The journey from Delhi to Agra on Thursday (yes, it was
Thursday, I bloody well checked and double checked) was both amazing and
thought provoking.
First there is the dirty, gritty sprawl of Delhi itself.
Buildings are sliding into rubble, or perhaps more accurately, are made of
rubble. Amongst the ruins are makeshift beds of old blue plastic sheeting and filthy
blankets, the odd cooking utensil made of a silver metal, plastic cups, or instead,
the cut down bases of plastic drinking water bottles. Sometimes there is a
fire, usually contained in a cut down metal container, perhaps a large tin with
the top removed, burning thick black rubbery smoke. Men, women and children are
scavenging in the areas of rubble and rubbish between dwellings. This is at
6.30am, so there are hundreds of men and young boys with their backs to the
train on their haunches, trousers pulled forward towards their knees, shitting.
Then there are kilometres of land occupied by people that
live in makeshift tents, constructed of small, roughly shaped tree trunks,
orange sizel like rope and blue and yellow plastic sheeting. These tents have
grown organically, so they consist of older and newer sections of different colours,
the older sections sagging and more tired, both sections dirty, with the grime
from the railway and the pollution of the city and just plain dirt. Pigs,
cattle and monkeys search for whatever they can find, together with children.
There doesn’t seem to be a hierarchy of life.
Beyond that, the rural landscape is flat. There are a
patchwork of small, multi-coloured fields as far as the eye can see, a myriad
of greens and yellows, dotted occasionally with people walking, apparently in
the middle of nowhere, or in fields in brightly coloured lines, sitting or on
their haunches, scything corn and grass and other crops I don’t recognise. There
are amazing conical or elliptical structures, intricately patterned as though
someone had coiled heavy duty rope into a cone, but which are in fact
constructed from pressed discs of cow shit which are used for fuel. The fields
are filled with twisted stooks of corn, like ice-creams once turned with a
triumphant flourish but which have now wilted in the sun. Now and again the
fields are disrupted by tall rocky outcrops and escarpments of deep red
sandstone.
There are occasional settlements. First there are the plastic
tents, although not jostling for such a tiny amount of space as in Delhi. Then
there are single story, angular, almost art deco buildings, often with outer
walls falling away, but richly coloured, white, yellow, deep ochre, pink, mint
green or blue. These are open to the front and sit behind a lean too made from
the ubiquitous blue plastic sheeting. Usually, these are divided into two
parts. On the left, presumably, is the living and sleeping area and on the
right, signified by cooking utensils and large blue plastic drums, is the
cooking area. At first, I couldn’t tell whether the third type of dwelling was
for people, cattle or storage. They are very small, without windows and
constructed of mud or straw walls, with thatched roofs, usually constructed in
two’s and three’s and four’s. The taxi driver in Agra confirmed that they are
the homes of agricultural labourers and their families.
Agra is a busy, bustling city, but not as hectic as Delhi.
There is a terrible contrast between the crowded, filthy streets, the tickets
touts and tut-tut drivers and the souvenir sellers all noisily vying for
business and the calmness of the Taj Mahal itself. I really can’t describe the
overwhelming feeling I got when I saw it in its entirety, except to say that I
could easily have cried. I have never seen such an incredibly beautiful
building in all my life and I suspect I never will again. I have certainly
never been brought to the point of tears by a building before.
The train ride from Agra to Ranthambhore yesterday was good
but the train was 6.5 hours late, so spent almost the whole of yesterday at
Agra Fort Railway Station, watching the people, which was great, but I didn’t
arrive until 9.30 yesterday evening.
This morning was up at 6 for a tiger safari in the
Ranthambhore nature reserve. I thought it would be a bit touristy naff, but in
fact it was brilliant going over very rough, side dropping terrain and small
rivers in an open top jeep. We didn’t see any tigers, but we did see a leopard,
which is extremely rare, as there are only two in the park, (which covers an
area of 1600 square kilometres), so very fortunate indeed. Also, there were
Spotted Deer, Antelope, Samba Deer (bloody huge things, largest deer in India) and lots of amazing birds
including peacocks, of course, and stunning butterflies.
I’m taking it easy today, hence the extended bon mot. Took
the chance to wash my one shirt (dry in about 30 mins, it’s 36C here today) and
my jeans, which are still hanging in the hotel garden (yes, this one is a palace compared to some of the dives I've been in, it has a garden!). They both really could have
done with it!
Anyway, hope this publishes. The electricity and wifi have been off and on every 5 minutes for the last 2 hours!
Anyway, hope this publishes. The electricity and wifi have been off and on every 5 minutes for the last 2 hours!
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| There are many doors in the Taj. Here's just one |
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| The Baby Taj. A copy built before the original |
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| One legged shoe thieves and anyone out on a limb, this way! |
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| Agra Fort |
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| Trains? Who gives a monkeys? |
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| Peacock attacks building. Few will survive. |
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| Bird watching tourists watching bird watching tourists |
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| Interesting tyre tracks. Oh, some tiger prints too! |
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| Are you a Samba Deer, stuck in the same old rut? |
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| Spot the leopard. Very shy animals and only 2 in the whole park, so very rare |
