WE woke up Christmas Eve morning in a town called Firozabad, just under 50km from Agra.

It was to be the day we will finally arrive in Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, the first of the Seven Modern Wonders of the world which we have set out to reach  by bicycle. 

It was a sunny but cold morning. We set up the bikes and prepared to ride the last few miles to Agra. I don’t know about Ving Lee, but the occasion was certainly not lost on me.

After 115 days, we were finally knocking on the doors of Agra. Just before we set off, I reached out to shake my riding partner’s hand, as if to say “Well done and enjoy the moment. We’re almost there”. In truth, I was just hoping that the final run to Agra will be smooth and incident-free. You just can’t take anything for granted. 

As we neared Agra, Ving was counting down the distance as he was navigating: “10km more!” he’d yell. “5km!” he’d say next, and we finally hit town.

Honestly, I didn’t know how I felt at the time. Excited, yet strangely indifferent at the same time. It was bizarre, but also likely because we had to manoeuvre in almost standstill traffic leading to the famed mausoleum.

Ving and I decided to head to the Taj Mahal and steal a sneak peek of her from off the main thoroughfare. She had looked rather unspectacular from where we were. 

We found our homestay not too far away and settled in before heading out for dinner. Found a rooftop bistro which wasn’t such a good idea since it was cold at night. Midnight came and we toasted ourselves and wished each other a Merry Christmas, some 6,000km from home. I think we both felt homesick then.

On the morning of Christmas Day, we prepared to head to the Taj Mahal. This is it, I punched the air, the excitement palpable. We found our way to the West Gate and made a beeline towards the main entrance. Strangely, at the time, I remained indifferent despite the excitement. Considering we had traversed about 8,000km to get here, it felt at the time like we had just arrived at yet another tourist spot. 

The queue to enter the grounds of Taj Mahal was as daunting as it was disheartening. It snaked on forever with thousands of folks filing by to get in. A registered guide approached us, and for a fair fee, he would get us in minus the queue. It was a no-brainer, so we engaged his services and got in without much hassle.

We weren’t, however, allowed to bring in our Malaysian flag which was a huge disappointment. Despite my protests, I suppose it was understandable since anyone could then bring in a banner with unsavoury messages splashed over it.

Our guide, Nizam, briefed us about the history of the Taj Mahal amid a crowd large enough to fill a football stadium. We went through the motions like any other tourist although it would be a rather unfair comparison, I thought. We told Nizam how we had gotten there and he expressed disbelief. Naturally we felt a quiet delight, as one would, and I think Nizam quickly understood the significance of our visit to this monument.

We jostled with the crowd through the North Gate, and we caught our first glimpse of the Taj Mahal. She looked imposing yet gracious at the same time in all of her white splendour and symmetrical perfection. We hurriedly took pictures while wrestling for space with the other visitors. And then I took a few steps back away from the crowd. 

And just stared at her from what little space I had.

It was then that my first emotions surfaced. To have a chance to finally appreciate our accomplishments in getting there. I thought of my loved ones, living and those departed.

I thought of close friends, the good people we encountered along the way, the highs and lows and we have had to navigate to get there, and the children for whom we ride for.

And then the floodgates opened.

Quiet tears streamed under my sunglasses. It was a moment of satisfaction, as if to say, “I’ve come a long way to see you and I’m here now”. Those quiet tears turned into sobs, which answered the question I’ve always held at the back of my mind: “What’s it going to feel like when we get to the Taj Mahal?”

In between sobs, I caught a glimpse of Nizam who had always maintained a respectful distance. I believe he saw everything yet was astute enough to allow me space to appreciate that moment on my own. He will never know this, but I truly appreciated him for that.

We continued with the tour and managed to slip in a livefeed for our Facebook page despite the crowd. We entered the mausoleum and did the tourist routine, which led me to conclude that the Taj Mahal is most beautiful when admired from a distance rather than up close. 

We concluded our tour and were making our way out of the grounds when I turned around to give her one long final look. As if to say goodbye, knowing deep down that I am unlikely to ever see her again. To know that she will remain frozen where she is when I’m long gone from this earth. To better appreciate our fleeting existence in this world when compared to this captivating sight before me. 

As we walked towards the exit, I swung my arms around Ving, broke out in a smile and said “One down six to go, my friend.” The enormity of the task ahead soon dawned on us. 

Onwards to the next Wonder of the World, in Jordan. 

You may follow our journey on Facebook and Instagram (SevenWunders) for daily updates or simply read about it right here on The Malaysian Insight. 

Do support our cause in creating more awareness and raising funds for childhood cancer on behalf of the National Cancer Society of Malaysia (NCSM).  – January 12, 2018.

To contribute:

Public Bank Acc: 3988587622

The National Cancer Society of Malaysia 

Ref: Ride for Gold 

Or online

Peoplegiving.org

http://bit.ly/7Wunders

 *David Wu is riding a bicyle around the world with Ving Lee to raise awareness on children with cancer. The Malaysian Insight is the media partner for the Seven Wunders initiative.

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* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.