Boycotting Valentine's Day

The story surrounding the Taj Mahal for me epitomizes love. Since young, I have been fascinated by Emperor Shah Jahan's achievement in building his deceased wife, Mumtaz Mahal, a beautiful mausoleum over her grave. It may have taken years, it may have resulted in the maiming (and even the deaths) of skilled artisans who worked on the monument, but nevertheless I cannot help but be deeply moved whenever I encounter a picture of the Taj Mahal. The mausoleum, which still stands to this day, serves as a witness from a time long past, to Shah Jahan's undying love for his wife.

Of course, this is the stuff of romantic legends that might impress a young girl, as I certainly was when I heard the story many eons ago. But now that I am older, my sceptical (and mildy suspicious mind) suggests that there might not have been such a great love between Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. After all, Shah Jahan had numerous concubines, and the modern day conception of true love necessitates monogamy in body and soul. Can one comprehend what true love is when one has experiences with multiple love partners? I do not have an answer to that; I can only speak from my vantage point, and what I could say may be only tainted with my modern day sensibilities.

Still, the mausoleum stands to evoke an emotion from me that no candy, no flowers, no teddy bears can. In its face, celebrating Valentine's Day seems to me almost sacrilegious. The generic red I-Love-You Valentine cards featuring insipid cupids and banal-looking bears, the exorbitant prices florists charge for red roses, the frantic hairdressers busy with women styling hair for a night out, the bustling fine restaurants turning away couples that were too dumb not to have made reservations. This is the one day when couples are required to demonstrate their love for one another - if not today, when then?

Ten years ago, I met my partner. During his first visit to my tiny student apartment, he pointed out to the poster I had of the Taj Mahal in the living room, and to the little pin-up of another view of the Taj Mahal on the noteboard on my bedroom door. Why are you so enamoured with the Taj Mahal? You are not even an Indian, he exclaimed.

Never did I imagine at that moment, on our very first date, that he was the one I would still be with ten years hence. I have since moved from that tiny apartment, the posters of the Taj Mahal are no longer pinned up on my walls. And I have learned what it means to have someone in my life to share and compliment the wholeness of what I feel emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, educationally, and in so many other ways.

Maybe we exchanged cards and flowers early on in our relationship. But I know we have reached the point where it is no longer necessary to do so because the life we have built together is testament enough of something enduring.

That's my Taj Mahal. And I could not have done it by myself.

Rabindranath Tagore, a poet said of Shah Jahan:
"You know Shah Jahan, life and youth, wealth and glory, they all drift away in the current of time. You strove therefore, to perpetuate only the sorrow of your heart. Let the splendor of diamond, pearl and ruby vanish. Only let this one teardrop, this Taj Mahal, glisten spotlessly bright on the cheek of time, forever and ever."

So too cards, candies, flowers and soft toys, they drift away with time. What I do want, is for us to work on our Taj Mahal, our lasting symbol that will stand the test of time.