February 20, 2012 Delhi Agra Weekend Episode 9
Santoshji and Nahimuddin drive us to the emporium of the Uttar Pradesh state government run UP Cottage Industries. "They will show you a small Taj Mahal model with light effect of how it looks at night..with moon. After, they may ask you to buy some things. You don't have to buy"
Mr. Yadav, the chief salesman of the marble division shows the miniature Taj Mahal. Its around two feet tall and contains extensive detailing. "It took 6 master craftsmen four and half years." he beams proudly. 'Not for sale' labels are posted at a couple of places on the glass cage of the model. He makes us sit on a thin red cushioned bench, closes the door and switches off the lights. We feel like we are in a really old photo studio. He switches on the first special light.
The miniature Taj basks in moon light. It is a glorious sight. Taj feels like a large pearl. I try to scale up and imagine how magnificent the real one would look. Special passes are needed for the full moon viewing of the real one. There is a long waiting list. What must have been going through Shah Jahan's mind on the last full moon before his death watching his precious creation from the small aperture of his prison room? Did he know it was to be his final full moon?
The next light shows the the miniature with dawn and sunset effect. The unbelievable translucent ability of high quality marble grants an inner glow for the Taj during these times of the day. Spell binding. Mr. Yadav opens the door and turns on the tube lights to break the spell on us. "This is not for sale. But we have other models next door. Please come"
We follow him next door. He shows us models of varying sizes and detailing. The price ranges from Rs. 300 to Rs. 2500. We pick one that costs Rs. 750. "Painted and plain white models are the same price." We cannot believe that Mr. Yadav is a government employee. His salesman zeal would have us think that this is his own shop. A stark contrast with the arrogant and lazy sales folks that we are used to in Kerala's government outlets who are least bothered about making sales or customer care.
Encouraged by Mr. Yadav, we begin looking around. I am quite interested in buying a small specimen of pietra dura work on marble. "We have better quality of such plates on the last shop" says Mr. Yadav leading us there. A billy goat is resting on the verandah of the outlet. He will soon be "Mutton Mughalai" in some nearby restaurant. He stops chewing when I reveal the camera. That's more polite than most of the Indian celebrities. Nahimuddin and Santoshji have made themselves comfortable on a bench under a tree. They don't mind us taking our sweet time. I think there might be some kind of commission involved.
At the last shop, there is also a workshop that demonstrates the semi-precious stones inlaying technique. The pietra dura samples behind the glass windows in the shop are mindblowing. It takes us a few minutes to zero in on the final three. We arrange them on the glass counter and try to decide between predominance of blue, green or red. Mr. Yadav brings me a small card listing the different stones that are used to create different colors. The inlay work on marble is stunning but even more impressive is the inlay on jet black onyx.
Though stingy, since we are rather keen customers, Mr. Yadav opens a cupboard with the magic mantra, "You don't have to buy these, but just take a look" The cupboard opens into a world of the most incredible embroidery work we have ever seen. The artist named Shams who spends months and years creating these exquisite works of art has been awarded a Padmashri by the government of India. Mr. Yadav excitedly shows us an information brochure about Shams with the lovely embroidery work of Jesus with his flock of sheep. It is currently at the White House.
The embroidery work uses semi precious stones as well. These stones are the illegal ones seized by the excise and customs department. The government then makes it available to artists like Shams. This means the cost of these stones are not included in the final product. Thus the fabulous embroidery work of a flower vase with the semi-precious birthstones forming the center of the flowers costs as little as Rs. 15, 000. We are not interested in anything of that price range anyways. But then Mr. Yadav persists, "Sister, you don't have to buy. But I just showing. Please look at this." And with those words he produces a magnificent frame of peacocks.
