Agra-phobia...the fear of all things India

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Wow, where to begin? What a day...I am overwhelmed. It seems then that I should begin from the beginning. My day started EARLY, thanks to jet lag and our departure time. I was officially awake and up by four (but really before then), so that we could meet our escort and driver at 5:15 to go to the train station. It was our same escort from the trip from the airport, so it was nice to see a friendly face. Arriving at the train station had the feel of some melodramatic spy movie - it was dark out because of the early hour, and a mist of fog surrounded the entrance to the station. We walked through with our guide to the platform, and there, my real baptism into India began. There were all manner of people waiting there, from tourists, to businessmen, to men assisting tourists by carrying their suitcases on top of their heads, to women with children - it was busy. We had a while to wait until the train arrived, so we watched everyone as they busied themselves about their day. One woman held her child by the platform as he relieved himself (not an unusual occurrence, I was to learn) and more than one person braved their way across the tracks to the opposite platform. I saw a rat, and was relieved that it was much smaller than the ones in New York, so no worries there. We also noticed that although the train station was incredibly dirty, they did offer wireless internet access free of charge. Really just an example of the many ironies here.

The train finally arrived, first the engine and then the rest of it, and our escort assisted us in finding our seats, which I was incredibly grateful for. We were on the Shatabdi Express, departing at 6:15 (and they left on time!). I was worried that the train journey would be scary and dangerous (actually, I was worried about the whole trip!), so from the moment I exited the elevator in the hotel, every muscle in my body was tensed and alert. This was no different on the train, as we listened to the announcer drone over and over about watching your bags and not giving your ticket to anyone who wasn't uniformed personnel and prepared to show identification. All I kept thinking about was all of those train bombings that have happened here (albeit, they have almost all been in the south, and not the north of India), and the armed guards on the train made me feel less, and not more, safe, especially because some of them were carrying really big guns but weren't actually in uniform. We were in first class, which was like a regular train car on any American train, leaving me to wonder what the other cars looked like! The journey itself was decently pleasant. They served a great deal of food, coming around with two breakfast trays, both of which I refused, as well as the tea and water (no bacteria water for me!). My dad tried one of the meals, which involved a potato pancake of some sort, although to me, it looked awfully gray. I think he actually took a picture of it.

The train ride opened my eyes further, as the mist lifted and we could see more of the countryside as we passed. That's when it started to sink in...the true meaning of the word "poverty," which here seems inadequate to describe the living conditions. I lost count of the number of men who didn't hesitate to use the road, the train tracks, anywhere really, as their personal bathroom. Both children and adults just squatted right down wherever they were to relieve themselves. "Dirty" was another word that seemed inadequate to me, and "filthy" is really a better descriptor. There was human and animal filth everywhere, just the sheer detritus of living. It was unbelievable, horrible, and disgusting, and even photos won't do it justice, though I am including a few. It surprisingly was worse in Agra itself, the Taj Mahal notwithstanding.

But in the countryside, I saw tiny huts made from hay where people live, some collapsed and destroyed. The smaller towns appear to be falling apart, and there were no signs of incoming infrastructure in any of the places we saw, although Pepsi seems to be awfully prevalent. It was truly sad, and the depressing scene, along with the fear that gripped me from the time I left the hotel, was making it difficult for me to breathe. The announcer finally called the stop in Agra, and we stood to depart the train. I felt as though I had to will my legs to walk, because I was so nervous. Thankfully, I was carrying the big orange bag that said "Creative Travel," our travel company, on it, because the representative was waiting right at the doors of the train, saw it, and called my name immediately. I was incredibly relieved. He led us through the throngs of people, and the children pulling on us for money, and led us to the car.

As we drove, I couldn't believe this was the city that houses the Taj Mahal. It was so unbelievably filthy. Stray dogs are everywhere, roaming the streets in search of food, their ribs and bones sticking out from under their fur. As silly as it seems, the dogs were what really got me, because I could just picture *my* dogs and how scared they would be to be in the same situation and how no one gives these dogs a second thought. They simply cannot, because their day to day survival is such an immediate and pressing concern. Cows are also everywhere, roaming the streets, chained to trees, and working. They are also depressingly thin, but seem to have very individual and funny personalities. They look right at you, as if they are sizing you up, and are busily working to find something to eat, if they're not pulling something along. We also saw donkeys, goats, sheep, camels, and even monkeys all left mostly to their own devices, and all struggling to survive.

