Short History Of... - Taj Mahal

Episode Date: June 9, 2024

Known as the ‘Crown of the Palace’, the Taj Mahal has become a global icon that’s visited by millions of people each year. Although it’s widely regarded as a masterpiece in architecture, design, and craft, its origin story is one of tragic love.  So who was the man who had the Taj Mahal built, and what of the woman he created it for? What was its fate under the rule of the British? And how did it grow to become a symbol of Indian nationhood in the twentieth century and beyond?  This is a Short History Of… The Taj Mahal. A Noiser production, written by Dan Smith. With thanks to Professor Najaf Haider, author of many books on the history of the Mughal Empire. Get every episode of Short History Of a week early with Noiser+. You’ll also get ad-free listening, bonus material, and early access to shows across the Noiser network. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's June 1632 and the sun is blazing down on the banks of India's Yamuna River, just a mile and a half from Agra, capital of the Mughal Empire. A woman swelters as the temperature tops a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. She kneels in the dirt, a small digging tool in her hand. Scraping away at the earth, she drives down deeper and deeper, pausing only to run her arm across her forehead to stop the sweat dripping into her eyes. As the mighty river flows its way past, her head aches with the noise of construction all around her. She is one of perhaps 5,000 laborers here today, some local, but others having come from distant lands many miles away.

Most are Hindus, but their master is the Muslim emperor of the Mughal Empire, Shah Jahan. Until a few weeks ago, this stretch of land was a beautiful garden belonging to the Raja or ruler of Amber, modern-day Jaipur. It was a tranquil place, somewhere to escape the bustle of city life. But the Shah has taken it off the Raja's hands, and he has big plans for it. A memorial to his dead wife Mumtaz Mahal. The gardens have been cleared and surrounding hillocks flattened to make sure there will

be nothing to impede the view of what will eventually spring up here. But for now, the woman's focus is all on preparing its foundations. She piles earth into a large basket that sits beside her. When it is full, she stands, heaves the basket up and balances it on her head. Then she carries the load away to a fast-growing heap of excavated rubble. She passes her foreman, who urges his workers on relentlessly. The shafts must be dug deep enough to be filled with rock and a cement of lime and sand, strong enough to resist erosion from both the swelling river and the monsoon rains.

Over by the riverbank, the woman can see her husband working with another team, burying ebony boxes full of cement to keep the waters back. Behind her, an ox drags a cart full of marble from the Makrana quarries hundreds of miles away. The woman heads back to her shaft, past another foreman directing the laying of drainage pipes. She's ready to rest, but there are hours more toil ahead. She's ready to rest, but there are hours more toil ahead. Then it will be back to the sparse workers' accommodation the Shah has had erected just beyond the building site. She and the other labourers call it Mumtazabad, after the Shah's late wife.

She pauses for a moment to gulp down some water, but she catches the eye of her foreman. He bustles over, sternly reminding her she is here to help realize the Shah's grand vision, not waste time relaxing. She does as she is told, but down here in the mud it is difficult to imagine the full scale of what Shah Jahan has planned for this place. She can understand his heartache over the loss of his wife, and she can see that the mausoleum is to have a vast footprint. But she has no way to know that her calloused hands are playing their part in one of the most extraordinary construction projects in history. That the foundations she is digging will support a dome that will seem to touch the heavens, the crowning glory of this monument to the Shah's late Empress Consort. A building one day known the world over as the Taj Mahal.

When it's complete, Mumtaz's mausoleum will be the focal point of a vast complex of gardens and buildings known for their dazzling architecture and outstanding beauty. The Taj Mahal, or Crown of the Palace, will become a global icon that is today visited by millions of people every year. Widely regarded as one of the world's preeminent symbols of romantic love, it is estimated that it cost the equivalent of a billion dollars to build. A masterpiece of human cultural achievement drawing on the skills of the greatest architects, designers and craftsmen of the age, and on the labor of tens of thousands of workers. Its creation was rooted in the tragic love story between Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. But though it remains a timeless symbol of devotion, as the region's complex political landscape developed,

it became a pawn in a modern power struggle. So who was the man who had it built? And what was the story of the woman he created it for? After the Mughals, what was its fate under the rule of the British? And how did it navigate the passage from Islamic mausoleum to symbol of Indian nationhood in the 20th century and beyond? I'm John Hopkins from the Noisa Network. This is a short history of the Taj Mahal. The Mughal Empire is founded in 1526 when a warrior prince named Babur seizes control of Delhi and establishes a dynasty. Originally from what is now Uzbekistan in Central Asia, he claims descent from the great

