) On this extremely reassuring note we set off.
Our auto-rickshaw headed out across an old two-level bridge across the
Yamuna river near the Agra Fort. It is not unusual to see some amazing
loads, such as a bundle fifteen feet in diameter moving down the road on top
of a tiny wagon.
This time of year the Yamuna is just wet mud for most of the way.
Cattle graze in the middle of the river. Oh, there are still sections with
some water and there were people fishing, but the fish in these pools
clearly were not getting much exercise this time of year.
The Itimad-ud-daulah is often called the baby Taj since it was a
precursor to the Taj Mahal in design and shares many of the same design
motifs, though it has slightly more Chinese-style decoration than the Taj
does. It is the tomb of a man who arrived at the court of the Emperor
Jahangir with no money and a widowed daughter, Nurjahan. She had no money
but she was greatly beautiful and that was all she really needed. Before
long, Nurjahan was the Empress and there were members of her family in many
powerful places in Jahangir's court. She had a beautiful mausoleum built
for her father--this domeless little Taj. Her niece was Mumtaz Mahal for
whom was built the big Taj. This was a family that believed in going in
style.
There were lots of monkeys on the grounds, with baby monkeys
suspiciously watching the tourists but also taking pride in the nice
buildings that primates build. There were not many tourists; one of the
books says that this is a much under-rated sight, and Evelyn says she
agrees. (We read later that someone wants to put a cable-car across the
river so that more tourists will go to things on this side.)
In the front garden we also saw a litter of puppies that could not have
been a month old. They looked like a cross between an adult dog and a
sphere. They still had spherical features.
We went into the mausoleum itself and naturally a would-be guide
started telling us just about everything there is to know in a totally
opaque accent. We ended up giving him a few rupees for his effort, useless
though it was. It was kind of a nice site, with the nice architecture, the
oddly tropical bird sounds, the monkeys, and the puppies.
The other two sights on this side are so under-rated that our driver
had to ask directions to them from people on the street. The Chini Ka Rauza
(China Tomb) is the tomb of an old finance minister. The fact that he could
afford such a lavish tomb is testament to the fact that he ministered first
to his own finances. However, the tomb looks a little less lavish these
days, as most of the tilework has been picked off. The place looks pretty
dilapidated, but it can afford its own beggar to pester tourists. The Ram
Bagh gardens are also neglected, with the pavilions in ruins. In both
cases, people appeared to be living in or at least sleeping in the ruins,
unlike Itimad-ad-daulah (which had only the monkeys sleeping there).
These took only a couple of hours, and when it was finished the driver
asked, Akbar's tomb? We had planned on doing this, but couldn't remember
if we had said so earlier. In any case, we figured we had the auto-rickshaw
for five hours, so what the heck. But for we had to stop for--you guessed
it--gasoline. What's more, the driver wanted Rs30 from us to pay for it,
which he said he'd deduct from our fare at the end. This sounded exactly
like what Moona had warned us against, but we appeared to be at an impasse.
We argued that we should not be responsible for his gasoline, but he said he
needed the gasoline to take us to Akbar's tomb. Eventually we gave him
Rs20, to be deducted from the final bill. He produced another Rs10 and got
the gasoline, and off we went.
Akbar's tomb was about ten miles north of the city in Sikanda and,
being out of the city, was in a more forested area. We went past some
fancy-looking movie theaters on the way. That was of some interest. We are
always interested in film. Our driver drove for a little while in truck
exhaust. In an open auto-rickshaw this is a real experience and very much
one to be avoided, if not for health, then because the exhaust is hot.
We passed a crew filling potholes. They do this by pouring hot asphalt
into them, throwing leafy branches over them, and pressing the asphalt flat
by having barefoot men stamp on it. They must not have the equivalent of
OSHA here, or maybe it's on retainer.
We got to the tomb just as a big French tourist group was arriving. We
faded into the group and got by the waiting predatory guides. Inside the
tomb itself another guide latched on to us, but we were able to shake him
when a mob of school children came in. It is an unfortunate thing that what
is most memorable about the tomb is how we avoided people trying to sell to
us.
We asked to see the local market that the Indians use and our driver
took us through one, the Kinari Bazaar, which is north of Agra Fort. It is
another source of culture shock. The air is thick with flying insects.
Also, we saw food being sold including what looked like big cakes of cheese
that had a multitude of flies crawling on them. Evelyn says, If this is
where everyone buys their food, it's no wonder that people get sick--it's
just surprising that more people don't. It wasn't all unpleasant. There
was plenty interesting to see. The spice sellers had a wide variety of
spices, all different colors. School supplies were on sale for the
children. Another shop (maybe ten feet wide) was selling paint, sinks, and
hardware. There were legions of children saying, Hello! and trying out
one of the few English words they knew. Pigs and goats walked through the
streets. We walked through a vegetable section and saw some vegetables we
did not recognize. We asked what the Hindi was for them, but they were not
in our book, so perhaps they had no English name.
