TIGERS!

Some of you have emailed wondering if I love or hate India. The answer is yes. India is such a land of contrasts...every waking minute. At times the beauty of the people, land and culture brings you to tears. At other times it is the most frustrating of places. It is events like those contained in the following post is why I put up with the trials of travel in this strange land.

Bleary eyed we climb into the jeep as the light is just showing in the eastern sky. Even though we are only 20 degrees north of the equator we shiver in the open cockpit of the jeep. We are also shivering from expectation; we are tiger hunting. After a short drive from our hotel we arrive at the gates of Bandhavgarh National Park, one of the three Indian national parks dedicated to the preservation of one of the most exotic beasts on the planet, the Bengal tiger.

After a few minutes wait while our driver finalizes our permit, we drive into the park along with ten other jeeps. The fine silty dust of the dry season forest soon coats us. Deb and I look like a pair of banditos with our bandannas tied round our heads so that we can find some semblance of air in all the suspended dust.

The jeeps soon thin out and we follow a jeep track through a sparse forest intermingled with large meadows. We soon spot our first wildlife; the Indian spotted deer. After driving a little further we spot a long billed stork that stands at least 3 ½ feet high. Now our anticipation is almost palpable. We expect to see a tiger any minute. The guide hears some monkeys sounding the alarm which indicates a tiger is on the move. We stop in the morning stillness to hear a concert of chattering monkeys and several different kinds of birds. A pair of gray hornbills flutter past as I look around at the thin trunked trees that rise about fifty feet above in the now bright blue sky. I think to myself, “We are tiger hunting. How cool is that?”

Langur Monkey

No tigers appear so we press on and soon spot the other deer that is indigenous to the park, the Sambar. They are huge animals, nearly as large as an elk. A six point buck scratches his head on one of the thin trunked trees nearly bending it over with his rubbing. We see some Macaque monkeys scampering around and soon stop again at the monkey alarm and listen and look intently for tigers. Still, no tigers. We drive to a watering hole, but still no tigers. This goes on for about two hours and we arrive at the center point of the park where there are concessions for tea, samosas and pakoras. Our driver goes around to the other drivers querying if they have seen anything. He reports back that no tigers have been seen anywhere in the park that morning.

Wild boar-isn't he cute!

We soon set off and I resign myself to the fact that I probably won’t see a tiger today. We pass some rather large herds of deer, several peacocks and another large stork but still no tigers. We start to see Langur monkeys with stand about 30 inches tall and have tails at least twice as long as their bodies that curl up into an almost O shape, but still no tigers.

Now I sense that we are just about done as the driver and guide start chatting and appear to be paying no attention when suddenly the guide orders the driver to stop. He hears more monkey alarms that seem to parallel the road. He instructs the driver to proceed slowly and suddenly whispers with an extreme sense of urgency as he points to the side of the track, “TIGER!” We turn our heads in unison to see a tiger that is at least seven feet long standing in the bamboo 30 feet away. I almost s#*t and wonder, "Should we do something?" Despite an underlying terror and a sense of awe and wonderment, I have the presence of mind to flip my little digital camera to video and press record. The tiger parallels the track as other jeeps roar up. As the other jeeps jostle for position to give the clients the best view, the tiger nonchalantly crosses the road in front of the jockeying jeeps and wanders off into the forest.



We are completely blown away. None of us expected to see a tiger that close...it was almost too close for comfort. As we drove along we chattered excitedly when we saw two elephants with mahouts about 100 yards up the road. The guide ordered the driver to stop again and told us to be very quiet. The elephants walked towards us and as they passed to our rear, the driver again whispered urgently, “Tiger! Look up the hill.” I looked up the hill through the trees and finally made out another tiger. As he passed into a small clearing, the guide whispered,”Tiger with kill”. I looked in astonishment at the clearly visible tiger with a small deer firmly clenched in his powerful jaws. He came down the hill, closer and closer and crossed the road about 50 feet in front of the jeep. The jeep pulled forward as we watched the tiger carry his prey off into the underbrush presumably to devour it. The guide told us this was a female which had two cubs.

