My heart And time stood still

My heart and time stood still.

I was born in India and remained there until I was ten. At that age me and my brother, two years younger, were bundled up and found ourselves on a boat for England. If I remember correctly only our mother and her personal maid traveled with us. We were told father would join us in a month's time after concluding some business deals. My father had created a large import/ export company in Delhi. He was Indian by birth. A member of a large wealthy family with a collection of brothers and sisters , aunties and uncles. I remember family gatherings were large, noisy but great fun. He had married a beautiful daughter of an English family that owned tea plantations in the south. She had been sent out by her father on a visit to their head office in Delhi. I later learned our decamping from India was due to a dark cloud casted over my father”s business on some taxation matters. It was settled but the government labeled my father for an extended period as a persona non grata. His family thought it would be wise for him to go to London for a few years until the matter had been forgotten. He could pass the day to day handling of his affairs to one of his brothers and develop the London end of his business. His mother suggested as his wife was English, no doubt she would be pleased to relocate to her country and family.

The move from India to London for the first few months for my brother and I was definitely a culture shock. The weather, the food , the absence of a spicy smell, the crowds , no sacred cows, absence of colourful and noisy markets, the streets showed little poverty, and the peculiar feeling of not living in a vast country. We were educated in the classical English manner. Boarding school was followed by the entrance examinations to a top English university. But before our education was completed at a university my father insisted we, my brother and I, both go to India for a week to see his family. I had just been accepted at Cambridge and my brother was in the process of applying. My father and mother had not been back since we left some ten years ago, although there were many phone call, photos exchanged. During that period several members of my father's family and friends found themselves in England. There were plans afoot for my parents to return to India in two or three years time.

Once on the plane to Delhi many of the memories of our younger years came wafting back. The dust, the smells, vivid and colorful street life, women in saris. Once we had landed all those memories became a reality. Father's family were there to meet and spoil us. Questions, hugs and kisses came tumbling from all sides. The next three days consisted of parties, visits, shaking hands and family banquets. On the fourth day my father’s brother insisted we go with one of his daughters, accompanied by his chauffeur to visit the Taj Mahal. He told us we can stay overnight at his youngest sister. She has a house 20 miles from the Taj Mahal.

Going there was a story to be told as it took us about five hours, traffic, sacred cows and stop overs. Finally we stood on the path in front of the mausoleum…TheTaj Mahal. I stood there breathless. It was the most gorgeous building I have even seen. Not only did it have perfect symmetry and balance but the aura of the building touched your soul with a profound emotion of love and purity. It was incredible to think men had been capable of creating such a masterpiece. While I stood there motionless our guide told us that the emperor Shah Jahan had built for his wife as she died in childbirth delivering her 14th child. It took over 20 years employing over 20,000 men. Both husband and wife are buried there. When I came out of my world of wonderment I turned to my brother and said,

“Before I propose to a girl I will bring her here as a test of the meaning of love.”

As we walked down the central aise and came closer to the mausoleum I was able to admire the building's construction made out of white marble, red sandstone, jade, crystal,sapphire, turquoise and other precious and semi precious stones. The juxtaposition of all these materials allow the sunlight to enhance its beauty. When we reached the building I kissed a part of its structure in admiration.

That night at dinner with my father’s sister she insisted we rise early in the morning and before leaving for Delhi go again to the Taj Mahal as it's the time she shows her early morning splendor. We went. The early morning mist covered the great mausoleum in a bed of whispery clouds. As the early morning sun rose the Taj was blanketed in a soft and subtle reddish pink light. It was a magical moment.

My brother and I left India with lifetime memories of being entertained like princes by our father’s family. For me the outstanding occasion was our visit to the Taj Mahal. Its incredible beauty and deep aura of love would be forever branded on my mind and soul. Over the next few months I found our trip to India was often dominating my thoughts, particularly when I left home to start my university education at Cambridge. My father had promised me that if my report card at the end of my first year was satisfactory we would all spend a few days in India. I told my father to book the holiday as I could not wait to reconnect with the Taj Mahal.

It was in my second year of Cambridge that I met Abigail. She, like me, was studying law. She had many qualities I admired. She was intelligent, sophistical, with a great sense of humour. Abigail was also an attractive young woman that clearly understood her place in the world around her. We started seeing quite a lot of each other. Not only did we study together but we started going out together. Then one day she told me she was Jewish the only child of the head rabbi at the great London synagogue Bevis Marks. She said her father would deeply disapprove of their deepening friendship. It could never evolve into something more permanent. Therefore she suggested they reverted to a more casual relationship. My answer to this request was before I agreed I had a proposition for her. In the next two months my parents will be in India. I would love you and your parents to come to India for a week as our guests. Abigail made a very cautious response.

“This is a very unusual invitation. My parents don’t even know I am going out with you.”

“ You can always disguise our attraction for each other by claiming I am just a good university friend and that I have invited her with another of our friends…George . I have already invited the parents of George.”

“These invitations on your parents a great imposition?”

“No, no at all. The family has a large house with servants.”

Two days later Abigail, much to her surprise, told me that her parents were delighted with the invitation. Her father had told her it represented a great opportunity to meet and talk to the rabbi at the Jahan Hyam synagogue in Delhi. Also he has always wanted to see the Taj Mahal.

Four weeks later the group all met at Heathrow for a flight to Delhi. George's parents and Abigail's parents appeared to immediately have many things in common. George's father was the director of Eastern art at the British museum. At Delhi airport we were met by my parents. Mother seemed very pleased to be hosting a rabbi and a curator from the British museum. She found their wife's charming and delightful guests. The first three days were spent with visits to various points of interest, dinners introducing the members of my family and a little shopping. I think our guests were amazed to see how we lived.The rabbi spent an afternoon at the synagogue. Then came the day I had been waiting for. A forty eight hour trip to the Taj Mahal with the night at my father’s sister’s home.

We all stood in front of the Taj Mahal. I was particularly interested to see the reaction of Abigail and her father. They just stood there as if they had been turned into statues with their mouths open. At this point I took them both aside from our group and asked the rabbi if he would give me his blessing and authorization to marry his daughter. Before he replied I heard a sound of surprise from Abigail as she grabbed my hand. After about a minute he replied.

“Young man, I only met you a few days ago. I had no idea you had fallen in love with my daughter, she has never spoken of you, no doubt, fearful of my reaction to her going out with a non jewish person. You are an intelligent man with a cunning strategy to seek my blessing knowing my immediate reply would be no. First you introduce me to your interesting and gracious family, They welcomed us and treated us like royalty. Second, you put me in front of the most beautiful man made site I have ever seen. It surpasses the great mosques and mausoleums of Istanbul. What is completely outstanding is that the building engages one in the deep emotion of man’s capacity to love and his purity. In a place like this and its influence on my emotions I can only give you my blessing.” Suddenly Abigail’s arms were around my neck and she gave me a loving kiss. Her father did add he hoped their children would be educated in the Jewish religion.

David Nutt April 2025