Taj Mahal- Something's changed

As I ride the train to Agra to visit the Taj Mahal, something feels different. I look out the window from my 1^st class cart (still a long cry from ViaRail’s 2^nd class), and watch the paysages du temps qui passe.

Something is different.

I know that I have a tendency towards trusting people. As a reaction, because of the times when a stranger has given me (wrong) directions and then asked for‘baksheesh’, I’ve developed an extreme distrust/suspicion of others. This suspicion takes the pleasure out of a lot of otherwise enjoyable experiences. As well, I’ve become relatively rude; when someone approaches, I will say “no” before they get past he word “Excuse” in the sentence “Excuse me sir”. While in 99.99% of cases, this is the appropriate response, in the 0.01% of other cases, a person just wanted to have a friendly chat. The question that I am consistently asking myself is: How do I balance being direct, clear, and rude about not wanting to be solicited, and yet being warm and kind towards what could be a helpful stranger. Some days I will swear at people who look at me like they’re about to pitch, and other days I will let the solicitor talk my head off. What has changed, I think, is that they don’t get to me anymore. I don’t dwell on being harassed; I just kind of accept it and move on…

At the Akbar mosque (a world heritage site) in Fatipur Sikri,

 a man comes to me and starts acting as a guide. I tell him that I’m not interested. He says “Sir, I work for the mosque for 8 years now, this is a holy place, and I am not asking you for anything”. I try to hand him 10 rupees saying “thanks for the information, bye”. He insists that he works for the mosque and gives me back the money, saying that he can’t accept it. So I let him guide me, maintaining my suspicion but allowing him to crack jokes about Japanese people being short while showing me the different tombs throughout the mosque (including the tomb for the King’s pigeon). I eventually grow tired of the tour, and say “Thank, you, goodbye”, and he says “Wait sir, I just want to show you one more thing”. He takes me to another area, and there is a man sitting on the ground, in front of which are many ornately carved elephants, eggs, etc. He says “Sir, let me show you…” I say “I’m not interested” and I walk off. He says “Just look”, I refuse. Then he follows me, “Sir, please, Baksheesh, for my family”. Had this happened a week earlier, I would’ve probably given him something, feeling (irrationally) guilty – he’s just trying to make a living after all. Instead, I looked at him, said “You said you didn’t want money. So no, forget it”, and I left.

Something’s changed. I sat on the two and a half hour train to Agra for five hours due to a delay.

I had no idea why we were stopped, where we were, or for how long we would be there. Yet, none of that bothered me. In fact, I only realized that the train was delayed when I looked at my watch, noticed it was 10:15 (Arrival time was supposed to be 9:55), and inquired if we were in Agra yet (we were in Mathura). The question “Why?” is one that many times can’t be answered, and I’m learning to accept that. The buses to and from Fatipur Sikri were dirty, crowded, and hot…

so what? Nothing is predictable here, and that’s alright.

Also, no picture can accurately depict the spectacular Taj Mahal. From every angle, near and far, one can only gape in awe at its splendor. It is beautiful. I wondered: is its beauty enhanced by its relation to the environment that surrounds it? (Poverty, filth, the dried up Ganges)

The Agra fort is also remarkable. I found it even more impressive than the Taj...