KEY POINTS:
Mist was disentangling itself from the trees on the far bank of the Yamuna River.
It swirled above the water that was flowing limpidly past the Taj Mahal, waterlogged garlands of orange marigolds turning slowly on its surface.
Below the marble platform between the central domed chamber of
the Taj itself and its four flanking minarets, white egrets were picking their way through the grass, shimmering like ghosts in the pre-dawn fog.
On the far side of the river about 30 men were gathered at the water's edge. Sounds of shouting and snatches of song drifted across the Yamuna.
I was watching them from my perch on the eastern riverside minaret. I'd sat here before, one foot propped up on the marble balustrade, my back pressed up against the minaret.
From this vantage point I could see the river and the entire eastern side of the Taj as the morning sun began to warm its surface. But I had to lean a little forward around the minaret's curved wall to see what the men on the riverbank were pointing at.
A long slim boat was gliding towards them. One man sat in the bow, another stood in the stern, using a long pole to propel the craft across the river.
When the boat reached the gathering almost everyone attempted to pile aboard.
The boat looked capable of taking about eight people safely but when it was pushed back into the current I counted at least 20 heads. No wonder it was sitting so low in the water, the marigold wreaths were almost washing over the gunwales.
The boat disappeared into the trees fringing the river beneath the Taj but I could still hear its occupants singing to the accompaniment of a drummer. I didn't know whether they planned to come inside the walled garden that surrounds Moghul emperor Shah Jahan's monument to his dearly loved wife Mumtaz. Maybe their choice of river crossing was a random one.
But the scene was so timeless they could have been craftsmen making their way to work on the Taj more than three centuries ago. Shah Jahan himself could have seen something similar as he gazed from the nearby Agra Fort.
After seeing the Taj completed after more than 20,000 people laboured on it for 22 years, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the fort by his ruthless, ambitious son Aurangzeb.
For eight years until his death the creator of the Taj Mahal could look at his masterpiece but never set foot in it.
How often did he stare into the mist of an Indian winter's day and wish maybe that a boat such as the one I'd seen could float him downstream to the resting place of his treasured queen?
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Pictured above: The Taj Mahal. Photo / Jill Worrall