Turko-Mongol military leader Timur on his father's side and from Genghis Khan on his mother's. When the throne passes down to Jahangir in the early 1600s, Mughal rule extends over all of north-central India. It reaches as far north as Afghanistan and Central Asia, and south to the river Godavari that flows for almost a thousand miles across the Indian subcontinent. By 1607, things have become tempestuous in the royal household. Jahangir has fought with his own son, Prince Khosrow, in a battle for the throne. There is no expectation within the Mughal tradition that the crown must necessarily pass from father to oldest son, so such dynastic disputes are by no means unknown.

Jahangir's third son is Khurram, the future Shah Jahan, or King of the World. He is just 15, and so far has managed to steer clear of most of the political intrigue between his father and his half-brother, Khusrau. Instead, he has been focusing on his education. But he is about to have his attentions diverted. In April, celebrations for the arrival of spring

are in full swing in the royal grounds at Agra. A huge tent of maroon velvet, embroidered with gold, covers two acres and is surrounded by a sea of smaller tents erected by the Emperor's noblemen. They make up a grand courtly bazaar, a regal version of the markets that trade across the realm. It is a place to see and be seen, and to show off the riches of the Empire. Velvet and silks are draped in every direction, and one can hardly move for all the gold, silver, and precious gems on display.

A gentle trade in finery goes on among the elite. It is a rare occasion when women are allowed to drop their veils and show their faces in mixed company. An ideal setting, per se, a father to show off a daughter for whom he seeks a husband. In one of the tents sits just such a girl, fourteen-year-old Arjumand Banu. She is the daughter of a well-to-do Persian noble who holds high office in the Empire. With her exquisite poise and delicate features, Arjumand catches the eye of Khurram. And where his eye leads, his heart follows. The pair are introduced and Khurram is infatuated.

It is soon arranged that they will be married, and Arjumand will come to be known as Mumtaz Mahal, the Exalted One of the Palace. Professor Najaf Haider is a historian and the author of many books on the history of the Mughal Empire. According to the royal historian Qazvini, who was the writer of the history of the firstughal Empire. According to the royal historian Qazvini, who was the writer of the history of the first decade of Shah Jahan, the love that he had for her, he had for nobody. They always stayed together

in joy and sadness, traveled together. This relationship was not based on carnal desires, but on the qualities she possessed of both body and mind, suri and manevi in Persian. The two had great physical and emotional bonding. But the course of their true love is not destined to run smooth.

A year after the betrothal, Shah Jahangir decides the time has come to bestow some responsibility on Khurram. The teenager is quietly becoming thought of as his father's natural successor, and Jahangir wants to consolidate his favoured son's position in the royal court. He puts him in charge of an area called Hisar-for-Rosa, about a hundred miles west of Delhi in the Punjab. of an area called Hisar-for-Rosa, about 100 miles west of Delhi in the Punjab. It is a symbolic gesture, since this region is traditionally gifted to the heir apparent.

It marks an important step in Kurum's journey towards becoming Shah Jahan. It also gives him an opportunity to start exercising some of his passions. High among them is an interest in architecture. Shah Jahan's passion for building was well known. He was building, repairing, rebuilding many sites during his princely time. And his father was very happy with his skill and supervision.

But by now, Ajaman's family are out of favor. Her grandfather is accused of corruption and stealing from the emperor, so wedding plans are put on hold. Instead, in 1610, Khurram marries someone else, a Persian princess with whom he has a daughter. Even so, he cannot forget about his first and greatest love. Then the political sands shift again. It is quite usual among the Mughal elite for men to have multiple wives and concubines,

and the Shah now marries Arjumand's aunt on her father's side. She takes the name Nur Mahal, or Light of the Palace, and, with the wider family back in favor, plans get underway for her niece's marriage to Khurram. It is the evening of May 10, 1612, a day considered auspicious by court astrologers. Ajman's family home is bathed in moonlight, but is also illuminated by countless torches and lanterns, their flames flickering in the cool night breeze. The property is alive with activity. Inside, Arjumand is concealed behind a curtain. She is having her hands painted with henna and turmeric

