Category: Travel

Categories
non-fiction Travel

Iceland Chronicles #1 – The Limit of Remoteness

From the plane

On the way back from UK, we made a pit stop at Iceland. Okay, it wasn’t a pit stop, more like six days.

Day 1

The first full day in Iceland, we set off toward Akuryeri. Gulfoss Falls was the highlight today, its thunder only stolen by packed crowd and the shocking chilliness of Iceland summer. We had to stock up on winter gear for an eye-popping amount. Iceland was a wallet-emptying at a super-sonic rate type of a vacation, not something I can afford again. So, everything I saw, I took it in like it was last time I was seeing it. Here are the photos from the first day in remote Iceland.

  • From the plane
  • A brief history (airport)
  • Geyser
  • Gullfoss
  • Akyureri

Day 2

Second day delivered diversity. We started with Godafoss Falls – Waterfall of God where we spent a half hour. To learn about viking history, we visited the Laufas Museum where we saw an ancient Viking home featuring a bride’s room, a weaving room, and a study room where they met with the priest. With a dose of nature and ancient civilization, we ate a nice lunch at the Vogafjos Farm to prep for the upcoming hike. Sitting next to pregnant cows in cells eating was not refreshing, but children were entertained and questioned their love of beef burger over a lunch of beef burgers. Next, we were off trekking atop a crater in drizzle. Undeterred, Mir and I counted to keep walking and not give up. Atop, under my umbrella, we sat overlooking the crater. This followed by Dimmuborgir where we saw troll caves and lava formations, followed by Lake Viti in Krafla, my favorite stop. It was raining now, and Mir was sleeping, so we took turns here and at the Hot Sulpher pool and Namajfell which is volcanic hot pools and geysir. At 4:30 p.m., no longer able to kill time, we made it early for our most important appointment of the day – Myvatn (pronounced MeeVath) Nature Baths. Rain fell on the hot pool, turning into steam. The floor of the pool was slippery with Silica. After splurging beyond toleration, unsure if we were any younger looking, for sure I was totally dehydrated. Scrumptous Pizza at Daddi’s pizza wrapped our day. Both nights we stayed at Rjupa’s (pronounced Ryupa’s) guest house where Agnes Thorun (pronounced Ukhnes) took care of my children and gave me tips to stay safe and away from the F roads.

  • No better way to end a day
  • Laufas Museum
  • Godafoss
  • Lake Viti

Stay tuned for more Iceland adventures

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Scotland

Day 6 – Scotland Highlands

Day 6 of being away from home with just the five of us was in full swing which meant that we were getting a lot of time together–children had fights, resolved fights, had new ones, and above everything else invented new games to play together. A vacation is the ultimate bonding experience. And no bonding is complete without colliding first. Getting to know one another again breathing the moist Scottish air was recharging.

This morning, my three-year-old wanted to climb another mountain. I delivered. Conic Hill in the Loch Lomond and the Trossachs national park. Besides the vertical nature of the climb we were accompanied by the Meays of cows and on occasion, its cousin–smell of animal poop. In Scotland if you smell it, know you are in good company of lots and lots of sheep, cows, and horses. Atop our viewpoint, we had to tread carefully too. Oh the joys of traveling.
Lunch and icecream were at a riverside town called Callander. We undertook the journey to Loch Veil’s mirror sculpture with one aim – to skip the touristy lochs for quieter retreat. It was a quiet retreat.
The drive to our hotel (separated from us by a ferry) was spectacular featuring viaducts, the Ranooch Moor (Harry Potter movie location)…We wanted to be where we were longer instead of some place else so we skipped Hagrids hut altogether. Here are photo memories of Scottish Highlands on day 6.

  • Loch Lomond atop Conic Hill
  • By the Mirror Sculpture
  • What a view from the room!
  • Our landing place, accessible only through Ferry
  • Oh, the Scottish Lochs!

Day 7 – The Yellow Warning Day

Rain drenched Scotland was as riveting as the sunny one. Today we chose a back country road to the Glenfinnian Viaduct lookout and the monument (Harry Potter stops continue). Rain ceased during our hike. On yet another ferry we made it to the Isle of Skye in pouring rain. It took us entire day to take it all in–wet while going, sunnier and drier on the way back.