We took the car as far as we could, and then had to catch an electric rickshaw to go all the way to the Taj Mahal. The government has concerns about the emissions causing damage to the building, which was another irony I thought, in light of the total and absolute poverty and waste everywhere around. The day was cold (yes, cold!) and rain threatened, so I was regretting not wearing something warmer as we rode the open rickshaw closer to this wonder of the world. We disembarked, and had to walk a short distance to the eastern gate. This is when all the "businessmen" came out, trying to sell us their books and postcards, small baskets with tiny fake snakes in them (very Ali Baba), and snow globes of the Taj Mahal. It was best to simply ignore them, because even a polite "no, thank you" was an invitation to bargain. Luckily, we survived mostly unscathed, and I was very conscious of my purse, because I had read that some crafty thieves will even cut open the bottom of your purse to steal its contents, leaving you none the wiser until it's too late. I had taken out almost everything of value that I could, and left it in the safe in my room, and held on to the bottom of the bag for dear life. Normally, I care more about looking confident and trying to blend in, but not today!

Finally, we entered the eastern gate. Our guide told us that there are three entrances - south, west, and east. The southern gate is open for the shortest amount of time each day, because there is no parking over there. He also later mentioned that the Taj Mahal is only open for two hours on Fridays to Muslims, because it is a holy day. Our guide told us about the Mughal history that led to the creation of the Taj Mahal, most of which, of course, I can't remember (it was a *long* day, but read the information on the link above, and it will fill you in). But I do know that the the Taj Mahal was created by one of the Mughal emperors, who had three wives. The first two wives were political marriages, arranged by his father, but the third wife, he married for love. So he created this stunning tribute to her, where she is buried, as a symbol of his love. He is also buried there, but not in the direct center as she is, which is the only alteration to the fascinating symmetry of the building. Also, the tombs that the public sees are only replicas - the actual tombs have been moved underneath the main chamber for safety reasons.

We walked through the entrance of this building in the complex whose name I have forgotten, and for the first time, saw the Taj Mahal. Photos truly do not do it justice - it is incredibly breathtaking. Although the surrounding buildings are created from sandstone, the Taj Mahal itself is made from pure white marble and mother of pearl, so that when the sun is shining, the building glows (however, the sun was *not* shining today...more on that later). A long series of fountains leads up to the Taj Mahal itself, and even with a storm coming it, it was truly impressive and breathtaking. We took several photos, and then moved up further along the path to where all of the famous photos of Princess Diana were taken. My dad took one of me there, and then we walked up to the Taj Mahal itself. Up close, the detail is incredibly beautiful. Large pieces of marble were carved as though flowers had sprung from inside of them, and others had shapes reminiscent of a fleur de lis cut from them to create latticework out of one piece of marble. But the most beautiful part of all was the inlaid gemstones in the marble, creating flowers and other shapes - lapis lazuli and other stones were cut piece by delicate piece to form individual petals, leaves, vines and more. The artists then carved about five millimeters of the marble away in the shape of the flowers, and used a secret glue to secure the stones to the marble (yes, secret...apparently, they wouldn't even tell Bill Clinton when he asked, unless he was prepared to give away the secret Coca Cola recipe). Arabic writing was also inscribed into the marble in this way, making it understandable why the Taj Mahal took twenty two years to finish!

Once we had admired the outside of the building, we ducked inside, where no photos were allowed. It would have been hard to take any anyway, seeing as there was virtually no light! We crept around with our tour guide to see the two replica tombs, lit only by an Egyptian lamp that was a gift from a Brit. Our tour guide demonstrated how the room echoes for up to 13 seconds, and showed us with a flashlight how one of the stones actually glows when light is shone on it. It was magical, and I *almost* started to relax. Then we went outside, where the thunderstorm that had been threatening was starting to hit in full force. We gathered with the other tourists under the safety of the Taj Mahal's overhang and watched as the rain literally poured as if from buckets from the top of the building. Finally, it abated a little, and I managed to soak the bottoms of my pants as we attempted to avoid the puddles that had gathered. I had thoughtfully worn my crocs though, so they turned out to be great rain shoes once I ditched my wet socks! Although I was glad to be heading out of the rain, I was almost sorry to leave because I had felt so secure within the confirnes of the Taj Mahal compound. (Well, more secure anyway)

We made it back to the rickshaw, and then the car, haunted by the crippled men who begged from the ground. We learned from our tourguide that his sister actually lives in New Jersey, and he is going to be studying to get his MBA at a university in Sheffield, England. He showed us where the new shopping malls are being built, and mentioned that McDonalds and Pizza Hut were being put in - it just seemed to me so hopeless, but perhaps the influx of western cash and a little capitalism will infuse the local economy and make a difference. Although, I did learn today that one of the hotel's employees gets paid just over a dollar every day to work here, even though our nightly room rate is $350. Somehow, it just doesn't seem right. I've felt that way about a lot of things here.