Tiger with small spotted deer

We felt totally fulfilled but we weren’t done yet. A few hundred feet down the road we saw one of the cubs leaving a watering hole about 150 feet from the track. As it wandered up the hill we could not stop talking about these wonderful animals. We felt lucky to have seen a large male, female with a kill and a cub. As we were exiting the park we all agreed to go again for an afternoon safari.

I have had many experiences traveling that have left me in an awestruck state. However, I can’t think of anything that compares to seeing a tiger in the wild. It is gratifying to know that such things still exist on our planet. At the same time it saddens me to think that a creature this magnificent may soon be extinct without drastic intervention. Please do what you can to prevent the extinction of the wild things. There are several organizations to which you can donate. Save the tigers!

Agra

The Taj Mahal is one of those must see places for every traveler. There is no picture, video or description that can do justice to this magnificent monument to love. Even if you aren’t a traveler, you should get out of your chair and go see it. You won’t be disappointed.

After a very trying journey from Varanasi during which our train was delayed 8 hours and lost another two hours in transit (shades of Amtrak) we finally arrived in Agra twelve hours later than we should have.( Indian math, go figure) When we at long last arrived our reserved room had been given away and we were tucked into a tiny room which was rendered still tinier with the addition of a roll away bed for Kate. We collapsed into our hovel for the night; each of us suffering with varying degrees of respiratory ailments. We coughed and moaned our way through the night to be up before dawn to visit the Taj Mahal at dawn and hopefully catch a few minutes of serenity with the rising sun before the tour buses arrived.

We were at the entrance gate well before opening and were still about 200 people deep in the queue. When the gates opened, entry was a slow process as India is being subjected to terror attacks from more factions than you can imagine. Body and bag searches are the order of the day at all of India’s top tourist attractions. Funny, I never read about this situation in all those slick tourist brochures.

Southern gateway to Taj Mahal

When we finally entered through the massive twenty foot gate inset into an elaborate fortress wall, we were transported to a serene world of immaculately coiffed lawns, flowerbeds and shrubbery. A short walk took us to the southern gateway; a massive structure that could be a tourist destination in its own right. The arched doorway provided a perfect frame for what to many is the most perfect building in the world; the Taj Mahal. As we passed through the looking glass wondering if Alice had slipped us some funny mushrooms we gazed upon the ethereal Taj which seemed to be floating on its platform in the early morning light. We all gasped in awe as we looked across in the quarter mile long reflecting pools that in the still morning air provided a double vision of perfection. I gave Deb a quick hug and kiss and said I had fulfilled my promise to bring her to the Taj one day.

Kate at the Taj

The romantic in me was nearly brought to tears as I contemplated that the Taj was a monument to love having been built by Emperor Shah Jahan as a tribute to the love of his life, his second wife who died in the birth of his fourteenth son. However, the cynic in me was curious about his feelings for his other 500 wives and how they felt about this. Nonetheless, the building is an awe inspiring structure and, although fickle, Emperor Jahan must have loved this woman very much to expend so many of his resources on this monument; and spend he did.

It took the labor of 20,000 men eight years to bring the massive project to completion. Artisans were brought from as far away as Europe to complete the task. It was built of brilliant white marble which was inlaid over much of its surface with exquisite scrolling flowers coupled with Koranic verses set in semi precious stones. It is all the more impressive when one considers that not one power tool was used in its construction. Some of the blocks in this building weigh several hundred pounds and were hoisted several hundred feet in the air to be fitted perfectly to the surrounding stones.

Detail of semi-precious stone inlaid flowers

The building achieves perfection on nearly every level with exquisite symmetry, workmanship, concept and siting. The view from each side is exactly the same. It is as wide as it is tall and is accented by four minarets at each corner. It’s elevated platform overlooking the Yamuna River is a stroke of architectural genius as the sky provides an azure blue backdrop (on a clear day) for this most perfect of buildings.

The Taj is flanked by two identical buildings to the east and west. One is a mosque and the other a perfect match in red sandstone to maintain the symmetry of the site.

