Once I went to visit the Taj Mahal.

the white, translucent macabre I had heard , it once was.

But no longer, it seemed translucent by any means.

A little pale or maybe a light cream, you can call its hue now is,

I stood there in a wig, a brunette, I was trying to be.

I wanted to avoid my friends, by all means.

I frankly wanted to roam alone.

So I not only wore a wig, but a hat atop,

with pale dark glasses to match, covered my big, petal eyes.

Away from the crazy crowd,

I slowly took one step at a time.

It was still gorgeous,

Silent and calm, watching over men,

the cool floors enticed me.

I sat on the sides, under the shade for a while,

beside a man, quite unaware of him.

In a minute or two, he asked me,

“Are you from Greece?”

“No, why?” I noticed him for the first time.

“You look like a Greek Goddess.” He bluffed.

“Which one?” I prodded his knowledge.

After a while, he shouted, “Athena, I believe.”

“Well, Hungary, I am from Hungary.”

I held my nose a little high in the air.

He did not ask for my ticket or I could be caught.

After an entire minute, he spoke again.

“Do you know the Taj is on sale?”

Which Taj, I asked?”

“How many Taj’s do you know?” he challenged me.

“Many.” I told him and followed my friend’s queue.

While turning round the square corner, I quickly stashed my wig, hat and glasses in my duffel bag.

I also borrowed a long shrug from a friend to hide my frame,

as I slipped past the man.

But, I saw, by then, he

had already started selling the Taj to another svelte blonde.