by skilled noblewomen in preparation for the imminent ceremony. As she waits for her designs to dry, she hears a group of Kurum's closest male friends arriving in high spirits, bringing gifts of money and jewels to her family. As the men disappear inside the house, there's another sound, a heavy thudding that seems to shake the ground beneath her. She peeks out from behind the curtain to catch a glimpse through a window. There she sees an elephant plodding towards the house, its noble trunk swinging from side to side, and on its back, a groom-to-be. She takes in his muscular physique and barrel chest as he cuts a mighty figure perched high

on the beast. Not far behind in the procession is Jehangir, the man who is about to become her father-in-law. When Kurum has dismounted, she secretly watches as father and son prepare to enter her home, with the emperor tying a marriage tiara of shining pearls on his son's head. Soon it's time. With her hands adorned, her face made up, and dressed in all her finery, Ajumand at last emerges

from behind the curtain. She shyly gives her consent to the marriage, as is demanded by tradition. With that formality out of the way, she watches on as her family exchange gifts with Kurums. Her eyes dazzle as light reflects off a succession of stunning and costly gemstones. The ceremony drawing to a close, she waits as Kurum holds out his hands to have them washed in rose water. Then he drinks a goblet of water to confirm their union. Now, as husband and wife, the couple make their way outside to a celebratory feast hosted by Arjumand's father. Musicians fill the air with sweet music, backed by the joyful beating of drums.

The wedding party shares in a lavish feast. There is a seemingly never-ending cavalcade of delicious rice dishes and subtly spiced meats, served with raisins, almonds and pistachios. A whole grilled goose filled with lamb mince steals the show, and there are mouth-watering exotic fruits in sugary syrups. As the guests fill their bellies, the sky explodes with fireworks. fill their bellies. The sky explodes with fireworks. Kurum and Arjumand gaze into each other's eyes. He can hardly suppress his grin as he looks upon her. The wedding celebration has been almost five years in the making, but it has all been worth the wait. A little over ten months after their wedding, Ajamund gives birth to a daughter in Agra.

However, hopes of an easy life of married bliss do not last long, as dynastic squabbles soon begin to boil over in the royal household. Shah Jahangir is overly fond of wine and opium, and his newest wife, Nurmahal, is becoming an increasingly potent force, the power behind the throne. But she doesn't favor Khurram to succeed her husband. But she doesn't favor Khurram to succeed her husband. Instead, she supports Khurram's younger brother, Shariar, who is not only her stepson, but also her son-in-law, having married her daughter from a previous marriage. Concerned for his future chances of claiming the throne, Khurram launches a move against his father in 1622. But after a year of bitter war, the coup fails,

and Khurram flees to southern Rajasthan. He and Ajumand remain in the political wilderness for four years, until eventually Jahangir forgives him and he returns to life at the royal court. returns to life at the royal court. Just a year later, in 1627, Jahangir succumbs to a severe cold while traveling to Lahore. His death reignites the succession crisis. In one camp, Khurram, backed by his wife's influential father. In the other, Shari'ah, supported by Arjuman's aunt, Nur Mahal. Arjuman's father moves quickest. He manages to isolate his sister while Khurram defeats his brother on the battlefield. Executing those whom he fears might move against him, including his brother and nephews, Khurram ascends to the throne in 1628. He is now Shah Jahan, and Ajumand becomes Mumtaz Mahal.

Though sources differ on the exact number of wives he takes, she is by now one of at least three, but she is irrefutably his favorite. It has been a bloody path to power, but now that he has it, his reign is characterized by general stability. Shah Jahan was creative right from the beginning when he was a prince. A bit extraordinary compared to his brothers. He was full of love for his family, his wife, particularly Mamtaaz, and his brothers. He was full of love for his family,

his wife, particularly Mamtaz, and his children. Full of grit and determination because he had to fight for the throne. He was a good administrator. Shah Jahan rebuilt the imperial treasury from scratch by taking a series of fiscal measures which were successful. He initiates reforms that centralize and systemize administration across the empire.

