Imagine a winter morning so cold and so choked with smog that the Taj Mahal’s white marble appears ghost-grey, almost spectral. The stench in the air burns your lungs with every breath. And right behind the Taj, the Yamuna, once the river that reflected Mughal glory, has turned into a frothing graveyard of toxic foam. It feels as if the Taj itself is mourning a slow, suffocating death.
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