Day 8 – Through Urqhuart and Cairngorms back to the lowlands

Again, we woke before the town, spent time in their library/recreation room, ate breakfast, and headed out the door taking ferry away from the Inn at Ardgour for the last time, leaving sweet memories behind.
Today, we drove north to Loch Ness where my children disbelieved the Nessie monster legend. I couldn’t use it as a discipline stick. Too bad. But the presentation and the castle itself was awesome. I was saddened by its brutal history, the sheer number of attacks and the change of inhabitants. Truth is stranger than fiction. Later, we drove through Inverness, the capital of the highlands, and the Cairngorms National Park.

Before Glasgow we made a pit stop at Falkirk Park with sculptures and playgrounds for children, thanks to the expert tip from Ilene, my writer friend.

Day 9 and 10 – The City Life

Glasgow – the party town.
We rented a three bedroom unit in the heart of Glasgow. Being mentally ready and being thoroughly exhausted combined with drinking a glass of pink wine helped me sleep through the night in Glasgow where people screamed, cheered, and laughed into the night. Hey, call me boring–I need my good night sleep. I’m not a good person at 3 a.m. And we are early risers.
At 8 am, next morning, Glasgow was unrecognizable. It was a ghost town. We couldn’t find one open restaurant that could fill our empty bellies and settled for Costa coffee and buns.
An hour’s drive away, Edinburgh was truly and madly washed out. Pics here are of the castle, the royal mile (some of it), the garden clock and the restaurant we ate at with soaking wet feet and shoes.
We called it a night and next morning enjoyed the Buchanan street and Enoch Square before flying out to Iceland. We did miss the traditional dance and dresses of Scotland but took what ever it gave to us.

Pictures below are in random order from Falkirk, Edinburgh, and Glasgow.

One thing the trip gave my children was a sense of responsibility. Dua lined our shoes along the wall; she helped clean the apartment and Sahir the rental car before returning. And for that intrinsic motivation, I am thankful for this experience. Goodbye Scotland. Goodbye UK. So long.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Wales, Peak District, Manchester, and Kendal

WALES – Day 4

Nature has a way to force you into doing what you really ought to be doing. It came to us in the form of “Yellow Warning.” We had no idea what yellow Warning meant as we drove out of England into Wales’ Snowdonia National Park. The pristine untouched villages and hills of Wales were fascinating and annoyingly beautiful. Only if driving was enjoyable on one-lane roads.

I knew I had overplanned. But the thing about planning is that when plans don’t materialize you can make fast and good pivots. So, rain and wind canceled our train up to Snowdonia Mountain. As sad as my son was, I was happy to get my money back. I also got time back. We made Barmouth, and Harlech our main destinations. In between the gusts of wind, we managed a few moments on their beaches. We roamed its streets, ate their food, and climbed a narrow road for a quick hike to the Panoramic Viewpoint. Now Yellow Rain warning was our blessing. It changed plans, made them slower, and at this beautiful panoramic vista, the five of us sat alone with the wind – so happy we were not battling crowds, not one person. We sat there by ourselves till our hearts’ content. Sunny. Breezy. When we returned to the parking lot, a tour bus was parking and so were other cars. So, God – you speak to us through the “yellow UK warnings”. Only other stop we made today was atop the Harlech Castle which required driving atop the steepest road in Europe. We didn’t enter the castle, but kids got to play in their playground, and we took in the views and take-out Indian food. It was raining cats and dogs when we reached Y Pengwren, our launch pad for the night.

  • Snowdonia Ntnl Park
  • Barmouth
  • Wales towns
  • Panoramic View, Barmouth…easy hike
  • Harlech Castle

Peak District, Manchester, Kendal – DAY 5

We rose when the entire B&B and town was asleep. Not a bird chirped. We quietly slipped into our cars and into Wales oblivion. At 9, rain was replaced by sun. Drive ended at Susan’s coffee shop that served warm breakfast and fresh groceries on a farm, the last Wales stop for us. It was raining on the way to Peaks District, but we considered ourselves damn lucky because inside the park, Sun came out, views revealed, and we got to touch horses, and found ourselves only with sheep, horses, old building ruins, and mountains interrupted by quaint little villages.

