The Road to Agra

This entry follows the previous and tells the tale of our trip to the Taj Mahal on Saturday, June 26th. At this point, we are in the car and headed on the four hour trip from Dehli to Agra, the site of the famous monument.


The road to Agra is in some ways like roads in the states. You have stretches of rural countryside interupted by intense areas activity. Usually where roads crossed. We didn't see this for the first few hours because it took that long to get out of Dehli. The traffic there was very stop and go. At the stops, I'd take snaps out the window but they never seem to capture the intense mix that was going on. People of all stripes and styles going places and buzzing about. And there were a lot of people everywhere. We wondered idly where they were all going on an early Saturday morning.

Every vehicle was packed: well beyond the capacity of what would be legal in the States. In my college days, we got pulled over by the police once for too many people in the back of a pickup truck. Here they fit five on a moped without a problem. It was so common a sight that it must be ordinary, but to us it seemed amazing.

Eventually the city gave way and we saw more rural farmland. There were a lot of huts like these. And a bunch made from mud. I couldn't tell for sure the purpose of the structures. Often there would be four or five of them right on top of each other. Were they storage? Domiciles? Animal shelter? I couldn't tell. We saw people living in less than this quite a bit, so I wasn't ruling anything out.

We stopped briefly for a stretch at a dhaba- a roadside restaurant with light fare. These were usual dirt floor affairs with plastic chairs and a grill going. We had already eaten so we just nosed around and took in their stares. I went in for a lime soda. "Lime soda please" I'd say, pointing to it in the cooler. The guy would pick up a coke. No, no. Lime. Lime soda. He picks up the coke again. This happened on two separate occassions during the trip, so I think I'm doing something wrong. After I visited the facilities and found them just fine. The guy cleaning up gestured magnamously at the sink after I had finished and I nodded my thanks. He moved his thumb up and down rapidly in a gesture that looked like he was flipped a coin. I knew enough by now to know that that was the gesture for money so I tipped him and went on.

Now we saw a lot of random sights on the road that are hard to describe, but the part I must tell you about is the border crossing.

The driver pulled over and explained that we were at a border crossing and we needed to pay a road tax of 1,000 rupees. No problem. I give him the loot and he steps out of the car to go talk to some unseen toll collector. Almost as an afterthought, he turns back to the car and says "Don't open your windows." Then he limps off.

Ten seconds later the street vendor kids hit us. They pound on the windows and show us their wares. Window coolers, beads, junk. We shake it off and they shuffle off to another car. Then they hit us in our weak spot: our insane love of monkeys. A guy shows up with a monkey on a leash. He yanks the chain a bit and the monkey starts doing flips. Sweet! Hard to resist taking a snap, so up comes the camera and click click.

Gotchya. Once I click, the monkey stops jumping and the men start pounding on the glass and yelling. 500 rupees they want for the privilege of shooting their monkeys. No way, I say: too much. I won't pay- 100 rupes is plenty for this. They yell for 500 in a manner most rude and I saw no no no. I get out a 100 and crack the window open to pay them off.

I opened the window.

The scene was like Dawn of the Dead where the zombies attack the car. Every hand goes in the window crack and grasps after the loot. I only opened it a crack, but they were in now, and they weren't taking 100 to go away. Curses. I paid them the ransom and they retreated. But then they got us again. Momma Monkey right on the car.

Click click, another 500 rupees please. What a sucker I am.

By then the driver was back, and he had someone in tow. And this person was harranging him for a payoff too. Right away I knew what it was: a hijra, one of India's famous third gender. She was not pretty with very hairy strong arms, crude makeup and sharp, pointy teeth. The driver was being hectored and flipped her a ten. She stormed off immediately. I wanted to take a snap, but after the somewhat unsettling scene before I hestitated and missed my chance.

We were excited to have seen a hijra, though. I had seen a show on National Geographic about them. We started to remark about the incident and the driver felt the need to explain. "That.. that wasn't a woman" he said slowly. We all knew that but shut up to let him continue. "That wasn't a woman" he repeated. "That was... nothing.."

I couldn't tell 100% what he meant or how he felt but I felt bad about the whole thing. He put the car in gear and pulled away towards the final stretch to Agra. All you can do is accept it.

Next: We arrive in Agra and visit Akbar's tomb and the Taj.