JAIPUR TO AGRA VIA FATEHPUR SIKRI

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Friday afternoon I took myself for a wander through the back streets of Jaipur.

Note... If Quincy Jones Soul Bosanova is good for bopping through the doped up alleyways of Pushkar, Paul Okenfolds techno remix of the James Bond theme is excelent for surviving the mean streets of Jaipur.

Though you still attract plenty of attention walking around the back streets you have nowhere near the harrasement you get around the shops, and people are more interested in you than they are in what money you might want to part with. It's odd, there are days of the week and times at night when I'm not overly keen on walking between my front door up the high street in Wigton to the Indian takeaway, but I never seem to have any qualms about venturing into unknown suburbs abroad in some of the most dubious looking areas. (Guess I'm working on the what I don't know won't harm me approach)!

Got mobbed by a gang of boys electioneering! Not sure if these are local, district, national or what, but the bloke with the Youth vote would appear to be a rather severe looking man who stares out at me from bright yellow flyers written in Hindi! We'd encountered a large rally of boys and youths with a jeep the other night first promoting this man, and when Jamie and Me tried to get photo's we quickly whipped them up into a frenzy of excitement to almost civil unrest proportions.

The gang who ran into me yesterday swarmed about me and pushed flyers on me. They also wanted to do the whole handshaking thing which was fine until I got to the boy at the end who had been sticking up flyers with his hands and on shaking I got a palm full of wallpaper paste! I wiped the paste off on a flyer and stuck it to a wall and the kids went wild and jumped up and down chanting, (just hope this bloke aint the representative for the radical 'kill all the white people' party)?

That night we went to the cinema. It was an education I can tell you!

First of all you have to know that a trip to the Cinema in India is akin to the first night opening of a major broadway show. The crowds are massive and the excitement fever pitched.

It's a mark of my western prejudice that I envisioned Indian cinemas as being squalid fleapits? I was so wrong, they are magnificent, like modern day Moghul palaces! The reception area is enormous, with sweeping staircases, ornamental and decorative cealings, and plush furnishings. They hold vast crowds at various levels. We were on the upper balcony with plenty of leg room, and chairs that not only give space for the most amble western arse, they also adjust to either relax mode, or slide back to put you in formal concentration mode for those dramatic scenes.

Our film was called Veer - Zaara, (or something like that).

Picture the scene.... A Present day Pakastani prison.

Attractive, (if not indeed stunningly gorgeous), young up and coming Pakastani lawyer Cindy Sidiki has been sent to represent a mystery Indian man imprisoned for 20 years for espionage. She pleads with him to tell her his case, initially he refuses, but then gives way.

It's your classic tale realy. About a beautiful Pakastani girl, (Zaara), who sets off to India to dump her cremated grandmother in her ancestral river.

On route her bus falls off a cliff and ZaARA is saved by none other than dashing Squadron leader Veer Abul Sihng of the Indian Air force, (dresses like Tom Cruise in Top Gun), who sweeps in with his helicopter, lowers himself down on a wire and drags her up from certain death.

There is an attraction, he takes her to his family, then delivers her home to hers, only to find out she's engaged to a dodgy cut price Omar sharif type character.

Veer leaves her indignant and broken hearted, but then her maid phones him to tell him its him she really wants.

He goes to Pakistan and breaks up the wedding, her dad has heart attack. After much agonizing she decides to stay for the sake of her wealthy political muslim father, but before Veer can return home broken hearted again he is arrested and dragged off the bus.

Turns out this has been organised by dodgy fiancee who tells Veer he must confess to being an Indian spy or bring dishonour upon Zarrara and banishment.

So Veer goes along with the plan and Zaarra marries Omar.

To make matters worse the bus he was meant to be on also falls off a cliff and explodes so everyone thinks he's dead.

20 years later he finally gets round to telling the story to absolute stunner lawyer Cindy Sidiki who is to defend him in his apparent long overdue trial.

Cindy is nervous as counsel for the prosecution is the most important lawyer in Pakastan, while she's just a new girl with great legs and a stylish sari!

Anyway when all looks lost she travels to Veers home to tell his parents, only to find his dad has died, but surprise surprise Omar had dishonoured Zaara anyway and anulled their wedding so she fled to work in the school built by Veers father.

So it all comes down to the final court scene where the lovers are reunited, the case dismissed, the judge says why cant Pakistan and India just get on and Veer says...

'COS YOU BASTARDS HAVE GOT OVER 2000 OF US INDIANS ILLEGALY LOCKED UP!'

Even greatest lawyer in Pakistan admits he's not up to the job anymore so suggests the gorgeous Cindy takes over!

Of course being Bollywood there was much singing and dancing throughout, and we all went 'Ahhhhhhhhhh' when Veers parents first appeared in close up hero pose, (they both being the Indian equivalent of Topol and Dame Judy Dench), and gave a round of applause every time brave little Cindy gave a stunning retort in her defence of dashing squadron leader Veer.

It was a FOUR HOUR FILM!!!!! but came with an intermission, (where you could get cream cakes)!

Nadine was going to walk half way through, but ended up sitting with me for the second half where I explained to her what was going on, and we made up the dialogue with our own interpretation. (This may sound rude but as well as the occasional applauding, screaming babies, mobile phones, and 4 year old kids sticking their fingers in your ears are quite common throughout... and anyway the sound is turned up to 2 million decibells to compensate)!

I found it the most exciting cinema experience since I first saw Star Wars back in 1977, was totally satisfied with the evening, and was amazed that everone else, (apart from Vipal), had not understood the plot. (Yet again my formative years sat in front of the TV has paid dividends)!

After seeing so many bus crashes in the film I did start to wonder just how common they were, (I mean driving in India aint exactly ordered). I got first hand experience the next morning as we drove to Agra and suddenly were brought to a halt by a massive line of traffic obstructed by an accident further down the road. The world and his wife were out of their vehicles and milling around, while other vehicles just tried to force their way through.

In keeping with current Anglo American foreign policy myself, Nadine, Joan and Glen set off down the road to see if we could intervene and sort everything out.

Interestingly, in keeping with the rest of the worlds current view of Anglo American foreign policy everyone quickly made it clear we were not welcome!

There was a crowd of people mobbing one policeman, and when we arrived on the scene a smaller crowd broke away and mobbed us.

Nadine hid behind me and said she 'didn't like the look of this lot', and I contemplated holding them off with my Elephant Prodder while she made a run for the bus. After much angry remonstrating by locals in our faces we chose to make a tactical, (but dignified), retreat.

Eventually our bus made headway again, and we stopped off in the late afternoon at the Moghul Capital of Fatehpur Sikri!

NOTE... Built during the second half of the 16th century by the Emperor Akbar, Fatehpur Sikri (the City of Victory) was the capital of the Mughal Empire for only some 10 years. The complex of monuments and temples, all in a uniform architectural style, includes one of the largest mosques in India, the Jama Masjid.


This is a stunning piece of architecture, a lost city of the ancients if you will!

Our guide was a very old, very stately, immaculately dressed in white muslim gentleman, who had his own unique way of holding out attention throughout. He would occasionally ask us questions about things he had told us, and if we got it right he shook our hand. What he lacked in perfect English, he made up for with inimitable style, and we all enjoyed his visit.

Today I'm in Agra. I've been to the Taj Mahal already, and soon am popping off to Red fort of Agra... but more on that later!

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