If I had to change one thing about today, it would be Manchester. After seeing London, the poured-down Manchester just didn’t cut it even though it was lovely. Fittingly to my disposition, the only place I took my children here was to the John Ryland’s library. I learned that I enjoy libraries when I get to sit down and read. So, while the architecture was fascinating and the tales of their book collection mouth-watering, I wished I had more time or that I was a member who could sit and read. Manchester meant we couldn’t go to Bolton Priory. Driving to our hotel in Kendal with a cup of coffee in my hand, Kendal castle was the next destination. We absolutely savored Kendal and the castle where my children got to play and learn at our own pace for free. Best things in vacation are free indeed.

Next morning, we would leave Cumbria for the Scotland Highlands and check off some more of Harry Potter attractions. Stay tuned.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Leaving London – Windsor, Stonehenge, and BATH

Exiting London was confusing. Should we have lamented leaving the city we had just warmed up to or anticipated all else that was left to see?

We stocked up on groceries first. Completing the distance from our hotel in rain to the rental car was excruciating in a taxi, unwillingly witnessing the morning rush hour of London. We tasted what it felt like to be stuck in the influx of work into the financial capital. People held umbrellas, and walked fast. Green lights turned red, and we simply gawked, imprisoned in a timeless limbo.

Our first stop was near London, Windsor, UK, and although, we enjoyed the castle, our favorite part was the town center itself; Beautiful and charming. The only place that had a living and functioning monarch was unbeatable. Children kept asking if they would get to see the Queen or Prince Harry who lives in the Windsor Castle. I had to level set their expectations. We were commoners from America.

Our second attraction (but only from the freeway) was Stonehenge – the old, giant stones, standing tall that attract millions every year. And my favorite stop of all was the last one, a town called Bath along the English hillside with yellow buildings, numerous churches, stone streets, narrow alleys, gardens, a quaint little river cutting through it all, and enriched by live music. Walking around the Roman Baths that brought us here, surrounded by souvenir shops, all five of us sat down on the stone floor and simply listened to the violin and the singer’s tapping of shoes to the Scottish music with his eyes shut in bliss. This moment, this one moment, it was the highlight of my UK trip; the joy of free music.

Yes, we enjoyed Roman Baths, learnt a lot, but it was the music that brought this city to life. Here are the photos from our day that erased our sorrow of leaving London with more rewarding memories.

  • Bath
  • St James Cathedral, Windsor Castle

Adios England for about a day. Wales was the next sought out destination.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Loving London – Day 2

Trafalgar Square

We rose with sunshine and ate with purpose. And at 9:15, aboard a boat over Thames river, WestMinister Abbey awaited our arrival. We made sure it didn’t have to wait too long. Big Ben was ripped apart. The wonderful Abbey, the statues outside, the serene St. James Park were quick stops. Our agenda was same as the day before, one of walking the streets of London but with caution. We would take a cab in the middle of the day. Adapting to experience is what makes us better. My least favorite stop was the Buckingham Palace. Even though we timed our stop here with the change of guards, the exteriors were plagued with people. Crowd had climbed statues of the Victoria’s Memorial and for folks with three little children, there was no chance of pushing toward the iron gates to catch a glimpse or finding a foot of empty space to sit. So, we eagerly walked past and enjoyed a few moments of shady fun in the Green Park between the Palace and Wellington Arch.

  • Trafalgar Square
  • London Eye through the boat
  • Westminister Abbey
  • Prince Charles gate

At the wellington Arch, now sure of the walking asks, children were fussing. I was ready with Uber to the Trafalgar Square where we spent countless playful moments. Trafalgar Square is a melting pot of artists, pigeons, and tourists alike. Thanks to the expert tip from my cousin, we ate a splendid lunch at Dishoom. From there we walked to Covent Garden and realized deeper, the charm of London – a Charlie Chaplin-look-a-like actor made us laugh, music played like rain, and we spent a few peaceful moments before boarding the boat for Greenwich.

