Final Report (for Real this Time)

Today I went to see the Taj Mahal. The Taj, for those of you who don't know, is an elaborate tomb built by a muslim king for his favorite wife. Their names escape me, but I do remember that they were married for 17 years, in which she underwent 14 childbirths. The last one killed her, and the king built the Taj in her memory The building is- well, I think the technical term is "friggin cool". It looks awesome from the outside- the structure is well known- and also from the inside, where cameras are not permitted. The hand-carved marble bears floral designs in the distinctive Mogul muslim style (of which I know exactly this sentence). Inside the taj, the flowers are brightly colored, inlaid with gemstones. As my mom keeps mentioning, the Taj is one of the only clean places in India. Everywhere else, the streets are lined with filth and refuse, paint peels from hotel walls, mangy dogs and garbage-eating cows roam the streets and children beg for money. In the Taj, food is prohibited to keep out garbage, and armed guards make sure everyone takes their shoes off to avoid soiling the polished marble. (Aparently nothing is as disgusting to people her as a shoe.) I have yet to see the Taj with the lighting "just right" (sunrise, sunset and moonlight are popular times), but it's plenty awesome with regular lighting. If I were a romantic, my heart would melt. Since I am not, I turn to more bitter thoughts...

Usually, seeing stuff like this annoys me. While forts and palaces have a practical use at least, millitary defense, nut monuments and fancy tombs seem to be extravagant displays of self-importance, foolish monuments to egotism built on the backs of those that have nothing, with money that could be used to feed the starving. The obvious difference here is that the Taj was built for someone else. (Also, as far as I know the king paid his workers, though he did lop off the had of his architect to keep him from designing another such masterpiece).

The Taj, then can be seen as an enormous labor of love (of which I am ceremoniously reminded by wild monkeys having sex on the enterance gate). It can be the pride of an entire country which still provides joy to millions (and indeed, most of the visitors are Indian), or a colossal waste of resources for someone who is still dead.

Speaking of... I've been thinking a lot about the Christian doctrine of hell lately. (I know, my posts just keep getting happier.) Seems to me that, like the Taj, my faith can be seen in two ways. Either Christianity is a beautiful light in the darkness, a banquet of God's amazing grace, in which all are invited and only those that refuse to enter are excluded. Or my faith is an exclusive club, in which the lucky (predestined?) few get love and mercy while the multitudes (most of India, for example) get eternally tortured for believing the wrong things. Both views are at least somewhat scriptrual, I think. Obviously, I would like to believe the former, especially in a country where many people have devout faith in God (or gods) but don't know about Christ. The doctrine of hell is something I need to figure out, I think, before I grow spirtually because it keeps sticking in my throat, blocking out all the good I want to believe about God. Perhaps when I get my thoughts together I'll write about that.

On a much lighter note (and I am enjoying myself immensely, not sitting around thinking about hell all the time), we went on an elephant ride up to a fort. I envy the mahouts, whose job it is to direct an elephant... what a sweet job! At the same time, I'm acutely aware that an elephant is about 20 x your size, and it only needs to get ticked off once... anyway, elephant riding rocks.