words from the world

8h. Train station of Agra. Our time is short here as we get off the train. One day and a half and our plan is full with the differents places we want to see. We trust a tuk-tuk's driver that offers us to drive us at the castle of Fatehpur Sikri, 40km away from the city. We'll meet in one hour, just a moment to have breakfast from the rooftop of the guesthouse with a nice view on the Taj Mahal. Despite the relative distance, its whiteness is radiant and splashes down all the other buildings. Dwellings are nothing but pale, tasteless houses dramatically crushed by the marble mausoleum. We forget what we have in the plate. Our last steps in India are going to be magical.



We go for the castle of Fatehpur Sikri. Despite the undeniable beauty of its outlines, my thoughts turn back to Agra and the desire of trudging in the gardens and on the marble floor of the white mausoleum. Our visit at the castle is short and we go back to Agra.













As we arrive, we stop at the red fort. Well-preserved, Agra can vie with the innumerable castles scattered in the Rajasthan state. The lawns and gardens bring out the straight and vertical lines of the red fortress. The interior of the fort is composed of myriad of rooms that look out onto one another. They are sometimes separate by some interior courtyards. A part of the fortification flanks the river and several openings turn our looks towards the opposite bank. The Taj Mahal's outline looms in the distance among lands barely spoilt by the human hand. My eyes are magnetized by this white monument. An obsession since I arrived in India that changed into unbearable desire since I got off the train.











We keep on visiting the monuments of Agra with the baby Taj Mahal. We cross the river and stop in front of this replica of its illustrious "big brother". Just a sample before dashing to the Taj Mahal.





We go alongside the river by tuk-tuk. A few meters by foot, we race down from the small embankment and our looks set on the white-radiant funerary palace. The river separates us from the backside of the mausoleum. The quintessence of the moghul art reflects the last glows of the sun. A spike-ended dome walled by 4 minarets and hemmed in by 2 brick red mosques. We tread along the bank to contemplate the monument from different angles. Harmonious proportions and calming colours. One of these architectural jewels the History bequeathes to the Humanity. One of these treasures which beautifies the brochures of the travel agencies. And however, despite all the photographies taken by the best photographers, the emotion is there, intact. Perfect symmetry between the 2 mosques that embrace the mausoleum and marvellous reflection into the calm waters of the river. The marble palace floats above the time, above the reality. So do we.
Little by little, the mausoleum darkens with the veil of the night.