Early Saturday morning, we headed to Agra, once the capital of the Mughal empire and home to one of the Wonders of the World: the Taj Mahal. The train ride, only about 3 hours from Delhi, wasn’t quite the exciting experience I had built up in my mind, but it wasn’t bad either. We were met at the train station in Agra by Malik, a rickshaw driver our hotel had sent for us. He was a friendly character and insisted that we read his book of comments and recommendations from travelers past who have used his services. They were all positive, saying “Malik is your man” and “you can trust this guy,” so we decided to hire him as our driver for the weekend. It turned out to be a pretty good deal, I think, and while some parts were annoying (like taking us to all his friends’ shops), other parts made it all worthwhile. He wasn’t pushy and we didn’t have to haggle with rickshaw drivers all weekend, which alone was worth the money to me.
After getting checked in to the Hotel Kamal (not great, but a decent place with a view of the Taj from the roof), we were taken to a restaurant for lunch – and it’s apparently where all the white people are taken. It wasn’t great food and it was expensive, but we let it slide. We were off to the Red Fort. The Red Fort is where Shah Jahan lived with his wives and harem and it looks out across the Yamuna river (very dry this time of year) at the Taj Mahal – the great marble palace that he built in honor of his most beloved wife, after she died giving birth to their 14th child. After one of his son’s usurped the throne, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the Red Fort, staring wistfully, the story goes, at the Taj until the end of his days. It’s a pretty impressive fort, the outside red sandstone once covered in blue and white tiles, and the inside beautiful marble rooms and archways. We spent a good couple hours wandering around it, and then went straight out to where Malik was patiently waiting for us.
From there, Malik took us to another old tomb that belonged to one of Shah Jahan’s right hand men. It was cool, all crumbling and old, but we were hounded by young boys asking for pictures and kisses, among other things, so we didn’t stay long. After a brief stop at the “Baby Taj” (we decided it wasn’t worth the 100 rupees to go in), and giving Sarah and Colette a rickshaw driving lesson, Malik took us to the place that made the day: a sandy bank across the dried up river that stares at the backside of the Taj Mahal. It was a great view, and mostly pretty peaceful. We sat there for a long time, just gazing across at it. The intent was for us to be there for the sunset, but we got there too early and by 5:30 we had decided that sunset on the rooftop with beer sounded much better than waiting 2 more hours, thirsty on the dusty bank. So, after giving us a hard time (Malik himself is not a drinker), he took us to the beer shop and then a rooftop restaurant a few doors down from our hotel. In Agra, most places don’t serve alcohol, but some places allow you to buy your own and bring it in, as long as you’re discrete. So, we spent our evening raising glasses of King Fisher beer to the Taj, as it faded to an outline on the darkening horizon. We shared our table with a lone traveler from England, Martin, who ended up being quite entertaining. We bantered over colonial legacies, current politics, and pop culture. If only it had not been so horribly humid, it would have been a perfect evening.
We got up at 5:30 the next morning to visit the Taj in the magic of its morning light. We missed sunrise, but it was still early enough to be relatively cool and substantially less crowded – definitely worth the little sleep. The Taj Mahal is absolutely amazing. It's the kind of place that leaves a deep impression on you. There’s really nothing I can write that will match being there, no description will do it justice. But I will try.
First of all, to all you women, embittered and disillusioned by love – make a pilgrimage to the Taj Mahal. It just might restore your faith in love. This magnificent monument, for all the talk about it being some grand, megalomaniacal exaltation, was built as a tribute to the woman he loved. It took 17 years and some 20,000 men to complete it, bringing in marble, precious stones, and expert stone carvers from all over the world. It is breathtakingly gorgeous, the white marble illuminated against the blue sky, with Qur’anic scriptures beautifully carved around the doorways and arches, and floral patterns of precious stone all over it. The inside, though, which houses Mumtaz Mahal’s tomb, is enough to bring you to tears. Her tomb, with Shah Jahan’s right next to it (the only asymmetrical part of the entire thing), is surrounded by a marble gazebo-like room, covered in flowers etched into the marble and inlayed with colorful mosaics of precious stone. At sunrise, the light shows through the marble and stone to make the entire palace glow. It is incredible. The place has been remarkably well-preserved and it’s hard to imagine how beautiful it must have been 370 years ago. We sat under its arches for a long time, watching the people as they came through, catching bits of conversations here and there about love. I could have sat there all day long, basking in its beauty and the love it exudes. It is, by far, one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen.
Since nothing could possibly top the Taj, we pretty much let Malik drag us around where he would the rest of the day – a marble carving demonstration (and shop), a Persian rug weaving demonstration (and shop), and a gem store with gorgeous jewelry. They were all very impressive, but mostly things we could not afford. He wanted to take us to a leather shop and a clothing shop, as well, but by that time, we were done and just wanted to get back to the rooftop to spend our last few hours staring at the Taj. Unfortunately, the heat on the rooftop was a little more than we could bear, so instead we opted to sip a little bit of luxury, in the air conditioned, regal bar that overlooks the Taj at the Oberoy Hotel. I felt like a muskrat in there, all sweaty and disheveled, and I’m sure they loved that all we ordered were mango lassis (which were almost 4 times what we would normally pay; everything else was too expensive) and ate the free peanuts. But, it was a nice little reprieve, before we headed for the train station and back to work in the slums. I would never pay $700 to stay in such a place, but I will say it was refreshing – just using their bathroom made me feel like a brand new person.
