India - Part 2 - Close Encounters of the Taj Kind
Agra, I'm here.
The train finally stopped at Agra Station. I waved goodbye to my new found Indian friends and made my way to the platform. The buzz at these train stations is incredible. I get the feeling that locals like to 'hang out' here more than in the parks as most of them don't really look like they're heading anywhere. It's more a case of this floor is more comfortable than others. As I got outside, I was swamped again my hungry hawkers and scam artists. You have to keep in mind that the Taj Mahal calls Agra her home and many tourists flock to this part of India, so if you're going to be scammed, this is the place.. Luckily this not-so-first-time traveler did his homework and knew that one can book prepaid taxis to take you to the hotels. Then the driver can't scam you into anything else. This is how I met Riyaz, my taxi driver. This tiny dark skinned local was a whole lot smaller than me, but had enough heart to make up for his height. He took me to the hotel and offered to be my driver in Agra. We negotiated a price and he dropped me at the Grand Hotel. Don't be fooled by the name, but considering the poor communities that it was situated in, it was indeed grand. Francoise and I commented on the poverty in Delhi. We felt that although it was dirty, it wasn't as poor as we expected India to be. But some parts of Agra is exactly that, poor. The labour here is rediculously cheap and all marble, textiles and handcraft are made in this region. The government of India (thank goodness for people with common sense) felt that although India was growing financially, they'd keep factories away from the Taj as the soot was not good for her marble.
A little bit of history
As promised, Riyaz picked me up at the hotel for what was to become one of the biggest days of my life. I'd see the sun go down on the Taj Mahal ! What could be better than this? But first he took me to the Baby Taj (Itimad-ud-Daulah) which I have to admit, I didn't really know existed. The design of the building was facinating and what a bonus to see. The sun announced that it was going to sleep soon and we made our way to the back of the famous Taj by the river Yamuna. I know many of you know about the legend of the Taj and that Shah Jahan built it for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during childbirth. You might also know that it took more than 20,000 workers a staggering 22 years to complete the project. There were rumours that Shah Jahan wanted to build an exact replica of the Taj on the other side of the river, this time with black marble. Many say that this is only a myth, but my guide swears that this is the case as he took me to the area where they started with the Black Taj's foundation. Jahan's son apparently felt that his dad was losing it and spend too much money on the White Taj as it was. Therefore he put him under house arrest in the Agra Fort not too far from the Taj. I'll tell you more about that later.
My first encounter with the amazing Taj
The Taj was standing on the opposite side of the river. I was awestuck. The last time I felt so overwhelmed by emotions, was when I walked on the Great Wall of China. Here stands the largest love story ever. I tapped into time, into the heart of a husband who could never have his wife back and tried the best way he could to remember her beauty. He sure did a fine job, because the marble of the Taj welcomed the sun's rays and it turned a reddish orange. The famous moon stones also started glimmering and made it clear why I'm standing at one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. I just sat and stared. Soaked in it. That's all you can do. Well, at least I had four and a half minutes of peace as local kids came running to me and made deals for pictures. If I take so many, I'd have to pay them so much. The one's English was better than some first language speakers and I thought to myself: Imagine this. In Abu Dhabi my students learn English in school for ten years and know nothing. These kids don't go to school and they're more world wise than many educated ones. I on the other hand have one rule while traveling; I don't give sweets or money to children. So, I very nicely explained to the ring leader that he's welcome to have his picture taken, but that there'll be no money involved in this transaction. At the end of the day, kids stay kids, and they were so keen to show off their moves and see their pictures on the digital display, that they somehow forgot about the money. It turned out a lot of fun.