It took a half hour in the boat to reach Greenwich with the Prime Meridian. We climbed strenuously to make it to the 4:15 show to look at the sky tonight in real time with a real astronomer. The show calmed our huffs from the trek up and was informative. We looked at the Prime Meridian longitude where the time is zero, negative on one side, and positive on the other. GMT. After soaking in the panorama of London, we had dinner, and ice cream, knowing the boat back to the hotel would be our last. Last London Night separated us from tomorrow when we would have to enter a rental car and drive away instead of walking.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Landing in London – Day 1

My desire for UK was fueled by my joy of literature and the wealth of writers that hailed from this place. Charles Dickens. J K Rowling. William Wordsworth. Rudyard Kipling. Heck, I was even a reading a book called The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman – another UK writer. England, with a town named Reading, was upon us, and we arrived with gumption.

Fatigue was overwritten by anticipation and the lack of realization we were here on ground zero. Plane revealed the rolling hills of the area. We shipped off our luggage directly to the hotel as we hopped on a train to the city. We had a set agenda–one of walking the streets of London. Half an hour later (from Gatwick) we stepped out and fittingly, our first stop was a cathedral, the St. Paul’s’ Cathedral where we got to sit down, pray, meditate, and immerse ourselves in the rich, royal history of this area. Famous people were buried here was not lost upon us through the crypt. A quick coffee and sugar break later, knowing we had just fell from the sky after sleepless eight-hour plane-ride, we had no intention of stopping. Meandering through bicycle event, the narrow streets, the phone booths, past the double Decker red buses, the black boxy taxis, our second stop was for my oldest and the Leadenhall Market…a market shown in the Harry Potter movies.

  • St Paul’s Cathrdal
  • Leadenhall

Respecting the limits of our bodies to not outstretch the reach of enthusiasm, we took a break at the ruins of St. Dunstan’s Church where lovers had parked themselves taking one shot after another. Dua crashed their photos or ran after pigeons.

A quiet moment later, we were atop the Sky Garden to take the 360 degree of London in for free.

Aloo Parathas from home and frequent stops for street food fueled us. But after we climbed down the Sky Tower and made our way to the Tower Bridge, it was 5:30 p.m., and we were on mile three. My daughter tugged on my hand and asked, “Mamma, where is our car? Why did you not get a car? We can’t walk all of London?” I smiled. I wanted to walk. I planned to walk, but jet lag combined with the amount of walking (6 miles per day) was testing our desires to stick to the plan. We lumbered. We huffed. My oldest dragged his feet. We got our pic taken south of the river. We saw a gay couple in white gown get married; We walked along the riverwalk past Hay’s Galleria where Jab Tak Hain Jan’s Shahrukh Khan solo song was filmed. Indian restaurant we had planned on eating at was booked. But there was another spicy Indian burger place we settled for. And to bless our tired bodies, our hotel turned out to be quiet and comfortable escape in the middle of a bustling city.

Out of our breaking bodies, came pines of desires and buried emotions. We loved London to the core. One night of ‘London Sleep’ separated us from our last day in this uniquely beautiful city.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #7 – The Final Chapter – Kumarakom, Kerala

Complete life experience is social, spiritual, and moral. India checked all those boxes. We were rewarded with moral questions on equality of genders, compelled to look inward under the vast, free sky and endless creations of God – Earth. We met our families, and I wanted my children to remember the best about their roots, not the worst.

Our trip was hectic. We got the relaxation fix in Kumarakom. Hands down.

The strike was upon us. What I saw the next day was a first – closed shops, hardly anyone on the roads. In the car with all our bags and baggage, we stared out from our seats at the ghost town and if we saw a person, we wondered which side of the spectrum they were on—were they ensuring people were respecting the strike, or one of us, irritated that the strike was for inequality.

One of the hardest life lessons is to realize merit in adversity, that all wrong things happen for the right reasons and are a blessing in disguise. We reached our destination on the empty road where only the wind sang a melody, the mountains stood tall. Parking under the highest peak of the state, Anamudi, we were at the Eravikulam National Park, the busiest destination of the region with hardly any people. Blessing? We climbed atop an empty bus to take us up, up, and up the mountain. Here are photos from the national park.

The best restaurant we ate at Munnar was called Ali Baba and the 41 Dishes. Best dish? Butter Chicken which is spicy and textured unlike any creamy and sweet butter chicken served in American Indian restaurant.

After lunch, we left for Kumarakom. Empty roads. Before going too far from Munnar, we checked off the most recently added bucket list, of walking into one of the tea plantations.

As everyone slept, my eyes glued on the empty roads. I had read the news of violence in towns on our way. Every now and then, a shop would be open. Revolt (of the strike) was in the air. People did not want the strike. They wanted to live their life on their own terms, not fussing over some temple and its attendees.

Good two and a half hours away, when my littlest couldn’t hold it anymore, we reached a town with a restaurant in business. It had clean bathrooms, ginger tea for my recovering throat, and treats for everybody. So, the strike cleared the traffic, cut our commute time, and a shop was open when needed. We reached Kumarakom under the round, orange, setting sun with canals of waters and lush green grass. Lake Song resort welcomed us in style by putting a tilak on each of our foreheads under tens of candles.

Next day, only one item was on the agenda – relaxation.

What I mistook for ocean also known as backwaters of Kerala, was the largest lake in India, the Vembanad Lake. We rented a houseboat with two bedrooms and western toilets and an open living room for the day where the breeze of the lake frisked our hair as the boat traversed the lake, we bought fresh fish, and it was cooked to serve. The floating plant with purple flowers and the seagulls and the ducks glided alongside us. We sat there and did absolutely nothing. After lunch, we read, children did their homework, drawing and journaling Taj Mahal.

Docking the boat back on land to reality, my husband and I treated ourselves to an Ayurveda spa. I ordered the only thing on the menu that did not require me lying down in flat position because of my cough and got the head and neck massage.

Back at the hotel, we sailed the sunset Shikara tour. When I whispered to my husband that I miss music, a passenger rose who hadn’t heard our talk plugged his phone to the boat speakers and blasted off music. My husband complained I asked for music, I should have asked for something more valuable to have it be magically answered.

The last supper passed. So did the last night in Kerala, my little sliver of heaven.  And effectively, with a blink of an eye, India had passed.

We came back to Bangalore and checked into the Palm Oasis, where the children played in the pool, did some more last-minute shopping, ate at Barbeque Nation where  kabobs were grilled right on our tables. We wrapped up India and despite the sadness of an end, our hearts and soul looked forward to returning home. We returned fuller and complete.

Reunion my dear friend
Floral Rangoli

Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #6 – The place that heals the sick – Munnar, Kerala – Day 1 & 2

Kerala. The Southernmost state of India. Most literate state of India. Matriarchal Society (mother’s name carries the family name). Spoken Language: Malayalam. Must-Buy: Kanchipuram Saris and Stalls made from banana leaves. Must-eat: Fresh fish. 34.8 million people rich. Capital: Thiruvananthapuram.

They say God lives in nature. Beauty can uplift a tired soul, heal a broken heart, instill it with purpose, even a coughing-up-a-storm with tattered coughing chest type of a person I had become by day 9 of India.

It was January 1st of 2019. A clean slate (even if carrying the same burden of problems). A fresh start even if just another day. But without a shard of a doubt, a brand-new destination awaited us (from a new culture to new sights).

And at 9 a.m., we were above the clouds, an unnamed hope tugged in our hearts. The pilot was kind enough to tell us of the mountain ranges under the plane, and I clicked one too many photos.

IMG_1053-2939136300-1547646690569.jpg

Setting foot at Cochin Airport,  THE FIRST SOLAR AIRPORT OF THE WORLD, we were amazed by the cleanliness of the airport. Search for a speck of dust would disappoint, and one could comb one’s hair through the reflection in the shiny, dark floor.

The name of our driver was Ajmal, the man who slept in the car, all four nights, with family in Cochin but comes to Munnar weekly.

And even the littlest of hearts noted the lush greenness of the region. The banana trees sprawled the landscape where rivers cut through with the volume I had only seen in rivers of America. A vast majority of rivers in India were drying up, and welcoming the contrast, I had not forgotten what happened in Kerala just a few months before we set foot in it – deep flooding. So, nature has its mysterious ways.

Munnar is three or so hours east of Cochin, away from the coast, home to the tea plantations. A small town. A simple town.

Driving to Munnar…

Our first stop was to get fruits, only fruits were comforting to my tattered throat. Second stop? Waterfall! The base of this waterfall was dirty but the sound, the sight was refreshing for my sore eyes. We spent a few moments before resuming our journey to Munnar but now that the mountains had begun, so did waterfalls crashing along the sides of these giants, the plantations, the lakes in the mysterious valleys below, the lookout points and the coughing mess had forgotten the discomfort of a cough.

Munnar. 38K population. Former resort for British Raj elite established in late 19th century.

To top the beauty of wildflowers along a mountain, was a dose of culture, a dance show, Kathakali which means demonstration of a story through dance. Last order of business was coffee and this night, after previous two was first I slept some of it between the pangs of illnesses with heart happy with joy, happy to be in the presence of clouds where dreams surely come true, illnesses surely heal, sins surely wash away just by looking at a mountain painted pink by rising sun.

Memories from the first day …

Our resort …

We rose with the sun, warmed with a buffet breakfast to behold more lakes, dams, the top station in Tamil Nadu (neighboring state) wrapped in clouds. Our souls were getting cleansed by the sounds and sights of nature, even mother and baby elephants eating by the lakeside in the valley beneath us. Pure and utter bliss.

Not included in the photos is the elephant ride we took – bumpy and probably will not do again but it was an experience for the children, riding and then, feeding the giant mammal.

We wrapped this day with hearts full. Next day, was still unchartered because a statewide strike was declared. Strike? That is, expect all shops, restaurants, etc., to close. Expect violence. Why? Because of inequality between men and women that is nurtured in India, even in the most beautiful of all places. A temple was open for years only to men because women are considered impure because of their monthly cycle. Women fought for their rights and Supreme Court sided with them. So, lawfully, two women accompanied by police, entered the temple. The BJP government, the ruling party of India, our prime minister’s party, declared the strike in protest.

What would we do on a day we were to visit the national park near Munnar and make the 3-4 hour journey back to the coast to Kumarakom? Could we do it?  Would we see lunatics on streets making highways un-passable? All because man does not consider all equal.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #5 – In Sickness and In Health – Indore

Indore. ~2 million people rich. Recently cleaned up. Home to my husband.

I doubt I would ever set foot in this town in the central part of India if I had not married my husband. And here we were, rich with new memories from the North, and I, with the loss of my voice. When I lost my voice, I suddenly missed my mother. It had only been five days since we arrived in India. The first time I coughed, my mother brought me Banafsha, hot herbal therapy, instantly. I laughed her off stating that pollution caused my cough. She ignored me, proud of the Banafsha curing my cough. She noted when my cough ceased. She kept feeding me the medicinal herb. It mattered less her own leg hurt her every time she walked. It mattered less (to her) she experienced blurry vision ahead of our travel to the Taj Mahal. She said she cured me with Banafsha. Having landed in Indore, away from her, suddenly down with Laryngitis and an obnoxious cough, I knew, my mother did not cure me with Banafsha, she cured me with love. So, here is my paragraph dedicated to my mother who often takes the back seat but is dearly loved for her selflessness and unparalleled love.

DSC_0584_1

The first day in Indore, we traveled to Ujjain, an hour away, a route my husband frequented between his engineering school and home. There, we met with his relatives and I learned about his culture and customs.

The next day, we paid a visit to my husband late father followed by a visit to his schools and a get together with his extended family.

kids played in the play yard at the hotel, and my oldest developed a stomach bug.  The third day, we flew to Bangalore – Bangalore, my one-time bachelor pad, a city I loved for its greenery and cleanliness. While the city center was just as I left it, areas of Bangalore had not been kept up. The city that welcomed all into its arm, the influx of people failed to uphold simple rituals of the past like turning off the engines at stop lights. But Bangalore will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter what.

As time rolled, my cough worsened. I spent two sleepless nights and when the time came for Kerala, the much-awaited vacation inside of vacation, I shuddered pondering if I could survive the bouts of cough and achy chest and carry on.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #4 – LOVE, the idea, the hunger, the manifestation – The TAJ MAHAL

Agra. The capital of the Mughal Empires in the 17th century. 1.6 million people rich. Home to the wonder of the world, Taj Mahal.

The headlines when Jet Airways’ wheels made contact with the Indira Gandhi International airport read, “New Delhi’s air quality improves to ‘very poor.’”

Pause.

This is not a joke. Delhi is home to 21.75 million people (not counting the suburbs which are equally or more polluted.) Are the people immune to breathing this air that caused upper respiratory wheeze in all of us?

All right, I can breathe normally again.

Agra

At Agra, the monkeys greeted us. They were everywhere. Homes had special rails to keep these nasty creatures out. Shopkeeper threw stones at them. But these scrappy creatures did not mind the stones, kept coming back, stealing food from private home fridges, and chasing tourist holding food.

Entering the Taj through the doors (just like the Golden Temple), the Taj got smaller, not bigger with decreasing distance. A sight of beauty.

I wish I could blow away the crowd by puffing at them. But we were told the crowd had lessened this year. The previous year, the lines extended beyond the barricades. Tip: Get the VIP, beat the lines, tickets.

A 20-minute photo shoot period followed, holding Taj, smiling against it, running after my littlest as he knelt under a barricade and ran into the not-allowed-to-walk-on gardens. The photographer we hired made my husband and I take such (silly) romantic pictures that we wondered if we had lost all romance and needed to rekindle how we take photos in general, staring at each other, holding hands and walking. He did not even spare Nana, Nani. I worried Papa would scold him. But somehow, we let the symbolism of Taj Mahal rule us for the day, even if for a day.

It was shockingly peaceful at the Taj despite the crowd. I even cared less for the parrot who pooped on my hair sitting along the benches listening to the history narrated by our guide. Strange tranquility surrounded this aspect of our a vacation where we learned.

Taj Mahal Trivia

Love. From the idea to the reality, love changes life trajectories. And, in the land where love is often arranged, sometimes misunderstood, an icon symbolizes it, flaunts it, visible from various points of the city. Love has a physical shape in Agra.

When you are standing beneath Taj’s shadow, awestruck, little frustrated with the sheer number of people you have to share this feeling with, you realize why, why this little structure is revered. It is the resting place of love that outlived a life.

Shah Jahan, the fifth Mughal emperor of India, reigned from 1628 to 1658, considered most competent, tolerant of other religions, and giving the empire its golden period. Shah Jahan gave his beloved wife, Arjumand Banu, also his childhood love, a loving title called Mumtaz Mahal that means ‘The Exalted one of the Palace.’ She bore fourteen children and died giving birth to the fourteenth child at the early age of thirty-eight. Shah Jahan spent a week in isolation. For the final resting place for Mumtaz Mahal, he built the Taj Mahal employing the absolute best, needing a village to live in for twenty-two years. A lot of their descendants still live in Agra, working in the same profession–supporting and building.

Shah Jahan’s favorite to succeed the throne was Dara Shikoh. Aurangzeb defeated Dara and imprisoned his father (preventing him from spending any more money on his late wife’s memory) where he could view the Taj Mahal from his window, cared for by his daughter, who voluntarily went into prison to look after her aging father until his death from old age. Shah Jahan now rests along with his wife at Taj Mahal. We saw the window from outside where Shah Jahan took his full-of-longing sighs at the fort beholding the Taj. Sigh.

“Being loved” was not Mumtaz Mahal’s highest accomplishment. She was a smart woman who invented “Zardozi” – the metal work sold on the streets of Agra and worldwide.

When we came out of the Taj, into the side streets where sellers (carrying inventory in their hands) chased you to buy little trinkets undeterred by the rants of unwilling customers, they were not the only chasers. The vomit-inducing, mouth-shutting smell from the gutters also found us. Such is the paradox of India where beauty lies side by side with the uglies.

We savored our lunch at a restaurant named, “The Silk Route.” We took the hour and a half trek back to New Delhi on the Gatiman. The next day I would have to say goodbye to mama and papa, who are better known as Nana, Nani and embark a new chapter of India visit.

For tonight, I slept like there was no tomorrow. Here are the photos from the one day at Agra (Taj Mahal and Baby Taj – the resting place of Nur Jahan, the queen preceding Mumtaz Mahal, the twentieth and final wife of Jahangir, Shah Jahan’s father, and Nur Jahan’s parents.)

Gatiman Express to Agra
Place Shah Jahan sat and prayed, called lover’s point.
Yamuna behind the Taj
Sunset on Yamuna at Baby Taj
What Shah Jahan saw from his prison cell

Follow

Get the latest posts delivered to your mailbox: