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Published: January 4th 2007
Eggs, beans and chips arrive at our table in the small and crowed café. We ravenously tuck in needing to replace the excessive calorie use of the previous day from our record length cycle into the city. The faces around us in are mostly European with a few eastern Asian, Black and Indian faces too. We hungrily order a second plate of greasy breakfast and study our fellow diners. There is a good amount of hippy “Indian” clothing being worn and a fair few cockney accents cutting across the city noise coming in from the street. We figure that we could be in any greasy spoon in London, but then a cow ambles past the front of the café and we remember this is Delhi.
The street outside has its Indian giveaways too. Piles of rubbish line the road, there are no pavements and walking is tiring and hazardous from all the motorbikes and people jostling along, never mind the cycle rickshaws that never fail to almost run you down. Also every shop we pass is selling “Indian” tack; skirts, shawls or other clothes all in ridiculously clashing colours and all nowhere to be seen on any Indians. We are
still however in shock at the fact that there are so many other foreigners around. It must be around 40% non-Indian and we feel weird to be one of the crowds of tourists after so long in countries where we really stood out. American accents float past and also many restaurants cater for Israeli tastes, selling falafel etc. This is all so very different from Pakistan and Iran.
I forgot to mention our first impressions of India in the last blog. It hit us almost instantly; there are millions of people here! We still find it hard to comprehend just how many people there are here, but find ourselves always having to ask, “what do you mean by small town?” and being shocked when they answer 300 000 people ( that is bigger than our home city Aberdeen!) Animals wander everywhere; there are dogs and pigs at the roadsides. We have not seen a pig for about a year! Robin is particularly affected by the sight of a woman on a moped. Yes lots more people here and, wow, lots of women, and they are even allowed to drive a moped!.
Anyway back to Delhi. We are tired
India Gate at Sunset
Ceremonial Arch in the centre of New Delhi. Can't think where we got that idea from....and in a tiring city, full of pollution and noise. We wander down to New Delhi and find huge blocks and wide streets. Rajpath, the ceremonial centre of the new city is a bit unreal. Where has all this space come from? We enjoy an evening stroll around India Gate with other crowds of families there for a walk and ice cream. We head back to Pahar Ganj, the backpacker area of town, full of its tourist shops and hotel touts. So far nowhere feels like a true locals Delhi. We spend a few days looking for this but really fail. The city centre has flash shops and rich people who have come in from the posh housing developments in the suburbs and the old city is a chaotic mess of bazaars and traffic. I suppose this chaotic mess is what most of Delhi is like, but it does not appeal much to us, as it just seems noisy and gruff. There are so many people around and whereas in other countries a walk around town would always lead to some encounters with chatty locals, here the only contact we seem to get with Delhi-ites is “HELLO, Hello, Rickshaw Sir?”
shouted at us over and over.
Whilst trying to adjust to the noise we manage to see the Jama Masjid and we really appreciate the atmosphere of quiet and a great view from the top of the minaret out across the haze of pollution that is Delhi. We also found ourselves one evening at Raj Ghat, the place of Ghandi’s cremation and a lovely peaceful place to take a walk in the gardens that surround the cremation grounds of India’s leaders.
Most days in Delhi though we sleep in and eat at our local café enjoying the greasy spoon breakfasts loads. One advantage of all these other backpackers is the western food available, but we are disappointed by the curry offered by the place as it is definitely toned down for tourists. We soon find a busy place full of Indians for real curry when we fancy that in the evenings.
Delhi is OK once you have sussed out the cheap eateries and accustomed yourself to the noise. One day we take a bus to Nizamuddin area of town. It is a perfect day and we pass the Purana Qila (Old Fort) on the bus and loads of
other really interesting looking ruined buildings and we are happy to have made it to this area on the bus. All the guide books and hotel guys, whom in other countries we would ask for help and tips about local transport, tell us to take an auto rickshaw. The hotel guys also don’t tell us the local prices for the rickshaws and there is a massive tourist price in full swing. We are not used to this at all, but the numbers of tourists make this so possible. So we feel a particular sense of achievement in managing to take a bus ride, which is itself fun and people happily give us help to find the right bus and are really friendly.
Nizamuddin is a Muslim “village” near Humayun’s Tomb. The atmosphere here is totally different and really enjoyable. We join hundreds of other pilgrims who make their way to the shrine of the Sufi saint Nizam’uddin Al-Chisti. This is the oldest Sufi school in Delhi and used to count Mughal princes and emperors among its disciples. The area feels like being back in Pakistan, the men all wear Shalwar Kameez and have big beards, often dyed with henna,
Raj Ghat
The memorial on the site that Mahatma Ghandi was cremated by the Yamuna river, Delhi. and the place is full of butchers and kebab shops.
