i must have been four when i saw the taj mahal. been back many times since then. i love the gardens, the fountains, the humongous entrance, the grace, the people looking expectant, taking funny pictures, the sange marmar… the white marble; finding out mumtaz mahal and shah jahan wasn’t exactly a fairytale romance didn’t spoil the fun (c’mon, he threw pearl necklaces at her in the meena bazaar, didn’t he… and if he didn’t, too bad for him). the…
dilli to agra to buy some nagra mini kitsch taj, it’s my raj marble so white, gems in flight you know shah jahan? that poor ol’ man through the round glass, staring alas the floor is hot, the walls touch not dilli to agra to buy some nagra purple velvet bag, sequinned brag just stand there, breathe if you dare come, let’s go! catch a queen and her beau but he cut off their thumbs! really? who…
again a clamour for its return starts. and now i am older, even if not wiser, and i must see it’s not as simple as it looks. or looked, when i was eight and nine and ten, even twelve and thirteen and was told an uncomplicated, straightforward thing: the koh-i-noor diamond is the most beautiful diamond in the world and it belongs to us… first nadir shah stole it and then the british. for some reason quite unfathomable, but then…