As one approaches the Taj, it grows to fill the field of view. In the middle distance you start to notice the elaborate stone work. Closer still, as you reach the base of the platform you realize how massive it really is. Once you climb the stairs to the platform and cross a broad expanse of marble you start to notice the elaborate decoration of flowers and Arabic script. When you are finally right next to it you realize this intricate decoration is inlaid on the marble with semi precious stones. As you step inside the mausoleum your eyes slowly adjust to the dim lit interior. The only illumination is natural sunlight filtered through elaborate screens carved from solid brilliant white marble. The emperor wanted it to be dimly lit to inspire a sense of reverence or so the story goes.

Up on the platform

The building has stood the test of time well. With a major restoration a few years ago and a strict ban on motor vehicles around it, it is nearly as perfect as when it was built several hundred years ago.

Kate looking poised at the Taj

After basking in the perfection of this magnificent structure for three hours, our empty stomachs overcame our desire to spend more time so we retired to a nearby rooftop restaurant for a much needed breakfast. As we dined, we gazed over the rooftops of the hovels of Agra to the Taj. India is full of these types of contrasts. As I observed this juxtaposition of old and new I mused about the supposed superiority of modern civilization.

With full tummies and renewed energy we caught a rikshaw to the other iconic structure in Agra; Agra Fort. Agra Fort, while overshadowed by the Taj, is one of the finest examples of Mughal architecture in India. Begun by Emperor Akbar in 1563 as a defensive structure, it was added onto and remodeled by a succession of rulers most notably his grandson Shah Jahan; the one and same who built the Taj. This is a magnificent structure with walls as high as 60 feet and enclosing a space of over one and a half miles in circumference. There are a seemingly endless number of rooms, enclosures and gardens most of which has been restored to its original grandeur.

Barbarians at the gates

Constructed primarily of red sandstone, it rises dramatically above the traffic flowing past between the fort and the Yamuna River. When Jahan remodeled it into a palace, he added a personal mosque and residence in the same white marble used on the Taj.

Detail of inlay of Shah Jahan's palace-Agra Fort

As one enters through a series of gates set in a dogleg pattern designed to thwart and confuse invaders, you have a sense of unease as you imagine the ghosts of archers standing on the walls above ready to fire on you if you make the slightest wrong move.

Kate and Richard admire the architectural details of Agra Fort

Ironically, the palace/fort became Jahan’s prison when his son usurped the throne and placed him under house arrest in his chambers. More poignantly, his rooms had an unobstructed view of the Taj which is located just down the river. Every time the deposed emperor looked out his window for the eight years of his imprisonment until his death, he was confronted by his greatest achievement and greatest sorrow; just beyond his reach. It seems like a sad end for a great man. Way to go son! I am glad I was never a king.

Agra Fort Gate

Laundry on the way to cross river view of the Taj

There are several other incredible examples of Mughal architecture in the Agra area. To describe them would take much to long so as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words; Enjoy!

Entrance to Mughal Tomb

Detail of inlay-Mughal Tomb

Another Mughal Tomb

Detail of inlay

One more Mughal Tomb

Deb and Kate enjoy the cool interior of the tomb

The holy city of Varanasi

We step off the train into the mad swirl of the railway in Hinduism’s holiest of holy cities; Varanasi. The crowded station is filled with a mass of humanity walking, sitting and lying on every available horizontal surface.. We wade through the sights and sounds with beggars tugging on our sleeves towards the station exit and are swarmed by rikshaw drivers. “Hey mister, rikshaw”? “Madam, where you going? Taxi?” After the requisite haggling for 10 minutes we find a driver who wedges the three wheeled contraption into the near gridlock of traffic. We are soon flagged to a stop by a traffic cop who hassles the driver for twenty minutes because the paperwork on the ten day old rikshaw is not in order. After much hand wringing, pleading and shouting, are finally on our way. After a seemingly interminable ride through the clogged and dusty streets we are dropped off with vague directions to our hotel which was down a lane too narrow for the rikshaw. Many of the lanes of old Varanasi are too narrow for anything but pedestrians and the hundreds of cows that occupy the town. We soon discover that we have been had; we were nowhere near our destination.

