White people, Conniving Sons, and Pretty Birds

Delhi is unlike any place I've ever been. It's wonderful and amazing, but extremely dirty and loud, smelly and sweet, crowed and calm. People are everywhere, in your face asking you to buy trinkets and elephants toys and food, but then they want to know where you are from and take pictures with you because apparently being "white" is an anomaly to them. When Robby and I first ventured off on our own, we were asked by a group of teenage boys to take a picture with some of them. When one finished, the next would jump in and ask for a photo. They shook our hands and smiled. I thought that it was some weird "western women are loose" type of thing because Indian men don't intentionally touch Indian women unless the are family or married.

Shiv, our tour guide, told us that most of the Indians live in villages and don't venture too far outside of their hometowns - places tourists don't visit. So when they come to view all the main attractions (like Taj Mahal or the temples), they think that white people are as interesting are we think Indians are. Robby, myself, and pretty much everyone on the trip have been snapping pictures of the beautiful women in brightly colored sarees and the adorable children dressed in blankets and hand-me-downs. So to an Indian, we might be the first white people that they've ever seen, not on TV. The best is when a parent sends their 10-year-old daughter to stand near you while they try to sneak a photo. I usually just tell them they can snap a photo with me and their kid, would look better anyhow. When we sneak a photo of the Indians and we getcaught, we're just asked for money. Kind of unfair, but most of the Indians in the bigger cities know they can make a buck off having their picture taken.

So our tour group is fantastic. A great group of people from Britain, Australia, Canada, and the US. We range in age from the mid twenties to the mid sixties, but everyone seems to mesh well and is excited to try new things. Julia, a Brit, quickly became our street food buddy. She's been in India for two weeks already, so she's built up a tolerance to the local street fare and well pretty much eat anything. She isn't afraid to push her way to the front of a food cart, point, and wait for yummy goodness to be handed over. Most of the time the food is spicy, flavorful, and cheap. The tour is big on stopping at local restaurants that cater more to tourism and weaker stomachs - the food is often bland and non spicy. Robby and I are all for saving a buck and eating peasant food. We don't care what it is (almost everything here is chicken or vegetarian), as long as it's delicious and if it's not, it is a waste of 25 cents. The tourist places cost about 300% more for the same thing, abit, you get a bigger serving.

Let's see, in Delhi we had the pleasure of walking the streets of old Dehli with a teenage guide that used to live on the streets. He now works for the organization that took him and other abused, homeless, and poor children in. Salaam Baalak Trust is a government organization that is like child welfare, but the child gets to decide if they want to stay or go back to their families or the streets. They educate the kids that stay while trying to find their families. If the children have no family, they are allowed to live at one of the five housing centers until they are 17. Our guide, Ejaz, was wonderful. He has almost completed his English language certificate and he is now independent - working for Salaam Balaak Trust and at a kitchen in Delhi. 

Next we went to a temple, Guadwara sis Ganj Sahib, that celebrates a recently new religion that honors everyone, gives food to the poor, and believes in good karma. From there, we drove 6 hours to Agra - the lovely city that has the grand Taj Mahal. The gist of Agra's history is that it was the Capital of the Northern region of India until the New King moved it to Delhi in the 17th century. Everyone used to live in Agra Fort, the original Red Fort. The Fort took 99 years to build and only housed the city for 100 years before they moved the captial to Delhi. 

In the late 16th century, there was a king who dressed up like a woman to visit the women's market and in doing so, he met and fell in love with his 3rd wife. He already had two wives from diplomatic partnerships with neighboring countries, but this wife was the one he truly loved. (Back then men were allowed four wives). They were married a week after the market meeting and she gave him 14 children- 4 boys and 2 girls having survived into adulthood - in 19 years of blissful marriage. She unfortunately died giving birth to the 14th child and on her deathbed, she made the king promise three things: he would not sleep with another woman or marry them, he would love all their children equally, and he would build a monument for her that expressed his love of her for the whole world to understand. 

Hence the Taj Mahal was commenced in 1631 and completed 22 years later in 1653. It is built from the best marble in the world; inlaid with semi precious and precious gemstones, gold, and other fancy stuff; it is constructed to take into account earthquakes or natural disasters so nothing will be damaged to greatly; and since it was designed by a muslim architect, it has passages of the Koran written all over. It is rumored that the King planned to build a black Taj across the river from the Taj Mahal and connect them by a bridge, so that his wife and him would always be connected, but as faith would have it, that was not to happen. The King's third son was a little shithead and he imprisoned his father inside the Royal Palace before moving him to the Agra Fort, where the King spent his last 8 years of life never being able to be with his beloved - who was entombed inside the Taj Mahal. He could see the Taj, but never go there, as his prison was about 3 miles away from the Taj and looked down upon it.

The 3rd son justified the imprisonment of the King by telling the Agra people that his father spent a ridiculous amount of money on the Taj, but nothing on the city or them, so he's a bad King. Since his older brothers were to be king instead of him and he didn't want the younger brother to steal the throne, he chopped their heads off and presented them on a silver platter to his father. Cruel right? Well, the King did the same thing to his siblings, so what comes around, goes around. Sucks to live in the middle ages.

Agra Fort was built to protect the city and house the military and the King, or in this case, the 3rd son. Agra also has the Baby Taj, a mini, look-a-like of the Taj Mahal, but build 30 years or so beforehand. The King loved the symmetry of the Baby Taj and and incorporated it into the Taj Mahal. The Baby Taj was built as the resting place for the Palace accountant and his family. Designed by his wife to look like a money box from above.

The next day, we did a quick three hour drive to Bharatpur, a city only known for its bird sanctuary. It used to be the Kings duck hunting grounds, but it was taken over by the government in the '60's to become a nature preserve. Birds from Russia, any country with a "Stan" at the end, and neighboring countries, flock to the marsh lands during the winter time. Robby and I weren't going to go at first, because who really gives a shit about birds but ornithologist, which we clearly aren't. A bird is a bird some are just prettier than others. But boredom and the thought that "this city is know for this place and we're not even going to see it?" convinced us to check it out. About 8 of our 15 person group bundled up (it's kind of chilly in North India - about 40 degrees) and decided to see the birds. It turned out to be a great adventure.

Shiv found us a local bird guide who spotted the smallest birds hiding in the farthest trees and showed them to us with his telescope. The park also houses water deer, jackals, cows, and reptiles. It was quite enjoyable to tool around the park in the back of a bike rickshaw and jump out when any one of us spotted a pretty bird and started snapping away with our cameras. Who knew birds could be so fun to see? 

Since Bharatpur is only known for the birds, there was just our hotel left to see at the end of the day. We luckily had nothing to fear for the bored part as Shiv started a fire amongst the fog and the bellboys turned into smiling barkeeps. Four of us, me included, decided to teach ourselves an Indian dance. We tried to get Shiv to help with the moves, but he claimed that he wasn't drunk enough to dance. It didn't matter because he helped choose the music and laughed at our idiocracy. The fun helped to drown out the noise of 50 or so school children on a field trip. They pretty much had full run of the hotel, and since their parents weren't there, they made a lot of noise. Luckily they had a teacher that made the go to bed by 11pm. It was just another form of birth control to witness.

And so, with that note, this concludes this entry into the wonderful and amazing adventure of my India trip. Tune in next time for more craziness and excitement.