Hey Sunandita, look here! You won’t get a better quality than this.”
It was the month of December, 2002. I was standing in front the majestic principal entrance of the Agra Fort, looking in admiration at the huge structure, trying to soak in the air of history and old-world charm when the sound of my name jerked me back to reality.
My friend-cum-colleague-cum-roommate-cum tour companion S must also have found the 70-ft high red sandstone fort as impressive as I have, I thought. But what does she mean by “quality”? I must have heard her wrong. I turned back, only to be in for a surprise!
She has gone opposite the road and completely ignoring the fort, is immersed in admiring the “beauty” of some yellowish-green guavas being sold on a “thela”.
“Hahahahahaha...hohohohoho.. I mean, I know all about your craze for guavas, but come on! You are in front of the Agra Fort and all you can see is this?”
“Don’t be stupid!” she snapped. “Where has it been written that you cannot buy fruits in front of this fort?”
And we both broke into peals of laughter, evoking reproachful glances from some elderly members of our tour party, who must be wondering what these two young girls are up to, coming for an Agra-Mathura-Vrindavan trip from Delhi without any guardian or male companion.
It’s been 16 years since we went into that tour, our maiden “ladies’-day-out” adventure, which was followed by a fair few in the next few years but none of them was as thrilling because the Agra visit was our first taste of freedom. And for some reason, the first thing I remember is the “Amrood episode”!
But there were plenty of other things to remember too. How we planned for days, finally managed to secure our weekly-offs on the same day, booked a trip with one of the lesser-known travel agencies because the famous ones were too costly, how we ran to catch the bus from Eros cinema hall near our rented flat at 6 am in an winter morning, amid thick fog, myself clad in my new jacket bought from CP (Feeling foolishly happy that I now earn enough to spend 900 bucks on a item of clothing) and how the elderly conductor-cum-guide took special care of us all through the journey as we two were “alone”.
The journey was smooth, the aloo parathas consumed in the midway dhaba delicious and the feeling that I am soon going to have the first glimpse of Taj Mahal made me giddy with excitement.
Though, I hope nobody sues for saying this, later I found that Agra Fort, which was our second stop in the journey, is much more interesting.
Don’t get me wrong! I mean, the Taj was unimaginably enormous, still pearly-white despite the talk of “yellowing”, vast in expanse and full of amazingly intricate designs. You cannot but feel dwarfed standing in front of the monument which you have seen so many times in books and television. However, I also felt a certain chill, a feeling of aloofness in the air, probably because, all said and done, it is a mausoleum. On the other hand, the Agra Fort -- with its Jahangiri and Akbari mahals, its stairs and gardens, diwan-e-aam and diwan-e-khaas, sheesh mahal, cell of the old dethroned king who sat there staring at the memorial he built for his wife across the Yamuna -- is much more alive and seeped in history. Or so I had felt.
From Agra, our bus went to the magnificent Krishna Janambhoomi Temple at Mathura, reaching just in time for the evening “aarti”. The idol was very beautiful and the darshan left me feel blessed. However, when we started from there after having a glimpse of the “garbha-griha” where Lord Krishna was said to have been born, it was already too late in the evening and probably that’s why, we were taken to only one temple in Vrindavan. It was small and marbled, bold letters in the wall proclaiming it as a “pracheen mandir”, but to be frank, it did not seem that old. But by then, we were too tired to think much about that.
We were dropped near our home at 1 am and ran inside, amid shivers and chatter of teeth. Next day, we saw in the papers that it was the coldest day of the season in Delhi, with mercury dropping to 2 degree Celsius.
P.S.: We had also bought some ‘Amroods’ from the vendor in front of the Fort.
(The pic is by one of the 2-minute photographers roaming in front of Taj Mahal. I kept S out because she does not like her pic splashed here and there, especially on unknown blog pages.)
It was the month of December, 2002. I was standing in front the majestic principal entrance of the Agra Fort, looking in admiration at the huge structure, trying to soak in the air of history and old-world charm when the sound of my name jerked me back to reality.
My friend-cum-colleague-cum-roommate-cum tour companion S must also have found the 70-ft high red sandstone fort as impressive as I have, I thought. But what does she mean by “quality”? I must have heard her wrong. I turned back, only to be in for a surprise!
She has gone opposite the road and completely ignoring the fort, is immersed in admiring the “beauty” of some yellowish-green guavas being sold on a “thela”.
“Hahahahahaha...hohohohoho.. I mean, I know all about your craze for guavas, but come on! You are in front of the Agra Fort and all you can see is this?”
“Don’t be stupid!” she snapped. “Where has it been written that you cannot buy fruits in front of this fort?”
And we both broke into peals of laughter, evoking reproachful glances from some elderly members of our tour party, who must be wondering what these two young girls are up to, coming for an Agra-Mathura-Vrindavan trip from Delhi without any guardian or male companion.
It’s been 16 years since we went into that tour, our maiden “ladies’-day-out” adventure, which was followed by a fair few in the next few years but none of them was as thrilling because the Agra visit was our first taste of freedom. And for some reason, the first thing I remember is the “Amrood episode”!
But there were plenty of other things to remember too. How we planned for days, finally managed to secure our weekly-offs on the same day, booked a trip with one of the lesser-known travel agencies because the famous ones were too costly, how we ran to catch the bus from Eros cinema hall near our rented flat at 6 am in an winter morning, amid thick fog, myself clad in my new jacket bought from CP (Feeling foolishly happy that I now earn enough to spend 900 bucks on a item of clothing) and how the elderly conductor-cum-guide took special care of us all through the journey as we two were “alone”.
The journey was smooth, the aloo parathas consumed in the midway dhaba delicious and the feeling that I am soon going to have the first glimpse of Taj Mahal made me giddy with excitement.
Though, I hope nobody sues for saying this, later I found that Agra Fort, which was our second stop in the journey, is much more interesting.
Don’t get me wrong! I mean, the Taj was unimaginably enormous, still pearly-white despite the talk of “yellowing”, vast in expanse and full of amazingly intricate designs. You cannot but feel dwarfed standing in front of the monument which you have seen so many times in books and television. However, I also felt a certain chill, a feeling of aloofness in the air, probably because, all said and done, it is a mausoleum. On the other hand, the Agra Fort -- with its Jahangiri and Akbari mahals, its stairs and gardens, diwan-e-aam and diwan-e-khaas, sheesh mahal, cell of the old dethroned king who sat there staring at the memorial he built for his wife across the Yamuna -- is much more alive and seeped in history. Or so I had felt.
From Agra, our bus went to the magnificent Krishna Janambhoomi Temple at Mathura, reaching just in time for the evening “aarti”. The idol was very beautiful and the darshan left me feel blessed. However, when we started from there after having a glimpse of the “garbha-griha” where Lord Krishna was said to have been born, it was already too late in the evening and probably that’s why, we were taken to only one temple in Vrindavan. It was small and marbled, bold letters in the wall proclaiming it as a “pracheen mandir”, but to be frank, it did not seem that old. But by then, we were too tired to think much about that.
We were dropped near our home at 1 am and ran inside, amid shivers and chatter of teeth. Next day, we saw in the papers that it was the coldest day of the season in Delhi, with mercury dropping to 2 degree Celsius.
P.S.: We had also bought some ‘Amroods’ from the vendor in front of the Fort.
(The pic is by one of the 2-minute photographers roaming in front of Taj Mahal. I kept S out because she does not like her pic splashed here and there, especially on unknown blog pages.)
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