Indian business
Riyaz took me for some much needed dinner afterwards. Now you can say about an Indian or a Portuguese what you want, but one thing is set in stone: these guys know how to do business. First I had to pay the car watcher for the parking. Then I had to pay to use the toilet. Then I had to pay to use the basin and as you would expect, I had to pay for the dinner too. After a good meal I had to pay the father of the Indian boy to take a picture of his son in full traditional wear. I just burst out laughing when the door man decided that I'll have to pay him for watching the car as well. I was most surprised that the money wallet around my waist still had a working zipper after the whole ordeal. Still, all of this was dirt cheap and it probably cost me around 2US$ in total (dinner of course exclduded).
Good morning, Agra. Time to meet the Taj up close and personal
I asked Riyaz to pick me up at sunrise as it was my dream to see the Taj three different times of the day. As promised he picked me up at 6 o'clock and it was still quite dark outside. Now I have to add here that India's times confuse me like no other country in the world. Okay, I get the fact that one has to move an hour or two ahead or backwards in time, but working with half an hour? That's darn confusing. I guess India's three and a half hours ahead of South Africa, but I still don't really get it. We arrived at the Taj about fifteen minutes later and the sun was yawning just over the horizon. Although Riyaz warned me of tour guides trying to scam me, I did read that you can ask them for their credentials and you might get some good info out of them. So, I met Munna, a sweet old guy who I felt I could trust. He immediatlely arranged that I don't have to stand in a long line and got me in through the 'Indian Male Only' line. You should have seen the confused frown on the face of the security guy when I stepped through. Munna is a godsend when it comes to photos. He 'understands' my needs and made me jump and sit and pose. He even asked some old age ladies politely to please get up from a specific bench where Bill Clinton and Princess Di sat before for a picture. The tourists laughed more at Munna than anything else.
My photographer was the best!
The Taj Mahal is worth all the hype it gets. The way that marble shines as the first rays of the day hit it, is just indescribable. Here the words 'breathtaking' and 'surreal' get a whole new meaning.
One of the pics I took at the Taj that morning.
"Just take it all in"
Munna sat me down at the East side of the Taj and told me to just take it all in while he ran around with my camera taking pictures of all the best spots. I sat there and once again it was almost too much to take in. The moonstones in the Taj glinted gold as the sun rose behind me. The white marble now had a yellow glow and it was even more beautiful that I ever imagined. Munna took me around the structure and then into the main door where we saw replicas of the tombs that were beneath us. I need to remind you all that the Taj Mahal is a burial site and not a temple of worship as many believe. It's just one gorgeous grave. Of course I had the best guide in town and Munna decided to do a prayer call into the dome by chanting his favourite verse of the Holy Quran. All the tourists fell silent and they all probably felt what I did: peace and goosebumps. His voice rose to the top of the dome and circled around there until the marble finally absorbed his prayer like a hungry shrub after the first rains.
Those darn kids!
The detail in the marble is fascinating.The craftmanship in and around the Taj Mahal is so well done. The detail in the flowers and decoration is absolutely fantastic.You begin to imagine why it took them 22 years to complete it. Even with computer technology and oil money, nothing like this would ever be built again if you ask me. Nobody in today's day and age would go to this trouble.
So, eventually Munna said goodbye and I made my way back to the gate. Remember I mentioned how I never give money to children? Well, this was until I met the best sales people I've come across in my entire lifetime. These kids weren't begging. They were bargaining. They asked where I was from. I answered South Africa. Oh, the cricket didn't go that well. Yes, it didn't. So which part are you from, because you look like you're from Johannesburg. I am from Johannesburg. Nice, they say. How's the Rand? How's Mandela? Is he better now? Why do our cricket team always choke? I was shocked to know how much these guys knew about us. And again, they're not in school!?!? Since I was one of the first visitors to the Taj, I would be their lucky first customer and they kept on bargaining. I refused still and walked to the gate. They kept on lowering the prices. I stayed strong. Was this road to the gate really that far? These guys are going to crack me, and I've never been cracked by children! "Sir, this is how I see it," said the one. "You're obviously alone here and that means you've left a whole lot of people behind somewhere who really wanted to be here with you. Seeing the Taj is a big day in your life. So why not make their day by giving them something small?" Damn, kid. You're good. You're really good. I saw the gate approaching. Only ten more meters. Nine. "Sir, have I treated you badly? Have I pushed and shoved you? Have I tugged on your clothes? Have I begged you for money?" Seven meters. Five! "Why not make this child's heart happy today by buying something very small?" Damn!!! I almost made it. "Okay! Okay! I'll buy some." The kid gave one of those any-heart-can-melt grins and handed over the merchandise. Doh! I was defeated by a nine year old. Again, the stuff really cost next to nothing, but I told him to use his intelligence and go back to school and become a business man, cause he'll be able to sell a snowman a hair dryer.
The Agra Fort
I made my way to one of the numerous rooftop restaurants where I had a delicious and much needed papaya lassi. I enjoyed the view and the buzz down below and how the monkeys stole the tourists' food from the table. Riyaz felched me there and we drove to the Agra Fort . This structure played a vital part in Agra's history. I stood at the one towers and stared at the Taj Mahal in the far away haze. This is where Shah Jahan stood every day after his son put him under house arrest. He could only see the structure he built for his beloved Mumtaz from here. He eventually died and was buried with her, togeher at last. I still get goosebumps as I'm writing this. I don't know if these true love stories really still exist in our day and age.
This was probably the view Shah Jahan had of his impeccable Taj Mahal from the Fort. Extremely sad.
Going Loco(l)
The previous day in Delhi I saw something interesting. A man had a chair, a small table and a mirror on an outside wall. He was a barber and was shaving someone there in the open. Of course I had to add this straight to my bucket list, especially since my electric shaver ran out of battery power somewhere over the Indian Ocean and I was looking more and more like a teenage wolverine. As I was waiting for Riyaz at the Fort, I saw this guy under the tree. Today was the day. I walked up to him and asked him for a shave. He kindly made me sit and of course the gora was the centre of attention again as most of these guys don't see foreigners ever sitting in these chairs. He asked me if I wanted my hair trimmed too. I said okay before my eyes fell on the combs in front of me. By the time I saw how dirty they were, he was coming my head like I was the Little Mermaid. I cringed and grinded my teeth, but decided that I'll have to sit through this. Luckily the comb only made it into my hair a few times and I even forgave him for the somewhat blunt scissors. All in all he did an okay job. The shave on the other hand was fun. I haven't had a clean shave in months and he immediatlely used a clean blade before I could ask. Riyaz arrived and laughed. He said that I am experiencing true India. That was the plan.
Those kids.
The kids just loved me taking photosI returned to the hotel and said my goodbyes to Riyaz. I really got to love the old soul in the last 24h and he looked well after me. I tipped him extra and wished him a good life. I then ran to the room to wash my hair. Properly. Twice. Afterwards I made my way outside the high hotel walls to take some pictures of the community nearby. My gosh, how poor are these people? Still this poverty is well hidden between all the smiles and colourful clothes. Kids came rushing towards me and asked me to take pictures of them. They didn't really care about money, but posing was everything. One boy must have heard that by taking off your shirt, you can flex your muscles more and he did. He was so thin, but posed as if he was Samson. I walked further and found boys playing cricket. They had bricks stacked onto each other, a tennis ball and two very old bats. But they were playing their hearts out. Man, this is the India I knew I would come to love. They were very excited when I clicked some pictures and they asked me if I was going to put them in a newspaper or something. I laughed and said I would. The posing just got more and more daring and they needed new props. This one went into the house and came running with his baby brother under the arm like a bag of potatoes. The others stormed a water buffalo as it would make a perfect accessory. I can't remember when I last laughed so much. Of course the one had to wear my sunglasses and he loved them so much. He would run to his mom to show off how cool he looked and then to his friends. Oh, God bless these kids.
Giving back...
I knew that this was the place where I wanted to give something back to the children. I returned to the hotel and fetched the colouring books, crayons and stickers I bought. Unfortunately, I don't have another way of descibing this, because the next moment they stormed towards me like flies to a fresh cow poop. They were all over me and the whole make-a-line thing didn't really work. They were so excited as I handed out Ben 10 and Spongebob Squarepants stickers. Parents came running with their kids, asking if they could also have a sticker or two. I was so overwhelmed by emotions. Today was a band aid on a painful wound I've been carrying for 3 years in the Middle East. The deep cut of no appreciation. It doesn't matter what you do, how much you give, there's very very little gratitude for anything. These people's eyes were sparkling and they thanked me from the bottom of their hearts. That wound was slowly disappearing as I realized there were still people like this in the world. I became one of the richest people I know that day.
The bitter-sweet of India
It was time to pack for Jaipur. I got into a Tuk-Tuk and made my way to the station. It was even more packed than when I arrived the day before. Today I also saw something I've never ever seen before and unfortunately it's an image that will haunt me for the rest of my life. A sick old man was lying on the cold concrete floor. He had a thin washed out robe around him and his privates were half exposed. But it was the flies that got to me. There were easily more than a 100 flies sitting on him. On his face. Over his privates. In his ears. Vulture like, as if they just eagerly waited for him to leave behind his last breath in this world. He wasn't a beggar. He was just lying there. Half... dead. People were walking around him. Life goes on for them. Who was he? Why was he there? Where is he sleeping tonight? What happened to him? What got him here in the first place? It's these things that shake your insides and forces you back to reality. It's these things that makes you dislike all those people who complain about petty things like haircuts that didn't work out, or that the huge steak on their plate is too peppery. I couldn't control my emotions, and I got onto the train with my own pair of tear tracks running down my cheeks.
I am off to my next adventure, but Agra left me with mixed emotions. I saw the sun rise on the most amazing structure I've ever laid my eyes upon and I saw the same sun set on an old person who never deserved a life like this. This … is India.
The train finally stopped at Agra Station. I waved goodbye to my new found Indian friends and made my way to the platform. The buzz at these train stations is incredible. I get the feeling that locals like to 'hang out' here more than in the parks as most of them don't really look like they're heading anywhere. It's more a case of this floor is more comfortable than others. As I got outside, I was swamped again my hungry hawkers and scam artists. You have to keep in mind that the Taj Mahal calls Agra her home and many tourists flock to this part of India, so if you're going to be scammed, this is the place.. Luckily this not-so-first-time traveler did his homework and knew that one can book prepaid taxis to take you to the hotels. Then the driver can't scam you into anything else. This is how I met Riyaz, my taxi driver. This tiny dark skinned local was a whole lot smaller than me, but had enough heart to make up for his height. He took me to the hotel and offered to be my driver in Agra. We negotiated a price and he dropped me at the Grand Hotel. Don't be fooled by the name, but considering the poor communities that it was situated in, it was indeed grand. Francoise and I commented on the poverty in Delhi. We felt that although it was dirty, it wasn't as poor as we expected India to be. But some parts of Agra is exactly that, poor. The labour here is rediculously cheap and all marble, textiles and handcraft are made in this region. The government of India (thank goodness for people with common sense) felt that although India was growing financially, they'd keep factories away from the Taj as the soot was not good for her marble.
A little bit of history
As promised, Riyaz picked me up at the hotel for what was to become one of the biggest days of my life. I'd see the sun go down on the Taj Mahal ! What could be better than this? But first he took me to the Baby Taj (Itimad-ud-Daulah) which I have to admit, I didn't really know existed. The design of the building was facinating and what a bonus to see. The sun announced that it was going to sleep soon and we made our way to the back of the famous Taj by the river Yamuna. I know many of you know about the legend of the Taj and that Shah Jahan built it for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during childbirth. You might also know that it took more than 20,000 workers a staggering 22 years to complete the project. There were rumours that Shah Jahan wanted to build an exact replica of the Taj on the other side of the river, this time with black marble. Many say that this is only a myth, but my guide swears that this is the case as he took me to the area where they started with the Black Taj's foundation. Jahan's son apparently felt that his dad was losing it and spend too much money on the White Taj as it was. Therefore he put him under house arrest in the Agra Fort not too far from the Taj. I'll tell you more about that later.
