The Beginning

Sitting there waiting,
I looked around.
Starting my journey,
Someone else ending theirs
Is what I found.

I wanted to ask those returning
How it was.
But I was belted to my seat,
And the other to theirs.
Unmovable were my feet.

Suddenly the view changed,
It moved at a fast pace.
As though in a movie,
I felt lighter as I lifted
Into space.

In the air I hovered,
Or did the ground beneath me
Lower?
In any case,
We flew towards the horizon,
The sight a beautiful haze.

Taking the quick way
To the next chapter of my life,
The aero plane
Glided in the sky.
The sun shining in my path.

The beauty of the Taj Mahal is not its marble, nor is it in its architecture; the beauty is in the idea of constructing an eternal tomb to make immortal one's dead love, in the story that's passed on to every generation, in the feeling of infinity experienced when inside the monument, in the history that runs through every brick of this Wonder of the World, the beauty is in the combination of the Taj Mahal and you.

Mumtaz by Night

When you grow up with Indian parents in North India, you are bound to have visited Agra at least once. And for me, living in Noida, the renowned city of the Taj Mahal is just a decision and 2 hours away- so day trips to see the monument of marble have occurred a considerable number of times.

But it all started last year- December, 2014: school trip to Agra. I fell in love with the City of Love. Be it the small gallis you had to travel through, or the manner in which the the Agra fort was built, the way the light fell on the dome of the Taj, or the whole idea of constructing an eternal tomb to make immortal one's dead love- I was in awe of it all! Sadly enough, I wasn't carrying the DSLR my father had gifted me just a few days prior to this trip. But maybe that's why I used the camera of my eye, captured the scene in my own memory, and opened my heart to the city instead of the lid of a lens. All this apart, my mind was made up- I was to come back here for a photography trip, and see the Taj Mahal in the moonlight in all its glory, when the marble absorbs the light and makes the monument glow like a solitary star at night.

June 2015: a family holiday to Agra, where we cruised through the various monuments of the city, though only during the day time. At night we were too busy dressing up in bright colours and looking for decent places to eat, with all of us wanting to fulfil different pallets. The food left us wanting more of it, but the photographs I clicked left me satisfied. So it was worth the 2 hour journey.

On Rakhi, a few days before my term exams, the topic of seeing the Taj in the moonlight came up again, but didn't materialise into a plan.

One month later, on the 27th of September, 2015, my father got us tickets to see the transcendent monument, at 8.30- not in the morning, but at night.

I could see myself back on my school trip, in my favourite blue shirt, staring at the tomb of Mumtaz Mahal as though it really were a palace. Stared at it with longing, desire, and a will to come back. And today, I was going to fulfill that wish. That wish, to see the same monument that every Indian had seen, but see it in a way not very many people had experienced. That wish was going to come true.


But what if it weren't as grand as I had expected it to be? What if it weren't that special? What if the thought was better than the experience? What if ???

Despite these conceptions, filled with excitement like a child given an Orange Bar, we left our house at 4, targeting to arrive the historical city by 6. 


Sitting in the backseat of the car, I watched the various scenes roll by- colossal plantations, patches of land that would make beautiful photographs, and the occasional buildings. We crossed the Buddh International Circuit, a few plateaus, and stopped on the way for a quick bite.

And finally at the targeted time, we reached Agra, the city of the Taj Mahal, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

By 8 we were inside the compounds, waiting to be taken to the monument by one of the mini-buses. My heart hammering against my rib-cage, I studied the ticket over and over again, and disappointedly noted that tripods weren't allowed inside, along with a bazillion other things like guns, cigarettes and the like- but I was carrying my tripod, how can you click pictures at night otherwise?

Having left the three-legged stand in the car, we saw the 47 other people the three of us were going to witness this moment with. One of them was intently cleaning the lens of his camera with real tools- he had to be a professional. The good thing about being a 15 year old is that you can ask anyone for advice and not feel stupid. And so, that's what I did, with a little persuasion from my dad. The man told me what I already knew, yet I doubt I could have got the photos I did without his tips.

