Although Rajiv Joseph’s darkly humorous and bloody beautiful play, Guards at the Taj, transports us centuries back in time, the themes it confronts are just as relevant today. How can we reconcile duty with morality? What is the cost of truth and beauty? Is there a limit to the amount of knowledg e we can pursue and the creativity we can produce? Playing now at NextStop Theatre, directed by Mekala Sridhar, Guards at the Taj tackles these grand existential questions through the intimate lens of two best friends. Set in Agra, India, in 1648 during the Mughal Empire, the story opens on the morning of the long-awaited completion of the great wonder of the world, the Taj Mahal — an arduous build that took over 16 years and involved 20,000 workers. As a means of ensuring that nothing so beautiful will ever be built again, Emperor Shah Jahan tasks two young imperial guards, Humayun (Vaibhav Taparia) and Babur (Vish Shukla), with a great act of brutality — they must cut off the hands of all 20,000 workers involved. This daunting and traumatic task tests their faith, friendship, and futures forever.  Vish Shukla as Babur and Vaibhav Taparia as Humayun in ‘Guards of the Taj.’ Photo by DJ Corey Photography. I should note that this myth surrounding the history of the Taj Mahal of 20,000 men being mutilated is just that, a myth. Although Joseph likely incorporated this myth to serve as a purposefully jarring conduit to discuss other relevant and still deeply disturbing truths, such as the consequences of unchecked power and the inherent obstacles we overcome, I feel this should have been made clear to the audience. Especially in today’s climate of misinformation and complex conflict, where so many are ready to believe anything they hear, those presenting the story have a responsibility to inform the audience of the facts. However, this by no means hindered my opinion of the performance. Rajiv Joseph’s decision to strip away all the complicated overhead and focus on two young, lowly guards, Humayun and Babur, through their relationship and differing perceptions of the world, allowed for more gripping, in-depth, realistic intimacy to be explored. This intimate back-and-forth was effective and felt very Raymond Carver–esque. Even when the two guards were simply standing on either side, doing their jobs, the multiple beats of silence never felt empty; instead, it felt intentional and meaningful. Taparia and Shukla absolutely anchored this show. They bounced off one another brilliantly, with an easy rapport, as though they had known each other for a lifetime, just like the characters they embodied. Both men had an incredible ability to transition seamlessly from comedy to drama without it ever feeling forced or awkward. They presented endearing banter and charming smiles as easily as defeated, heartbreaking physicality. In one moment, I was laughing out loud, and in the next, I was holding my breath, hand placed firmly on my heart. Shukla played Babur, the optimistic dreamer with deep love and respect for art and beauty. He speaks of inventions that could change the world, like a flying palanquin that would transport people from place to place. He dares to question political positions of power. He dares to question God, the universe, and the stars in the sky. He says, “I think God wants us to learn.” Taparia played his partner, Humayun, the realistic, resolved, dutiful son of the head guard. He believes the emperor is the law, and the law is meant to be followed. He says, “The happiest man in the world is also the craziest.” He struggles throughout to balance his belief in duty against his love for his friend.  Vish Shukla as Babur and Vaibhav Taparia as Humayun in ‘Guards of the Taj.’ Photo by DJ Corey Photography. It wasn’t only the writing and acting that were stripped back and stripped down. The set by scenic designer Gisela Estrada and the lighting by lighting designer Hailey LaRoe were fairly simple but extremely effective. The set was made to look like the wall surrounding the Taj, where Babur and Humayun were posted to guard the two entryways. At no point did we actually see the Taj. I found this to be rather clever, as it enforced the narrative that nothing could ever be as beautiful as it was said to be in that particular moment. Therefore, how could we possibly aim to replicate it? Instead, it forces us to open our imaginations and dream of absolute beauty.  The two entryways were lined with neon-colored lights that changed color with the overhead lighting, either altering the tone or suggesting a different location. During a flashback we are surrounded by green light indicating the vast jungle, followed by pink and purple to represent the sea blanketed by thousands of birds. LaRoe used blue and red to affect the mood; blue during scenes of hope and wonder like when we venture into Babur’s visionary imagination, and red during scenes of intense emotional turmoil like when the two friends first realize they are the ones who must commit the heinous act of removing 40,000 hands — of destroying beauty.  Although this act takes place off stage, the room turns red, and thick blood begins pooling out from under the wall, gradually at first but building quickly until filling the entire center stage. Director Sridhar lets this image settle for an extended period, forcing us to feel even the slightest fraction of what Babur and Humayun have just experienced. Eventually, the two men reemerge traumatized, covered in blood, sweat, soot, and sorrow, pushing two large carts filled with tools, rags, and buckets of dismembered hands. Props designer Isabel Simoes deCarvalho provided shockingly realistic appendages that greatly increased the level of intentional discomfort we are meant to feel.  Then, as the two friends try to help one another regain their footing (emotionally but also literally), they must claw their way out of the pool of blood … again, emotionally, yes, but also very, very literally. I imagine costume designer Cidney Forkpah must keep dozens of replica outfits around because by the end of that scene, Taparia and Shukla were simply drenched in blood. At one point, they even had to wring out blood from their pants. Suffice to say, if you find yourself squeamish around blood, be prepared! I, however, am not one of those people. I was on the edge of my seat during this extended scene in which only a single action truly takes place — they clean up blood. This slowed-down action really magnified the potency and allowed the conversational and emotional subtext to thrive on a new level of poignancy, leaving me utterly transfixed. The audience was able to be intimately and entirely present with the characters every second. The visceral booms throughout the show, amplifying various dark points, paired with the soft, dulcet musical tones from composer/sound designer navi, also pushed the audience into that deeper emotional state. As each boom burrowed into my core, the eerily enticing music washed over me like waves. The decision not to include an intermission also allowed the emotional build-up to continue, climaxing in a really interesting way. Every element that came together to create this production of Guards at the Taj felt truly intentional and inspirational. NextStop has exceeded expectations once again, and I can’t wait to see what they pull out next!  Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes, with no intermission.  Guards at the Taj plays through April 19, 2026, at NextStop Theatre, at 269 Sunset Park Drive, Herndon, VA. Tickets begin at $45 and can be purchased online or by calling 703-481-5930 x1. The program is online here. Guards at the TajWritten by Rajiv JosephDirected by Mekala Sridhar ...read more read less