I think the lack of sleep Saturday night pushed my body over the edge, and on the train ride back to Delhi I could feel myself succumbing to full-blown head cold. The train staff barging in every 20 minutes to leer at us and fold blankets, like our compartment was their work place and we were in their way, kept the ride from being the least bit restful and I couldn’t wait to get home. It was a great trip, though – it just felt good to get out of town for the weekend and see somewhere else, and that is a place that will remain in my heart forever.
After getting checked in to the Hotel Kamal (not great, but a decent place with a view of the Taj from the roof), we were taken to a restaurant for lunch – and it’s apparently where all the white people are taken. It wasn’t great food and it was expensive, but we let it slide. We were off to the Red Fort. The Red Fort is where Shah Jahan lived with his wives and harem and it looks out across the Yamuna river (very dry this time of year) at the Taj Mahal – the great marble palace that he built in honor of his most beloved wife, after she died giving birth to their 14th child. After one of his son’s usurped the throne, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the Red Fort, staring wistfully, the story goes, at the Taj until the end of his days. It’s a pretty impressive fort, the outside red sandstone once covered in blue and white tiles, and the inside beautiful marble rooms and archways. We spent a good couple hours wandering around it, and then went straight out to where Malik was patiently waiting for us.
From there, Malik took us to another old tomb that belonged to one of Shah Jahan’s right hand men. It was cool, all crumbling and old, but we were hounded by young boys asking for pictures and kisses, among other things, so we didn’t stay long. After a brief stop at the “Baby Taj” (we decided it wasn’t worth the 100 rupees to go in), and giving Sarah and Colette a rickshaw driving lesson, Malik took us to the place that made the day: a sandy bank across the dried up river that stares at the backside of the Taj Mahal. It was a great view, and mostly pretty peaceful. We sat there for a long time, just gazing across at it. The intent was for us to be there for the sunset, but we got there too early and by 5:30 we had decided that sunset on the rooftop with beer sounded much better than waiting 2 more hours, thirsty on the dusty bank. So, after giving us a hard time (Malik himself is not a drinker), he took us to the beer shop and then a rooftop restaurant a few doors down from our hotel. In Agra, most places don’t serve alcohol, but some places allow you to buy your own and bring it in, as long as you’re discrete. So, we spent our evening raising glasses of King Fisher beer to the Taj, as it faded to an outline on the darkening horizon. We shared our table with a lone traveler from England, Martin, who ended up being quite entertaining. We bantered over colonial legacies, current politics, and pop culture. If only it had not been so horribly humid, it would have been a perfect evening.
We got up at 5:30 the next morning to visit the Taj in the magic of its morning light. We missed sunrise, but it was still early enough to be relatively cool and substantially less crowded – definitely worth the little sleep. The Taj Mahal is absolutely amazing. It's the kind of place that leaves a deep impression on you. There’s really nothing I can write that will match being there, no description will do it justice. But I will try.
First of all, to all you women, embittered and disillusioned by love – make a pilgrimage to the Taj Mahal. It just might restore your faith in love. This magnificent monument, for all the talk about it being some grand, megalomaniacal exaltation, was built as a tribute to the woman he loved. It took 17 years and some 20,000 men to complete it, bringing in marble, precious stones, and expert stone carvers from all over the world. It is breathtakingly gorgeous, the white marble illuminated against the blue sky, with Qur’anic scriptures beautifully carved around the doorways and arches, and floral patterns of precious stone all over it. The inside, though, which houses Mumtaz Mahal’s tomb, is enough to bring you to tears. Her tomb, with Shah Jahan’s right next to it (the only asymmetrical part of the entire thing), is surrounded by a marble gazebo-like room, covered in flowers etched into the marble and inlayed with colorful mosaics of precious stone. At sunrise, the light shows through the marble and stone to make the entire palace glow. It is incredible. The place has been remarkably well-preserved and it’s hard to imagine how beautiful it must have been 370 years ago. We sat under its arches for a long time, watching the people as they came through, catching bits of conversations here and there about love. I could have sat there all day long, basking in its beauty and the love it exudes. It is, by far, one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen.
Since nothing could possibly top the Taj, we pretty much let Malik drag us around where he would the rest of the day – a marble carving demonstration (and shop), a Persian rug weaving demonstration (and shop), and a gem store with gorgeous jewelry. They were all very impressive, but mostly things we could not afford. He wanted to take us to a leather shop and a clothing shop, as well, but by that time, we were done and just wanted to get back to the rooftop to spend our last few hours staring at the Taj. Unfortunately, the heat on the rooftop was a little more than we could bear, so instead we opted to sip a little bit of luxury, in the air conditioned, regal bar that overlooks the Taj at the Oberoy Hotel. I felt like a muskrat in there, all sweaty and disheveled, and I’m sure they loved that all we ordered were mango lassis (which were almost 4 times what we would normally pay; everything else was too expensive) and ate the free peanuts. But, it was a nice little reprieve, before we headed for the train station and back to work in the slums. I would never pay $700 to stay in such a place, but I will say it was refreshing – just using their bathroom made me feel like a brand new person.
I think the lack of sleep Saturday night pushed my body over the edge, and on the train ride back to Delhi I could feel myself succumbing to full-blown head cold. The train staff barging in every 20 minutes to leer at us and fold blankets, like our compartment was their work place and we were in their way, kept the ride from being the least bit restful and I couldn’t wait to get home. It was a great trip, though – it just felt good to get out of town for the weekend and see somewhere else, and that is a place that will remain in my heart forever.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment