Fourth of July at the Taj Mahal which is just the sort of juxtaposition that I am tired of pressing myself into--a rock and a hard place, really. But as kitschy as it is, as copied and contrived, it still managed to take my breath away upon first sight--serene and so still despite flocks of tourists and tourguides--ours who had to leave us because of a strike. The gargantuan grandeur of these things seems impossible to fathom--how could they have stood there and said, here will rise my empire, colloused hands piling bricks without ever knowing what they will become. So we spent the day in those collosusses: the Taj Mahal, Agra Fort, and Akbar's Tomb and woke early the next morning to tie strings to marble screens in a moment of syncretism in Fatehpur Sikri, making wishes in the shrine where Akbar prayed for a son and got one. The imam of the mizaar put his hands on my head and prayed for me, asked for something in return--the likes of ruppees, but I said I would pray for his salvation as well--it is all a sacred site turned tourist trap. A favorite parrot buried beside an infant child and Akbar's favorite elephant--we saw also the site where this elephant crushed the heads of his master's enemies with the flat of his foot without any proper burial probably and the bazaar that was set just for the three queens--their room of mirrors and diamonds that was looted by the British and the one made for them to play hide and seek in. Saw the tunnels in which Jahangir's mistress Anarkali was banished and a parchezee game in his palace with pawns that were people in various colored clothes stepping along the squares which was awesome in the true sense of the word. Drove home in a caravan of SUVs and got only a little bit lost.
