Indelibly Rajesthan Part 2 Agra ( first posted on thebarefootfoodie.org on 2 Nov 2014 )

 

Landed in Delhi after some 6 hrs and were greeted by our driver, Surjit , outside the arrival gate. Settling comfortably into our car, we were off to our first stop at Agra, home of the eternal love-story.

A road trip that was meant to be some 4 hours turned out to be 7 hours long. Surjit commented that Agra has the worst traffic in Rajasthan. I was too busy soaking in the sights, sounds and street scenes of life in the raw as played out right before my eyes as the car trundled on, behind trucks with "horn please" prominently displayed , traffic of all sorts which are a law unto themselves, traveling in, out and from all directions.

There are no traffic rules on the road - anything that moves is fair game. I spotted tractors, bullock carts, and even camels jostling for space among the cars, trucks, bicycles, tuk-tuks, rickshaws, and whatever else. In the meanwhile, horns blare incessantly in a sense-surround auto-replay mode. I sat, unperturbed,  poised with my camera and zoom lens, ready to shoot...

There was a man standing facing a wall. Seconds later, there was an unmistakable spray against that wall. I gaped and stared, in some perverse fixation. Along the way, I spotted a few more practising their aims, and this gave a fresh perspective to the way we understand "public conveniences". It was beginning to have an almost organic vibe to it.

 

People in all forms of garb and disposition littered along the road, sitting, squatting, standing, watching...their faces expectant, eyes bright.

 

I expected something else, in the landscape of such poverty and hardship, but did not see any. These were faces of resilience, spirit , which possess an inner calm and resolve.

 

Buses and tuk-tuks were packed to the brim, with passengers hanging on to the exterior in a rather precarious perch. So this actually happens in real life here, apart from the reels that play out to the rest of the world.

 

 

Before arriving at our home-stay for the next few nights, we spotted several wedding processions, in typical Indian style. The groom sits astride on a horse, heralded by musicians blaring out music in multiple loud-speakers and blinding lights. Well-wishers danced and pranced to the rhythm of the blasts, oblivious to ear-drum damage. The mood was festive. The bride was missing. Our driver explained that she had to be fetched from her village in some far-away place; and yes, the couple is matched-made. I held my tongue and resisted from asking about dowry and the other gory bits at the risk of sounding drole or insensitive.

 

 

Our Bed and Breakfast was nestled in the suburbs, in a cosy place called "Garden Villas Homestay" It is run  by a retired architect, who trained in France, and lives in another section of the same house with his family.

 

 

We were escorted by a local guide for the tour of the Taj Mahal. There are local guides for specific historic heritage sites in India, well versed in all languages spoken by tourists with deeper pockets. At some point, I turned my head towards what seemed to be a group of Chinese tourists nodding off in agreement to their guide who spoke impeccably in Mandarin.

I am somewhat embarrassed at the lack of command of my own mother tongue and for the countless like myself, family and friends included - can't even hold a decent conversation, let alone rattle off like that with the proper intonation and inflexion. Impressive! Same could be said for the guides taking on the French groups; the rest I can safely assume a certain standard.

 

Somehow, the mystique fades when your guide speaks English. Most of the info you have known or read about, with some extra bits of trivial thrown in. My interest was piqued when he announced he was going to be married in a week's time and he showed me photos captured on his mobile phone. He brought us shopping, to a carpet factory, marble factory, and finally to Valentino shoes.

 

Now I was really interested! The SS beat me to the game and bought three pairs compared to my humble two. Really pleased, we gave him a fat tip for his efforts and wished him well on his Big day.  Later, G reflected about the wedding story - what if the guide does that as a scam? No, I refused to buy that, as I looked longingly at my new shoes....