My trip was reaching its climax. My whole reason for traveling here would be fulfilled within the next few minutes. And what an intense trip it had been.
The roughest thing had been the food, by far. I wasn't staying in international class hotels, they were much too expensive for my budget, less than a year out of college, so I was staying at comfortable but less expensive local standard hotels, which were comfortable enough, but whose choice of breakfast entrees consisted of red curry, yellow curry, or green curry, which even for my travel hardened gut was a bit much. The lack of an occasional fast food restaurant serving hamburgers or chicken was an unexpected shock to my palate.
The trains, buses, taxis, trishaws, and other multifarious modes of transport weren't a shock at all, for I was already accultured to stepping over chicken crates in the aisle before taking a seat on a hardwood bench, or haggling over the price of a carriage pulled by a bicycle, even though the top price he asked was only a few cents to me.
Even the vendors were only a minor inconvenience, surrounding me at all intersections, and even occasionally following me along a street, asking me for the umpteenth time if I wanted to buy one of his keychains. They seemed to have mastered the entire English language except for the rejections.
And yet, through all these hassles, I had weathered, and at times flourished. For here was one of the greatest tributes ever built, a mausoleum built over 300 years ago by the emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his favorite wife. And I was experiencing it at dawn's first light, as the minarets and dome were gradually lit, before the crowds of tourists would flock and congest the area.
It stood majestic among perfectly manicured gardens. The scrubbed whiteness of the dome gave it an angelic look of perfection in architecture. The mausoleum stood in front of an artificial pond, giving an exact replica of it inversed, rendering me confused as to whether the reflection was at the bottom or the top, and perhaps I had somehow become inverted myself. The magic of the moment was accented by the reverence it commanded over the surroundings. Even with the passage of over 25 years, the image of the Taj Mahal I had that morning is still as vivid in my memory today.
I loved this because it was exactly how I felt when I was there..you get lost and found.....sprits dance there and souls linger haunting each and every tile.......and then I reflect on how the sultans son held him captive in a room directly across from Mumtaz's tomb....so there he sat and stared at the monument to his love from Agra fort ..while his sons fought and killed eachother for control of the empire....Atleast Aurangzeb was merciful in allowing them to be entombed together in the end.
There wasn't necessesarily anything lacking from yours. The two that placed above you just stood out more vivdly to me. To make this piece better, I suggest using a few more power words. For example, describe the Indian sun as sweltering or blistering, rather than just hot. ( I know you didn't describe the heat in this piece; that was just an example. Although, it might be nice to descibe the weather and add that to the food and travel accomadations as the "hassles" of travel). That shouldn't add TOO much, but just enough, because the simplicity of the piece is also part of what makes this piece attractive.
"They seemed to have mastered the entire English language except for the rejections." That line had me chuckling. It was probably one of my favorite lines.
Also, I agree with Laura Aranda. I wanna go! Lol. Travel sounds so fun, despite the hassles, as you pointed out. For now, I suppose that contest will have to suffice. You brought me to India; you're the only person who did that, in fact. Thank you, and remember, of all this is just my--one person's-- opinion. You definitely have talent. I encourage you to keep writing and sharing your experiences.
I loved this because it was exactly how I felt when I was there..you get lost and found.....sprits dance there and souls linger haunting each and every tile.......and then I reflect on how the sultans son held him captive in a room directly across from Mumtaz's tomb....so there he sat and stared at the monument to his love from Agra fort ..while his sons fought and killed eachother for control of the empire....Atleast Aurangzeb was merciful in allowing them to be entombed together in the end.