The last two weekends have been a whirlwind of travel planning, lessons in travel fiascos, and exciting explorations, all wrapped up with plenty of surprises, shockers, and laughs. India just never ceases to amaze.
Over the June 18 weekend, I traveled with two friends (Krista and Danny) to Agra, just about four hours south of Delhi in the state of Uttar Pradesh. We were supposed to be a group of four, but one of our comrades got hit with a case of food poisoning, also known as "Delhi belly." For me and Krista, this was our first train ride in India and it was a rather curious experience. It's not that the train itself was bad. Our tickets were for beds in the sleeper car so we could catch at least a little rest on the overnight ride to Agra. The unfortunate part was that the car didn't have air conditioning and people would board the train without having any particular seat or bed and just sitting wherever. Basically it seemed like seating assignments on tickets are treated more like suggestions...at least until the police show up.
After about an hour into the journey, three police officers showed up demanding to look at everyone's tickets. I was half asleep when this happened so my memory is a bit hazy but I remember hearing more Hindi than English and feeling utterly confused and uneasy about what was happening. It turns out that their interest seemed to be in protecting us as travelers. They kicked out everyone near us who didn't have a legitimate ticket and then hung around for a few minutes afterwards as if guarding the area. The best part was when one officer told the young man in the bed beneath mine (the one our sick friend would have had) that he had to get out and then helped himself to the vacant bed. I appreciated the security, or even the appearance of it, but I also felt bad for those who were forced to find a different seat on an already crowded train.
We arrived in Agra feeling exhausted, weary, and hungry at about 3:00 in the morning. The hotel we booked had promised a driver would pick us up form the train station, but of course he was nowhere to be found. It only took about three seconds for four random rickshaw drivers to start insisting that they take us to our hotel. (I should mention that this scenario is how it goes almost everywhere we go. And I deliberately use the word "insist" rather than "bargain" because these drivers simply do not back off and don't abide by the word "No!"). One driver reported that his friend had told him to pick us up and take us to our hotel. It sounded pretty suspicious so we asked him to tell us the name of the guests he was supposed to pick up. After about 10 minutes on hold with the hotel, he asked "Danny?" It was as if he billowed "Open Sesame!" It was the magic word that promising a quasi-reliable ride to a coveted bed and pillow. But there was more in store for us.
The driver meandered through some particularly suspicious alleys. I kept anticipating that the next turn would take us back on to a more comfortable main road, but each turn seemed darker and dodgier than the one before. Finally we stopped but the hotel was no where in sight. The driver insisted that it was just up around the corner and we convinced him to walk us to the door. Once inside, I think each of our hearts sank a little. To say the least, it was far from what we had expected and possibly one of the worst accommodations I've ever stayed in. The most awkward, and in retrospect also the funniest part, was when about 5 middle aged men emerged from their rooms all at once as we ascended the stairs. It was if someone tripped the foreigner alarm to announcing our arrival and they had emerged to gawk at the American brigade. When young children started wandering out into the hallways, I felt a little safer. But we double locked the door to our room and threw a suitcase in front just in case. The plan was to wake up early the next morning, so we only got about an hour of sleep. Even if it wasn't a five star hotel, a bed and a pillow was better than none. It's hard to be picky at 3:00 a.m.
Needless to say, we checked out immediately after we woke up. That was the first lesson in Indian hotel reservations - book early and consider that there may be a good reason why the price is so attractively cheap. Also, photographs online may be deceiving and a voice speaking clear English when making reservations is not necessarily indicative of quality. If you're ever visit Agra, don't stay at the Hotel Raj.
The Jewel of India
At sunrise we back tracked through the side streets we had driven the night before - by day light they were far less intimidating - and made our way toward India's most celebrated monument, the Taj Mahal. This architectural wonder is said to be a tribute to beauty and love. It's considered to be the jewel of India, and the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore described it as "a teardrop on the cheek of time."
Shah Jahan was emperor of the Mughal Empire at the time and it was one of India’s most prosperous ages. The extent of his wealth was immense and he used it to develop the empire’s architectural reputation, as well as the usual territory expansion. At the age for 15 he married his favorite and beloved wife whom he dubbed Mumtaz Mahal – “Jewel of the Palace.” Accounts of Mumtaz describe her as devoted wife and loving mother. She had 14 children but died shortly after giving birth to the last. Devastated and heartbroken, Shah Jahan commissioned Persian architect Ustad Ahmad Lahauri to build the elaborate mausoleum for her tomb. After 17 years, the Taj
Mahal was completed in 1648.
Should guilty seek asylum here,
Like one pardoned, he becomes free from sin.
Should a sinner make his way to this mansion,
All his past sins are to be washed away.
The sight of this mansion creates sorrowing sighs;
And the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes.
In this world this edifice has been made;
To display thereby the creator's glory.
- Shah Jahan
The Taj Mahal is made almost entirely of marble imported from Rajastan. It's decorated with semi-precious and precious jewels inlaid in the marble. The gems include turquoise from Tibet, lapis lazuli from Afghanistan, sapphire from Sri Lanka, carnelian from Arabia, and jade from China to create the delicate floral artwork that adorns both the interior and exterior walls. Onyx imported from Punjab was used to create the calligraphic passages of the Koran transcribed on the doorways. The exterior inscriptions profess warnings of judgment while the interior expresses passages of love and peace.
Foreigners and Indians have traveled to the see the epic mausoleum ever since to be baffled by it’s extravagance and enchanted with the story behind it. For my own part, I saw the Taj Mahal early in the morning, before the crowds showed up to disturb the peace and before the sun could the fragrant gardens. Over the course of just a couple of hours, the façade changed from pearly white to ivory to gold with the rising sun. It was beautiful, like something out of an ancient fairytale. But to me, there’s something a little hollow about a structure of such magnificence in which no life ever lived. True, it has the legend of a love story behind it, but no one actually lived there. There are countless stories and legends that can be told about one lifetime, and a structure that housed the life throughout is somehow much more fascinating to me than a monument built to house only a departed king and queen. No matter how intricate or grand, a home intrigues me more than a tomb. Thus, I found the next sight much more fascinating.
Fatehpur Sikri
Fatehput Sikri used to be nothing more than the home of a Muslim holy man on a giant lake prone to droughts. But Shah Jahan’s grandfather, Akbar the Great, felt a significant need to move the capital from Delhi to this middle-of-nowhere town outside of Agra. He did so to honor that holy man.
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