THE rickshaw zigzagged deftly through the swarming, pulsating throng that passed for traffic in Delhi. 
Two lanes were marked, but there were definitely 4.5 rows of cars, rickshaws, motorbikes, taxis, cattle and pedestrians blaring horns, throwing up dust and jostling for supremacy.
For one who has convulsions when she hits the Longman roundabout, it was rather disconcerting. However, my rickshaw, like most others, had a shoe tied to it acting as a talisman to ward off the "evil eye". All would be well.
Of course there are a lot of preconceived notions about India, but nothing ever really prepares you for what comes ahead. One of the first things to strike you about the former jewel in the Empire's crown is that it is truly a land of contrasts, however clichéd that may seem. The smog-smothered streets are punctuated with luxury buildings and cars: bold markers declaring the wealth and success that is spreading here, and of a behemoth seeking its rightful position in the world.
Life constantly mills around these status symbols. In the morning you are woken up by the soft batting of cricketers completing runs around the bovine spectators, as armies of workers (often those who have moved to the city from desperately poor provinces) make their way to their place of employment. Women flit through the dirty brown streets like birds of paradise in their vibrant saris to clean houses or cars, while men carry Herculean weights of goods to be sold at market. Or maybe to work in one of the countless textile factories crammed into every available space in the city. Each nimbly avoids the numerous filthy bundles at the roadsides which suddenly reveal themselves as a homeless family, a fattened, slumbering stray dog or a pile of refuse proving irresistible to a cow.
Though there seems to be a never-ending supply of menial tasks to keep people in employment, in a country of 1.1 billion it has not prevented the lowest castes from falling into the Stygian hell that is beggardom. There is truly nothing more heart-wrenching on this Earth than to have a bedraggled two-year-old child pathetically tap your foot in want of a banana, or a hunched old woman desperate for few pounds that would shelter and feed her for several months, or to see a man with his fly-infested leg slung over his shoulder drag himself though the streets. The poor are with us always, but they seem to be particularly omnipresent in India. It occurred to me, as I watched part of Delhi's old city wall being restored by extremely poor labourers carrying huge chunks of brick on their heads, that all the magnificent buildings I planned to see had literally been built on the backs of the poor. India's architecture is certainly a testament to creativity and ingenuity, but at a poignant human price.
Still, the Taj Mahal in Agra was utterly astounding. A memorial to Mumtaz Mahal, Shah Jahan's second wife, who died in childbirth, it was just breathtaking. In typical Mughal style, it is surrounded by geometric bodies of water alongside lush green lawns that lead up to the legendary marble dome. The four pillars that flank it are imperceptibly tilted out so that if there is an earthquake they will collapse on unsuspecting tourists, rather on than the attraction itself.
The other reason people go to Agra is to see the rather opulent Fatehpur Sikri. This was a planned city built during the 16th century by the wily Emperor Akbar, who had three official wives: one Hindu, one Christian and one Muslim (and hundreds more concubines). The partial ruin contains an enormous functioning mosque, incredibly intricate and well-preserved artwork, and an escape tunnel to Lahore. However, although the king may have been thinking about the afterlife, he forgot about the here and now, and built his town on a dry area. Not long after the entourage had settled there they had to leave because the water supply ran out. Perhaps Buddha had been peeved at the snubbing of his faith.
Ruth has a go at riding a rickshaw in Agra.
One of the most interesting places that I saw in Delhi was Chandni Chowk. You step off the new pristine metro and find yourself catapulted into meandering streets full of spices, clothes, beautiful buildings, hidden temples, shrines, orange garlands and the lingering scent of incense. The food served along the way in tiny restaurants and kiosks looked and smelled fantastic, but the family who were showing me around (and with whom I stayed) insisted that I shouldn't eat, "That... that... that... that... that... that or that." A little dejected, I also didn't want Delhi belly, but what I did eat was rich in flavour and texture, and cooked to perfection. It was also a vegetarian's paradise, with a vast array of dishes to choose from, though as an egg-eater (the theory being that eggs give life) I was not considered as bona fide.