Richard and Kate in the streets

After wandering around tired, lost and frustrated, we finally find a kind soul who s us get on the right track. We hire two bicycle rikshaws and go back most of the way we came to be dropped within a five minute walk of our hotel. It was difficult to understand why the first driver left us where he did. Where we needed to go was not any further. Ah, the mystery of India!

When we stepped down from the cycles another kind soul helped us find our hotel and while it is not the room of our dreams, it will do for our 24 hours in Varanasi. After checking in and a quick (for India) lunch at the rooftop restaurant we hit the streets. We are soon mired (literally) and lost in the cow pie spattered, twisting, turning lanes of Varanasi. We finally figure out we have more or less been paralleling the river. We see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel and step out on to a broad platform with steps leading down to the Mother Ganges River. These are the famous ghats of Varanasi.

A view of the ghats downriver

We are soon swarmed with boat men offering a scenic ride on the river. We wave them off for the time being and begin a walk up the river and are soon confronted with the spectacle of huge piles of firewood announcing our arrival at the burning ghats. These ghats are the place to be cremated if you are a Hindu. It is believed that a cremation here followed by the dumping of your ashes into the Ganges River releases one from the cycle of rebirth. This is the holiest place in all of Hindustan.

Below us are several fires in in various stages of combustion each containing a corpse that is soon reduced to ashes. We see other corpses wrapped in gold or red cloth which denotes whether the corpse is a male or female. These macabre bundles are first washed in the holy water of the river and then propped on the steps to dry before being placed in a cradle of wood. More wood is piled on top and soon the men of the family circle the corpse and finally the pile is lit.

A corpse ready for cremation

It is difficult for me to understand how such a polluted river can be holy. Not only are the ashes of the corpses disposed of into its waters, but all the raw sewage from Varanasi goes in as well. Also the corpses of lepers, yogis, cows, dogs and all the detritus associated with the cremations is chucked in without benefit of burning. The river is a deep green, algaefied primordial soup that somehow sustains a variety of river fish. Most of the inhabitants and pilgrims bathe in it everyday as well. Holy? You be the judge.

For me, Varanasi is not nearly as powerful as it once was. When I visited Varanasi 35 years ago, the power and spirit of the place was palpable even to one who is as admittedly non spiritual as me. Today, the essence of Varanasi is buried in ads for tourist hotels, restaurants and cow shit. However, there are still bits and pieces of that spirit in evidence. It is evident in the temple that is half submerged from floods of many years ago. It is evident in the ritual of the funeral pyre as the eldest son sets the torch to the pyre of his dead father. It is evident in the early morning light when the river is peaceful, serene, still and misty.

A local bathes in the holy river

After a stroll crossing many of the ghats, we succumb to a particularly persuasive boatman and set off in a 20’ rowboat for an hour float along the Mother Ganga. As we drift along 100 yards offshore, the warts, filth, and babble of humanity fade and we can admire some of the ancient palaces Many of the kings of the old states of India built elaborate palaces here to commune with this holy place. There is a Nepalese temple, a Biharian King’s palace and palaces built by religious sects like the Hare Khrishnas. This is perhaps the best view of the city with the steps of the individual ghats in all configurations, styles and colors drawing ones eye up to the diverse and at times elaborate architecture above.

Sunset on the Ganga

Pilgrims release floating blessings

We leave the river shortly after the sun sets behind the city. We rush to the main ghat for the nightly ceremony performed by young Bhramin monks which seems to be designed to bestow blessings on the crowd of tourist boats at their feet. Nonetheless it is an impressive ceremony with drumming, clanging bells, and whirling pots of fire, smoke, incense and candles.

A young Bhramin pays tribute to the Mother River

We rise before dawn to take another boat ride. The morning is cool and damp and we shiver in the pre dawn light as the oars break the oily surface of the river to leave whirlpools of irridescense. The day brightens and we welcome a dull orange ball as it springs whole from the morning mist on the river. While I am not sure if we are born anew, we welcome the warmth of the sun as it turns from orange to yellow and warms our cold and damp bones.

