#3 - Mumtaz Mahal

She said it would break me. She said I'd have to overlook the traffic, the garbage on the streets, the poverty, and the smells, to find the beauty in it all. Thinking of Rishikesh - the city where I'll be studying yoga at the base of the Himalayas - Dawn (a backpacker who we met serendipitously in Malaysia who had previously taken a yoga course in Rishikesh) advised, "look to the mountains to find the beauty." But, in Delhi there are no mountains - just mountains of trash, traffic, and grey, thick smog. Perhaps it was just the weariness of traveling setting in, or the contrast to my leisurely massage-filled days in Thailand... but I started to wonder how I would survive one week in India - let alone seven.

I had read cautionary tales of rickshaws taking tourists not to their proposed destination, but instead to other places (where the drivers could get commission) well off the beaten track. So, as a cunning traveler, I came "prepared" - impervious to scamming. Alas, my mother and I fell victim to scam after scam, arriving at "The Government of India Tourism Office" several times -  and the continual handicraft shop rolling out carpets for a quick test. Even for the "cunning traveler," it was difficult to give in completely to the vulnerability of the situation. As I began to break, a man in the "Government" office said, "India's tough! [...]  Money is nothing! [...] Have some tea!" Now, I thought,  there's a bit of good news - apparently, tea solves everything here!

In all honesty, things began to seem a bit backward - backward in that the system seemed to be working in the opposite manner of what I've come to expect, know, and love. Through the dust-covered glasses of a foreigner falling victim, everything seemed in imbalance. We tried to fight the system, and apparent imbalance, but in the end were forced to give in - as mom was on a mission. After several miserable attempts to book a train, we hired a car (which was exorbitantly more expensive) to take us out the next day to our proposed destination - the Taj Mahal.

What a sight. After spending the night in Agra, our driver picked us up before dawn so we could see the Taj at sunrise. In a sea of, well... what I had come to know as India... the Taj seemed an oasis of peace, tranquility, and magnificence. Beautiful. Built by Shah Johan in memory of his wife Mumtaz (who died in childbirth after their fourteenth child), the Taj Mahal is not only a symbol of endless, undying love; but an architectural jewel. It truly is Mumtaz - excellent. Still, the ostentatious nature of the building began to contrast with the obvious needs of the Indian people I had seen along the road to Agra, and around the Taj.  I began to ponder...  what is love? what is beauty? who is backward?

I look forward to looking to the mountains, in Rishikesh, and within me, to explore these questions and find the beauty in it all. I have a suspicion that in this place where tea apparently solves everything.. mountains of trash can be agricultural jewels.. and everything is Mumtaz - even traffic, garbage, and poverty. Perhaps everything and everywhere can be an oasis of peace, tranquility, and magnificence.