Next, we were off to what turned out to be a showroom for the families that still create marble pieces in the style of the Taj Mahal, called pietra dura. There are about 135 families left that do this, and each family has different designs that they create. We watched as they gently shaved the pieces of stone into the correct size and shape for the various designs, using only their eyes to judge the final product. They spin a stone with a piece of rope to carve the gems, and can often lose the tips of their fingers after doing this for a time. They can only work for fifteen minutes at a time, because it is so physically tedious. Another family member then carves the designs into the marble, first spreading a thin layer of red coloring on the marble to make the design easier to see. He then inserts the pieces using the secret glue. The first pieces we saw were beautiful, but we were simply amazed by the second family's work, which was so intricate that a sneeze would blow the whole design (yes, the pun is intended). Tiny, tiny flowers could require up to 44 individual pieces - it was truly fascinating. I did end up buying a piece for myself, which is a unique and beautiful souvenir from the trip. Since I did make a purchase, they were quick to shepherd us upstairs to see the rug work being done. Although I had no plans to buy a rug, I was drawn to the two men crouched in front of the loom, working (it seems that crouching was a favored form of sitting for most people we saw today). The rug salesman told us that they work with two main rows of natural thread, and then the designs are created through a secret (of course) formula for each family, using a series of knots. The two men could tie the knots and cut them so quickly that until they slowed down to show us the process, I couldn't see how it was done. Once they are finished, the rugs are then laid on the floor and cut, then washed. They were incredibly beautiful, with a quality of workmanship I've never seen anywhere else. Next, we were sent into a room with clothing, and managed to escape before buying anything else, although we did take our host's card for the "next" time we're in Agra.

We planned to go to Agra Fort next, but as we drove through the teeming rain, we pointed out that it probably wouldn't be too pleasant. So our guide showed us the fort from behind, and noted that 75%!o(MISSING)f it is not open to the public because it's used as army barracks for the Indian army. We went to the Trident Hilton for lunch, and I have never been so grateful to see an American hotel, as embarrassing as that is to admit. We had to cross a small moat of water leftover from the storm to get there, but it was worth it! Lunch was probably the best meal I've had since I left home, and I didn't even eat that much! But at least I was full, and was fully entertained by the efforts of the hotel staff to futilely brush the incoming rain off of the outside sidewalk. We finally departed for Delhi about 1:30.

For this part of the trip, we were driving. Ah, driving in India - please read Coen Jukens account on this, it's hilarious. The other day, I was enchanted by it, probably because I was jet lagged and not in the car for that long. Today, it was incredibly irritating. Although I did learn more about the use of the horn - the horn is used for three things: a warning, an order, or a reprimand, i.e. "Here I come," "Get out of the way!" or "You jerk!" Ergo, it is used constantly, which can wear on your nerves after five hours. We drove for quite a while, starting out by winding our way through the traffic of Agra, which apparently was not that bad, but would rival local NJ traffic for sure. We saw children riding their bicycles home from school, all wearing their uniforms, and gas-powered rickshaw packed full of more people than they should hold. There were cars weaving madly, and large trucks towing all manner of things (including a large hay truck we had seen earlier, which apparently requires the driver to physically stand on the brakes to stop it, and often, this tips it backwards). There were also the requisite tour buses, and I did eventually see the aforementioned Pizza Hut. It was rather wild in the heavier traffic, and I kept clenching my jaw in hopes that we would survive. To get an idea, check out this video!

The open road was better, but only because it was faster. The rickshaws, bicycles and motorcycles were still permitted, and the local people thought nothing of walking right across the road into oncoming traffic. So did one poor dog 😞. Again, the lanes were merely a suggestion, although I did eventually see a billboard that recommended using them. Once we passed out of the state that is home to Agra, Utter Pradesh (yes, I had to look that up), we stopped at a little rest stop. I had been concerned when our driver mentioned stopping, because the towns that we were passing were incredibly rural, and made Agra look as fancy as Paris. But we actually found a rest stop, which had a gross and intimidating ladies room inside - although, I was still hung up on the moth balls used as air freshener in an earlier restroom. We stretched our legs for a few minutes, and then it was off to Delhi again. I really thought that we would make it in four hours instead of five, but that's because I don't know Delhi rush hour traffic. We had several close calls here, and it truly is a wonder that there aren't more traffic accidents. I started to have hope that we would make it back here, and was able to enjoy seeing the India Gate, lit up at night. But not as much as I will enjoy crashing into my lovely and inviting bed - it's not home, but it will have to do.

So now I've seen enough of India to assure me that I have zero interest in returning here, and I hope to continue facing fear in the face over the next few days of our conference. Tomorrow, we are off to our law firm's offices here (so the first solo cab ride for us - yikes!), and then the welcome reception and dinner officially open the conference tomorrow! But God bless the USA - I can't wait to get home!

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