My first encounter with the amazing Taj
The Taj was standing on the opposite side of the river. I was awestuck. The last time I felt so overwhelmed by emotions, was when I walked on the Great Wall of China. Here stands the largest love story ever. I tapped into time, into the heart of a husband who could never have his wife back and tried the best way he could to remember her beauty. He sure did a fine job, because the marble of the Taj welcomed the sun's rays and it turned a reddish orange. The famous moon stones also started glimmering and made it clear why I'm standing at one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. I just sat and stared. Soaked in it. That's all you can do. Well, at least I had four and a half minutes of peace as local kids came running to me and made deals for pictures. If I take so many, I'd have to pay them so much. The one's English was better than some first language speakers and I thought to myself: Imagine this. In Abu Dhabi my students learn English in school for ten years and know nothing. These kids don't go to school and they're more world wise than many educated ones. I on the other hand have one rule while traveling; I don't give sweets or money to children. So, I very nicely explained to the ring leader that he's welcome to have his picture taken, but that there'll be no money involved in this transaction. At the end of the day, kids stay kids, and they were so keen to show off their moves and see their pictures on the digital display, that they somehow forgot about the money. It turned out a lot of fun.Indian business
Riyaz took me for some much needed dinner afterwards. Now you can say about an Indian or a Portuguese what you want, but one thing is set in stone: these guys know how to do business. First I had to pay the car watcher for the parking. Then I had to pay to use the toilet. Then I had to pay to use the basin and as you would expect, I had to pay for the dinner too. After a good meal I had to pay the father of the Indian boy to take a picture of his son in full traditional wear. I just burst out laughing when the door man decided that I'll have to pay him for watching the car as well. I was most surprised that the money wallet around my waist still had a working zipper after the whole ordeal. Still, all of this was dirt cheap and it probably cost me around 2US$ in total (dinner of course exclduded).Good morning, Agra. Time to meet the Taj up close and personal
I asked Riyaz to pick me up at sunrise as it was my dream to see the Taj three different times of the day. As promised he picked me up at 6 o'clock and it was still quite dark outside. Now I have to add here that India's times confuse me like no other country in the world. Okay, I get the fact that one has to move an hour or two ahead or backwards in time, but working with half an hour? That's darn confusing. I guess India's three and a half hours ahead of South Africa, but I still don't really get it. We arrived at the Taj about fifteen minutes later and the sun was yawning just over the horizon. Although Riyaz warned me of tour guides trying to scam me, I did read that you can ask them for their credentials and you might get some good info out of them. So, I met Munna, a sweet old guy who I felt I could trust. He immediatlely arranged that I don't have to stand in a long line and got me in through the 'Indian Male Only' line. You should have seen the confused frown on the face of the security guy when I stepped through. Munna is a godsend when it comes to photos. He 'understands' my needs and made me jump and sit and pose. He even asked some old age ladies politely to please get up from a specific bench where Bill Clinton and Princess Di sat before for a picture. The tourists laughed more at Munna than anything else.
My photographer was the best!The Taj Mahal is worth all the hype it gets. The way that marble shines as the first rays of the day hit it, is just indescribable. Here the words 'breathtaking' and 'surreal' get a whole new meaning.