We sit speechless in front of it. Mr. Yadav shows how it takes on different shades in different lighting. We are still more speechless if such a thing is possible. "Only Rs. 27, 000" says Mr. Yadav. We look at each other and smile. Mr. Yadav intervenes, "You don't have to pay now. We take credit card, debit card. Or you pay after we deliver home. We can laminate and deliver. Beta (son), woh laminate zara leke aana" he asks the young assistant who fetches the elaborate work of a tiger drinking water in the backdrop of thick rain forest, neatly laminated in a golden frame. We are sold. "Lamination and delivery is free!"
"I can't leave this here and go. I will regret it for the rest of my life." Amma says
"Where will we keep it?" worries Achan.
"Above the TV may be?" Amma wonders.
"We can replace the Ravi Varma replicas in the living room" I suggest
"Yes! Yes!"
The deal is done. We ask a lot of details about the shipping process. Mr. Yadav brings the register to show us copies of invoices. Marble table tops worth few lakhs of rupees have been regularly shipping to the Middle East, Europe and the USA.
He leads us to the warehouse in the basement. A totally awesome array of marble inlaid table tops. Merchandise worth crores of rupees. Craftsmanship beyond pricing.
"Please look at some saris, Sister. You will like" says Mr. Yadav as he opens the door to the sari showroom. A bulky man with a baby face and even gentler voice is the sales manager there. He introduces us to bamboo fiber and banana fiber saris. Silky to touch and gorgeous to look at. These are manufactured by prisoners in the state. The material is so smooth that a whole saree can easily pass through a wedding ring. I guess these are the sarees worn by the air hostesses of Air India. The sales manager has the clever habit of telling us the price of the saris by the dozen first. With that high figure anchored in our minds, when he then divides it by twelve, suddenly the sarees appear cheaper than they really are. Daniel Kahneman would be proud of this sales trick. Nevertheless the sarees are totally worth their Rs. 750 to Rs. 5000 price range. Amma picks four after the usual long selection and reselection process.
Inside doors lead us to hitherto unseen showrooms hidden within the complex. We hit the leather outlet. On our way to Agra, Santoshji had told me, "Agra famous for two things: sweets and leather." Indeed, the sales manager at the leather section shows us some super light high quality leather belts, jackets and bags. He uses his lighter to show the fire resistance of the camel skin. I try on a few jackets and buy on.It is extremely light and fits well. Rs. 3500 is a great price.
Before we get pulled into the shoes department, we escape after finishing the shipping formalities. Santoshji and Nahimuddin have been waiting for us for nearly ninety minutes. [Though the service at UP Cottage Industries was in stark contrast to those we have experienced from government employees in Kerala, the follow up to the order by post has left much to be desired.At the time of posting this on April 2nd, we still haven't received the parcel. Replies to phone calls have been confusing at best and it is mostly one excuse after another. We were promised delivery on March first week, it is April first week now.]
We head to Howard Park Plaza, our hotel for the night.
En-route, Nahimuddin talks about his family of five siblings and three daughters. "But I look young, eh? I look smart, eh?" he asks for confirmation. We laught. Then he turns to me, "Why you make no marriage?"
Howard Park Plaza has been renamed as Howard Portico. It is a star hotel much more elegant and spacious than Clark Surya in Delhi. A pretty hostess in what we recognize now as a banana fiber saree welcomes us with marigold garlands. She looks like a tall version of a briefly popular Malayalam film actress. An impressive chandelier hangs on the lobby from the roof, four floors tall.
We're taken to room 325. Paintings of Shah Jahan and Mumtaj Mahal on the head wall of the bed. Another sketch of Agra from the 19th century. From the large windows, we can see the open air school next door. The board in Hindi reads "D.V. Rai. Ju Ha". Junior High, I presume.
We find complimentary bottles of water priced at Rs. 150 on the table and so don't even dare to look at the minibar. After freshening up, Achan and I decide to scout the area for a less expensive hotel. Amma decides that oranges are enough for her dinner. Santoshji had offered to take us to the south Indian hotels in the city but we politely declined. Nahimuddin's warning about mugging and purse snatching incidents in the area, though probably hollow like his other warnings, make us a bit careful as we walk around the neighborhood. We certainly don't want to go back to the Silk Route. We find another restaurant nearby which looks a lot like Silk Route. So we skip that too. Walking some more, we come to Sheesh Mahal Restaurant.
