The Taj Mahal by Night

On the night of the full moon in June--just a few days ago—my partner, Marilyn, and I had passes to visit the Taj Mahal.

We arrived at the east gate of the Taj on a small bus, one of three that carried the handful of tourists who had passes for the night viewing. The buses took us the kilometer from the entrance offices to the monument; several police officers accompanied us. Each visitor went through two security checks and was allowed to carry only money and identification. No cameras and no mobile phones.

As we walked from the outer gate to the inner one, a floodlight lit our path.  Police with rifles walked with us, directing us occasionally with gestures.  Except for the visitors’ whispers and the police’s occasional commands, there was quiet. 

The monsoons are on their way, and the sky was overcast that night. We had worried the moon would not come out, but that night, it did not matter.  We were among only a few dozen people facing the Taj Mahal.

Marilyn and I had been to the monument that afternoon, so we had witnessed how its color changed in changing daylight. We had seen the inlaid marble up close and had been inside the monument, walking around the replicas of the tombs on the main floor of the Taj (the entrance to the tombs below has been closed to tourists for over a decade).  We had witnessed hundreds of tourists, most of them Indian, taking countless photographs. 

Now, there we were, without a camera, behind a metal barricade at the sandstone platform about a quarter mile from the Taj.  Once we were all gathered, the floodlight was turned off.  We were in the dark. 

The small group spoke in hushed tones.  Some expressed disappointment: “We can’t see anything.”  What we could see was the silhouette of the Taj, nearly black against a pale, cloudy sky that reflected the amber lights of the city.  As our eyes adjusted to the dark, we saw the path and the rows of trees leading up to the monument.  Because the Taj is on the banks of the Yamuna River and nothing is built behind it, one sees only the Taj when one looks straight at it.  That view of the Taj against the sky, with its complete symmetry, is part of what makes it breathtaking--even in the dark, even when seen only in silhouette.

Not having a camera made us pay attention in a different way: we noticed what was in front of us and around us rather than what we saw in the frame of the camera.  Heat lightning lit the sky a few times.  Stray dogs fought behind the Taj somewhere.  A single fluorescent light shone inside the Taj, above the tombs.  For a half hour, we stood in the hush and reminded ourselves that we were really at the Taj Mahal.