Texans Unite in the Sepulchral City
4 August 2010
Jean and I had last seen my sister Meredith on our wedding day, April 10. At the time she had mentioned that she was planning a foray into India over her summer holiday from teaching in China. As Jean and I were planning to be in India in August we thought it only proper that we meet up. I remember being totally oblivious to the sheer size of the sub-continent.
Meredith and her party (Chris, Jay and Lindsay) were traveling overland through southern China, Tibet and Nepal. They crossed the border into India at northeast border of the country and cut east to Calcutta on the eastern border with Bangladesh. We arrived in Mumbai located on the lower part of the mid-section of India on its western border.
Through several emails over several weeks we decided to meet in Agra located in northwest India. To put it in terms relative to the US. It would be like me being in Austin, Meredith being in Chicago and planning to meet in Topeka, Kansas. And instead of flying we would take the train.
Jean and I bid fond adieu to Jalgaon and caught the overnight train at 3pm for Agra. We arrived just after 7 in the morning. Glancing at a tourist map of Agra one might notice the prodigious number of mausoleums in the city: Akbar's Mausoleum, Itimad-Ud-Daulah (Mizra Ghiya Beg's tomb), Chini-Ka-Rauza (Poet Afzal Khan's Tomb). Well, three isn't exactly a prodigious but Agra also happens to be home a rather famous mausoleum called the Taj Mahal.
Agra is also home to a mind numbing, ear splitting, and teeth grinding number of touts, rickshaw wallahs and street hawkers. It was quite impossible to walk 10 yards without being offered Taj Mahal snow globes, post cards, and other trinkets. Living at ground zero of one of the greatest wonders of the world had bred a mother load of relentless panhandlers and businessman.
Prices were fluid on the street. As you made your way to one site or another the cost of a proffered item would often halve and then halve again before shaking loose of the seller. On more than one occasion a vendor offered to trade an Indian Jones style leather whip for my wrist watch. A persistent bicycle rickshaw driver followed Jean and me around on our first afternoon for 45 minutes constantly dropping his price until he would almost be paying us for the ride.
Note: As I became more assimilated to India the calls and propositions of street vendors slipped into the edge of my consciousness until I was able to brush them off with ease.
Meredith, Chris, Jay and Lindsay arrived early this morning. Their train had been delayed 7 hours stretching the already long 20+ hour train ride into a sticky, sweaty tortuous affair.
As they slept off the rigors of long distance sleeper class train travel (that's in non air-conditioned six bunk compartments) Jean and I ventured off just before dawn to observe the Taj Mahal at it's most atmospheric. Thankfully, it was still early for most of the touts so we reached the gates some 150 yards from our hotel unmolested.
The Taj was a sight to behold and truly worth the trial and tribulation to get there along with the hefty 750 rupee ($15) foreigner admittance ticket. The day was overcast so not the best viewing experience but at six in the morning the crowd was yet sparse allowing one the feeling of being all alone in that vast expanse of white marble.
Looking at four minarets standing at attention around that gleaming white, tear-shaped domed building I was struck that all this, the tomb, the reflecting pools and surrounded acres of ornamental garden was built for one person. Mumtaz Mahal, 2nd wife of Emperor Shah Jahan, died giving birth to their 14th child in 1631. Grieved and heartbroken the Emperor began work on the memorial that same year. Some 20,000 people worked on the building over the course of 22 years.
To sum up my thoughts on the Taj:
Awe-Inspiringly Beautiful – Yes
Architecturally Marvelous – Yes
Tragically Romantic – Yes
Despotic Frivolousness – Yes
Visitation Worthy – Yes
We met up with Meredith and company that evening for dinner. Nicole, Lindsay's friend, had flown into Delhi a couple of days ago and arrived in Agra last night as well. Over a vast spread of curry, and rice and non we reflected that there were an awful lot of Texans in attendance tonight. In fact, Meredith, Jay, Lindsay, Nicole, and I had all graduated from the same high school. Chris was from Dallas. That left Jean as odd one out. We agreed that she was an honorary Texan. And so we rose our glasses of Kingfisher beer high and toasted to Texas.
Check out more pictures of Agra here.
Jean and I had last seen my sister Meredith on our wedding day, April 10. At the time she had mentioned that she was planning a foray into India over her summer holiday from teaching in China. As Jean and I were planning to be in India in August we thought it only proper that we meet up. I remember being totally oblivious to the sheer size of the sub-continent.
Meredith and her party (Chris, Jay and Lindsay) were traveling overland through southern China, Tibet and Nepal. They crossed the border into India at northeast border of the country and cut east to Calcutta on the eastern border with Bangladesh. We arrived in Mumbai located on the lower part of the mid-section of India on its western border.
Through several emails over several weeks we decided to meet in Agra located in northwest India. To put it in terms relative to the US. It would be like me being in Austin, Meredith being in Chicago and planning to meet in Topeka, Kansas. And instead of flying we would take the train.
Jean and I bid fond adieu to Jalgaon and caught the overnight train at 3pm for Agra. We arrived just after 7 in the morning. Glancing at a tourist map of Agra one might notice the prodigious number of mausoleums in the city: Akbar's Mausoleum, Itimad-Ud-Daulah (Mizra Ghiya Beg's tomb), Chini-Ka-Rauza (Poet Afzal Khan's Tomb). Well, three isn't exactly a prodigious but Agra also happens to be home a rather famous mausoleum called the Taj Mahal.
Agra is also home to a mind numbing, ear splitting, and teeth grinding number of touts, rickshaw wallahs and street hawkers. It was quite impossible to walk 10 yards without being offered Taj Mahal snow globes, post cards, and other trinkets. Living at ground zero of one of the greatest wonders of the world had bred a mother load of relentless panhandlers and businessman.
Note: As I became more assimilated to India the calls and propositions of street vendors slipped into the edge of my consciousness until I was able to brush them off with ease.
Meredith, Chris, Jay and Lindsay arrived early this morning. Their train had been delayed 7 hours stretching the already long 20+ hour train ride into a sticky, sweaty tortuous affair.
As they slept off the rigors of long distance sleeper class train travel (that's in non air-conditioned six bunk compartments) Jean and I ventured off just before dawn to observe the Taj Mahal at it's most atmospheric. Thankfully, it was still early for most of the touts so we reached the gates some 150 yards from our hotel unmolested.
Looking at four minarets standing at attention around that gleaming white, tear-shaped domed building I was struck that all this, the tomb, the reflecting pools and surrounded acres of ornamental garden was built for one person. Mumtaz Mahal, 2nd wife of Emperor Shah Jahan, died giving birth to their 14th child in 1631. Grieved and heartbroken the Emperor began work on the memorial that same year. Some 20,000 people worked on the building over the course of 22 years.
To sum up my thoughts on the Taj:
Awe-Inspiringly Beautiful – Yes
Architecturally Marvelous – Yes
Tragically Romantic – Yes
Despotic Frivolousness – Yes
Visitation Worthy – Yes
We met up with Meredith and company that evening for dinner. Nicole, Lindsay's friend, had flown into Delhi a couple of days ago and arrived in Agra last night as well. Over a vast spread of curry, and rice and non we reflected that there were an awful lot of Texans in attendance tonight. In fact, Meredith, Jay, Lindsay, Nicole, and I had all graduated from the same high school. Chris was from Dallas. That left Jean as odd one out. We agreed that she was an honorary Texan. And so we rose our glasses of Kingfisher beer high and toasted to Texas.
Check out more pictures of Agra here.
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