A big white elephant

I'll whisper it in case anyone from India Tourism is listening: Am I allowed to say that I was disappointed with the Taj Mahal? Because I have a feeling it may actually be illegal to dislike India's most famous monument. And I do feel guilty saying so, as if I have committed an unspeakable crime.

The thing is, I've seen so many photos of it that I already know what it looks like and, well... it looks like the pictures. OK, perhaps I'm over-dramatising a bit. It is a truly beautiful building and its marble has a translucence that is really quite ethereal; the elegance and simplicity of its symmetry is a marvel; the designs and carvings are masterful; and the whole is incredible in its allure, so I'm having to think hard to explain what I didn't like about it.

I think it was more the 'experience' that failed to live up to expectations. Why? Mainly because of the people. Oh my God, the people! Tourists (like me, yes, I admit it) everywhere. Like beastly black ants swarming all over a pristine ice cream cone. They talked, they shouted, the took ridiculous pictures of themselves with the Taj appearing to be in the palm of their hand. They even queued to take photos of themselves sitting on the most photogenically located benches in the garden. In short, they spoiled it. A lot of them seemed more interested in taking photos of the place than actually enjoying the real live building they'd come miles to see.

Maybe it's me, maybe my mind is historically unsophisticated and I'm unable to conceive what the Taj must have been like when it was first built, because I'm distracted by the braying hoardes. Whatever the case, they annoyed me more than I thought it was possible to be annoyed.

Tourists aside, India is its own worst enemy when it comes to seeing the Taj in its best light, simply because you can't. The air pollution is so bad that, from the main entrance, the main building looks all smudgy and grey, as though in a fog, but when you get close to it and look back, the gatehouse is now the smudgy one. The pollution means you can't fully appreciate its beauty from a distance, as intended. The early morning sun, which should give the palace a delicate youthful glow, couldn't even break through the murk on the day I saw it. All those early-risers - me included - had no chance to take photos of it at its best, as there was no real sunrise. How can you love the world's most photographed building when you can't get a good photo of it?

But my disappointment was more than the sum of those two parts. Maybe the Taj is just too grand, just too perfect to be lovable. Like that too-beautiful model in a magazine, it provokes awe certainly and envy, yes, but it's missing something. There's no soul, no character. Even though we know it is a monument to a supposedly monumental love, this doesn't of itself imbue it with anything to love.

To me, it was cool and distant. Everything about it was designed to be perfect, from the symmetry of form to the exquisite materials used and craftsmen employed. It has no 'wonky nose' to find endearing, no 'beauty spot' to temper its beauty.

'Love is never truly blind; it sees the faults but it doesn't mind.' I want to see the faults, otherwise I may as well look at a picture. After all, I've seen it all before...