Saturday

While I was very much looking forward to seeing the Taj Mahal, especially at sunrise, getting up at 4 was brutal. We had to meet at the bus at 4:30. Two people in our group, for whatever reason, hadn’t been informed of our plan to leave so early, so at 4:45 Amit had to go wake up Taylor and Maira, who joined us about ten minutes later. It wasn’t their fault they hadn’t been told, but it was still frustrating to have to wait at such an early hour. It didn’t take very long to get to the place where the bus dropped us off, and when we went inside, around 5:10, there were only two other people there. We discovered that entry to the Taj Mahal would be free after 2pm, so Nita ma’am proposed that we change plans and begin the day at the Agra Fort instead, and return later. When we voted, that idea got totally shut down. We all bought our tickets, and then got on little tram things (like at Disneyland) to take us from the parking lot to the entrance. When we got to the entrance, the east gate, we were some of the first people of the day inside the site. Andrew and Cameron promptly took off toward the royal gate, through which the Taj would be visible. When Miya and I tried to follow, the tour guide Nita ma’am had hired told us we couldn’t go, because he needed to tell us some things first. Aggravating! It turned out he wanted to tell us about the royal gate, which was actually kind of interesting, but he made a serious mistake when he said that the Arabic on the gate could only be read by Arabians and Muslims. Irfana and I caught each other’s eye with a look of amused perplexity, and Nita ma’am actually corrected him, saying that non-Muslim people can also read Arabic. He apologized, and then said it again. After a few more minutes of telling us unnecessary facts which we could easily have read in a book, he finally told us we could go in. By that time, I was extremely irritated, and kept trying, unsuccessfully, to convince myself that it was worth hearing what the guide had to say. When we went through the gate, tourists had already gathered in the way of the Taj, so we missed the chance to take a picture without anyone in it, even though we totally could have had he not stopped us. UGH! I was tired and cranky to begin with, and my frustration was augmented by the idea that this lazy-eyed Indian man was spoiling my Taj Mahal experience. After a few pictures by the gate, we walked further in, and when we were walking by the fountains, I smiled at the idea of pushing him into one. We continued toward the Taj, and the guide, who had already told us about the perfect symmetry of the structure, explained that the two buildings facing the Taj itself were the guesthouse and the mosque. Facing the Taj, the guesthouse was on the right, and the mosque on the left. Strategic placement: the mosque faces east. A few of us circled the monument; I was pleased to get away from the guide. We went around clockwise, as I’ve observed is the correct way to go around temples and religious altars here. I’m not sure though, whether it’s just a Hindu thing. Finally, we went up the stairs onto the marble itself. Because it was so early in the morning, and the sun hadn’t broken through the clouds, we were able to manage going barefoot. I love being barefoot, especially on marble, plus I was happy not to have to wear the awkward tourist shoe-covering bootie things. I think those are excessively silly-looking. When we were up there, I still took my time on going into the Taj. Miya and I walked around it again, going slowly, appreciating the beautiful designs on the outside. We took a few pictures; when we got back to the front, Nita ma’am was still sitting on the steps, intently reading the script on the outside. We sat with her for a few minutes, and then the three of us finally decided to go inside. Free of the guide, I was relieved to find that my disposition had greatly improved; earlier, I had been disappointed to be in a sour mood while fulfilling such a life dream. When we went inside, Nita ma’am explained to us that the reason entrance would be free later that day was because it was Shah Jahan’s urs – the anniversary of his death. (Shah Jahan was the one who constructed the Taj Mahal in memory of his wife, Mamta, who died giving birth to their fourteenth (?!) child.) She also told us that, because it was his urs, the real tomb was open to be viewed, rather than the replicas which sit in the main chamber of the Taj. She commented that it was extremely lucky that we had the chance to see the real tombs, because she hadn’t before, and because we hadn’t even planned to be there on that day. The real tombs lay beneath the replicas; we went down the marble staircase to the room, which was very bare except for the festive sheets adorning the tombs. Nita ma’am identified the tomb in the middle as Mamta’s, explaining that the person for which a monument is built gets buried in the middle of the room, directly in front of the door. The adjacent tomb, then, belonged to Shah Jahan. I got goosebumps thinking about how special it was to be seeing the real thing! So exciting! We stood there for a minute or two, appreciating the significance of our opportunity. There were a few men there who were praying. I turned the flash off on my camera and took a picture. Though there was no sign prohibiting photos, I still felt uneasy doing so, which was why I turned off my flash. We went back up, and walked around the building. Miya and I quietly agreed that we greatly preferred Nita ma’am’s stories and facts to those of our guides. We looked at the replica tombs, which didn’t feel very worthwhile after having visited the real ones moments before. We walked around a bit more, through a few chambers. We sat down in one near the back of the building, on a ledge near a window (intricate marble grate through which you can see). To my dismay, our guide found us there. He was with Cathy, who I suppose had been humoring him by listening to him after the rest of us had abandoned ship. Pleased to find us again, he began rattling off some useless facts. I was amused to find out, though, that the room we’d stopped to rest in had coincidentally been a ladies’ chamber. We stood up and continued to the exit, where the rest of our group was sitting on the ledge. We joined them, and we all sat and chatted for about an hour. There was a cool breeze (!!!!) blowing through, and it was pretty incredible to be literally sitting on the Taj Mahal, chatting casually about things like culture at CMC. We took a few pictures, and finally decided to start heading out. The rest of the group was ahead of us, and went back down the stairs to retrieve their shoes long before we joined them. Miya, Nita ma’am, Irfana, Amit, and I stood there in front of the Taj (still up on the marble) for quite a few minutes. At one point, our guide was waving madly at us, gesturing that we join them. Irfana commented that we were probably stressing him out, that he was probably worried about keeping the group together for the sake of a tip. We laughed, and continued to torture him by pretending not to understand his evident dismay. Finally, we went back down, got our shoes, and began walking toward the gate. We stopped though, several times, for more touristy pictures. I didn’t mind; I kind of wanted to drag out our time there as much as possible. By that point, I was extremely happy to be there, and was also grateful that the guide wasn’t getting to me anymore.