Vitally, he overhauls the tax system so that he has plenty of money to play with. This allows him to begin indulging his desire to expand the architectural grandeur of his realm. His rule ushers in the golden age of Mughal architecture. From his royal palace in Agra, the Shah nurtures a community of craftspeople, artists, and architects from across the empire. They oversee the construction of a succession of landmark projects, including large parts of the Agra Fort, Delhi's Red Fort,

and the Jama Masjid, which is still one of India's largest mosques. The Shah is also responsible for commissioning the legendary jewel-encrusted Peacock Throne, reputedly one of history's most valuable treasures. At his side throughout is Mumtaz Mahal. She is not only a lover and soulmate, but a trusted advisor in political matters. She has also borne him no fewer than 13 children. And now, in the late summer of 1631, she is pregnant again, aged 38. Accompanying her husband on his latest military campaign, she is quartered in a palace fortress in the city of Buranpur on the river Tapati, some 500 miles from Agra. It's June the 16th when she goes into labor.

One of her older daughters is by her side, and her husband is in an adjacent chamber. It's agonizing. Hour stretching into hour, day into night into morning. For thirty hours, midwives and doctors toil around her, trying to get the baby out. Then at last, the room fills with the cries of a newborn, a little girl. But there is no sense of joy, because Mumta's mahal lies motionless, blood-soaked and barely conscious. Shah Jahan is sent for immediately.

When he goes to his wife, she momentarily rouses, but then she is gone, a victim of postpartum hemorrhage. As is Islamic custom, her body is bathed, wrapped in a shroud, and quickly taken away for burial. She is carried to a nearby Mughal pleasure garden, where she's put in a temporary tomb. Her head points northwards and her face is angled towards Makkah al Mukarramah, known in the English-speaking world as Mecca. There is widespread mourning at news of the

loss. The grief-stricken emperor disappears from public view. And once she was dead, Shah Jahan was totally devastated. Obviously, there was a very strong bond, attachment, love between the two and it was a natural

outcome of that. For a week, he did not appear in the oriel window or jharukha, which was a regular royal ritual, when Mughal emperors appear on the balcony to show themselves to their subjects who assembled outside. The intensity of the grief turned his hair grey. For the next two years he abstained from music, nor did he put on magnificent dress or wore jewellery. At Eid and other such festive occasions he wept bitterly, lamenting

the loss of the most loved of all his wives. For a while it seems that Shah Jahan might turn his back on the empire he has fought so hard to rule. Shah Jahan also once remarked that but for the divine duty laid upon him by God, he would have divided his empire among his sons and retired. And there were so many courtiers, including from the family of Mumtaz Mahal, who impressed upon him that no matter how much the grief was, he had the duty to rule and he had to run a large empire. and therefore he had tremendous responsibility and slowly and gradually Shah Jahan began to realize that he had to live with the grief

but he also had to rule. Plans are made to transfer his wife's body back to Agra. In a golden coffin surrounded by soldiers she is carried in a procession passing through villages, towns and cities. Vast crowds line the route, paying their respects. By the time she reaches Agra, the emperor has taken possession of the garden on the banks of the Yamuna. Mumtaz Mahal is laid to rest there, and a small, domed building is raised over her coffin.

and a small domed building is raised over her coffin. But in his grief, Shah Jahan has been developing something much grander nearby to honour her memory. In the designs, he is tapping into a rich cultural heritage. There was a tradition of magnificent funerary architecture in Central Asia in Iran. The two regions which were culturally connected with the Mughal Empire. Therefore, it was natural that he would build a magnificent monument as the mausoleum of somebody he deeply loved and missed. And truly, he put his energy and resources into the construction of the Taj as a symbol of love. The identity of the architects he uses is uncertain and much disputed.

What is not is the unique confluence of inspirations. The combination of different architectural styles, Iranian, Central Asian, a bit of European in the Petra Dura decoration, which gives the monument a very unique, colorful character, considering that it's all white. It's neither Iranian nor Central Asian, nor Islamic. It's a unique admixture of different traditions, including the Mughal tradition,

because Shah Jahan introduced many of his own ideas and designs. So it, in a sense, transcends many big and small traditions. That is what perhaps makes it unique and a distinct Mughal monument. That you do not find anything that could match the majesty and beauty of the Taj. He employs trusted hands from his previous building projects to oversee the construction. And in 1632, he moves back permanently from Burhanpur to Agra from where he can keep an eye on progress. Over the course of several months, he works closely with his architectural team.

