So eventually I got on board my train and lay down with my bottle of drinking water and rehydration fluids and let the train rock me to sleep.
When I woke I was nearly at Agra. I was feeling quite weak but thankfully I was at least continent. I'm pretty sure I didn't attempt to eat anything and probably breakfasted on chai. My existence was beginning to resemble that of a wandering Sadhu. Not quite, of course, but I recall someone telling me that there was an aged Sadhu living the life of a hermit up in the hills behind Pushkar who ate nothing at all and survived on only 4 cups of chai per day (plus I presume, all the bhang he could eat). So it was that I was now surviving on very little more than the ascetic and whereas he was probably reaching a higher plane through meditation (and bhang, don't forget the bhang) I was getting somewhere near there as a result of an abundance of hash.
I checked my rucksack into the left luggage office and made for the exit. I was getting quite cranky and wasn't really fit enough for the scrum that was waiting for me at the Station.
It's a bit of a pain in the neck arriving in places you really want to visit but then dreading the arrival because you have to gird up your loins and have your wits about you to deal with the competition for your rupees waiting for you. It is a sad fact that I found I was getting into the way of trying to look quite sternly confident and businesslike, like someone who really knew where he was going and was not about to be conned. I'm not sure it was ever very effective. This time I wasn't 100% fit anyway so I probably gave in and went with the most persistent would-be all day motorised tour guide rickshaw drivers.
We went to Jahangiri Mahal, Agra Fort pictured below. It was a peaceful place. It was mid morning and it was a lovely day. I wandered about the place taking as long as I liked. The auto-rickshaw driver had promised to wait and I hadn't the energy to rush around.
It was probably exactly the right place to go for a person in my condition. There was no hassle in there. I was left to my own devices and enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere. There was a school party coming out of Shah Jahan's Diwan-i-amm (Hall of Public Audience) and they livened the scene. The Diwan-i-amm was was used for durbars, formal receptions in which the emperor would conduct state business while ceremoniously enthroned.
I remember that the ambiance of the surrounding grounds was like that of a large park and at one stage I stopped under a tree and sat down on the grass to read my guide books about the place. My day-pack was a portable entertainment centre, I leafed through the books and rolled up a small spliff of Hookmah the camel driver's hash while listening to some music on the Walkman.
The stuff Hookmah gave me was very pliable and burned with an acrid smell. I'm sure it was what it was supposed to be but it was a bit debilitating. It wasn't physically stimulating and the sensation of being "out of it" was quite intense and almost overpowering. I wasn't exactly sure that I liked the sensation but what can you do? By then I had smoked it and had to cope as best I could. I decided to have a snooze and probably dozed for the best part of an hour. When I came round I was a little more invigorated.
"The ornate, sinuous carving and pendants on the brackets are typical of early Mughal style, much of which derives from Hindu forms". That's what I just cut and pasted into this entry from www.art-and-archaeology.com/india/agra. I wouldn't have known. All I know is I did take the above picture and the fact that someone else did too and explains why is gratifying. I'm glad that there was a reason. It was surely the sinuous carving.
I think I must have spent about 3 hours in the environs of the Jahangiri Palace just mooching around. I think the next picture is of the Khass Mahal (Private Pavilion) which dates from 1636. This was probably a multifunction room that could have been used for various kinds of gatherings, or even for sleeping, says www.art-and-archaeology.com/india/agra.
If I recall it right, the Agra Fort was where Shah Jahan was eventually imprisoned by his son Aurangzeb and he lived the last days of his life with his greatest monument in view. What a view! The picture below is the view I had and ranks alongside the photograph of the woman harvesting lake vegetation in Srinagar as among my favourites from India.
Says www.art-and-archaeology.com/india/agra: "The Agra Fort was begun by Akbar between 1565 and 1573. It is situated on the west bank of the Jumna River, about 2km upstream from the Taj Mahal (map). Akbar built the fort of sandstone; his grandson Shah Jahan, the builder of the Taj Mahal, constructed palaces of white marble within the fort itself. Shah Jahan was imprisoned in Agra Fort following the coup of his son, Aurangzeb, and died here in 1657."
The footnote to the above says: "The behavior of Mogul rulers, towards members of their own family, was appalling by any humane standard. Besides overthrowing and imprisoning his father, Aurangzeb murdered two brothers and a nephew on his way to the throne; his father, Shah Jahan, had similarly killed one brother and two nephews during his own climb to power. It wasn't because they were "bad" people (at least, not by their own standards, however much we moderns may deplore their evil deeds); in that time there were no fixed laws of succession, and the harem system provided all too many candidates for the throne; it was, literally, kill or be killed for eligible males of the royal family. History shows an astonishing number of such deplorable examples, from ancient China all the way across to the Roman and Byzantine Empires, ancient Egypt, the Ottoman Empire, and, at times, even Medieval and Renaissance Europe."
Of course the monument down and across the Jumna River was the real reason for visiting Agra and having glimpsed it from a distance I decided that no more time should be wasted in getting there. This was only a day trip after all. I had to be back at Agra Cantonment station for my next destination later that evening.
I wandered out to find the auto-rickshaw driver was indeed still waiting. He was a bit peeved at having had to wait such a long time but I really didn't care. He whisked me to the Taj Mahal. I have a vague recollection of the journey and I have a fragment of a memory of being in a street where there were musical instruments for sale. I really fancy one day owning a sitar and/or a fine lacquered wood harmonium (if a harmonium is what I think it is, a keyboard with bellows?). Such items were quite out of the question then but I still hanker after them even now.
When we arrived at the Taj Mahal we were in the second half of the afternoon. The contrast to the tranquility of the Jahangiri Palace within Agra Fort couldn't have been much greater. The scene outside the entrance was of throngs of tourists surrounded by hawkers of every convenience. No sooner had I got one foot off the auto-rickshaw than one of these shoved a tray at me with the single word question: "Fillim?". For some reason, probably because I was under the weather, this made me quite cross. I said "No thanks" and tried to move on but the man said "Very fresh!" indicating the films he had on his tray were all within date.
On another day this would have been a fun encounter. I really enjoyed observing and jousting with people trying to sell stuff. They just never took no for an answer. If the guy had oranges for sale he would thrust them at you and say "Oranges?" If you said No his next words would be "Very sweet!" and you would have to thank him all the same but say no thanks again. "Very delicious!" and so on.
Today it just annoyed me and I may have snapped back so rudely that the poor man seemed genuinely taken aback and upset. From being quite chilled in Jahangiri Palace I was suddenly crotchety. I didn't want his film. I had enough film. Just leave me alone!
I went into the Taj Mahal and my first impressions were coloured by the momentary grumpiness. The place was pretty packed. There were people everywhere. I began to get a bit more irrationally pissed off. Here I was at the Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, and I couldn't get a picture of it because the view was never clear enough for long enough. See what I mean?
Try as I might I couldn't get the classic shot. The second effort seems OK but there must have been a reason why the subject is not centred.
Probably the reason was that there was woman standing in shot and actually keeping her in shot makes the picture better.
The place was quite busy. If you click on the pictures you can see them enlarged somewhat and you can see the people up on the mausoleum. They help give an idea of the scale of the architecture.
The Taj Mahal is not just something to take a few snaps of and tick off as having been "done". It is far more than that. There is no way to accurately show just how beautiful it is. Photographs don't do it justice. There aren't enough superlatives. It is positively the most beautiful piece of art I have ever seen. It is exquisite:
ex·qui·site (kskw-zt, k-skwzt)
adj.
1. Characterized by intricate and beautiful design or execution;
2. Of such beauty or delicacy as to arouse intense delight;
3. Excellent; flawless;
4. Acutely perceptive or discriminating
5. Intense; keen;
6. Obsolete Ingeniously devised or thought out.
The definition above is an edited version of that in the The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition and I apologise for using it without permission.
With the same apology from me, the Collins Essential English Dictionary 2nd Edition 2006 (also copyrighted) has it as follows:
exquisite
Adjective
1. extremely beautiful or attractive
2. showing unusual delicacy and craftsmanship
3. sensitive or discriminating: exquisite manners
4. intensely felt: exquisite joy [Latin exquisitus excellent]
Both definitions can be found here and I hope by including this link I am forgiven for plagiarising the definitions.
It doesn't matter where you are standing to look at it nor from how close or far away. In fact the closer you get the more amazing it is. The white marble is inlaid with semi precious stone and the intricate detail is stupendous.
I hadn't been wasting my time at Jahangiri Mahal (although I was probably wasting the rickshaw driver's time). Jahangiri Mahal was a great place to spend a few hours but they might have been as well or better spent at the Taj. If I had another chance to visit I would get to Agra the day before, pack enough provisions and spend from dawn til dusk at the Taj Mahal.
As it was I had just the afternoon and sunset to explore and experience the monument erected by Shah Jahan for the resting place of his departed love, Mumtaz.
It is amazing to think that at one point during British rule there was a lucrative market for white marble and there were serious plans to dismantle the Taj Mahal for the cash that could be obtained for the marble. Luckily the bottom fell out of the market before the vandalism began.
It is also difficult to understand the insensitivity of those colonial times. They used to hold dances in the mausoleum. Such a lack of respect is almost incredible.
So with the sun setting I turned to leave. The entrance/exit is shown below. If Araungzeb not bumped off two of his brothers and a nephew and then deposed his father, the view would have been of a mirror image of the Taj mahal in black marble for his own mausoleum. It is hard to imagine what the effect would have been.
India is a place of incongruous juxtapositions. It always seemed that wherever there was beauty there was also ugliness very close by. My long shot of the Taj Mahal across the Jumna River shows buzzards/vultures circling above it. From the balcony at the rear of the mausoleum I found out the reason why. On the muddy bank of the river hard up behind the most beautiful building in the world a flock of these flying waste disposal experts were waiting for their chance to pick over the carcass of a dead pig that was being torn open by a stray dog. Another side of death.