After we left the monument itself, our guide took us to a shop where people were demonstrating the process of inlaying designs into marble. At that point, most of us were ready to go back to the hotel and nap and also to get away from all of the people trying to sell us things. They were especially pushy there. Also, Amit had warned us against “pocket sniffers,” (haha) so I at least was tired of being especially wary of small children coming too close to my purse. When we got back to the hotel, most of us ate a delirious breakfast and then headed to bed for a short nap. At 10, 40 minutes later, we met in Nita ma’am/Irfana/Nandani’s room for a continuation of Nita’s lecture. She provided background history on the Mughal empire, and Shah Jahan specifically. A few years into the construction of the Taj Mahal, he was “arrested” by one of his sons, who imprisoned him in the Agra Fort for the rest of his life. She told us that he was able to see the Taj from his “prison,” which, ironically, he had built. She also told us about how the Mughals created a cultural synthesis in India, facilitated by generations of intermarriage, which ultimately resulted in emergence of a new language: Urdu. Overall, I thought the lecture was very interesting.

Once her lecture was finished, I went back to sleep for an hour. At 12:30, those of us who were interested met Nita ma’am, Irfana, Nandani, and Nawal in the lobby to go out and explore one of the markets and find lunch. When we got off the bus, we walked around for a bit before stopping for lunch at an average, cheap Indian restaurant. I sat with Miya, Katie, and Nita ma’am. I don’t remember much of what we talked about, but it was a pleasant meal. I had cumin potatoes, which were delicious. I remarked, as I have a few times, on how different it is to be eating from a cuisine in which it is entirely customary to eat carbs by picking them up with your hands using more carbs – bread. Not that I’m complaining. We had a few sweets after our meal; I really need to write down the names of these amazing desserts. Right now I can identify my two favorite ones by describing them to the Indians among us: one is really flakey, melts in your mouth, and has a softer, butterfinger-like consistency. The other is like a sticky donut hole with a really sweet, oozy inside. Delicious. After lunch, we went back through the same market, and, between all of us, made several shoe purchases. Hadley, you just keep getting bonus gifts; the least you could do is give me back my sunglasses when I come home.

