The 7th New Wonder of the World: Taj Mahal

A special day: I am about to see the last of the New Seven Wonders of the World — the Taj Mahal.

From New Delhi, Agra is only a couple of hours away by early-morning or late-evening express train. At other times of day, the journey can take four hours or more. I opt for the faster connection and arrive in Agra early in the morning.

While having breakfast near the railway station, a gentleman approaches me and asks whether I would like to share a taxi back toward New Delhi later — and perhaps explore a bit together. I agree.

His name is David. He’s from New York and, thanks to seasonal work, spends several months each year traveling the world. Throughout the day, we talk about everything from politics to culture to travel philosophies.

But first: the Taj Mahal.

Built between 1632 and 1643, this white marble mausoleum was commissioned by Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his wife, who died during childbirth. Standing before it, I understand why it is so famous. The symmetry, the proportions, the quiet elegance reflected in the nearby Yamuna River — it feels almost unreal.

Later, we visit Agra Fort, the massive red sandstone fortress from which the emperor once ruled. From there, the Taj Mahal is visible in the distance — a poignant reminder that Shah Jahan, imprisoned in his later years, could only gaze at the monument he built for his beloved from afar.

When it’s time to return, the day takes a turn.

David and I head back to the railway station. We say goodbye, and I board what I believe is my train. But soon I realize something is wrong — it’s heading in the opposite direction. The train has already started moving. I barely manage to jump off in time.

It turns out my actual train is departing from another platform. I sprint across, worried I’ll miss it — only to discover the display board showing a three-hour delay. No refund.

Since the delayed train would also take four and a half hours and arrive too late for comfort, I buy a ticket for another train.

I find a bunk in a sleeper compartment — no air conditioning this time, and the heat is intense. Then the ticket inspector arrives and informs me that my ticket is actually for the general compartment. I pay a small extra fee and am allowed to stay.

As if that weren’t enough, I learn that this train does not even go to New Delhi Railway Station. I will need to change trains at the final stop — no new ticket required. So I do.

In the next train, there are only general compartments. Once again, I take my seat as the only white person in the carriage. As always in India, every layer of society is present — families, workers, students, elderly passengers — all sharing the same crowded space.

Late in the evening, I finally arrive back at my hostel. A pleasant surprise awaits me: my missing luggage has arrived. Just in time — because early the next morning, I will be flying across India to the coast.