After many meetings, he signs off on a design that covers a plot measuring about 1,000 by 1,800 feet. Building gets underway in the early part of 1632. As construction hastens, there are as many as 20,000 labourers on site at any one time. The Shah pays for 1,000 elephants, along with mules and oxen, to transport materials. The weight of the dome alone is estimated at 12 tonnes. The first thing is the scale of the monument. The mausoleum is only one part of the complex,

albeit the most significant. In most garden tombs, you have the tomb situated in the middle of the garden. But in this case, it's quite extraordinary that it's towards the end and beyond the monument is the river. If you take this whole thing into account, this entire space, from the river to the end point of the complex, the forecourt, then its scale is staggering. The centerpiece is, of course, the mausoleum, in which Mumtaz Mahal is to lie. It is hewn from the finest Makrana marble.

White marble was chosen because white is the color of renunciation in India. When Shah Jahan's father Jahangir died, his wife Noor Jahan always wore white. Shah Jahan himself did that after the death of Mumtaz Mahal for quite some time. So his choice of this particular stone and colour is also significant. It includes a spectacular double dome. The internal one rises 80 feet, giving an intimate feel to Mumtaz Mahal's final resting place, not to mention an ethereal echo. But the exterior dome climbs much higher, to 240 feet.

Chronicles describe it as resembling a guava or a flower bulb. The celebrated Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore will later describe it as a teardrop on the cheek of time. Around it are four domed kiosks resembling the claw of a ring surrounding the gem of the main dome. And the entire mausoleum sits on a vast marble plinth surrounded by four tapering minarets with a slight outward lean. As a marvelous piece of funerary architecture, not only in the Mughal Empire, but anywhere, the use of white marble, prominent double dome, tapering minarets, exquisite calligraphy with black stone, all set in a complex of red sandstone, gave an extraordinary visual character to this architectural venture.

But the complex includes many other buildings as well, rising in red stone and brick. To the west of the mausoleum, a three-domed mosque, and opposite, to maintain perfect symmetry, an identical guesthouse. At the other end of the plot is an ornate gatehouse, and beyond that, a forecourt with accommodation for attendants and enough room for several bazaars. A ten-mile earthen ramp is constructed to bring materials to the complex. As the building gets higher and higher, supervisors design a complex pulley system to lift the stonework into place. Meanwhile, the gardens are divided into four equal sections.

One large water channel dissects it down its length and is crossed by a secondary channel at its midway point. The planting beds in each quarter, sewn with assorted flowers and trees, are picked out by pathways. The aim of the gardens is to evoke what are called the holy abodes of paradise. The workforce are pushed hard, but it seems a remarkably harmonious place to work. The project coincides with a generally calm period of Mughal history. There is political and fiscal stability, and no major distractions for

the Shah to contend with. Moreover, the Taj provides a boon for the local economy, and good quality work for thousands. We should also remember that there was a pool, a very large pool of free wage laborers. And since it was a mausoleum, it could not have been built using coercion or slave labor or any other form of labor which was not considered to be pure and irreligious. So it's important to remember that the sentiments that are attached to the building of a mausoleum,

which is a holy place, you have to keep in mind that everything is to be done by the book. And you do not deviate. You do not employ any measure which goes against the spirit of the religious protocol that guide the building of Mausoleum.

While the Taj will appear like a vision in white from a distance, its exact tone changing with the ebb and flow of sunlight, The marble is, in fact, intricately decorated. The mausoleum is adorned with Quranic inscriptions, rendered in the most beautiful flowing calligraphy. This work is overseen by a Persian master of the art, Aminat Khan, who has the honor of being the only person allowed to inscribe their name on the tarch,

something he does twice. Other artists carve mostly floral designs into the stone, irises, lilies, lotuses, tulips, and more. Master craftsmen inlay over 40 varieties of colored stones and precious gems. There is jade from China, jasper from the Punjab, turquoise from Tibet, diamonds from Pana, sapphires from Arabia, and other stones from distant regions of India, Ceylon, and Afghanistan. The work stretches from months into years. from months into years. But in 1643, on the 12th anniversary of Mumtaz's death,

Shah Jahan is for the first time able to mourn her at the ceremonial feast of Urz inside her tomb. Her body has recently been moved to its final resting place from its temporary home where it had been since before building began on the tash it will be another five years before all embellishments to the mausoleum are complete and the entire complex is not finished until 1653 but it is now a usable space Anyone who sees the Taj, whether from near or far, cannot help but be awestruck. But for the time being, it is to be a private, not a public space. The monument was not open for public viewing, in the beginning at least, and only members of the royal family and the close circle of the nobility or elites accompanying royal ladies or the king whenever he went there for prayer or attend the death anniversary observance. They were the ones who were given access to the monument, not the general people.

