essay a visit to a holy place
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visited a holy place..
There are many beautiful and worth seeing historical places in India. But the Taj Mahal of Agra is the most beautiful of all. It is a dream in marble. My friend and I visited that in the last summer vacations. The vision cast a spell over me. It stood in unique majesty. What a fine lay out indeed! This is what one could say on the spot. It looked white on all sides. The green tufts of glass and the green shoots of hot Cyprus trees adorned its majestic beauty. Nature’s beauty made the ground of the building look all the more beautiful.
We went down the staircase. We found the graves of the king and the queen under the dome in a dark chamber. Multicolored pieces of glass and couplets form the Quran decorated the side walls. The four minarets stood as watch men at each of the main building.
A full moonlight followed the next day. We visited the Taj again that night. Its beauty smiled in the silvery light of the moon. It was a memorable scene. My joy knew no bounds when I saw its reflections in the river Jamuna. Clear picture of marble could be seen. I closed my eyes and opened them again to find it was a reality. Nay! It was to a dream.
As god is there to bestow nature’s beauty, man’s hand is there to create wonderful pieces of art and architecture. How could man be so perfect in working out the minute details of art? I am full of wonder even now. And I can still see the beauty of the Taj with my mind’s eye, if at all I desire so. Wheat a great beauty man could create!
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My grandmother is a highly spiritual matron. She goes to the pantheon every day. It is established at a little distance from our home. Last Sunday, I went to the pantheon with my granny.
It was early in the day. As the temple construction appeared, I dropped before it. We went in. I again kneeled before the image of God.
We surmounted the stairs and proceeded up to the place where the photographs were installed. There was a priest who appeared to be a very kind, sympathetic fellow. He was speaking songs with great affection.
Grandmother made sacrifices to the gods. We dropped before the photographs. The priest delivered us `prasad’ and `charanamrit.’ Then we squatted in a corner of the temple. Grandmother expressed some songs which I heard with great dedication.