We meet an old guy called Javid who decides to look after us and take us for chai. It is great to meet a friendly local again and we realize possibly we are enjoying this so much because this is a Muslim area of the city and therefore feels more like what we are used to. I’m not sure, but we get a glimpse of everyday life here with people unconcerned by us, going about their own business and not trying to get us to buy anything. Javid is an interesting guy and the conversation soon turns to politics. He has similar views to most Pakistanis about Israel, America, Bush and the war on terror, though I sense his views are more reasoned and thought out than most Pakistanis. He also rages against the “fascist’ BJP (Hindu National Party), which is something new to this familiar repertoire. Bizzarely he holds the belief that Pakistan is cleaner and more developed than India. “In Pakistan everything is nicer no?” he asks. We tell him the truth - hard though it is to believe, that Lahore is much dirtier and more polluted
even than Delhi.
Javid shows us around some old tombs and shrines in the back alleys and then takes us to the main shrine and mosque complex where the 12th century saint is buried. He introduces us to the old Imam who has a long white beard and a glazed eye. He looks surprisingly young for his age though, telling us he is 85 and has been living at this shrine for 70 years without pay. He can’t grasp Scotland but becomes very animated about London - he spent a month there and is very happy that London has a big mosque and several Urdu language newspapers! We pay our respects at the shrines of the saints and go for lunch with Javid.
We take our leave of Javid and wander towards Humayun’s Tomb. We are distracted by some nursery gardens which are littered with the ruins of old tombs in amongst the trees. Parts of Humayun’s burial complex lay in broken piles, overgrown with jungle and it feels great exploring in here for free.
We decide to fork out the $5 each and visit Humayun’s tomb. The majesty and elegance of the place instantly hit
us. “Oh yes,” says Robin, “now this is Persian!” Praise indeed. The wonderful building is beautifully surrounded by well kept gardens and fountains and the lines of the dome soar above us in a way that uplifts our souls as we look on it. We are also there in late afternoon and the light in the gardens and the peacocks strutting around make the whole scene lovely. Humayun was the second Moghul emperor of India, being the son of Babur the Great who conquered India after leaving Central Asia. The language of the Moghuls was Persian and their art and architecture clearly has an enormous Persian influence.
There must be lots more really interesting places to dig out in Delhi, but the historic areas I had read about in the old city did not give me any impression of the magnificent past that was Shah Jahanabad. I think a new comer to Delhi needs a little time to find the magical places like Humayun’s tomb and if we ever return there we will look for the older ruins and palaces and not head to the main tourist sites like the Red Fort, which by all accounts has lost its
past feeling, the needs of millions of people take over I guess.
We happily left the city early one morning and had a good fast cycle along the main highway to Agra. The road was smooth and flat and we made good progress. We got a good lunch in one of the many roadside restaurants; food is never hard to come by with all these people about. We made it after a long 90 mile cycle to Vrindavan, the area where Krishna spent most of his life. We ask about accommodation at one of the many Ashrams, and are a bit surprised to find the place is a very nice and clean cheap hotel. We were expecting a lot more basic pilgrim style rooms, but pay up happy to think that at least this “hotel” is also a charitable organisation. However later on in the room we notice that the picture of Krishna is sponsored by the many companies that the Ashram is involved with, most of these seemed to be involved with nasty agricultural chemicals, pesticides and poisons, or mining. This discovery only adds to the sense of commercialism we feel in Vrindavan. We had passed many billboards
Secretariat Building, New Delhi
The seat of the colonialist 'Britisher' government, built in the 1930's. advertising “Spiritual living” in massive shiny new “pollution free”, guarded housing developments.
We had read that many people make pilgrimages to Vrindavan and there is a very active Centre for International Krishna Consciousness, which runs suitably expensive meditation courses etc. in plush, 4-star style luxury environments. Many Westerners come there and find the place magical. We just did not see this. Capitalism is in full swing here as elsewhere, I had just thought that a spiritual place may have had a reprieve from it, but I was being naive. Here the beggars and rickshaw wallahs yell “Hare Krishna” instead of “Hello. Hello”, but the meaning was still clear - give us rupees!