An "Open" sign hangs on the door but it has a deserted look. The owner runs to us from outside. He is visibly pleased to have customers. Mutton is not available. So we opt for a chicken curry and chapatis. "Aapko yahan sab fresh milega. tho thoda time letha hai" (You will get only freshly made stuff here. So it will take some time) We don't mind waiting. A helper boy sits at the cash counter and dozes off as the owner disappears inside to the kitchen.
Achan and I talk about the Taj and Mughal rule in India. The owner returns to the cash counter after 15 minutes. We make conversation about the exorbitant pricing of other restaurants. He is upset that guides and travel agents don't bring tourists to his restuarant though the food is much better. As we speak, a group of kids rush in suddenly. Two men follow them. They are a father and a son. A Muslim family from Mumbai. They ask if the owner can prepare dinner for a party of 23! His face cannot contain his broad smile. Of course, he can! He quickly takes down an elaborate order. As he dashes to the kitchen, our order arrives. We eat while enjoying the little squabbles and games of nearly a dozen beautiful kids. At one point when the noise level went high, grandpa raised his voice and pin drop silence fairy immediately arrived.
My parents go off to sleep quickly. I sit on the sofa and stare out of the window. There are intermittent signs of life in the field of flat terraces interspersed with mobile phone towers that dissolves into the dark night at a distance. I think about the Taj. I try to comprehend what prompts a man to spend almost all of his empire's fortune in the memory of a woman. Was Shah Jahan as addicted to opium as Humayun? I dismiss this cheap and easy solution my dirty mind quickly throws up. Even if he knew that the Taj would forever be his legacy, he wanted it firmly to be linked with the queen. Was it love or was it the memory of love? Is there a difference between the two? The Taj Mahal wasn't built to impress the object of his affection. Human civilization has numerous glorious examples of wonderful creations meant to impress, meant to express. But such a tribute is singular. To spent 22 years in making something timeless in the memory of 20 years of togetherness. Exemplary. Is it? A message to loving hearts from five centuries ago. A message in marble. Pure and pristine.
From the emperor, my thoughts move onto the craftsmen and the builders, the architects who conceptualized and executed this greatest of all tributes. Did the Persians and the Turks know what they were getting into when they moved to Hindustan for the project? What went through their minds the day the finial was installed? On the day the final 22nd dome was placed on the great gateway?
And then the perfection....oh the perfection. To have not one stone, not one curve, not one detail flawed. The utter dedication to perfection...over such a long long long period of 22 years. Exemplary. Absolutely. The Taj stands in its immortal glory a reminder to every artist to check, doublecheck, rehearse, polish, repolish every single creation; to every writer and poet to strive for the perfect word, the perfect syllable; to seek the perfection of every minute part as well as the whole. A shining white standard all creative pursuits can aspire to. The Taj is a lesson in creative discipline, a wonder of perseverence, the grandest attempt by man to encapsulate the symmetry of nature that took evolution eons.
And I am glad these artists threw themselves at this task which wasn't meant fundamentally for the glorification of some imaginary superbeing or for the primitive tribal supremacy complex. It was meant fundamentally for the love of a man for a woman, not at first sight, not at a distance, not platonic, not a lustful brief affair, not a longing but two decades of togetherness.
As I get sleepier, I begin to wonder if the Taj itself is a calligraphy. Does it form a word in Arabic if we trace from the top of the finial, the crescent, down through the side of the dome all the way to the minaret? Are the niches of different sizes meant as diacritics of the Arabic letters thus formed? As I climb into the bed, I decide to run this possibility by friends who know Arabic.
Taj Mahal undoubtedly the greatest manmade monument I have ever seen and in all probability will ever see in my life time as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment