The Lazy Cherub Enigma: Getting that Money Shot In Agra

September 24, 2015

This is, after all, a train journey through India so let’s get some train talk happening!

We had to say good-bye to Shimla and begin the long and winding journey back into Delhi. Other than a laborious drive (or helicopter rental) the only other way to get back down the mountain is to take the “toy train” (UNESCO recognized!)– otherwise known as a narrow gauge train – to Kalka. And it really is a toy steam train! No bigger than something you find at a zoo for children’s entertainment. Only this children’s ride lasts 6 hrs. and you sit on narrow wooden benches barely wide enough for one person. There are no doors and the toilet is a hole in the floor. But what a ride! The views are spectacular! Winding down the mountain with your feet hanging out the door. Your toes dangle into oblivion every time you cross one of the 864 bridges spanning the mountain gorges. Quickly you retract your feet every time you enter one of 103 roughly hewn tunnels lest you shave off a few toes (or more!). The longest tunnel is at Barog (1.5 km). Engineered by Colonel Barog, he dug the tunnel from both ends but was unable to align them. In jest, his peers fined him one rupee for poor planning but he could not live with the shame of failure and committed suicide in the incomplete tunnel. A sad end to a glorious engineering feat that remains unchanged since its inception. There is nothing to do but simply be and realize you are traveling exactly as people have for the last 150 years. And the train shows it. As do the stations. Which just adds to the romanticism and the subtle reminder that safety is merely a pipe dream. Indeed, the day after we arrived in Kalka, the same train derailed, seriously injuring a number of tourists and killing two women from England!

Ah Delhi! We meet again! With 24 hrs. to spare we have a chance to get two more important items off our Indian bucket list – visiting that gaudy Hanuman fun house near our hotel and meet up with my “Catfish” Facebook friend – Sandip! The Hanuman temple was every bit as freaky as we thought. Sandip, however, was not, so life remained in balance and a good time was had by all. Of course, this may have had a lot to do with the Starbucks and cakes Sandip got us whereas Hanuman only offered death by motor vehicle accident followed by consumption by wild dogs and homeless people. (Crossing 8 lanes of Indian traffic and jumping a cement barricade only to be cannibalized seems a bit much to demonstrate religious devotion. But hey – to each their own.)

The following morning it was an early – VERY EARLY – train ride to Agra. Not early enough, however, to get there in time to view the sites (Or so our guide told us). So we had a “free day” to explore Agra. The Taj and the Fort would have to wait until tomorrow at sunrise (Yeah –ANOTHER early start. Fun times.)

Agra is a shit hole.

Yes the Taj Mahal and the Agra Fort are here and yes they are every bit as stunning as you imagine. But Agra itself is a total pit of despair and abject poverty. There is so much irony in that this place, which is the most visited place in India, also has the highest rates of unemployment. Not to mention the pollution and deplorable state of the river systems here. If you want a reminder of the privilege in having access to clean drinking water and proper sanitation you need only spend a few days wandering the streets of Agra. It’s apparent that if you come on a Western tour you are shunted away to clean upscale hotels and ferried by air conditioned behemoths to the Wonders and then back again. I doubt anyone really “sees” what is actually going on day to day. I doubt even more that anyone wants to. We were not in “that” section of town. Instead we stayed at a local establishment next door to Pizza Hut and a Lavazza coffee bar. We paid ridiculous prices to eat there. I must have spent $50 on coffee but that’s because it’s FEAST OR FAMINE when it comes to my beverage of choice so I tank up when I can.

See, that’s the paradox of India. There is so much vibrancy and intensity. It takes your breath away – literally and figuratively. You find it so, so beautiful and then you get up close and personal and you realize that India has a dark side. Not an evil side – but a side that mirrors back to you how what YOU have is an illusion. Your world is not the real one – India is. All that chaos. All that squalor and disease. All that fighting to survive and remain human in a world where there is never enough – that’s real. We, in the West have done a good job at deluding ourselves that the gravy train will last forever and that everyone will get enough in the end. Come here and walk the streets of Agra. Look at all those plastic bottles you drink from now 3 meters high in what used to be a water way. Look at the sky glazed over in smog. See the Taj slowly melting from acid rain and wearing down from our incessant need to violate her at the expense of everyone else that lives in her shadow. Smell the stench from the river that people depended on for thousands of years now dying an agonizing death. If you are going to the Taj Mahal you owe it to her to see all of her – even the ugly parts. You need to embrace them all. After all, you’d want the same for yourself wouldn’t you?

After Agra it was a 7-hour train ride up to Jaipur – the capital of Rajasthan and another crash course in how to handle chaos and sensory overload. First thing is actually getting out of the train station which is so congested with people and rickshaws (tuk tuks) that it’s a miracle anyone can move at all. We meet our rickshaw driver, Khan, who tells me the rats running over my feet are a good thing and I am very, very lucky (yeah – lucky I didn’t get rabies). He loads us and our bags into his cart and promptly turns on the “disco lighting” and cranks up Shakira on his Bose car stereo. Another Indian paradox – you can have the shittiest rickshaw in town but in Jaipur it’s all about tricking that shitty rickshaw up to the max. I shutter to think how many meals this guy went without to pimp his ride.

Our hotel here was interesting. For one, Ken and I are pretty sure we stayed here 10 years ago so it was a weird déjà vu experience. Second, it was a “palace” at one time so you walk in and it all looks very India meets 1001 Arabian Nights. Third thing – and this is important – you are essentially trapped here once you check in. Sure you can go out on the street but once you leave those gates it’s full on Siddhartha wake up call. You ARE NOT in Kansas anymore. The streets are safe enough to walk in but don’t plan on finding any food options worth risking you health over. This meant we all were forced to eat at the over priced and underwhelming restaurant in the “palace.” I put “palace” in quotes because it isn’t that grand now. It’s hot with no ventilation. The electricity goes off all the time and shorted out everyone’s devices one night when there was a massive power surge. The drinks were never cold. The food was never hot. The rooms are very, very tired and been equally well used. But we were trapped in a PALACE! We had a pool and we had gin and we had beer. And we had each other.

Well sort of…

On our tour of the Amber Fort we weren’t paying attention and one of our group mates was left behind. It’s pretty pathetic that it was so hot and we were are all in self preservation mode that no one noticed this poor girl hadn’t made it back to the taxi area with us. Panic ensued and her friends rushed back up to the fort to look for her. Meanwhile, another member of our group – a retired police officer – thought it would be helpful to say, “I used to work in search and rescue. If you haven’t found the person in the first 30 minutes it’s never good. It’s now been 45 minutes.” Wow. I guess we’ve officially entered the Heart of Darkness portion of the India trip now. As it turns out, she went to the bathroom and lost track of us. Being a resourceful empowered woman she went “Alright then! It’s hot as Hades here and you all just F-ed off on me so I am going back to the hotel for beers!” and off she went! And there she was when we got back – sitting on the deck with a cold Kingfisher and all her friend’s clothes in the pool. Next time she goes to the bathroom, he knows now to wait.