Agra-cultural

Riding in India is wearing us down. I say us because although Anita’s on the back, she’s mentally right there with me and is as exhausted after every ride as I am. Without writing a book about it, I can’t get across what the roads are like; you just have to experience it, but suffice to say that the single rule of the road is that you have to have good Karma. Cut someone up, nudge a cyclist into the ditch, drive a 40 ton truck in the fast lane the wrong way up a dual carriageway, but do it without malice and with a smile, and you can still go to heaven.

I’ve been collecting a bucketful of bad Karma these last couple of days and I’ve been in a bad mood. When we’d left Agra we’d found that the bike, which had been covered and in stored in a garage with 24Hr security, had been pushed over against a wall, then picked up by one of the cables, ripping the cable out. It took me 2 hours of fiddly work to fix it and reduced my patience to fagpaper thin.

For the 943rd time, a scooter overtook us when there wasn’t a gap and cut in, forcing me to brake, and I snapped. I drew level with him, and using the pannier, ground him into the kerb, leaving him wobbling around bewildered behind us. It didn’t do anything towards changing driving standards in India, but I felt much better for it. I also refused to do an emergency stop later on when a bunch of lads ran in front of me to get into a tuktuk. It ended with our front wheel parked firmly on one lads foot with him looking at me quizzically and patiently while his mates laughed. I let him go in the end.


It’s a treat to see a river with some water in it. Worshippers were doing early morning puja (worship rituals) here.


Like a lot of roadside stops, this tea shack has basic accommodation that we’ve not had to resort to yet.


Indians love cricket and we get a lot of stick about the England team’s performance in the world cup (they tied with India and lost to Ireland).


Another chai, another crowd….


We’ve worked our way north from Jabalpur to Orchha, staying in Sagar on the way which was remarkable only for the tacky ‘Hotel Paradise’ which wouldn’t look out of place in Disneyworld. It had an outdoor wedding area for 3000 people, and this must be its main trade.












We arrived in Orchha, which was too small to be on our map, and weren’t disappointed with the Rough Guide description. There are loads of ruins of sandstone palaces, tombs and temples from the Mughal period that are in good condition considering their age and the centuries of abuse.


Orchha is a pretty laid-back place.




This guy was wandering around hoping for a few rupees from tourists and was very friendly, if slightly strange, and the vegetable thali was delicious, nutritious, all for under 2 quid. Yum.






Because of the ruins, Orchha attracts a few tourists, so has quite a few hotels and eateries, including a palace that’s been converted into a state-run hotel and restaurant. We treated ourselves to an evening meal there and felt like we’d slipped back into the time of British rule.


The ruins were interesting, but we enjoyed the peace and quiet of a stroll by the river more. Getting away from crowds and noise in India isn’t easy and is a rare treat. By the river we found a small family of Krishna devotees living peacefully in an ancient building.


Everyone when visiting a poor country will have a different take on what to do about beggars, and for us, it seems logical to follow how locals give. Anyhow, a pitiful young boy in rags watched us from a distance as we ate breakfast, and made hungry signs. We ended up speaking with the café owner, who knew him, and left money to feed the boy while we were there and for a while after. It doesn’t solve anything, but it put a smile on the boys face, and filled his belly for a while. India is carrying out its regular census at the moment, and is trying to get info on the homeless this time. There are said to be around 80 million living rough.

So, having been there for 4 days, it came time to leave Orchha, saying goodbye to several people that we’d got to know. They were all very kind and smiley and we felt refreshed and ready for the sprawling chaos of Agra.


We had a job finding our way in the end, even though there’s a main road ‘under construction’. There have been huge road projects underway wherever we’ve been in India, but not a lot is finished or being worked on. 100 mile stretches of road are started and abandoned, old bridges are being replaced and flyovers built in most cities. This all seems to blend in with the natural chaos, but on the road to Agra it got very silly. As usual, there were no signs at all as to what was going on or where the road was going, and after going through a toll booth, the dual carriageway ended in dirt tracks fanning across the fields. We stood around non-plussed until a passing scooter rider beckoned to follow him along one of the tracks. Worryingly, it ended up in a military zone with ‘no entry’, ’you will be arrested’ signs but eventually spat us back out on the old road.


