Up for breakfast – Indian again - I have now come to understand that the
punishment for a failed Indian chef is deportation to Australia - The Indian food so far has been more flavoursome than that which reaches the palate
of the Australian diner – for me personally - none of those next day tummy agitation that troubled
me in Australia – just delightful food!
The driver arrives – how did you
sleep – that is very good! – onwards through and out of Agra – chaos – the
drive exercises a U-turn in the face of speeding on-going traffic – my pulse
rises – not to worry the other drivers just steer around him - he threads the
needle on innumerable occasions – the sacred cows abound – motor cycles
everywhere – passengers in excess of two are common – a single female passenger
sitting side saddle the norm – some passengers impose an unreasonable load on
the rear tyre of the conveyance – others slim, young, stylish, colourful and
accomplished co-drivers.
Rubble – rubble – rubble everywhere – no demolition – no excavation – no
public works of any description seems to include the mandatory removal of
construction waste – it sits in untidy piles in case it may be required next
time.
Past buildings started but never finished – some not finished obviously
because their reinforced concrete beams had collapsed shortly after their props
were removed – other not finished for some other reason. Past rubbish lots that feed a local goat.
Past local traders
Past the only house proud individual we encountered outside of a hotel.
In an hour we reach the Fatehpur Sikri – a second fort and palace
complex of the Mungal ruler, Akbar - like the Red Fort almost entirely built from Red Sandstone all of which has been carved in intricate detail - detail that is hard to believe - even screens that could be made of light cast iron have been carved from solid blocks of sandstone .
Like the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort, the entrance way to the site is
sloppy and unkempt – I smile at the entrance sign that says “Our Heritage is our
glory” – I am an unkind individual – I think to myself – “thank goodness
otherwise there would be no glory at all” .
Like the Red Fort this complex is stunning – stunning – how humans could have effected the detailed carving of the red sandstone is almost beyond my comprehension - built by Akbar to raise his first surviving son and reward his favourite wife - it houses palaces for himself and all three wives.
While the gentlemen among you might be tempted to be a little jealous of Akbar you might be consoled by the reality that it must have been near impossible for him to have found one of his harem given the size of his bed!
The guide takes delight in telling us again and again of the mis-deeds of the British - he points out the areas where the diamonds and other precious stones had been requisitioned - indeed there were missing inlays from the flower below - so if his story is true then there would have been untold wealth transferred back to the home country by members of the Rajah from just this complex alone!
I recommend that anyone who is interested read this article to get an Indian perspective on the legacy of the British rulers of India - I am afraid I had only ever really followed the British version - isn't that sad!
Fatehpur Sikri goes on and on - magnificent! - magnificent
A screen carved from sandstone - hard not to be inpressed!
Bernie sits on Akbar's seat in the courtyard - the squares on the pavement are part of a giant board game - Akbar played using slave girls as the games pieces! - The photograph is very meaningful for me since I feel a little like those slave girls when I am at home!
Time to return to Delhi - Ah this will be an absolute dream - an expressway for the entire distance - Simon will be jealous - WRONG - I am not sure of the driver's strategy - perhaps it was to save tolls - perhaps it was to give us another look at the countryside - who knows - he chooses the old road! - rough - hectic - stop start - oh Simon now we understand!
We grin and bear it - we arrive back in Delhi after 4 hours of stop - start - pile of concrete rubble - new road construction - pile of rubble - a town by Indian standards - A metropolis by Australian standards - more construction - more township chaos - more concrete rubble.
The piles of concrete rubble get to me - please take them away! - we follow the recently completed overhead metro rail system with concrete pillar after concrete pillar - almost everyone replete with its own pile of long forgotten construction rubble.
We reach the sanctuary of the good old Suryaa!
We must leave for Shimla early tomorrow morning - we choose from the Indian menu - the waiter returns - am I sure that I want the Punjabi Choley - "yes" says I - "no" says he - "yes" say I - "NO SIR" says he - "this is not like the breakfast choley sir!" - I get the message - We dine again on superb, first class Indian faire.
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