So frankly, it was a kind of an exclusive private enclave. The Taj is by no means the last great building project of Shah Jahan's reign. In 1638, he had ordered work to commence on a new capital at what is now Old Delhi. Ten years later, he moves his royal court there. But age, grief, and the demands of empire are beginning to catch up with him. He tries to defy time, living like a man much younger, and taking various drugs in a bid to pep himself up. But in September 1657, he falls ill. Chronicles tiptoe around exactly

what is wrong with him, but it seems he has problems with his digestive system and urinary tract. This episode brings into sharp focus the question of his succession, a matter he has had little interest in addressing. But now, a bitter struggle between his four surviving sons by Mumtaz gets underway. Well, in 1658 there was a war of succession between the four sons of Shah Jahan. Although the Mughals did not follow any rule of succession, which was a very clever strategy, political strategy, not to allow an alternative source of power to be built in the lifetime of the emperor. The emperor in this case, Shah Jahan, had been grooming the eldest son Dara Shikoh as his successor. When Dara Shikoh takes the reigns as regent during his father's illness, his three brothers all conspire to take the throne themselves.

After a series of intra-family battles, it is his warrior brother Aurangzeb who emerges victorious. He seeks Shah Jahan's blessing to take over from him, but the emperor, now recovered from his illness, refuses to give it. him, but the emperor, now recovered from his illness, refuses to give it. Aurangzeb declares his father unfit to rule and effectively imprisons him in Agra Fort. He remains there for the next eight years, attended by Jahannara, his favorite daughter by Mumtaz. These are hard years in which all of his sons but Aurangzeb meet violent deaths. So whatever little we know about these years between 1658 and 1666, were years of sorrow and sadness and depression and lack of ability to do anything about what was happening in the empire.

But there is at least one comfort to be found in his cell. Perhaps the only solace he could have was looking at the monument from the window of his palace. The monument was visible, particularly during the full moon. It was marble sparkles in moonlight. And there are a couple of recordings of how Shah Jahan reacted when he looked at the monument. So I suppose the Taj was a major source for him to go back in time and think about his life with Mumtaz Mahal and the days they spent together, the days of happiness. So all these memories must have crossed his mind and must have derived some solace, some strength from these memories. Early one morning in January 1666, Jahanira sits on a carpet by her father's bed,

reading him passages from the Quran. But he is unattentive, distracted. He has fallen ill again, with symptoms similar to those he suffered when the dynastic dispute between his sons exploded eight years ago. Feverish and desperately thirsty, he asks to be moved nearer to a balcony, where he can get a better view of the Taj. A last look. Jahanira stays close, and she can sense life is ebbing from him. His eyelids close, and with that, Shah Jahan is dead.

Aurangzeb denies Jahanara the grand funeral she requests for their father. Instead, his body is quietly transported to the Taj, where it is put to rest in a tomb next to his beloved Mumtaz. Aurangzeb rules for almost another 40 years, and the empire expands to its greatest extent. But after him, it goes into decline. A number of emperors come in for short reigns, and the Mughals suffer territorial losses. They are not so financially well off as they once were either, and the tightening of the purse strings shows as the Taj falls into a state of disrepair. In 1739 Delhi is raided by the Persians, who plunder the city and take away treasures including

the Peacock Throne. plunder the city and take away treasures including the peacock throne. As the 18th century progresses, the Taj also falls prey to looters. The Jats, a rising military force in northern India, are accused of stealing a set of bejeweled silver gates and of carting off marble and sandstone for their own palace complexes. Other groups get in on the act and by the turn of the century, carpets, jeweled canopies, and wall hangings have all disappeared. By now, Britain wields vast power over swathes of India via the British East India Company, a commercial entity that effectively acts as a military and administrative force for the British state.

In 1803, it occupies Agra, and within seven years, a comprehensive survey of the Taj is backed up by initial restoration works. But there is a disconnect between Shah Jahan's vision for the complex and how the British regard it. and how the British regard it. It's the 1830s, a balmy Saturday evening in February, out on the Taj's marble terrace. An Englishman perspires in his formal evening wear. He, a mid-ranking company official who has transported his family to India, takes the hand of his wife, resplendent in a powder blue silk dress. The pair would not look out of place in any of London's most fashionable ballrooms.

