Rambled

I'm not exactly the kind who prefers the bland taste of reality. The unimaginable paradigms of the unknown, the unexplored when blended into day-to-day life are a much more relevant palate. I am glad also to assure you here that I am not into living with hallucinations, have no imaginary friends (barring the visiting presence of spirits who for some reason truly enjoy my kitchen shelf, but they are neither friends nor are they imaginary) and maintain a clear divide between fact and fiction. I prefer saturating my soul every once in a while in the glory of a setting sun or in the eyes of a tired bird, perched to rest. That's my reality.

And so, when I ended up at the stairs leading to the Taj Mahal... I felt at peace. The Taj Mahal is perhaps the best example of my idea of sanity (or insanity). A mausoleum built in pure white marble as a reflection of Noor Jehan's beauty built after her death (when he could have just told her how lovely she looked instead of having her bear 14 children with him and die of childbirth) by artisans who were the best in the business (and suffered a well-known fate after building this masterpiece). All for a desecrating remains of a once beautiful woman, who served no purpose except being an object of desire for a bored king. Yes, the unmistakable insanity about the Taj shocks my mind to silence... and perhaps that is why I wish to return to it yet again to see it from yet another perspective and discover more about myself and the world I live in. Decipher yet again, the fact from fiction and try and figure which one is stranger.