I could have met the needs of both accuracy and alliteration equally well by writing awful Agra or aggressive Agra (pronounced Ah-gra). The Taj Mahal is awesome, but it needs to be to outweigh the hassles of staying in Agra. Delhi was bad, Rajasthan was worse, and Agra was the worst.
I thought maybe it was me. Maybe three months on the road was too long. Maybe I was running out of patience and good humor. Maybe it was because I was a woman traveling alone. Apparently not. I talked with an English couple over breakfast at my hotel and with four Israelis at the airport: they were hating the hassles too. The Englishman said that he hardly liked to step outside the hotel. Lonely Planet writes about "Agra-phobia" -- says that some people wind up on the verge of hysteria. I just got bad-tempered.
On the streets, you're besieged by rickshaw drivers. At the sights, you're besieged by would-be guides on the way in and souvenir sellers on the way out. At the mosques you're besieged by kids wanting pens -- or money. In the bazaars every stall-holder solicits your custom.
Perhaps these tactics actually work on some people. Or perhaps there's some flawed logic at work. At Fatehpur Sikri the licensed guide asked 200/-. When I pointed out that the very latest Lonely Planet suggested 85/- he replied that since there were fewer tourists the price had gone up. India has inverted the laws of supply and demand. When I asked a guide at the Taj why he ignored my repeated "No, thank you", he said that it was his job, and everyone was saying "no" that morning.
I have gone back to saying nothing, staring at the middle distance and continuing to walk. I discovered at the Taj that if the person pestering you keeps pace, standing stock still and continuing to stare straight ahead will shake them. Apparently the touts at the temples at Khajuraho are bad, but after that I'm off the tourist trail for a while. The other technique is to pick one of the drivers, guides, shopkeepers, whatever -- then the others will leave you alone. A cycle-rickshaw for a day in Agra is not that expensive, and "I have one" is an unanswerable response. My rider seemed perfectly happy to wait around while I ate, or surfed the net, or visited sights.
I'm not going to bore you with a string of superlatives about the Taj. It is, quite simply, Islamic architecture at its exquisite best. Pictures can't do it justice either. The proportions, the pietra dura inlays, the color of the marble, all have to be seen in person. I visited twice -- once for sunset, and once for sunrise. I watched the marble glow in the sunset, then fade until the building seemed to float -- only just lighter than the dusk, with a slender crescent moon in the western sky, signifying the start of Ramadan. In the morning, the sun struck gold from the inlays. I got an unexpected bonus on the second visit. The Archaeological Survey of India recently put foreigners' fees at the main sights up to ridiculous heights. They've come down some, but the Taj is still $5 plus 500/- (about $15). Not on November 19th: to celebrate World Heritage Day (it's a World Heritage site), entry was free. And at 8:00 in the morning there were few visitors. There was no line to go inside the tomb itself and I stood in front of the cenotaphs of Shah Jehan and Mumtaz Mahal alone. The beauty of the Taj, and of its setting -- for once beautifully maintained -- restored some of my equanimity.
The only other site I visited in Agra itself was the fort, where Shah Jehan was imprisoned by his son, Aurangzeb. Similar in layout and construction to the Red Fort at Delhi, Agra Fort was in much better condition, and its buildings were more accessible. I could stand where Shah Jehan stood and share his view of the Taj Mahal across the river -- although it was hard to see the buildings through the haze.
I had always planned to take a side trip to Fatehpur Sikri, the city built by the emperor Akbar in the 1500s and then abandoned because of a lack of water. It is a nice example of a Mughal palace, with some good carving, notably a central column that flares at the top into four bridges to platforms at the corners of the room. The story goes that Akbar would post representatives of different religions at the four corners and fire questions at them. With one Hindu, one Muslim and one Christian wife (and 800 assorted concubines) he was interested in fusing the three religions. My driver told me that Agra is predominantly Muslim, but that it was an example of how Hindus and Muslims could coexist. The Fatehpur Sikri guide had harsher words for Muslims.
In Bhutan I had asked the members of the tour group for their favorite sites in India. I was surprised to find that Keoladeo Ghana National Park, a bird sanctuary at Bharatpur, was highly recommended. I've never been keen on bird watching -- by the time I've found the bird it's usually ready to move, and I have great difficulty focusing binoculars, but it seemed I could fit in a visit on the way to Agra. Turned out my train didn't stop at Bharatpur, but I arranged a car and driver through the travel agent in Jaipur, and insisted on leaving Agra at 5:30 in the morning to get to the park early enough -- we would go to Fatehpur Sikri on the way back.
If the bird is big enough even I can see it, and some of the birds at Keoladeo were very big indeed. The stars were a pair of Siberian cranes -- highly endangered. Alas, to me they were just big white birds -- I was more interested in the raucous storks. Parents and their offspring, nearly as big, perched on the same tree, which I would have expected to collapse under the weight. There were plain storks and painted storks, herons in various hues, and gleaming blue-green woodpeckers. I was interested in the moor hens -- bigger than I expected -- and in a pair of owls, looking owlish. My cycle rickshaw driver was a more than adequate guide, although I was glad that the 40-foot python he wanted to show me failed to appear. The park was formerly the shooting preserve of the local maharajah, and the records of various shoots are preserved on a wall in the middle of the park. The park progresses from savanna, to marsh, to lake, and it was easy to imagine it during the days of the "princely states." I found my three hours there surprisingly enjoyable.
I also enjoyed the early morning drive to Bharatpur, when I was awake. Men squatted beside the road, warming their hands over small fires -- the timeless Asian squat, legs straight up and down, bottom just clear of the ground: it makes my knees ache just to watch. Women balanced big round water pots -- metal or clay -- on their heads. A couple of joggers, and a man doing push-ups, gave a western touch. Coming back was different. I counted no fewer than 16 "dancing" bears between Fatehpur Sikri and Agra. The bears are tortured to force them onto their hind legs, and the practice is supposedly illegal. I wondered who gave the owners money, but then I wondered who gave the kids pens and chocolate and gum and money.
All in all I was glad to leave Agra for Khajuraho. For the only time in India, I flew -- Khajuraho is not on a rail line, and I thought that it would be interesting to see how the package tourists fared. The airport was certainly a change from the train stations, which are dirty but full of action. It was inside an Air Force base and only bona fide passengers were allowed in. My ticket, and my rickshaw driver's license, were checked before we were allowed in -- leaving the beggars literally at the gate. The floors gleamed. The toilets (western) had attendants with toilet paper. But the plane was two hours late. No explanation, but cola and snacks were provided. I found out later that the incoming flight from Delhi had had to turn back -- the oxygen masks had dropped. Security was tight. All carryon bags were thoroughly hand-searched, and we had to identify our checked bags on the tarmac before they were loaded. With a few Indian families, a handful of independents and two tour groups the plane, usually packed, was only two-thirds full. I had beaten the tour groups to the plane to grab a window seat (no seat assignments), and was rewarded with a last view of the Taj from the air.
Sent from Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh, Nov. 26 about Agra, Uttar Pradesh and Bharatpur, Rajasthan Nov. 17 - 19
Site design and content Copyright 2001 - 2010, Wilhelm's Words
Contact: wilhelmswords.com
Home