

Most eyes are, of course, immediately drawn to the massive onion dome, which measures 23 to 26.5 metres high, topped with a gilded bronze finial with a moon motif, after the tradition of Islamic architecture. This is surrounded by four smaller domes. The mausoleum itself is octagonal in shape, and sits atop a square plinth, with four decorative minarets at each corner.

You would think that with thousands visiting the Taj everyday it would be chaotic and crowded (which it is, at times) – but I was truly fortunate that I got to experience it the way I did.

Sunset hour offered a sense of tranquility, as the sun’s dying rays cast a golden glow that danced on the mausoleum’s marble surface. Just next to the complex runs the river Yamuna, a tributary of the Ganges.

Although somewhat polluted, the calm waters created a mirror-like surface, which perfectly reflected the blending colours of the sky, while dozens of kites – resident birds at the Taj complex – swooped overhead. It was easy for me to see why Emperor Shah Jahan chose this location to build an everlasting monument to his beloved wife.

Aside from the Taj, there are other buildings around the complex too, and they are no less impressive. Most of these are in red sandstone – the common material for Mughal buildings at the time – and are elaborately decorated with techniques that mirror the main mausoleum, such as Pietra Dura where artisans inlay precious gemstones into the stone to create intricate images. There is a mosque to the west, and a guesthouse on the other side of the complex.

THE TAJ AT DAWN

We returned the next morning at the crack of dawn (doors open at 6). Once again, our guide said we were lucky, because there wasn’t much of a crowd – I know it looks like there are a lot of people in the pic, but knowing how it can get during the holiday season, this is as close as you can get to a ‘quiet’ day at the Taj.

To answer the question earlier in this post – yes. It’s true that no two visits are the same. My second glimpse of the Taj was even lovelier than the first, because now the sky was a pinkish blue, and if I was to anthropomorphize the building, I would say she looked like a blushing bride, with a rosy touch to her beautiful face.

Our evening visit the day before was rather brief, so we were only able to get a closer look this morning. Pink made way to yellow as the sky brightened, washing the monument in gold and casting into high relief the intricate details on each of the building’s faces, including the Arabic calligraphy depicting passages from the Quran, made of jasper or black marble. All four sides of the Taj are symmetrical, with arched doorways decorated with geometric motifs and precious stones like jade and crystal, lapis lazuli, sapphire, and carnelian, sourced from all around the world.

Our ticket included entry to the inner mausoleum (you have to wear protective coverings over your shoes when you enter). Unfortunately, no photos are allowed within, so here’s one from Wikipedia:

The main chamber houses the cenotaphs of Emperor Shah Jahan and the wife he loved so much, Empress Mumtaz Begum. These structures are enclosed within an exquisite gold trellis, again employing the pietra dura technique with gemstones inlaid all across it. The actual bodies of the royal couple are in a simple crypt underneath, which the public are not allowed to access.

So what was it like visiting the world’s greatest monument to love?

Captivating, to say the least. If you look at it from an architectural and historical perspective, the sheer artistry and scale of the complex is mindblowing: it took thousands decades to build, and cost a lot of money (at the time, 32 million rupees, or the equivalent of USD1 bil today).

But I think most people who visit the Taj view it through an emotional lens, of romanticsm and mystery, because how can one not be moved by the expression of love made physical, enduring for centuries? It echoes with the feelings of not just the emperor Shah Jahan, but the man who wanted his love story with the woman he loved to be remembered through the ages. And he succeeded.

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