"Like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.” -Rabindranath Tagore on the Taj Mahal

My Indian friend confided with me that she’d like her boyfriend to propose to her in front of the Taj Mahal, the greatest monument of love as she put it. I’ve heard a dearth of legends and myths about this monument-cum-mausoleum from friends and travel books. According to legend, devastated by his wife's death, Shah Jahan's hair turned gray over night. He built the Taj Mahal to house the remains of his beloved. He didn’t want the architect to build anything as beautiful as the Taj Mahal so he ordered for the architect's hands to be chopped off.

On the 4-hour train ride from Delhi to Agra

These stories subconsciously stoked my expectations and I was preparing myself for a letdown once I see it. Yet, in spite of the hype, I remember shivers running down through my spine as I saw the effervescent white glow of the marble monument peer through the arched gateway before it. It's one of those places that hold a palpable aura, like meeting the star of the show entitled Indian civilization.

It was scorching hot, 47 degrees. The heat wore me out sooner that I expected. Despite the blazing sun, tourists arrived in droves. I heard that if you visit the Taj at dawn you would see the monument change color and hues as the sun sets. That means spending the night in Agra because the last train leaves at around 5:00 pm. Nevertheless, walking around the Taj at the peak of heat was enchanting to say the least.

I visited the nearby Agra Fort which was underwhelming. Diminishing marginal returns, I guess, since I’ve already been to the Red Fort in New Delhi. Forts start to look the same (save for some in Rajasthan) if you visit too many. I was "fort-ed out." Agra Fort's saving grace though was the story of the traitor prince Akbar and Shah Jahan's prison cell. Akbar betrayed his father, Shah Jahan, in his lust for power and the throne. When Akbar ordered for his incarceration, Shah Jahan requested for a prison cell from which he can view the Taj. He wanted this to keep his loving wife’s memory alive until his death.

Around Agra you’ll see a number of shops that sell Mughal-style marble carvings. I don’t recommend buying there because Agra is a known tourist trap not just to foreigners but even to the locals. It’s very likely that the carving is fake, overpriced or both. The artisans at work outside their shops are an entertaining respite while you drink a bottle of cold water.

The way back to New Delhi was quite an experience. I was 30 minutes early for my train. I patiently waited on the platform and I tried to amuse myself by people-watching. The platform was teeming with people as it was the last train to Delhi for the day. The train chugged closer and closer. As the train approach the platform, people rushed to the train door to forced themselves even though the train was already jam-packed with passengers from earlier stops. Trying to remain calm, I looked for my coach and, like the others, pushed as hard as I could to enter it. I waved my ticket, a reserved seat, to one of the passengers standing by the door and begged him to let me through. He looked looked at me intently and started yelling for me to leave. It was impossible to get on this train.

The train was like a can of sardines. Seats that were meant for three people had six people seated on them. Passengers were standing in the aisles and it made the heat inside unbearable. No wonder some people have died from suffocation while riding Indian trains. As the train left, the people inside cheered, rejoicing over the sight of other passengers being left behind.

Luckily, I met a group of Thai tourists and we managed to hire a taxi to take us back. The sinister taxi driver fleeced each one of us. Sixteen dollars for the ride to Delhi. It was a total rip-off. It took us 10 hours to get back when it was only supposed to take four. The driver lied about how a big festival was causing the roads to be clogged. He convinced up that it was better to stop first and wait for the roads to ease up. Little did we know, he just wanted to sleep. After the intersection a few hundred meters from where we stopped, the road was virtually empty.