I have passed through New Delhi a few times always with a plan to visit the Taj at the back of the mind. The unforgiving heat of Delhi defeated me more than once. Summer’s not a good time to go. (I don’t know if winter’s better but I can deal with the cold better that the heat).I find it easier to talk about the Taj Mahal than Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia among friends abroad. To the question of whether
Slumdog Millionaire depicts a real life situation I usually go to the extreme and added that India’s a country of everything: the richest of the rich living side by side with the poorest of the poor. We must go to the Taj to put to rest the question ‘…but have you been there?’ once and for all. That was the determination we had last summer.
We asked around. Those in the know advised hiring a car for a day. Also, we were told of how easy it was to take a train to Agra and come back late in the afternoon. We decided to take the train. We asked if an air-conditioned compartment was available, but we were answered in the negative. So, we booked the tickets to Agra, the best available.
When the trained pulled up on the platform it was already crowded. It was a harsh decision to make whether to fight our way in or to miss the Taj again. There simply was no seat! As the train began to move we decided in a split second to endure a 3-hour ride of who-knows-what to Agra.
Big bro was used to such travelling condition and he fought his way in and made some space, if a little, for us to follow. We managed to hoist the lady to the top berth where she was to squat literally for three hours. People were still fighting to get in! After everyone with a ticket was in there was practically no space left on the whole train. After a few minutes on the train, the dreaded message from the top berth was, “I need to use the loo!” On spying the toilet we found to our horror that it was full, of people too! Two men were fighting over some space but there was no space left to throw punches. And so it was on the way to the love story in white marble.
I found myself standing in the middle of the cabin, face to face with one young fellow who introduced himself as “Puneet” and mentioned he’s a Jain. That’s my first Jain face to face, just a few inches away. Puneet smiled and was cultured and polite. This was how people make it liveable in India. They don’t complain about the present situation even if they do about the general bad condition in every aspect of life. The milling, pushing and pulling crowd didn’t seem to bother Puneet as he talked to me calm but cheerfully. He was fresh out of an engineering college and was on his way home to Gwalior, the princely city. He was curious and informative at the same time. I didn’t know too many things about the Jains or Jainism. What he told me reminded me of a scene in Notting Hill:
Keziah: No thanks, I’m a fruitarian.
Max: I didn’t realize that.
William: And, ahm: what exactly is a fruitarian?
Keziah: We believe that fruits and vegetables have feeling so we think cooking is cruel. We only eat things that have actually fallen off a tree or bush – that are, in fact, dead already.
William: Right. Right. Interesting stuff. So, these carrots…
Keziah: Have been murdered, yes.
William: Murdered? Poor carrots. How beastly!
It may not be exactly the same but that’s what I was reminded and it’s along the same line. He got a job as an IT Engineer in Seoul and asked me about my experience of living outside India and his genuine curiosity and unusual modesty was easing the rather pathetic condition in which we were travelling. It was fair, I believe to have exchanged with him about my belief in the God who loved and died for me and for everybody to save us.
He assured me that most of the travellers would get down at Krishnajanmabhoomi, Mathura. That was it. I mean that was the reason why there were half a million people on that train. It was Krishna’s birthday and they wanted to visit his birthplace to offer their puja. If only we had known! And Puneet was right. Most people got down at Krishna’s temple and we were left with just enough people to occupy all the seats and spaces at a civilised distance.
The rickshaw driver was friendly and talkative. He offered to take us to other attractions around Agra but we came here for the one and only Taj. We struck a deal with him: he would take us to lunch, to the Taj, and to a bus station after the Taj. Don’t remember how much we paid him but it was worth it. He parked his rickshaw and waited for us as we joined a very long line of people queuing up to get inside.
Entry fee for one was 700 rupees, said the ticket seller. But we would not give him. We brought the EPIC card with us for that very purpose and the price was much less (I don’t remember the exact price. This double pricing system is a bit controversial. When you are at the receiving end it can be pretty upsetting but the logic behind this is that for tourists from developed nations it’s only a small amount of money. But when everyone else pays just a fraction of what you are paying for the same thing it can feel really discriminating. Well, I am just saying).
There is a pagoda near the place where we are living now and the government had been investing a lot of money developing the place for tourism. The real attraction at the centre of the park pales in comparison when you think about the likes of the Taj. But the amount of money and effort that went into building an attractive tourist place, with the second largest (or is it 3rd or what?) musical fountain in Asia thrown in is just mind blogging and admirable. Makes one wonder what would happen to a place like the Taj with the same effort. The surrounding area of the Taj looked old and unkempt and was full of dilapidated buildings; totally unattractive and dirty. How can we let such an important monument be in the middle of all the squalor and dirt, one wonders.
Everybody was frisked, X-rayed and scanned at the entrance. It was understandable. And finally, there was the Taj Mahal in all its glory! It’s awesome, truly awesome. You don’t need to praise it for there are simply not enough words to even begin to describe it. You don’t have to prepare glossy brochures of the Taj. You don’t need to advertise. You don’t need any announcement; you don’t need any guide to tell you that you are present now at the place of grandeur. You don’t have to tell people it’s beautiful. This is it, the very embodiment of grandeur! I am glad to have finally seen it.
Here’s one pic after many attempts to upload
The rickshaw walla drove us to a travel agent. We thought we were going to have a nice, relaxing bus on the way home instead of the unspeakable train. But it was not to be. When we realised what we were in for it was too late. The travel agent was simply buying seats for us from another agent. When the bus arrived we were seated at the last row and were told that we had to get down at the outskirt of Delhi!
The bus stopped on the way for dinner. We ordered the food and asked the price beforehand just to make sure. Three people heard the same thing: Rupees 60 each. We ate and drank voraciously out of hunger not because it was especially scrumptious. Then came the bill, 600 Rupees each! Why do these people exist just to make your life miserable and make a living out of cheating people? It’s no wonder we often feel more unsafe in our own country. Then we arrived at the outskirt of Delhi at the unfriendly hour of 11:30pm. We didn’t even know where we were! After a few minutes walk we finally got a rickshaw which was driven by a slightly deranged person. He had no care in the world, least of all the traffic rules. Somehow, we got home.
Now, do I think it was worth the effort? First, I believe the government of India has enough dough to invest in buying new trains, upgrading the present bogeys, build more tracks and offer better service in general with a little more effort. The trains are always crowded everywhere. You have never heard of empty trains in India. So, why don’t we just buy more and make more money, me thinks. Up the price a little in exchange of better service, everybody’s happy to pay if they get the service they wanted.
Secondly, why don’t we make it easier to access a place like the Taj Mahal so that everybody can go and enjoy without any fear or hesitation. Friendly place of grandeur and wonderment means more tourists and better business for everybody. Can’t we see that? There are things I can say about restaurateurs, waiters, taxi/rickshaw drivers, tour operators and all those who offer their services to tourists and are constantly in touch with tourists: about how they should earn their living in honesty and make tourists feel safe and welcome but I am not sure if my preaching’s going to do any good.
Do I still think it’s worth all the trouble? Certainly! It’s such a place I can say I enjoyed being there and I am glad I made it after all these years. It’s even better than the picture! Minus the unnecessary hassles it was even otherworldly. This is incredible India in every sense.
One Reverie 