The Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, stands as an enduring symbol of love and artistic brilliance. Described by Rabindranath Tagore as “a teardrop on the cheek of time,” it remains India’s most recognizable monument, a UNESCO World Heritage Site maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). Replicas of the Taj have even been gifted to visiting heads of state, signifying its importance as a national emblem.
Yet, despite its settled history, the Taj Mahal continues to be mired in controversy — not by accident, but by design. Since it was built by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his wife Mumtaz Mahal, the monument has drawn the ire of sections of the Hindu right wing, which view it as a symbol of “foreign” influence. Although the ASI and even the then Union Culture Minister Mahesh Sharma (in 2017) affirmed that the Taj Mahal is not a Shiva temple, periodic attempts to rewrite its history persist, serving political and ideological goals.
The first major controversy of recent years erupted when Yogi Adityanath became Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. A state tourism booklet released under his administration omitted the Taj Mahal from the list of major tourist attractions — despite the monument drawing over 12,000 visitors daily and accounting for nearly a quarter of all tourism in India. When questioned, Adityanath retorted that the Taj did not represent “Indian culture.”
Now, yet another attempt has surfaced — this time through cinema. The trailer of Paresh Rawal’s upcoming film The Taj Story shows the dome of the monument lifting to reveal Lord Shiva, reviving the debunked claim that the Taj Mahal was once a Hindu temple called “Tejo Mahalaya.”
This claim was first propagated by writer P.N. Oak, who argued that Shah Jahan had converted a pre-existing Shiva temple into a mausoleum. Oak initially dated the temple to the 4th century, later revising it to the 12th. His theory, long dismissed by historians, was based on conjecture and linguistic distortions rather than evidence. Historian Ruchika Sharma points out that Oak’s lack of knowledge of Persian made him overlook key historical details that disprove his claims. As architectural historian Giles Tillotson has also noted, the technical expertise required to build the Taj’s dome and structure did not exist in pre-Mughal India.
Even the much-hyped “21 locked rooms” at the Taj have been explained by the ASI as structural supports necessary for stability and maintenance — an explanation issued during the Modi government itself. Courts have repeatedly rejected petitions based on Oak’s theories. The Supreme Court dismissed his plea in 2000 for lack of evidence, and the Allahabad High Court threw out a similar petition in 2005.
Authentic historical records, by contrast, offer a detailed account of the Taj’s construction. Contemporary travelers Peter Mundy and Jean-Baptiste Tavernier recorded Shah Jahan’s grief and his resolve to build a monument to his wife’s memory. The emperor employed Ustad Ahmad Lahori as chief architect, assisted by several others including Hindu craftsmen and artisans. The land, owned by Raja Jai Singh, was either compensated for or gifted.
The Taj’s architecture reflects India’s syncretic traditions. The Mughal “double dome” design, seen also in Humayun’s Tomb and the Red Fort, was blended with indigenous motifs contributed by Hindu artisans. Architecture, after all, evolves through cultural exchange — not isolation.
The persistent myth that Shah Jahan mutilated the artisans’ hands after completion of the Taj has no documentary basis. Surviving account books from the era meticulously record wages and expenses, including payments for marble from Makrana and other materials.
Oak’s broader body of work reflects a pattern of historical distortion. His writings claim that “Christianity” derives from “Krishna Niti,” that “Vatican” comes from “Vatika,” and that “Rome” is named after “Ram.” Despite the absurdity of these theories, they have been circulated in right-wing circles for decades, shaping pseudo-historical beliefs.
The current wave of cinematic revisionism — from The Kashmir Files to The Kerala Story — serves a clear political purpose: to deepen communal divisions by vilifying Muslim rulers and, by extension, India’s Muslim citizens. The Taj Story appears to be the latest addition to this genre of propaganda.
The Taj Mahal’s grandeur transcends religion and politics. To reduce it to a communal narrative is to diminish not just its beauty, but the very idea of India — a civilization shaped by diversity, synthesis, and shared creativity.
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