MUCH more glamorous and affluent, and only a bit less effluent, the Bollywood capital of Mumbai is one of the fastest-growing cities in the world. The best way to get around Mumbai is to use the local trains. These are divided into men's and women's compartments (a few men have a penchant for groping in crowds) and are utter chaos at peak times. It is no wonder that yoga originated in India, as you see people hanging out of the train doors, clinging on for dear life, or lounging on the roof. This costs one or two lives daily, but no-one takes heed of the warning signs. Rather foolishly I had thought that the women's compartment would be somewhat civilised for travelling – but, as I found myself slowly becoming part of the wall with my face in a variety of armpits, I was proved wrong.
Of course, we went to see the obligatory Bollywood film. Bollywood is one of the most popular film industries in the world, and is mostly light-hearted, surreal fun with Eurovision-style songs sprinkled liberally throughout. Having been advised on a film to watch, I entered the cinema and took my rather wobbly seat, cheese-flavoured popcorn in hand. The screen flashed: Stand up for the National Anthem. Was this a trailer? No. I stood up, hands on my heart, contemplating with the rest of the audienc
e what the nation had had to do for independence. The film was set in London, and was about five hours long. There was the usual "one moment on the Tube being shot at by gangsters, the next moment dancing around Trafalgar Square with flowers singing love songs at incredibly high pitches", but I thought that actually it wasn't too far-fetched for a typical Saturday night out in the capital.
India is famed for its national parks too, so in order to get some tranquillity and a wee bit of karma I went to the Bharatphur nature reserve, near Jaipur in the north. After two weeks of the constant barrage of noise and humans and dirt, the silence and cleanliness was a bit discomfiting. Hiring a bike and cycling around the park for a couple of days whilst keeping eyes peeled for exotic birds (alas no scorries pass through here on migratory routes) and animals was the ultimate way to end this mere dipping of a toe into this unique land.
It is no wonder that India has always held so much fascination for so many. The sheer assault on the senses is both repelling yet incredibly tempting. As the global spotlight focuses on Asia, this is a siren whose song will lure many more.
Two lanes were marked, but there were definitely 4.5 rows of cars, rickshaws, motorbikes, taxis, cattle and pedestrians blaring horns, throwing up dust and jostling for supremacy.
For one who has convulsions when she hits the Longman roundabout, it was rather disconcerting. However, my rickshaw, like most others, had a shoe tied to it acting as a talisman to ward off the "evil eye". All would be well.
Of course there are a lot of preconceived notions about India, but nothing ever really prepares you for what comes ahead. One of the first things to strike you about the former jewel in the Empire's crown is that it is truly a land of contrasts, however clichéd that may seem. The smog-smothered streets are punctuated with luxury buildings and cars: bold markers declaring the wealth and success that is spreading here, and of a behemoth seeking its rightful position in the world.
Life constantly mills around these status symbols. In the morning you are woken up by the soft batting of cricketers completing runs around the bovine spectators, as armies of workers (often those who have moved to the city from desperately poor provinces) make their way to their place of employment. Women flit through the dirty brown streets like birds of paradise in their vibrant saris to clean houses or cars, while men carry Herculean weights of goods to be sold at market. Or maybe to work in one of the countless textile factories crammed into every available space in the city. Each nimbly avoids the numerous filthy bundles at the roadsides which suddenly reveal themselves as a homeless family, a fattened, slumbering stray dog or a pile of refuse proving irresistible to a cow.