Back at the hotel, we had an hour for more naptime before we left again to visit the Agra Fort. As has become customary, I woke up in the middle of my nap to Amit calling to tell us the plan, which I usually already know. When I went into the lobby, I told him he had a special talent for calling unnecessarily at times during which I’d really like to continue sleeping. After a couple of exchanges, I reiterated my initial sarcastic comment, to which he responded with a genuine and enthusiastic, “Thank you!” We all laughed, he’s such a character.

Agra Fort was impressive. As Nita ma’am told us (we didn’t get a guide this time, as none of us had enjoyed the one in the morning), Akbar had originally constructed the fort out of red stone. Then, Shah Jahan came in and, according to his own personal preference, redid part of it in white marble. We walked around, especially appreciating the architecture. We spent a lot of time looking around and sitting near Shah Jahan’s imprisonment area, which was of the white marble he preferred. It was an extremely posh “cell.” He had a verandah and several rooms, all of intricately decorated white marble. We saw the courtyard area where ladies attended him, fanning and such. From the balcony, it was fun to look out and see the Taj again, because by then, our morning visit totally felt like a dream. We spent an hour or two perusing the Agra Fort; I was intrigued and excited to notice more of Akbar’s integration of different religious symbols in a part of the fort which Shah Jahan hadn’t changed. When we left the Agra Fort, there were more extremely pushy men and children trying to sell things. As it was our last time visiting such a tourist destination, a few of us braved the chaos and began bargaining for things. I wanted postcards. One young man had two packets of postcards, one of the Taj Mahal and one of the Agra Fort. Bracing myself, I asked how much. He wanted 200 for both. I said I’d give him 50. He said, “Okay, 180.” I just gave him a look. “Okay, 160.” I gave him another look. He added a packet of Delhi postcards to the pile and said, “Okay, 150 for all three.” I asked Alex what he thought, and we both agreed I should ask for 70. The guy said, “Okay, 140.” When I continued to give him blank stares, he said, “Okay, 130.” Silence. “Okay, 120.” Silence. He added a packet of Jaipur postcards and said, “Okay, 100!” Because I’d originally been asking for two for 50, and he was now offering four for 100, I took it. Whatever. They were all places I’d been, and I ultimately just wanted the postcards, so I was content. We got back on the bus; Britta and Cameron had negotiated two marble boxes down from 1000 for both to 100 each. Impressive. When we got back to the hotel, the plan was that we’d wait to hear from Amit about going to dinner. When he finally called, after I’d showered and gotten ready to go out, the revised plan was to just stay in and eat the hotel’s crappy buffet food again. No thank you. I went upstairs to see what the other kids wanted to do. Cathy, Taylor, Britta, Cameron, Ben and I (the same group who went on the late night adventure in Jaipur) ended up deciding to leave the hotel and walk to a restaurant. As we were leaving, one of the security guards, who was headed home, offered to walk with us and show us where we should eat. We ended up walking pretty far, but he took us to a really nice, westerner-friendly restaurant. We told him he should join us, and he came in, but ended up going outside for a smoke and never came back. We ordered a couple of chicken dishes, a potato dish, and a variety of breads. When our food came, I have to say the best combo was the garlic naan and butter chicken. Amazing. It turned out that between the 6 of us, what we’d ordered was the perfect amount. Love it when that happens. After dinner, we went outside and caught an auto back to the hotel, where we went back to our rooms and packed and went to sleep.

That was Saturday. I have more to write about Sunday and today, but am tired and will leave this for now. I’ll just say that I’m really happy to be back in Varanasi – it feels like home!