One of the pics I took at the Taj that morning."Just take it all in"
Munna sat me down at the East side of the Taj and told me to just take it all in while he ran around with my camera taking pictures of all the best spots. I sat there and once again it was almost too much to take in. The moonstones in the Taj glinted gold as the sun rose behind me. The white marble now had a yellow glow and it was even more beautiful that I ever imagined. Munna took me around the structure and then into the main door where we saw replicas of the tombs that were beneath us. I need to remind you all that the Taj Mahal is a burial site and not a temple of worship as many believe. It's just one gorgeous grave. Of course I had the best guide in town and Munna decided to do a prayer call into the dome by chanting his favourite verse of the Holy Quran. All the tourists fell silent and they all probably felt what I did: peace and goosebumps. His voice rose to the top of the dome and circled around there until the marble finally absorbed his prayer like a hungry shrub after the first rains.
Those darn kids!
The detail in the marble is fascinating.The craftmanship in and around the Taj Mahal is so well done. The detail in the flowers and decoration is absolutely fantastic.You begin to imagine why it took them 22 years to complete it. Even with computer technology and oil money, nothing like this would ever be built again if you ask me. Nobody in today's day and age would go to this trouble. So, eventually Munna said goodbye and I made my way back to the gate. Remember I mentioned how I never give money to children? Well, this was until I met the best sales people I've come across in my entire lifetime. These kids weren't begging. They were bargaining. They asked where I was from. I answered South Africa. Oh, the cricket didn't go that well. Yes, it didn't. So which part are you from, because you look like you're from Johannesburg. I am from Johannesburg. Nice, they say. How's the Rand? How's Mandela? Is he better now? Why do our cricket team always choke? I was shocked to know how much these guys knew about us. And again, they're not in school!?!? Since I was one of the first visitors to the Taj, I would be their lucky first customer and they kept on bargaining. I refused still and walked to the gate. They kept on lowering the prices. I stayed strong. Was this road to the gate really that far? These guys are going to crack me, and I've never been cracked by children! "Sir, this is how I see it," said the one. "You're obviously alone here and that means you've left a whole lot of people behind somewhere who really wanted to be here with you. Seeing the Taj is a big day in your life. So why not make their day by giving them something small?" Damn, kid. You're good. You're really good. I saw the gate approaching. Only ten more meters. Nine. "Sir, have I treated you badly? Have I pushed and shoved you? Have I tugged on your clothes? Have I begged you for money?" Seven meters. Five! "Why not make this child's heart happy today by buying something very small?" Damn!!! I almost made it. "Okay! Okay! I'll buy some." The kid gave one of those any-heart-can-melt grins and handed over the merchandise. Doh! I was defeated by a nine year old. Again, the stuff really cost next to nothing, but I told him to use his intelligence and go back to school and become a business man, cause he'll be able to sell a snowman a hair dryer.
The Agra Fort
I made my way to one of the numerous rooftop restaurants where I had a delicious and much needed papaya lassi. I enjoyed the view and the buzz down below and how the monkeys stole the tourists' food from the table. Riyaz felched me there and we drove to the Agra Fort . This structure played a vital part in Agra's history. I stood at the one towers and stared at the Taj Mahal in the far away haze. This is where Shah Jahan stood every day after his son put him under house arrest. He could only see the structure he built for his beloved Mumtaz from here. He eventually died and was buried with her, togeher at last. I still get goosebumps as I'm writing this. I don't know if these true love stories really still exist in our day and age.
This was probably the view Shah Jahan had of his impeccable Taj Mahal from the Fort. Extremely sad.Going Loco(l)
The previous day in Delhi I saw something interesting. A man had a chair, a small table and a mirror on an outside wall. He was a barber and was shaving someone there in the open. Of course I had to add this straight to my bucket list, especially since my electric shaver ran out of battery power somewhere over the Indian Ocean and I was looking more and more like a teenage wolverine. As I was waiting for Riyaz at the Fort, I saw this guy under the tree. Today was the day. I walked up to him and asked him for a shave. He kindly made me sit and of course the gora was the centre of attention again as most of these guys don't see foreigners ever sitting in these chairs. He asked me if I wanted my hair trimmed too. I said okay before my eyes fell on the combs in front of me. By the time I saw how dirty they were, he was coming my head like I was the Little Mermaid. I cringed and grinded my teeth, but decided that I'll have to sit through this. Luckily the comb only made it into my hair a few times and I even forgave him for the somewhat blunt scissors. All in all he did an okay job. The shave on the other hand was fun. I haven't had a clean shave in months and he immediatlely used a clean blade before I could ask. Riyaz arrived and laughed. He said that I am experiencing true India. That was the plan. Those kids.