We were going to stop for some more music cassettes, but our driver
said they would overcharge us because we were tourists. He said we would be
charged Rs100 each, and we said we had paid Rs25 for cassettes when we had
bought them. He thought he could find them for that. Of course he could--
that was the list price. So we sent him off with Rs50 to buy two film music
cassettes and we held the auto-rickshaw for security. He returned with two
cassettes and undoubtedly made something on the deal.
Then he wanted to take us to his boss's shop. Apparently his boss owns
a string of rickshaws and hires drivers on the condition that they bring
customers to his shop. Again, we had time so we figured it was part of the
Agra experience. It was very similar to the last store we went to. In
fact, it *was* the last store we went to! If you get taken to the
Handicrafts Gallery on Jaseria Enclave off Fatehbad Road, that's the place.
If you don't, that's a miracle.
We turned down an offer to go to another shop, but when our driver
asked us if we were interested in going to the Ram Lila Festival that
evening, it sounded interesting and we said yes before we realized what a
mess that would create. We arranged to have him pick us up at 7:30 PM and
bring us back at 9 PM for Rs40. Finally, we went back to our hotel. The
driver asked to be paid and we told him that Moona said we should pay
through him. The driver started to ask how much we would be paying Moona,
but he stopped short for fear of tipping us off that Moona was taking a big
rake-off, something that was already obvious.
We got back to the room and found that again it was not made up. We
were not really hungry for a full lunch, so we went to a shop around the
corner and bought some water and some biscuits. We snacked on those.
After a few minutes, Moona came tapping on our door. He asked how our
morning was and we told him. He asked for Rs200 for the morning. We
pointed out he had said Rs150. He said he did not know we would be seeing
Akbar's Tomb. (Evelyn wonders how he figured five or six hours then.) We
told him we'd already given the driver Rs20 for gasoline. He was not happy,
but he took Rs180 instead. We told him we'd made plans with the driver to
see the Ram Lila Festival. He said, no, the festival was over and not to
go. We said we'd made arrangements with the driver and Moona said not to
worry, he'd tell the driver the festival was over. Mark would have bet the
festival was that evening and Moona was sending a message that the driver
should not make deals without giving Moona his cut. While at first he
seemed colorful, we found we were liking Moona less and less.
This was about the point that Evelyn got disgusted with the whole
system. Was Ram Lila still on and Moona was trying to convince us not to go
to punish the driver? Was it over and the driver agreed to take us just to
get a fare? Was one of them just mistaken?
On top of all this, Moona asked us to go with him to see a marble
factory to see how the work was done. We knew we was going to rake off more
profit by getting us there, but Mark wanted a chance to tell him that he
thinks Agra is cutting its own throat by making like so unpleasant for
tourists.
When the time came, we walked with Moona and of course he asked how we
were liking Agra. Mark told him we'd been in many countries, some poorer
than India (like Tanzania), but in no country was there this aggressive war
for the tourist dollar like there was in India. Moona's response was that
Agra was growing very fast and would soon have an international airport.
Mark assumes that he meant there would be more and more sheep to fleece.
Sure enough, the so-called factory tour was a high-pressure sale pitch
to buy rugs (we steadfastly refused) and marble (we made a very nominal
purchase, and even there we probably overpaid). We did see a bit of how a
carpet was made, but even the factory owner admitted the loom was for
demonstration purposes only and the actual looms were in people's homes--we
were then ushered into a showroom and shown a couple of dozen carpets and
pressured (unsuccessfully) to buy. They even had letters of
recommendation they showed us which seemed mostly to say just that the
carpets ordered had arrived. Evelyn memorized one of the addresses and may
write and tell that person the use to which her letter is being put. Evelyn
also noted that there were stacks of rugs in traditional Southwestern/Navajo
designs. It's *possible* that convergent evolution produced similar
patterns in India, but it's more likely that a lot of Navajo rugs sold in
the United States are really made by genuine Indians.
In the marble showroom we ended up buying two inlaid marble tiles.
They had asked US$15 each, and Mark offered US$15 for both. Then Mark went
up to US$17, but said that it was a one-time offer. When they didn't
accept, he went down to US$16, which confused the hell out of them.
Eventually we got them for US$16 after leaving the shop and having Moona
offer to try again. Are they worth it? They're probably still over-priced
but not by much, and Mark had some fun. (Mark claims the shopkeeper was
standing there still confused after the deal was finalized at US$16, saying
to himself, I lost a dollar.)
When we got back to the hotel Moona said that he had something for us.
It turned out to be brochures for his hotel that he wanted us to give to
other travelers. Unlikely. Particularly because they say things like his
hotel overlooks the Taj Mahal. You'd need Superman's X-ray vision to see
the Taj Mahal from the Hotel Sunrise.
We spent the rest of the afternoon writing. We had decided to eat
dinner and get to bed early rather than take a chance on the Ram Lila
festival, partly because we had a 6:10 AM train and partly because we didn't
like the idea of being in the middle of a war between Moona and the rickshaw
driver.
So at about 7:30 PM we went to dinner. |
