2019
~INDIA IN REFLECTION~
A
WILD pulse surrounded me wherever I
ventured...whether from the window of my hired taxi, the seat of a
bouncing rickshaw, while walking among its people, or wandering the
corridors of its magnificent palaces and fortresses, my senses were on
OVERLOAD, growing in proportion with each experience. By days end a
meal, some
much-needed quiet, and a bed were all I could manage.
~~~~~~~~~~
THIS IS INDIA
… its people
…its culture
…its history.
A VIBRANT COUNTRY THAT CALLED OUT TO ME THEN TO GO IN SEARCH
OF ITS ANCIENT TREASURES
and its FASCINATING way of life.
~THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE~
ON
THAT FINAL LEG OF MY INDIAN JOURNEY, I would travel from Patiala--in
the north--with my hired driver, Amar Singh, across India’s Golden
Triangle, a
530 KM trek, taking in New Delhi, Agra, Jaipur and all the contrasting
sights in between.
THE PHOTOS TELL THE STORY OF ALL THAT I WITNESSED. Those of village life were taken from the
window of my hired car as there was no place for my driver to pull over for fear of being RUN OVER, or, meeting my end as the crumpled matter beneath an elephant’s foot!
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First stop, the colorful old city of Delhi--founded in 1639. Population ELEVEN million!
IT WAS A MAZE of narrow side streets where LIVELY vendors hocked
their wares.
AND OFFERED SPICY bites that promised to startle the palate.
IN BETWEEN, BEAUTIFUL facades and IMPRESSIVE domes defined its long
history.
RICKSHAWS AND MOTORIZED BIKES shared the crowded streets with pedestrians and cars and
oxen-drawn carts, ALL, at work claiming their small piece of the road.
NO SPACE was left unused;
even the center median offered a poor man a place to lay down
his head.
Amar Singh negotiated with a rickshaw driver for a
city fare and before long I was swept up and carried off to face the unmerciful DEMANDS of Delhi’s streets.
JOSTLED IN MY SEAT beside my self-appointed protector, Amar Singh, I was amazed by the skill with which our nimble driver
carried his burden, his sandal-covered feet moving in a steady, quick
stride as he navigated his rickshaw through the unending string of
traffic.
THE ONLY ESCAPE
from the madness was the RAJ GHAT, a quiet park where a memorial dedicated to, Mahatma
Gandhi, allowed me a brief respite alongside those in
quiet reverence to the beloved man that had once led India to
independence, and inspired movements for civil rights and freedom
worldwide.
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LEAVING
DELHI BEHIND, Amar Singh, proceeded along a four-lane, passing the New
Delhi and its modern high rises strung along the highway.
ARRIVING LATER at the town of FATEPUHR SIKRI in the Agra District of Uttar Pradesh, my
prearranged guide waited outside the palace entrance where he would offer up--in vivid detail--India's OPULENT history.
~THE EMPEROR AKBAR'S 14th
CENTURY PALACE~
THE BULAND DARWASA ("Gate of Victory")
"Crafted of red sandstone with accents of white and black marble.
It was built by Akbar in 1572 to commemorate his
victory over Gujarat. It is the main entrance into the palace’s quadrangle, and the HIGHEST gateway in the WORLD."
TOMB OF SHEIKL SALIM CHISHTI
"Famed as one of
the finest examples of Mughal architecture in India. Built during the years 1580 and 1581."
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WITH
THE PALACE IN OUR REAR VIEW MIRROR, Amar Singh, began our 48 km drive
to the city of AGRA, traveling through small villages that provided a
STARK CONTRAST to the grand palace we had left behind, and the even
greater "WONDER" planned for later on.
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ARRIVING
IN AGRA, a city on the banks of the river Yamuna, I can still remember
the honking horns and mid-morning traffic coughing out smoky exhaust
while an unruffled, Amar Singh, moved at a crawl from traffic light to
traffic light. Although twinges of guilt for those much less fortunate
than I crept in, I relished in the comfort of his brand new taxi with
its AC and tightly sealed windows that protected me while allowing me to
witness it all.
TRAVELING
ALONG THE YAMUNA I felt the excitement chase down my spine as the Taj
Majal, set boldly against the horizon and settling in soft reflection on
the river, came into view. Majestic though it was, that image would
prove to be a mere GNAT in comparison to the GIANT that would soon take
my breath away.
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~TAJ MAJAL-1632~
("Crown of the Palaces")
ONE OF THE SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD
AMAR
SINGH, PHONE HAND-HELD in communication, delivered me safely to my
guide (also with phone in hand) who waited at the entrance to the gait.
The pleasant, male Indian man introduced himself, asked for my passport
to present to security, and led me to the gate where I was about to
follow suit beside others standing in silent AWE, our gaze fixed on the
sprawling white marble mausoleum lit by the sun.
MY
GUIDE began his discourse doing his best to keep up with my weaving in
and out of the crowd and venturing off the beaten path to shoot photos,
and with a photo at every turn, we were soon dancing in step.
HIS
TONE WAS POLITE: "Madam, the complex is set in a 300-meter square
Mughal garden that's divided into four quarters." While I looked for
the best angle to capture the garden, I proceeded to do the math in my
head; "That's about 1,000 feet," I replied, stopping the guide mid-sentence and leaving him on pause while I moved about the raised,
pastel-colored marble pathways that divided each of the garden's four
quarters, squatting down to compose the next shot.
I WAS IN LUCK with the sun at the right angle, because halfway between the tomb and the gateway, smack in the
center of the garden, the mausoleum smiled its reflection in the narrow pool.
CONTINUING with
his unceasing script, I felt my neck strain as I fixated on the
exterior, aiming the lens while the quide talked: "Madam, notice how the
decorations change with each surface.
Those
that you're taking photos of were created with paint, stone inlays and
carvings. Some areas depict passages from the Qur'an." I paused in
memory of morning chants from loud speakers flooding the city of Cairo,
Egypt with sound during my trip in 1998.
Doing his best to move me along at HIS pace--for I could have lingered in the shadows
of the mausoleum until sunset--I gave in to his invitation to move on to
the inside tomb, forcing me to leave my tour of the outside 'til the
next day when I would return on my own to see the Taj Majhal change
color in the RISING sun.
AS
A WOMAN, I can not even begin to IMAGINE being so loved that a
mausoleum--the likes of theTaj Mahal--would be built in my memory; but
as my guide explained in a voice that hinted disapproval: "The Emperor,
Shah Jahan, built this ostentatious display of wealth in memory of his
favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who SO ranked in favor over his other TWO
wives that he gave little attention to his POLYGAMOUS rights!"
AS
THE DAY DREW TO A CLOSE, I stood along the south wall to gaze one last
time up the misty Yamuna River, quiet and lonely in pose. Five
hundred-eighty-five years hence of the Taj Mahal's birth, I could not
help but think that little had changed of the scenery other than the
style of the boat resting along the bank.
~SUNRISE~
WITH THE TAJ MAHAL CAST IN SHADES OF PINK.
A SIGHT TO BEHOLD.
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LEAVING THE TAJ MAHAL BEHIND, WE BEGAN THE FINAL 240 km LEG OF THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE ALONG INDIA'S HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS.
WITH A GLIMPSE OF VILLAGE LIFE ALONG THE WAY.
 |
| DUNG DRYING IN THE SUN FOR FUEL |
 |
| COOKED SYRUP LATER HARDENED INTO CANDY. |
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JAIPUR ("THE PINK CITY")
HOME OF AMER FORT AND THE WORKING ELEPHANT
Established 1729
POPULATION 3.1 Million
HAWA MAHAL ("Palace of Winds")
LOCATED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY.
"Built
in 1799 by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh. Constructed of red sandstone.
953 small windows and decorative lattice work give it the appearance of
a honeycomb; since the royal ladies had to obey the strict rules of
"purdah" which forbade them from appearing in public without face
coverings, these small windows allowed them to observe the street
scenes below without being seen."
INSIDE THE PALACE
CHANDRA MAHAL BUILDING
PEACOCK GATE
~JAL MAHAL (WATER PALACE)~
A Picturesque Centerpiece Seated in the Middle of the Sagar Lake in Jaipur City.
JAIPUR
WAS A MILD VERSION of Delhi, easily navigated, and I wanted to partake
of all it had to offer, so after a drive along the main street and a
visit to the Hawa Mahal Palace, Amar Singh, drove me to a park to view
the Jal Mahal by day.
THE
PALACE was a beautiful, stand along piece that appeared to be afloat on
the water's surface. With my back to the park, and a dutiful Amar
Singh waiting behind, I was oblivious to the children who had become
aware of the white-skinned woman taking photos. When I turned, there
she stood, that featured, stunning, green-eyed child of the streets.
I
WAS CAPTIVATED as she stared back at me, her penetrating eyes and
beguiling smile reaching out to the camera lens. Caught in the moment,
my once again, over-active mind flashed to the
famous cover photo of the green-eyed Afghan girl taken by a National
Geographic Photographer in 1984. Had it not been for the urgent calling
of Amar Singh, standing by the open passenger door, I might have been
tempted to linger for more shots. But I followed his urgent call, for I
would have been encircled by begging children demanding equal time and
money to provide for their impoverished state.
~~~~~~
AMAR
SINGH left no stone un-turned in his ongoing effort to provide me the
RICHEST experience, which meant unexpected side trips for those
startling photographs.
