Author: Anupma Chandwani
Gopi Gajwani/D N Dube
Photographer: Gopi Gajwani / D N Dube
ISBN/UPC (if available): 8187902000
So much has been read, written and heard about the Taj and yet, when faced with its ethereal beauty, you never cease to wonder could the hands of mortals create such an eternal signature of love! If a dream could find an expression, it would surely be the Taj Mahal. With its stunningly perfect contours, it seems to be frozen in time; a love basking in the glory and splendour of an era that stands unparalleled for eternity.
Young prince Khurram was a handsome lad of fifteen when he first lay eyes on Arjumand Banu selling beads and silks at the Meena Bazaar. He went up to her stall and for want of an excuse to communicate, asked the price of the first object he could lay his hands on. How much is this glass piece worth? asked the prince. This is no piece of glass but a rare diamond. You cannot afford it, it’s ten thousand rupees!
She exclaimed. Khurram took out the money, gave it to her and left with an impression that was to stay on his mind till the day he died. On returning this lofty son of fortune, as Jahangir calls him in his memoirs, requested his father seeking the hand of Arjumand Banu in marriage. Jahangir, as if reminded of his own days, immediately consented. But it would be five ears before the prince could see her again and astrologers proclaimed the year 1607 auspicious for them to get married. Shah Jahan called her Mumtaz Mahal, the chosen one of the palace.
You knew Shah Jahan, Life and youth, wealth and glory, they all drift away in the current of time. You strove, therefore, to perpetuate only the sorrow of your heart. Let the splendour of diamond, pearl and ruby vanish like the magic shimmer of the rainbow. Only let this one teardrop, this Taj Mahal, glisten spotlessly bright on the cheek of time, forever and ever.