Beneath Shah Jahan's famous dome, an orchestra plays a quadrille. The man leads his wife to the dance floor where, with three other couples, they perform a series of choreographed steps every move is caught in the gleam of the Chinese lanterns that illuminate the terrace it is a poignant moment for the couple just a few months since their friend 31 year old Barbara Duncan wife of a doctor from back home, lost her life here. That, too, had been at a Saturday night of revelry, until the unfortunate lady lost her balance while sitting on a parapet overlooking the terrace, crashing to the floor below. Vitage has long been a focal point for carousing by company men and their loved ones. Banquets are a frequent occurrence.

The mosque to one side of the Taj has even been rented out as holiday cottages to honeymooning couples, in stark contrast to its original intended purpose. Tonight, the couple raise knowing eyebrows at each other as they pass one of his colleagues cosying up to a woman they have not seen him with before. At least he's not lying on the grass, drunk, senseless, like the soldier they spotted on their way here. The orchestra finishes its quadrille to a chorus of polite laughter and applause. The man and his wife retreat from the dance floor

past a wall which she notices has a pair of English names etched into it. It has been a tradition to turn up with hammers and chisels to chip out the souvenirs from around the cenotaphs of the Shah and his empress. They settle at a quiet table, where the gentleman pulls out a chair for his wife. But before he can even sit down, a servant scurries over, a bottle of champagne in hand. With a gesture of approval from the Englishman, the servant pops the cork and pours for them both, before discreetly heading off to top up the guests. before discreetly heading off to top up the guests. There is nothing quite like an evening here.

Just as at the courtly bazaar where the Shah first met his mumtaz, it's a place to see and be seen. At once deliciously exotic and comfortingly familiar, a London-style night on the town transferred to a setting rooted in an entirely different culture. There are already plans to come back for the next scheduled soiree in a week or two. But not for a moment is the question raised of whether this is a respectful use of the Taj Mahal. The last hurrah of the now vastly depleted Mughal Empire comes when it joins with fellow Indian allies to oppose East India Company rule.

They embark on what becomes known as the Indian Rebellion, from which the British emerge victorious in 1857. The Mughal's last emperor is sent into exile, marking the end of his realm. The British state now assumes control in place of the British East India Company and the age of the British Raj begins, a new era for the Taj. A new era including the Taj, were documented, preserved, repaired. Some changes also took place in the landscape of many garden monuments, including the Taj. So generally speaking, the attitude of the British administrators towards the Taj was positive because it was an extraordinary monument.

It was something that made Indian architecture look quite extraordinary on world scale. That was something that they were quite conscious about. In 1899, Lord Curzon becomes Viceroy of India, the monarch's chief representative. He considers restoration of the Taj a personal mission, but one he undertakes with British sensibilities. He authorizes sweeping and often controversial changes to the complex, not least in the gardens, which are cultivated much more along the lines of an English park. Out go the trees and flowers and in come neat lawns to create an entirely different vista. It is true that Curzon converted the Mughal garden into an English garden. There he intervened

culturally in a very big way. He believed that many rich architectural traditions came to India from outside and there was nothing wrong in the introduction of a new European element. He believed that India's imported heritage was rich because of the cross-fertilization of Byzantine, Iranian, Central Asian traditions, the best of these traditions. And in one of his speeches delivered in 1900, he argued that the British too were agents of architectural transformation. But within India, the tide is turning against British rule, spearheaded by Mahatma Gandhi's National Congress. The call for Britain to relinquish India to the control of the Indian people is irresistible. In 1947, the British Raj comes to an end,

its Indian empire reconfigured as independent India and Pakistan. The Taj Mahal sits within the boundaries of the new India, and there is a sense that it is returned to the people who created it. And there is a sense that it is returned to the people who created it. During the national movement and after independence in 1947, there was obviously a reaction. A reaction that Lord Curzon's attempt to change the character of the garden of the Taj from Mughal to English was something that was not acceptable. And so it is reinvented again.

Not as an Islamic mausoleum, a product of Mughal multiculturalism, or even a symbol of British imperial power, but as a totem of Indian statehood. The Taj is a national monument now. It has a different character. If you follow Shah Jahan's logic, the head of the state is the trustee of the monument. The monument belongs to the people of India. They have access to the monument.