Deb rows the Ganges

After a quick (for India) breakfast at a rooftop restaurant high above the river, we plunge into the narrow twisting lanes of the city. Walking is a challenge here as the lanes are at most six feet wide. We share this space with the locals and hordes of pilgrims who come to Varanasi to worship and or die. There are also cows, goats, dogs, motorcycles, beggars and the attendant droppings to dodge, avoid, step over or around. All the while one is also confronted with touts, woks of boiling grease, and monkeys scampering above. Music blares from many shops and the jabber of multiple languages is a cacophony to the ears. The smells of urine, feces, exotic spices, frying samosas and unwashed flesh assault the nose. Emotions are shredded by armless beggars, lepers, mangy dogs and the crush of humanity. This is a 100% assault on all the senses. There is no other place like this on earth. It almost seems to shout, “THIS IS INDIA!”

Three Saddhus meditate on the Mother

Kolkata Part 3-The receptions or Sikhs Know to Party

We are now in Aurangabad to see the World Heritage Site caves of Ajanta and Ellora after a whirlwind tour of Varanasi, Agra and Delhi with daughter Kate before her return to New York. I will be posting on those legs soon, I hope. Meanwhile, join us at the Sikh wedding receptions.

Kate's hand hennaed in traditional wedding designs.

Like any wedding anywhere in the world the nuptials always include a party. The Sikhs are no different but they take it to a degree that is not seen in many parts of the world much less the rest of India. Most Indians do not drink at their parties and the Hindu majority does not eat meat. However the Sikhs, according to one family member, Sonny, love whiskey, chicken, mutton and dancing. My participation in the the many parties around the wedding bears out that statement. It is difficult to know how many parties there were because they seemed to merge together in a haze of loud Pujabi folk music, whiskey and a variety of rich foods. However, I am sure that the first night there was a party in the community room of the apartment complex of the family.

As we enter the room which is gaily decorated with columns wrapped in saris, flowers as streamers and oriental carpets on the floor we are instantly directed to the bar for the beverage of our choice. Uniformed waiters circulate offering tasty hors d’oeuvres of tandoori chicken bits, battered fish fingers, and some kind of deep fried vegetable balls. The bride and groom were subjected to an endless round of photos with everyone at the party. A videographer walked around the whole evening videoing everything in sight. As I walked around I noticed three drummers in ethnic dress who soon started to pound out Pujabi rythmns and the crowd responded with enthusiastic traditional dances. We, after a few drinks, join in the dancing and danced as if we had danced these dances all our lives. After several hours of dancing, dinner was served buffet style with several dishes including(surprise) mutton and chicken. This party fizzled out around midnight because everyone had to get up early for the wedding the next day.

Richard with the bride and groom
Note: Several of you have commented on my pink turban. Apparently, it is traditional for friends of the groom to wear this color as pink is considered an auspicious color.

The following day immediately following the wedding ceremony, a reception was held at the Tally Gunge Golf Club. Again there were endless photos of the bride and groom, lots of canapés and another huge buffet meal. We returned to the family home to hang out and get to know the family better. I have never met a more congenial or gracious bunch of people. I felt truly welcomed and felt like I was becoming a member of the family. Kate, who had preceded our arrival by two days, was definitely in the bosom of the family.

Deb in beautiful hand made sari

We wait for our ride

The last day of the festivities was spent in wait for the grand finale, another reception. This one was thrown by the groom’s family in the ITC hotel which is a five star establishment. The pattern of the previous parties was repeated with cocktails, hors d’oeuvres dancing, dinner and more dancing. This night was pure magic as the two families, Italian and Indian, had by now merged into a familiar unit. Deb, Kate and I felt included in this melded melange. Everyone was dancing to the Punjabi, American and Euro-pop. I have never had so much fun dancing. The Sikh men dance with abandon and seemed to challenge each other to dance to greater heights.

Prit busts a move

Everyone got into this and throughout the night one dancer or another would find themselves in the midst of the group being egged on including yours truly. I busted out some of my best moves to nods and claps of approval. Several of the family told us that our enjoyment of the music and parties increased their enjoyment of the parties. All in all, it was probably the best wedding I have ever attended because as the post title suggests, Sikhs really do know how to party.

Kate and Deb with our hostess Shobra