I have always been very clear about my love for Humayun’s tomb. Why a tomb, a place for death, you may ask? When Akbar built the place, he did so to commemorate his father, who died a rather tragic death after falling down the steps of his library. Why then, do I find so much peace and love for the place?
This Sunday, I decided to sit in front of the tomb, in the lawns, and contemplate my emotions for the red-and-white structure, which has enamoured me ever since I came to Delhi more than seven years ago. Writing an ode to Humayun’s tomb will not be enough.
When I walk around the tomb, I can see the past – the grandeur of the Mughal empire. The red walls, through their coldness, speak to me of the love of a son for his father. Nothing can go wrong here – wherever you look, you can see the blue minaret or the white dome – white, a symbol of such peace and tranquility. If you take a book and sit in the lawns, a lovely wind blows behind your neck, as if soothing you and blending you into the peaceful existence.
Thousands of people visit Humayun’s tomb every day. But, once I am there, all I can hear is the sound of the wind and the birds. All I can see is the tomb, standing in all its grandeur, beckoning me to be calm and think only good things.
Monuments span beyond time and religion, for they belong to everyone, yet belong to no-one. The Taj Mahal may be a symbol of love for the world, but Humayun’s tomb is a symbol of peace and tranquility. When I play a song in my mind and walk around the monument, I feel a spring in my step, a twinkle in my eye. All my troubles wash away and I can only see the expanse of the red walls in front of me, as if telling me that life is way more beautiful than I can imagine it to be.
Which is why I will always love Humayun’s tomb, and rightly so.