It's a public monument. Therefore, everybody could go and see. It is definitely considered as one of the most majestic monuments in India today. It's very difficult to forget that it was built through the labor of hundreds and thousands of Indian people and laborers. From the money that was obtained from ordinary peasants of India. In 1983, UNESCO declares the Taj a World Heritage Site, citing it as the jewel of Muslim art in India

and one of the universally admired masterpieces of world heritage. The journey from national symbol to global icon is complete. The journey from national symbol to global icon is complete. And it continues to draw high-ranking visitors from around the world. In February 1992, the most photographed woman in the world, Diana, Princess of Wales, is in Agra. She is on a tour of India with her husband, Prince Charles, heir to the British crown. The Taj throngs with paparazzi, and as he arrives, the cameras start to flash with ferocious intensity, the journalists desperate for the shot that might make a fortune.

Diana, dressed in a purple skirt and red jacket, takes up a position on a bench in front of the Taj. There have recently been rumors of troubles in the royal marriage, and now here she sits, hands clasped on her knees, a lonely figure in front of the world's greatest monument to love. It becomes an iconic image. Though the Taj's power as a symbol of romantic love remains unrivaled, today highlights a relationship where many suspect such romance is dying. The Taj fascinates in other ways, too, with rumors forever swirling around it. One that particularly grips the popular imagination is that Shah Jahan had plans for a twin mausoleum of his own,

across the river from the Taj, built not from white marble, but from complementary black stone instead. It's an appealing notion, and despite the lack of firm evidence, one that continues to attract attention from academics and non-academics alike. Into the 21st century, the Taj continues as a cultural touchstone,

receiving over 7 million tourists each year. But it also reflects some of the difficulties facing Indian, and indeed global, society. In an era when nationalistic politics have risen to the fore within India, it is at the center of a tug-of-war between opposite schools of thought. On one side, those who regard it as a pinnacle of Islamic cultural achievement. On the other, those who trace its origins to Hinduism, whose adherents, they say, raised a temple on the site centuries before. This argument is championed by, among others,

figures within India's incumbent ruling party, the BJP. Even so, the Indian High Court and the Archaeological Survey of India both refute the suggestion. Then there are environmental threats. Acid rain and air pollution have taken their toll. Meanwhile, the pollution of the river Yumuna has led to an increase in algae, fueling the proliferation of masses of insects whose droppings also damage the exteriors. The river's water level is falling too, with potential dangers to the Taj's foundations.

The government of India, including the Archaeological Survey of India, which is the body dedicated to preserving monuments, protecting and preserving, are both taking measures time to time to repair, to allow the monument to retain its splendor, like shutting down refineries or places of emission, which cast a dark imprint on the Taj. The river which flows at the back of the monument needs to be cleaned.

That is not happening. So there are shortcomings in the project to make the Taj a better and better national monument, but efforts are still on. As it heads towards 400 years old, the Taj remains a timeless symbol of marital devotion. It is awesome, not only in its physical scale and beauty, but in its demonstration of humankind's creative spirit and imagination, and in its symbolism of India itself. But it is also a building whose meaning evolved over time. There are those who want to employ it for their own divisive ends, yet it manages to continue to be a largely unifying structure.

95% of the people I have met in the Taj during my innumerable visits were Indians. All kinds of Indians, belonging to different regions, cultures, castes, communities. If you speak to them, one could see the admiration they have for the monument. And in this admiration and the reaction they have, there is hardly any sectarian element or any element of bigotry. And that really is what India is all about. Harmony, unity and diversity. And as long as Indians hold on to the notion of cultural harmony, tolerance, tolerance of diversity, and a belief that anything

that is of national importance is theirs, is their heritage, and it doesn't belong to any individual or a group. People also appreciate this monument as a symbol of love and admire the degree and intensity of that love which gave birth to this monument, which was the raison d'etre of this monument. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of the dam busters. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of the Dam Busters. Well, flying a heavy multi-engine aircraft deep into unfamiliar, heavily defended enemy territory by moonlight at 60 to 100 feet can't be considered anything but extremely dangerous. It was pure muscle power and concentration for some six to seven hours.

There were no power assisted controls or fly-by-wire. A moment's lapse of concentration could have meant disaster. That's next time.