We enjoyed a day in Vrindavan though and found some peace and quiet on the river banks and at one of the older temples in town. There were indeed many supremely happy Krishna followers in town wandering round with beatific broad smiles and “talaks” marked on their foreheads. Heads were being shaven at the road sides with care taken to leave a “handle” of hair on the back for God to pull up their souls when they experience hard times on their roads to Enlightenment. That night
Motto on the Secretariat
Presuambly the British had already "raised themselves up" - but by standing on whose back? we were invited to join some “Hare Krishnas”, Western ones! Great - a chance to ask a bit about what it is all about. Well these particular Krishnas were not sticking to the path of enlightenment very well and had found the pleasure of cheap drugs. Our night trying to talk to Krishnas on Ketamine did not leave me feeling enlightened, but some of the ideas had some resonance with me. The problem now is I have no idea how to decipher the philosophy mixed up with the drug fuelled rantings and when they started singing and getting out the little hand cymbals I just shut down. There is only so much over-happiness and “Hare Krishna, Hare Rama” I can cope with. Luckily Hinduism seems to be a religion that you can pick and choose which gods you follow. I certainly feel the way of Krishna is not for me.
We thought we would take a back road to cut the corner to the highway to Agra, however this lead us through towns and people and was definitely not a relaxing or fast way to go and we were thankful to make it back to the main highway for
some progress unimpeded by diseased dogs and motorbikes madly swerving in front of us. Just as the buildings increased marking the edge of the city of Agra we spotted a magnificent gateway decorated in wonderful geometric mosaics and we pull off to investigate. We were at Akbar’s tomb. We wonder about going inside but are hesitant because there is nowhere secure to put our bikes. On further investigation we figured out that the tomb inside is not that fancy and the main attraction seems to be the gate, which we could admire for free! So after a snack of bananas we press on into Agra, intent on finding the Main Post Office and hopefully picking up 2 parcels from Post Restante.
We got totally lost on the way into town and horribly stuck in the middle of a bazaar, where the thrust of thousands of people and motorbikes and cycles all pushing made progress a nightmare, eventually after following Robin’s instincts we made it out onto a far wider road and with some helpful advice from a random guy found the post office. Robin ventured inside and 30 minutes later returned looking frustrated. He had been sent round almost
Kishi Ghat, Vrindavan
Where only the monkeys will disturb you. every desk in the building but no one seemed to know what post restante is, never mind which desk dealt with this. I had a go, and after camping out in the Post Master General’s office discovered that Mr Singh, the man we needed to see and the only man who could help us, was not there yet. Eventually after about 2 hours of trying, Mr Singh appeared and proudly gave us our two parcels, and we were very happy. Only later would we discover that half the contents of one of the parcels had mysteriously disappeared en-route from Scotland.
We checked into a very cheap hotel in the Taj Ganj area just in front of the Taj Mahal and managed to get our first view of the tomb from the roof top as the sun set. Outside the hotel the myriad calls of “change money sir”, “rickshaw, rickshaw”, blurred into hassle and inside the hotel every promise the staff had made about the room failed. Eventually in the dark we managed to shower and we made a note not to pay the full amount for the room. We tried to ignore all the bullshit and concentrate on the
Kishi Ghat, Vrindavan
Where Krishna stole the clothes of some cow-girls while they bathed. Not very godlike of him. fact that we were going to view one of the wonders of the world the next morning and see the results of a historic and great romance.
We truly enjoyed our viewing of the Taj Mahal. We were happy to be staying only about 50 metres from the gate and were there early before thousands of other tourists. The gardens are big and we were able to spend a really enjoyable 3 hours wondering over the beautiful buildings and setting of this famous tomb; the pinnacle of Mughal architecture in India. We had a great view of the Taj from the roof of our hotel too and sat in wonder for a few hours over a second breakfast before deciding to visit the Red Fort. However the hassle factor increased ten fold at the Red Fort and then the discount that we had been promised by our guide book turned out to be false so we decided to give it a miss and head to the Jama Masjid for a bit of peace.
However even in the Mosque we failed to find any peace and were constantly hustled round by the caretaker who was trying very hard to
get rupees from us even there. I had to tell him it was the worst mosque experience I had ever had, which did at least get him to leave us alone. We saw him later fussing round another couple of tourists but I was shocked to see that the woman had been let in despite having a sleeveless top on. It seems that hijab dress is not a concern of the caretaker of this mosque, not when there is money to be getting from tourists. I was saddened that even here we were just walking wallets.
Out on the street the rickshaws were relentless, following you along doggedly never accepting ‘no’ or believing that you want to walk. Maybe it is me not understanding the culture that there is no such thing as “NO” in India, but I think it was not the case. We are just considered easy pickings for “business”. We managed to escape into a park and see some cool birds and we consoled ourselves with the thought that the next day we would be pressing on to Bharatpur and the internationally famous wetland bird sanctuary for a few days with some peaceful nature.
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