The Journey To The Taj

This week we look at a little-understood phenomenon—visual pollution—and a lopsided preservation policy that excludes the Taj Ganj and heritage buildings that were once part of the Taj complex

- Damayanti Datta

Whether history repeats itself remains to be seen. But sometimes it does whisper warnings. And the clear message from the apex court now is: heed the warnings of history. Taking a cue from the August 29 Supreme Court order, we set out on a pictorial walk through the Taj Mahal complex, keeping the larger picture in mind: that is, we approach the Taj not as the present-day visitor does—descending on the monument one fine day—but as a visitor would have done in the 17th century: experiencing the larger Taj complex. Our purpose is to look, with photographic evidence, at visual pollution, years of deterioration, vandalism, shoddy oversight and neglect of a magnificent heritage. So let’s start the journey to the Taj:

Night has fallen over the Taj Mahal. In its backyard, the 400-year-old bazaar, Taj Ganj, has gone quiet. The cacophony of hawkers, shoppers, animals, carts, auto-rickshaws and shopkeepers selling Taj souvenirs is fading into different sounds: the chatter of men sitting outside their closed shops, children laughing, women grinding spice in the kitchen. The pungent stench of sweat, garbage, dung and open drains has waned. The sugary aroma of freshly-made jalebis now hangs in the air. Crumbling old havelis hide in the darkness. Rooftop cafes with a panoramic view of the Taj by moonlight twinkle dimly. How many visitors know that Taj Ganj is meant to be an integral part of the Taj Mahal?