The kids just loved me taking photosI returned to the hotel and said my goodbyes to Riyaz. I really got to love the old soul in the last 24h and he looked well after me. I tipped him extra and wished him a good life. I then ran to the room to wash my hair. Properly. Twice. Afterwards I made my way outside the high hotel walls to take some pictures of the community nearby. My gosh, how poor are these people? Still this poverty is well hidden between all the smiles and colourful clothes. Kids came rushing towards me and asked me to take pictures of them. They didn't really care about money, but posing was everything. One boy must have heard that by taking off your shirt, you can flex your muscles more and he did. He was so thin, but posed as if he was Samson. I walked further and found boys playing cricket. They had bricks stacked onto each other, a tennis ball and two very old bats. But they were playing their hearts out. Man, this is the India I knew I would come to love. They were very excited when I clicked some pictures and they asked me if I was going to put them in a newspaper or something. I laughed and said I would. The posing just got more and more daring and they needed new props. This one went into the house and came running with his baby brother under the arm like a bag of potatoes. The others stormed a water buffalo as it would make a perfect accessory. I can't remember when I last laughed so much. Of course the one had to wear my sunglasses and he loved them so much. He would run to his mom to show off how cool he looked and then to his friends. Oh, God bless these kids.Giving back...
I knew that this was the place where I wanted to give something back to the children. I returned to the hotel and fetched the colouring books, crayons and stickers I bought. Unfortunately, I don't have another way of descibing this, because the next moment they stormed towards me like flies to a fresh cow poop. They were all over me and the whole make-a-line thing didn't really work. They were so excited as I handed out Ben 10 and Spongebob Squarepants stickers. Parents came running with their kids, asking if they could also have a sticker or two. I was so overwhelmed by emotions. Today was a band aid on a painful wound I've been carrying for 3 years in the Middle East. The deep cut of no appreciation. It doesn't matter what you do, how much you give, there's very very little gratitude for anything. These people's eyes were sparkling and they thanked me from the bottom of their hearts. That wound was slowly disappearing as I realized there were still people like this in the world. I became one of the richest people I know that day.The bitter-sweet of India
It was time to pack for Jaipur. I got into a Tuk-Tuk and made my way to the station. It was even more packed than when I arrived the day before. Today I also saw something I've never ever seen before and unfortunately it's an image that will haunt me for the rest of my life. A sick old man was lying on the cold concrete floor. He had a thin washed out robe around him and his privates were half exposed. But it was the flies that got to me. There were easily more than a 100 flies sitting on him. On his face. Over his privates. In his ears. Vulture like, as if they just eagerly waited for him to leave behind his last breath in this world. He wasn't a beggar. He was just lying there. Half... dead. People were walking around him. Life goes on for them. Who was he? Why was he there? Where is he sleeping tonight? What happened to him? What got him here in the first place? It's these things that shake your insides and forces you back to reality. It's these things that makes you dislike all those people who complain about petty things like haircuts that didn't work out, or that the huge steak on their plate is too peppery. I couldn't control my emotions, and I got onto the train with my own pair of tear tracks running down my cheeks.
I am off to my next adventure, but Agra left me with mixed emotions. I saw the sun rise on the most amazing structure I've ever laid my eyes upon and I saw the same sun set on an old person who never deserved a life like this. This … is India.
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