THAT NIGHT we would travel the
long winding road uphill to witness the SPECTACLE of Amer Palace
Fort--perched atop the hill--lit and reflected in the Maota Lake
below.
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AMER,
THE SMALL TOWN which is home to Amer Palace was en route to the fort,
and I asked Amar Singh to park the taxi and allow me a quick stroll
through the village. My first preview was a calf attempting sleep on a
side street with its tail curled up in pursuit of the pesky flies that
clamored around its eyes, and the fresh lettuce scraps someone had
deliberately placed nearby.
FARTHER
ON in a square, a woman and her children lay claim to the street, her
less than meager possessions strewn on the dirt beside a mattress. She
peered out at me from her partially covered face and eyed me
skeptically. While viewing her from behind the lens, I felt tears well
up in my eyes, her state of being tearing at my heartstrings.
BEYOND, where life was happening at a leisurely pace, the villagers appeared unruffled by my presence.
TO
INCLUDE a veiled onlooker who soon revealed her privileged status,
evidenced by the gold embellishments that smiled against her
bronze-colored skin.
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NEARBY,
we stumbled upon the huge well at Kheri Gate--an architectural wonder
and ingenious concept for storing and collecting water--left over from
another time.
A SERIES of artistically laid out steep stair steps led down
to an algae-stained, well. The absence of support rails, combined with
the steep drop and slippery stairs, proved challenging, but reaching
the bottom made it possible to envision the difficulty one must have
faced carrying vessels of water up the steep incline.
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~AMER FORT AND PALACE~
VENTURE THE LONG STEEP PATH ON THE BACK OF A COLORFULLY CLAD ELEPHANT OR WALK? THE ELEPHANT WON...HANDS DOWN!
AS BEFORE, I would be met by a guide, this one best characterized as a wannabe "Casanova", and
one who would prove to be very entertaining, inquisitive, and
admittedly fearful of heights. He was not so entertaining, though when
he insisted on taking possession of my camera while I was being hoisted
up and onto the elephant's padded seat for two. A nice gesture had it
not been for the fact that he turned my prized possession over to the
elephant attendant , who promptly tossed the camera in the air with the
now on board Casanova barely catching the projectile with his
fingertips! GRRR!
UP
THE COBBLESTONE ROAD the string of regal elephants trod, elephants
minus their human cargo passing us on the opposite side. Our elephant's
wobbled gated caused me to rock and tilt precariously in the seat,
Casanova, occasionally holding a firm but deliberate and prolonged grip on
my arm.
"AMER
FORT and PALACE ARE made of red sandstone and marble. The Fort is
known for its artistic-styled elements of large ramparts, series of
gates and cobbled paths. The opulent Palace is laid out on four levels, each with a courtyard."
"AMER FORT--along with Jaigarh Fort--is located on the Cheel ka Teela (Hill of Eagles) of the Aravali range of hills."
"THE
PALACE and Jaigarh Fort are considered one complex as they are
connected by a subterranean passage. This passage was meant as an
escape route in times of war to enable the royal family members and
others in the Amer Fort to shift to the more formidable Jaigarh Fort."
FOR
HOURS I would be stunned by mirrored ceilings, bejeweled surfaces,
archways that resembled suspended crowns and age-stained sandstone that
brought even the palace's empty spaces to life in unceasing swirls of
color. And every so often, a common person--planted as a prop--would
lend a timid smile to remind me of another life that existed beyond that
atmosphere of unimaginable wealth.
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THE LAST STOP ON THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE ROUTE
~ROYAL GAITORE~
THE DAY WAS NEARING AN END causing the sun to creep along the hallways and light the Gaitore's courtyards. Aside from the monkeys who lay claim to the grounds, Amar Singh, and I were the only people present. In the absence of a guide, and Amar's lack of the English language, I would be left to imagine the faint murmurings of the ancients and listen to the background chatter of the resident monkeys perched on a wall.
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WHAT A PRIVILEGE IT HAS BEEN
Reliving...Sharing...Writing
MY GOLDEN TRIANGLE ADVENTURE.
A VERY SPECIAL THANKS GOES OUT TO, Amarjeet Singh, and his gracious wife who planned the Golden Triangle trip--SPARING NO DETAILS. I will NEVER forget the fun and laughter, and how you opened your hearts and shared your home with me en route. AND OH, THE MOUTH-WATERING, HOME-COOKED, INDIAN DISHES!
AND TO MY SIKH FRIEND AND DRIVER, AMAR SINGH, who kept me safe and comfortable AT ALL TIMES. Who made me laugh. And, who, when I attempted to thank him for his efforts and apologize for keeping him waiting, said:
NEITHER DISTANCE NOR TIME CAN EVER GET IN THE WAY OF MEMORIES.
