Back in Time Through an Alternative Universe

A few weeks ago we traveled to the 17th century via the miserable, dirty, tourist trap city of Aaaarrrrgggghhhh-ra (Agra). The architectural, historical, and cultural gems buried (literally) within the city never fail to humble and amaze me; we visited Sikandra, Fatehpur Sikri, and, of course, the Taj, but we were too crunched for time to stop at the Agra Fort. Sadly, the grimy city, the sleazy-greedy-pushy guides (picture $ signs — not even rupee signs — in place of their pupils), fungus on the hotel room walls, and the crowded congestion left a sour taste in our mouth. As we scooted out of town after visiting Fatehpur Sikri, Papa had obviously had enough. Upon our return to the car, where we found that contrary to what we were told at the outset, the guide’s total fee did not include payment for our transportation up the hill. Papa turned to the “guide” and stated, “Why did you lie to me.” (And yes, it was a statement, not a question.) The conversation went downhill from there; it was clearly time to go. The fact that I’ve come to the conclusion of our visit before even describing our explorations in Agra should be further indicative of our sentiments towards the place. Please allow me a moment to dig deep into my soul for some of the inspirational scenes of our trip to share with you.

Our first stop was Sikandra, the tomb of Akbar, who was the third emperor of the Mughal dynasty in India from 1542 to 1605. Notably, Akbar selected the site and designed the tomb himself. Though this fact was not remarkable at the time — Mughals always designed their own final resting spots — the thought begs the question: what would your tomb look like if you were to design it? Where would it be? How would it look and feel? Akbar’s tomb is incredibly peaceful, despite it’s location right outside the teeming metropolis of Agra. Like all Mughal architecture, it is symmetrical and geometric. The grassy grounds present a stark contrast to the red sandstone structure, and the arches, domes, and intricate panel work leave the visitor with the knowledge that they are in the presence of something, or someone, grand.

We continued on to lunch. We knew when we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant of our driver’s choice that we were in the wrong place. Like ours, every other car there was marked by the blue TOURIST emblem on its side. We were one of two brown parties in the entire place. Upon our entry, the boy dressed in a Rajasthani outfit happily started dancing to the song his older counterpart started playing on the ektara: Macarena. As we giggled and passed by him, he flopped down on his cushion with a glum look on is face, until another Tourist walked in to restart the process. I’ll spare you the other details about our meal, which was unremarkable.

Our next stop was the Taj Mahal. The Taj, as you probably already know, was commissioned by the fifth Mughal emperor and Akbar’s grandson, Shah Jahan, in memory of his favorite wife (there were ten of them altogether), Mumtaz Mahal. Mumtaz died while giving birth to their 14th (yes, moms, imagine that) child. Historians of Shah Jahan’s court apparently paid an immense amount of attention to the circumstances surrounding Mumtaz’s death, as well as to Shah Jahan’s grief at the news. Apparently his beard turned grey and eventually fully white in the aftermath, and his eyesight diminished due to constant weeping. Gradually, Shah Jahan’s daughter brought him out of mourning, and the court devoted itself to the design and construction of the Taj Mahal. Construction began in 1632, and overall, the complex took 22 years to complete. Needless to say, it’s absolutely brilliant. Doing justice to a description of the Taj is beyond my skill as a writer or a photographer (not that I would even insult the profession by calling myself a photographer). How about if I just encourage you, my friends and family, to come visit the Taj via our temporary abode in New Delhi? Oh, and Wikipedia has a fascinating clickable map of the Taj Mahal, as well as detailed information about the origins and architecture of the site.

Fatehpur Sikri, which as I mentioned above was our last stop in the Agra area before heading back to Delhi, is just as fascinating a snapshot of Mughal history and architecture, though nowhere near as awe-inspiring or as majestic as the Taj. As the story goes, Akbar, who had no children at the time, was blessed and told by the Sufi Saint Salim Chisti that he would soon father a son to inherit his empire. When the prophesy was fulfilled, Akbar decided to move his headquarters close to Salim Chisti. The resulting fort complex is comprised of many buildings including a Hall of Public Audience; a Hall of Private Audience; Jodhabai’s palace (who was one of Akbar’s wives); a water tank (now a cesspool, but more about that later); a wind palace; a Gate of Magnificence (aptly named, this was the most memorable sight of our visit); a mosque; and Salim Chisti’s tomb (which was built much later).

Unfortunately, the second most memorable aspect of our visit to Fatehpur Sikri was of the hawk-like “guides,” “souvenir-sellers,” and pushy children who followed us around the entire time. First of all, our guide, who raised my father’s ire by the end of the tour, kept dragging us around to obscure corners of the fort where random people tried to insist that we buy sheets and other paraphernalia to give as offerings at Salim Chisti’s tomb. Apparently, in return, all our wishes would be granted. Then there were the little kids who ran circles around us waving postcards and keychains in our faces. However, I didn’t mind them as much as the other kids who offered to jump into the green, algae, mold, and trash-filled water tank at the back of the fort if we would give them 100 rupees. What scares me is that I know some spiteful tourist will take them up on that offer. I hate to ponder what kinds of nasty diseases they might emerge with. We bolted out of there as quickly as we could descend the never-ending staircase at the entrance.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhra was exactly this: frustrating, awe-inspiring, romantic, intimidating, filthy, and beautiful, all within a matter of 24 hours.