Narcissistic Tourism: As Timeless As The Taj Mahal
In all of its mesmerising beauty, it is no surprise that the Taj Mahal is synonymous to love and romance. Built for Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan’s beloved wife, the legendary mausoleum honours their great love, a deep love, one that ignited at first sight — seeing such adoring dedication in architectural form is perhaps what excited me most about visiting the Taj Mahal. However, my experience there was tinged with a certain disappointment. Seemingly, as with many loves, there’s an unfortunate moment of heartbreak, of sour realisation, a moment where the illusion we build up comes crashing down to reveal a harsh reality.
Past the exterior dusty red gates of the Taj Mahal, what revealed itself was not as the legend goes, but as modernity dictates — a reality that we have begun to ignorantly manipulate for our own self-serving.
Whilst standing in endless queues with hundreds of other people, it becomes clear that we, as tourists, have progressed past the mere visiting of this infamous world heritage site. Seeing such is no longer enough — albeit, even being able to say anecdotally that we visited is no longer enough — we must now actively show that we’ve been there. We must document ourselves there, ready for promulgation onto social media. Were we really there if we didn’t ‘check-in’ on Facebook? If we cannot add a filter to the intricate carvings on the white marble walls to make them crisper, how can our Instagram followers actually see the beauty? The whole experience soon becomes an egocentric trial in who can capture themselves best in front of the infamous tomb.
Of course, whilst people are obviously free to behave however they want — on a wider scale, is the insistence of continually documenting ourselves for our own social gain ruining our experiences (ergo, the cliché phone at a gig example)? Surely this narcissistic indulgence eventually becomes draining for both user and viewer.
By all means, the desire to document oneself in such a location is understandable — the Taj Mahal is, after all, a breathtaking piece of architecture. In this instance, however, where poverty directly surrounds the Taj Mahal in the city of Agra, such self-absorbed behaviour seems ignorantly disrespectful. Visiting this World Wonder demonstrates our imperceptive self-interest as tourists, it becomes a demonstration of our egotism. Through such an ideal, the experience of visiting loses the delicate significance it deserves.
Seemingly, however, such egotism is not confined to the modern person with a burgeoning Instagram account — the very creation of the Taj Mahal is entrenched within lavish self-indulgence. A beautiful, generous gesture in memory of Emperor Shah Jahan’s late wife, yes — but one clearly rooted in the need to overtly demonstrate his own wealth and power, a need to prove that his love for his wife was transcendent, and ultimately, a need to serve his own ego. Who else could order the construction of such a building of ironic grandeur? Who else would have such an inflated sense of self to make such a mark on the history of the world? An example of an empty and egotistical desire for attention, glory and legacy — perhaps, not all too different from our own.
What is it about the Taj Mahal that reveals the narcissistic, selfish, indulgent aspects of human nature? Decidedly, despite the extent to which we flaunt narcissistic and egotistical behaviour in modern society, a parallel can be drawn to that of Emperor Shah Jahan. Despite centuries separating us, our behaviour mimics his, we too want our experiences and our loves to be publically portrayed as greater than that of those around us — such behaviour is, perhaps, as timeless as the Taj Mahal itself.