The only other thing to punctuate the journey was when two of the hundreds of pilgrims that we’d seen came across to talk to us when we stopped to check the map. We had no language in common, but we gathered that they wanted money for food. I gave one of them what was in my pocket - enough for a couple of meals - and he seemed to grumpily say no, it wasn’t enough. So, we took the money back and left them to eat grass. If they’re doing a religious pilgrimage, they’re going hungry by choice, and actually didn’t look like missing a few meals would hurt them.






Agra was as expected - full of hotel touts, kids selling bizarre Taj Mahal snow scene models, rickshaws, beggars and stunned-looking pale tourists. Surprisingly, we made it to the right street and found a decent hotel without problems. The hotel advertised a ‘Taj view’ from the rooftop, so we sat up there and watched as the local pigeon fanciers whistled and waved sticks to control their birds with the Taj as a backdrop. It was a magical scene, and not at all dampened by the constant beeping of horns below.


We’d decided to only visit Agra Fort and the Taj Mahal while here, and headed for the fort after I’d laid up for a day, a bit the worse for a tummy bug. Enough detail. We’d met up with Rathala, a rickshaw wallah, and he was to be our transport and company for a couple of days. He’s a lovely character of 61 with 6 children and a good sense of humour and said he’s been pedalling the streets for 47 years.


This is the view that Akbar had after he was overthrown by his son and imprisoned in the fort. He is said to have stared wistfully at his dead wife’s monument endlessly.






The fort was huge, and although a large chunk of it was out of bounds and being used by the military, we had a great time relaxing in the buildings and gardens, not knowing too much of what we were looking at and just appreciating the beauty. Who needs to know all the details of who built it, when and why?


Sorry, it had to be done. The classic shot.


One of the buildings to the side of the Taj added more for visual balance than function. The Taj Mahal is a mausoleum, and apart from a small mosque to one side, has no other function. The inside of the main building is very simple, filled with only copies of the sarcophagi of Mumtaz and Akbar that are below in the crypt. The acoustics are amazing.

The next day was a big one for us. We’d always thought that we’d visit the Taj Mahal whilst here, and here we were. With a 6am start to get there before it got too crowded, we decided again not to have a guide, and wandered around taking it in. We knew the basic story of the king favourite wife dieing and this being her mausoleum, and also the theory that it’s more of a declaration of the kings God-like status.












It’s a strange place, and it’s easy to see how it’s a tourist must-see. From a distance, the white marble makes it seem slightly unreal, and close-up, the semi-precious stone inlays and carving looks perfectly proportioned and beautifully detailed.








You can have too much of a good thing though, and we were soon back down to earth and checking out the inhabitants. As well as the aggressive red-faced monkeys that seem to be everywhere, we found some friendly chipmunks, a kingfisher and an unidentified pair of huge raptors living up high.



To walk around the Taj you have to take off or cover your shoes. When we saw them, I was so tempted to pile all these Chinese visitor’s shoes up together and watch as they tried to sort them out.






We also met these guys while walking around one of the bazaars. Like most of the people at the bazaar, they were very friendly. By pure luck we’d ended up at the bazaar for locals, not the tourists, so didn’t get hassled much.


Riding away from Agra we crossed an area of brick making that would put Bedford to shame. There were hundreds of kilns with horses and carts running around carrying bricks and logs.


We’ve not quite worked out what the cowpat (and buffalo pat) production line is for. We guess that it’s for burning, but is it for cooking fires or for the brick kilns? Either way, there’s a hell of a lot of it around, and surprisingly, it doesn’t smell at all. Apart from the odd drain and river, we’ve found that India doesn’t smell bad, and the occasional wafts of incense and spices are wonderful.


We couldn’t resist this picture of the cook at a food stall wearing a lovely pajama top with skating teddy bears printed on it. We see it quite often that lads wear clothes that look like they’re handed down from their sisters, but they don’t seem to mind, bless them.

The rest of our time in India will just be a slog to Nepal, with no special destination on the way. We spent one horrible night in Kanpur which looked how I imagine Beirut to have been at its worst. At that point Anita unfortunately succumbed to the tummy bug that I’d had, and we only made it another 40 miles to Lucknow before having to stop in a grim hotel and let the poor old girl lie down. The room’s comfortable and uses the same white marble on the floor as in the Taj, but it would be nice to see out of the windows. It looks like they gave up cleaning them many years ago.


We crossed the Ganges at this point, and Anita did well to take any sort of picture, not only because of her fragile state, but also because I was playing dodgems with a scooter at the time.

Two more stops and we'll be in Nepal!