And it was time. You know the anxiety of being at the starting point of a race? Now combine that with the happiness you feel when you cross the finishing line. That is how I felt when I sat in the mini-bus which was going to take us to the Taj Mahal. Seeing the amount of security, and considering that I was actually quiet for a change, one knew that this was the real deal.

And there it was. Standing before me, looking modest without its usual buzz of tourists. It wasn't glowing white as I'd expected it to be. It didn't meet my expectations, yet it didn't betray them either. It was just a completely different thing, something you simply can't expect! The silence that surrounded us, the feelings that had led to this moment, and the faint glow the monument had- it all combined to one of the most beautiful half-an-hours of my life.

For a few minutes I stood gaping at it, before realising that I had only 30 minutes here. I quickly switched on my camera, lowered the shutter speed to 15 seconds, and stood there holding my breath. My first 10 pictures came out so blurry that I almost gave up on the idea. Then my father told me to use the ground as a tripod, and so I did. Much better. However, the picture was missing the top of the monument. So I took off my slippers and put it under the lens to angle the camera better. Perfect.

After a few shots from a few different angles, a bell rang in the distance notifying us that it was 9. I felt panicky, simply because I didn't want to leave. But I had to, and still facing the Taj Mahal, I walked backwards and out the gate, in too much awe to say anything. But when I looked at my parents, all I could say was 'thank you.' And I meant it, meant it with all my heart. Though, an hour later I did tell them that I had to come here again.

I might have come back with only 2-3 good shots, but I was returning after an experience of a lifetime. An experience I know I will never be able to forget. Unaware on that day, the 27th of September had a 'supermoon,' when the moon was 14% larger than usual. This phenomenon only occurrs once every 20 years- and it happened the day we took the decision to travel 2 hours and see the Taj Mahal in all its glory.

I know that 1,221 words may feel like too much to explain a simple picture, but the journey is more important than the destination, and I believe that the story behind each picture is worth much more than the photograph itself. Everyone sees a photo, but only a few see the voyage that led to it.

I looked down at me

He looked down at me

She looked down at me

They looked down at me

Everyone looked down at me

I looked up-

Crushed.

You know what I want to do?
I want to take a blue rucksack and my camera, and just travel the world.
Travel so much, that I never run out of stories, that I have friends everywhere.
Travel so much, that I know one word in every language, that I have seen all the attractions of google images.
Travel so much that Columbus gets jealous, that when I'm asked 'Where are you coming from,' I can answer with 'A small village in the middle of nowhere.'
But that's not happening.
But that will happen.
It will.
And so...
Bon voyage!

Take a Leap

& Catch a Star...

Stretch your Hand

Cuz It's not that Far

Haiku

Adogable...

Too fast for the camera...

Stormy Heart

It was pouring outside. Thunderclouds covered the city. It was a very gloomy day- an image of how my heart felt till just yesterday. And how couldn't I feel that way? With aspirations of becoming a judge once I grew older, how couldn't I have complained on 20th of November, exactly 2 months back, when my best friend was cheating on the test?
It was a hard test. Maths. And boy, I know how bad Vedahi is at maths. But I helped her study, and she did show improvement. Yet, she cheated, and wrote all the equations on her hand. I didn't want to, but my juridical self took over and I told the teacher. Ever since, my whole group of friends hadn't talked to me- till yesterday. These 2 months, I sat alone in the corner, just waiting for the bell to ring that declared school over, like a patient moments before getting released from the hospital. At home, I couldn't focus on my studies, and my marks dropped in the last test. I told my parents to change my school, but who would withdraw their child from the best school of the country?
But these were issues of yesterday. Today was a new day, a fresh day, a good day. This morning, I was courageous enough to go and talk to Vedahi, and she told me that she had started attending maths tuitions, and was actually enjoying the subject. Had I not complained, she wouldn't have gotten a chance to improve. And she was grateful, but didn't want to be the first to bend down. I guess it's just about communication, and seeing each of your problems as an opportunity- an opportunity for improvement. And I know, today onwards, it'll be sunny, spreading in my veins would be the warmth after the storm. The last drop of rain gently touched my window, and I see a rainbow in the distance.