MAY 24, 2007 -- We arrived in Agra around 2 in the afternoon. Our guide told us to check into our hotel rooms, relax for a bit and then meet back in the lobby at 4 to drive over to the Taj Mahal. Being that this structure is one of the Seven Wonders of the World, I was plenty excited. I also was relieved to know that we'd be viewing the Taj in the late afternoon, because I assumed it would be a bit cooler (read: under 100 degrees). But I was wrong. I believe the temp sat somewhere around 110. It was as if the accumulative heat of the day had soaked into the pavement and was now radiating back toward the sky like a gigantic stove top. I wasn't dismayed though. As far as I knew, this would be the only time in my life that I would view the Taj with my own two eyes. I couldn't be bothered by no stinking heat.There's a really ornate wall that surrounds the Taj, and within those walls there's another enormous gate (sort of the shape of the Arc de Triomphe), so you can't actually see the Taj Mahal until you literally step onto the mausoleum's front lawn. The initial view is quite breath-taking. It almost looks like a white mirage in the distance. Quick executive summary of the structure's history: It was built in the 17th century by Emperor Shah Jahan to enshrine the mortal remains of his queen, Mumtaz Mahal. It took 32 million rupees, 22 years and about 20,000 laborers to build it.
But enough about the Taj. Let's talk about teenagers -- specifically, the Indian teenagers I met that afternoon. Unlike in China, where it seems like the sight of Westerners is "so last year," in India, Westerners are quite a curiosity. Everywhere we went, Indians (in particular, children) openly stared, smiled, nodded at us -- even requested photos with us. That's what I love about traveling: You get to see "minorities" as the majority and YOU are the odd man out. I think every white person should experience this multiple times in life -- just as a reality check. The United States is not the epicenter of the universe. But I digress...
After touring the Taj Mahal (no cameras or shoes allowed inside), we were allotted 45 minutes to roam the grounds on our own. I found my way to a shady spot on the great lawn in front of the Taj and took a seat in the grass. Not long after, two little girls whom I'd photographed earlier came up to me and asked my name and "where from?" They wanted me to take more photos of them. They were gal smileys in action. Too cute.Anyway, after snapping a few photos, I reached into my camera bag and pulled out some stickers of Disney princesses and The Incredibles. I pointed to the stickers and then to the girls, indicating that they could choose their favorites. They smiled big and intently reviewed the selection, finally deciding on Cinderella and Ariel. As I pulled the stickers off the sheet, I suddenly felt the sunlight eclipse overhead. I looked up to see 16 Indian faces -- all teenagers -- peering down on me.
"What is this?" one of the boys inquired.
"Um, they're stickers. You want one?" I showed him The Incredibles and then turned the Disney princess sheet toward the female faces.
This began an excited exchange of the teenagers pointing to their favorite stickers and me slapping the stickers on the backs of their outstretched hands. I assumed that the boys would prefer the superheroes, but funnily enough the Disney girls proved the crowd favorite. I thought it unusual until I looked at these cartoon renderings through foreign eyes. These boys weren't seeing The Little Mermaid, Snow White, Jasmine and Cinderella; they were seeing beauties with long, flowing hair; sparkling, come-hither eyes; and perky boobs. These were the pin-up girls of Walt Disney! Once the stickers were passed out, the teens started interviewing me. What's your name? Where from? (United States was well understood; Texas not so much. "Taxes?" the kids asked. "No, Texas. It's a state in the south," I explained.)
A chorus of voices would echo my every answer.
Me: "My name is Katie."
Teens: "Ahh...Kay-tee. Yes, Kay-tee."
One of the boys placed a piece of torn newspaper and a pen in my hands. "Please write your name."
I carefully wrote K-A-T-I-E as they watched me pen each letter. I smiled up at the boy when I finished, seeking his approval.
"No," he corrected. "Please write ... small letters."
So I wrote my name again, this time in cursive.
"Autograph!" The boy blurted with delight. He took the paper from my hand, examined my penmanship and then shoved the paper in his pocket. His friends were in stitches; he was obviously the class clown.
One of the girls asked if I'd take a photo with them. I agreed but said they had to take one with my camera too. We gathered for a makeshift "class photo" with me as the teacher, I suppose, because they insisted that I sit front and center. The class clown on my left put his arm around my shoulders, as if I were his girl. This created an eruption of squeals and giggles from his pals.
After we'd snapped enough photos to satisfy everyone, we all stood up from the grass to say our good-byes. One by one, I asked each of them their names and then stuck out my hand for a firm handshake and a "Nice to meet you." It was a very American gesture and I could tell the teenagers were getting a kick out of the foreign pleasantries. Once all hands were shaken, I put my hands in prayer position at my heart and wished them all "Namaste." This was a good thing, I believe, as they enthusiastically returned the blessing to me.
Walking away from the kids, I turned once more to look at the Taj Mahal, now bathed in the setting sun's purplish-orange glow. I snapped one last photo of this World Wonder, knowing full well that the most memorable image from that day would be of 16 smiling dark faces -- and one beaming white one.
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