Though there seems to be a never-ending supply of menial tasks to keep people in employment, in a country of 1.1 billion it has not prevented the lowest castes from falling into the Stygian hell that is beggardom. There is truly nothing more heart-wrenching on this Earth than to have a bedraggled two-year-old child pathetically tap your foot in want of a banana, or a hunched old woman desperate for few pounds that would shelter and feed her for several months, or to see a man with his fly-infested leg slung over his shoulder drag himself though the streets. The poor are with us always, but they seem to be particularly omnipresent in India. It occurred to me, as I watched part of Delhi's old city wall being restored by extremely poor labourers carrying huge chunks of brick on their heads, that all the magnificent buildings I planned to see had literally been built on the backs of the poor. India's architecture is certainly a testament to creativity and ingenuity, but at a poignant human price.Still, the Taj Mahal in Agra was utterly astounding. A memorial to Mumtaz Mahal, Shah Jahan's second wife, who died in childbirth, it was just breathtaking. In typical Mughal style, it is surrounded by geometric bodies of water alongside lush green lawns that lead up to the legendary marble dome. The four pillars that flank it are imperceptibly tilted out so that if there is an earthquake they will collapse on unsuspecting tourists, rather on than the attraction itself.
The other reason people go to Agra is to see the rather opulent Fatehpur Sikri. This was a planned city built during the 16th century by the wily Emperor Akbar, who had three official wives: one Hindu, one Christian and one Muslim (and hundreds more concubines). The partial ruin contains an enormous functioning mosque, incredibly intricate and well-preserved artwork, and an escape tunnel to Lahore. However, although the king may have been thinking about the afterlife, he forgot about the here and now, and built his town on a dry area. Not long after the entourage had settled there they had to leave because the water supply ran out. Perhaps Buddha had been peeved at the snubbing of his faith.
Ruth has a go at riding a rickshaw in Agra.
One of the most interesting places that I saw in Delhi was Chandni Chowk. You step off the new pristine metro and find yourself catapulted into meandering streets full of spices, clothes, beautiful buildings, hidden temples, shrines, orange garlands and the lingering scent of incense. The food served along the way in tiny restaurants and kiosks looked and smelled fantastic, but the family who were showing me around (and with whom I stayed) insisted that I shouldn't eat, "That... that... that... that... that... that or that." A little dejected, I also didn't want Delhi belly, but what I did eat was rich in flavour and texture, and cooked to perfection. It was also a vegetarian's paradise, with a vast array of dishes to choose from, though as an egg-eater (the theory being that eggs give life) I was not considered as bona fide.
MUCH more glamorous and affluent, and only a bit less effluent, the Bollywood capital of Mumbai is one of the fastest-growing cities in the world. The best way to get around Mumbai is to use the local trains. These are divided into men's and women's compartments (a few men have a penchant for groping in crowds) and are utter chaos at peak times. It is no wonder that yoga originated in India, as you see people hanging out of the train doors, clinging on for dear life, or lounging on the roof. This costs one or two lives daily, but no-one takes heed of the warning signs. Rather foolishly I had thought that the women's compartment would be somewhat civilised for travelling – but, as I found myself slowly becoming part of the wall with my face in a variety of armpits, I was proved wrong.
Of course, we went to see the obligatory Bollywood film. Bollywood is one of the most popular film industries in the world, and is mostly light-hearted, surreal fun with Eurovision-style songs sprinkled liberally throughout. Having been advised on a film to watch, I entered the cinema and took my rather wobbly seat, cheese-flavoured popcorn in hand. The screen flashed: Stand up for the National Anthem. Was this a trailer? No. I stood up, hands on my heart, contemplating with the rest of the audienc
e what the nation had had to do for independence. The film was set in London, and was about five hours long. There was the usual "one moment on the Tube being shot at by gangsters, the next moment dancing around Trafalgar Square with flowers singing love songs at incredibly high pitches", but I thought that actually it wasn't too far-fetched for a typical Saturday night out in the capital.India is famed for its national parks too, so in order to get some tranquillity and a wee bit of karma I went to the Bharatphur nature reserve, near Jaipur in the north. After two weeks of the constant barrage of noise and humans and dirt, the silence and cleanliness was a bit discomfiting. Hiring a bike and cycling around the park for a couple of days whilst keeping eyes peeled for exotic birds (alas no scorries pass through here on migratory routes) and animals was the ultimate way to end this mere dipping of a toe into this unique land.
It is no wonder that India has always held so much fascination for so many. The sheer assault on the senses is both repelling yet incredibly tempting. As the global spotlight focuses on Asia, this is a siren whose song will lure many more.
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