Back to the past-1

Here’s my latest story, hope you all enjoy it. It will be having 3 parts.

History is a journey, a journey to the past. It is journey that is embarked upon to discover new lands, new people, new ideologies and new stories. It is a journey into the golden times of the world, as well as a journey into the black times. Sometimes, the journey is fruitful but at other times, it is something we would never even think about.  I am Abha, a historian. My encounter with history cost me much more than what I thought it would.

I am a tall and fair youth from Pune. My bob-cut silky hair trickles down my neck and shines bright brown. I have a dusky complexion with freckles all over my face. My natural and makeup-less face might be a bit too plain for others, but for me, it is a representation of myself and the ideals I follow. I am simple and unique, unlike most of the others. My experience with struggle has taught me lots about how life is lived. My search for happiness has been one with a goal, but without a road. I have had to build this road with my blood and sweat.

I come from an orthodox Hindu family, where women are perceived as good only for household work. I was born and brought up in Ahmednagar, a village near Pune.  Though I come from an orthodox family, I was sent to a school, much to the disapproval of my devout grandmother.

I started studying and really enjoyed Hindi, Marathi, and Social Science. Without these subjects, I would be like a lifeless corpse. Social Science especially was oxygen to my lungs, mirchi to my Kolhapuri bhaaji, the extra 3 yards to my usual 6 yards saree and as good as any sweet that I used to be treated with during festivals. Unfortunately, I was taught household work from an early age, and Social Science was a pleasure that I would get very rarely. I was removed from school after 10^th grade. My marriage was fixed with a boy from my caste.

But I ran away. I felt choked with all the customs and traditions and I just couldn’t live my life freely. I had saved some money, and on the day before my marriage, I ran away. I took a bus to Pune.

It wasn’t easy to settle down in Pune. It was not just physical trauma, but I also faced mental trauma. My thoughts kept going back to how my family would be treated by the society. But I stood strong and continued to struggle to chase my dreams. I got a job as domestic help in the house of a Punjabi family. I lived as their caretaker and took care of their 1 year old child. My mistress was a really nice lady, and she sponsored my education. I gave my 12^th Board exams soon. I passed with flying colors.

I took up Humanities with the subjects History, Economics, Political Science and Psychology. I worked and went to college simultaneously. My days were tiring but it was worth it. I graduated from a Government college with an excellent percentage. I did my post-graduation from Fergusson College. I got a job in the Archeological Survey of India. I left my home and shifted to Delhi.

I shifted my base to the Government quarters in Delhi. I had grown quite attached to Pune and hence found it tough to shift to Delhi. Unlike Pune, Delhi was a very polluted and populated city. The language and food were also different. I found it difficult, but ultimately I settled well in Delhi.

I was hired as an archeologist. My happiness knew no bounds. I had got my dream job and excited to be a part of this new experience and hoped that it would be worth my hard work.

 My first job was to visit Agra and research on the mystery of the Black Taj Mahal. I had read up quite a bit on the Mughal era, and it continued to fascinate me. The aura of the Mughal era is unmatchable.

It is said that after Shah Jahan had built the Taj Mahal, he had decided to build a Black Taj for himself. According to theories, he had laid the foundation for this monument but wasn’t able to complete it as he was captured by his son and successor, Aurangzeb. My research has led me to believe that Black Taj couldn’t have existed as according to the Islamic code, a body has to be buried facing towards Mecca (in the west direction). This wouldn’t have been possible if Shah Jahan’s body was buried in this Black Taj. Recently, some black segments had been found near the Taj, and I had been asked to investigate. So, I went to Agra.

It was on my trip to Agra that I first encountered history. My arrival in Agra was sudden. I was informed in the morning that I had to leave for Agra in the afternoon.

Agra is a beautiful city. Agra is known for two things- the ethereal Taj Mahal and the sumptuous petha. Both these white wonders make Agra a place worth visiting. This was the first time I was visiting the Taj. I didn’t really have much time, and could only catch a glimpse of it. The Taj is a really incredible monument! Its beauty is truly marvelous. I didn’t see much of it, but even a choti nazar of the Taj got my adrenaline rushing and my heart beating fast.

I was sent in a group and since it was my first assignment, I was mostly kept in the dark about what was happening. So, I decided to venture out on my own. We were at our site of research and instead of scattering and examining different places; we were all concentrated to only one part of the site.

I started moving in the left direction. I don’t know what had happened to me, but I just felt attracted towards the left. Some unknown force was attracting me. I had no control over my senses.

As I was walking towards my unknown force, I noticed that it had started to get dark. I glanced at my watch and realized that it was late evening. I had been moving in this direction for the past 1 hour, and it was pretty late. I tried to move back, but the force didn’t let me.

I arrived near a cave. Its appearance was as ordinary as any other cave, it was made of grey stones and covered with weeds and creepers, but there was certainly something extraordinary about it. I couldn’t point out, but there was something unique about it.