My Penultimate Trip for the Year - Delhi-Amritsar-Agra.

I couldn't get to post about my impending journey before i took it, but the good news is that the much awaited trip happened last week and was a great experience. Three places - Delhi, Amristar and Agra. Six days. Temperatures close to 1 degree. And loads and loads of places to see. I couldn't have asked for more. (Yes, i could have - a little bit o' heat wouldn't have killed anybody.)

I now thoroughly understand the divide that exists between North Indians and South Indians. That former breed of people i broadly categorise as uncouth, abrasive, uncivilised and with heavy chips on their shoulders about God-only-knows-what. More elaboration on this point in a separate post.

I also know now what beauty i'm missing out on when i don't travel to the North - the ruins that stand testimony to the roadmap of history are something else. The calm i felt there was quite unlike any i've felt elsewhere, it was almost like i was home. Here's where i went:

Red Fort, Delhi:
Massive, red and still partially occupied by the Indian Army. Had lunch at the Chai Ghar there, saw every nook and corner of the place.

Humayun's Tomb, Delhi:
The architectural ancestor of the Taj Mahal, the mausoleum is massive. The structure's all red with intricate Mogul motifs running on it in white. We hit the place just as the sun was setting, so managed to get some gorgeous shots.

Qutb Minar, Delhi:
The Minar itself is just one aspect of the property, surrounded by palaces, mosques, marketplaces and of course, the Ashoka Pillar.

My favourite among all ruins - despite the havoc wreaked by the weather and the emperors who came after, the place still manages to help the mind's eye fill in the gaps to remodel a semblance of it in its original form. Also remarkable was the fact that while the Qutb property is essentially Islamic, there are hints of Hindu temple architecture mixed in. We saw pillars that had Ganesha, dancing women - the kind that decorate the walls of Khajuraho - and temple bells carved in stone.

My guess is that the Mughal emperors brought them to their palaces and made them part of the architecture to remind them of their exploits and victories. Other, less cynical people like to believe it was a symbolic gesture towards religious co-existence/harmony. Ah, well.

India Gate, Delhi:
Commercial, crowded, Chinese. I'm telling you, Chinese were swarming the place! There's something about the inscription right on top that gives you the heebie-jeebies and roots you to the spot. When your eye finally manages to discover the names of the soldiers who lost their lives inscribed on the facade, you experience the chills all over again.

The Golden Temple, Amritsar:
Every place of religion has an aura of peace within it, and the Golden Temple's no different. A flotilla of gold in the middle of a placid lake brimming with gigantic fish, people start lining up for darshan as early as 3 in the morning. Apparently, the Sikhs have to volunteer at the Golden Temple once in their life, so everybody inside the four walls of the place (which stretch for miles together) - from those who serve the langar to the ones who stand guard at the Sikh Museum - are people with alternate jobs fulfilling their religious duties.

I would've loved to see the place lit up in the night, but it was freezing - about 1 degree - and there was no way i was ready to put myself through the torture.

Change of Guards, Wagah Border:
While the rest of the two nations are a stage for unbridled hostility, the Wagah Border that divides India and Pakistan is pretty peaceful. But then, us being Indians, we have to milk it for what it's worth. Hence, a well-dressed man with a mike and a booming voice who inspires the crowds to scream bloodcurdling Vande Maatarams, wave the Indian flag in a frenzy, hurl battle cries across the gates; who then calmly walks around to pockets of non-committals like us to say, "Don't you want your money's worth from this spectacle? Let me hear you scream now and add some masala to the occasion."

Bah.

If you manage to ignore him, though, the entire experience is quite emotional. I was close to tears initially, and then when the whole thing got carried too far i lost all sense of patriotism - the same soldiers walk up multiple times to the gate, have a face-off with the Pakistani soldiers and come back to loud cheering from the crowd. In all fairness to the Indian masala, the tears returned when the Indian and Pakistani flags crossed over and paused there for a few seconds before completing their journey down the poles and into the storeroom for safekeeping.

Also, it's a miracle the soldiers don't break their balls when they lift their legs that high and bring it thundering down to the ground.

Fatehpur Sikri, Agra:
Akbar's mark on time and by God, what a mark at that.

From the Buland Darwaza, a massive structure of 107-odd feet, inlaid with delicate Moghul motifs and now home to tons of honeycombs, to the brickwall behind which Anarkali was buried alive; from the beautiful palaces for Akbar's three wives - Hindu, Muslim and Christian respectively - to the Pacheesi game on the floor of the palace fort; from the Diwan-e-khaas that had Akbar sitting atop the flat surface of a pillar elaborately carved in Jewish, Moghul and Temple designs, to the carvings of Persian birds and animals - beheaded because Aurangzeb said so; the first Meena Bazaar to Akba'r sleeping chambers with an elevated bed and three separate entrances for three separate wives. There's a lot to see and absorb at Fatehpur Sikri. Turns out that the Diwan-e-khaas was where Akbar founded the Deen-e-Ilahi. Seems to me that he was the smarter of the kings for having combined all three religions into one - almost as if he had a sense of the communal turmoils of the future.

Respect, Akbar. Respect.

The Taj Mahal, Agra:
I liked it from far away. And i felt really sad for Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan as the cameras went clickety-click-click over their graves despite repeated warnings from security that photography was not allowed inside. So sad, that i almost cried and beat up a tall guy with a really bright flashlight for a camera. And i just got reminded of why i hate Marwadis so much. And oh dear lord, NRIs. Wearing plastic over their shoes and walking around instead of just frigging removing their footwear and walking barefeet. Buggeroos.

So that's pretty much it. In the middle of all this running around, we managed to put a little, freeze our asses off, eat authentic desi food, catch our trains on (or just in) time, shop, meet friends, sleep, party and fight with strangers on the road.

My overall verdict? North India is a beautiful place full of secrets. North Indians are not.