The mausoleum under the Moonbeam

“Locker mein valuables rakh deejiye” says a soft voice of a sturdy yet polite IPS Officer
Our bodies get frisked by the men in uniform, while the heat beats us down
We crawl towards the ride that will take us to the most spectacular Mausoleum ever built

A brief ride on the rickety bus but enough time to strike conversations with strangers
A tourist from Japan, some Environmental students from Boston, a couple from Israel
All eager because this event only happens for five times a month on full moonlit nights

The streets are now deserted compared to what we witnessed in the day
Motorists at the late hour still honk by, driven perhaps by an urge to be noticed
Clouds begin to envelop the moon and with it some hopes begin to fade

The bus stops and we head to the Chowki manned in the night by the men in camouflage
We get frisked again and are escorted into the compound by the retinue of men in uniform
The eerie quietness a stark contrast to the madness we witnessed a few hours before
the quietude broken rhythmically by the boots of the soldiers

When you see it in the day you are mesmerized by its beauty
In the dark you are stunned by its ghostly perfection
The moon isn’t able to break free from the clouds but it does not matter as magnificence cannot be concealed

The dome glows, the minarets frame the wonder and the square plinth showcase its strength
We are so awestruck that we cannot stand and slowly trudge backwards and settle down onto the steps
Our eyes truly a window that connects this rocky brilliance to our souls

Its time and the loud whistle signals the end of our viewing of the grave of Mumtaz
As I gather myself I hear a sniffle or two and notice my own tears that have escaped 
They are a silent homage to the epitome of longing built with marble....