Well Folks, I have done it, Taj Mahal n all! Taj Mahal certainly lived up to its reputation, rising out of the fog tall and majestic. The city, Agra, itself was as filthy as any big city in the region.
We had rented a car with a driver from Bhopal and after many delays got on the road to Agra at about 2 pm on January 14. By the time we reached Gwalior, about 120 km from Agra, it was already pretty dark. I would have preferred to continue to Agra but was voted down. Spent the night in a filthy hotel in Lashkar a dingy ‘Muslim’ town.
Our first stop in Agra was the Agra Fort. As soon as we got out of the car we were mobbed by vendors selling all sorts of goods. Ended up buying a few nick nacks including two statues, Ganesh and Shiva made of greenish stone. My Muslim companion started reciting ‘lahowl’ when I told her that I intend to keep these statues at home.
After the fort our next stop was Taj Mahal. As we were entering the gate I heard some scuffle. It took me a few seconds to find out that I was a party to the fray. Unbeknownst to me the officer at the gate was asking me questions and my companion was answering for me. That made the officer who was dressed as an army man very angry that in turn made my friend very angry. You see with the way I was dressed baseball type cap n all and video camera hanging on my shoulder the officer must have figured us as foreigner and were trying to cheat the government and we were. The entry ticket for Indians was 20 rupees and for foreigners it was 500 rupees. We invoked our Indian births as justification for 20 rupee ticket. I am still not sure how we got out of the situation. Taj Mahal was magnificent. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take the cameras inside.
Where to next’Stay tuned!
razia
27-Jan-02 01:59 PM
sahastra
Devil in disguise :)
(post#2)
Where to next’Stay tuned
Raziajee,
I am already tuned, jumping up and down (as my best friend on the forum, 'aflatoon' often does ) and waiting eagerly for your next account.
28-Jan-02 07:42 PM
razia
free spirit
After Taj Mahal it was early enough in the day that we thought we’d make a brief stop in Fatehpur Sikri and head for Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan. Getting out of Agra turned out to be much trickier and more time consuming than we had anticipated.
Contrary to what we were told, our driver did not know his way around at all. He did not believe in looking at the road map or the road signs. I am not sure he even knew they existed. Every few minutes he’ll ask for directions drive for a while and then ask again. I remember making several u-turns on the same road. After going in circles, ovals, and all other types of loops and zigzagging throughout the city of Agra we thought were finally on the road to Jaipur only to get badly stuck in the traffic. It was no ordinary traffic jam. The potholes in the road under a bridge had rendered its left side unusable. So all the traffic from both sides had barely one vehicle width of the road to pass through. If you have ever been in any city in India or Pakistan you probably know that driving in one lane or the right of way are foreign concepts. Rickshaws, bicycles, jeeps, cars, buses, any other type of vehicle you can imagine formed an impenetrable jumble. Badly needed traffic police were nowhere in sight. I was so tempted to get out and untangle the mess by hand signals but dropped the idea as absurd. Some one did get out and made a gallant effort, but it was impossible. Somehow with his help we managed to make yet another u-turn and look for an alternate rout out of the city.
By the time we reached Fatepur Sikri (except we didn’t know it was Fatehpur Sikri) it was already dark and raining heavily (the only rain during our trip). It was cold and the driver did not like ‘ paani’ i.e. rain. Stopped by a hotel to ask for directions and decided to spend the night there, < 40 km west of Agra. This hotel was a considerable improvement over the previous night’s.
A visit to Sufi Saint Saleem Chishti’s tomb and various palaces next morning made us forget all traffic woes of the day before..
The legend goes that the Mughal Emperor Akbar returning from his victory over Gujrat made a stop at Sikri, a small village, to say a prayer and ask the Sufi Saint to bless him with a son. The Sufi Saint is said to have sacrificed his six months old son, Bale Miyan, and thus the soul of the sacrificed son was re-animated in the womb of the Empress. On August 30, 1569 a son was born to Jodah Bai who was named Mohammad Saleem, after the holy man. This son became Emperor Jahagir, father of Shah Jahan.
Akbar was so pleased with the gift of a son that he declared Sikri his capital and called it Fatehbad that later became Fatehpur. The palaces, one for each of his many wives and courtyards are beautiful and elaborate. There is a Jodha Bai’s (Akbar’s Hindu wife) palace, her bath and her garden. Then there is Miriam’s (his Christian wife) and Ruqayya Sultana’s (his Muslim/Turkish wife) house, bath and garden, separately. The architecture and the carvings are an interesting mix of Mughal, Turkish, Buddhist and Hindu styles. The guide pointed to the places where diamonds and other precious and semi precious stones used to be now vacant, stolen by the colonialist.
The courts are huge and open. There is Diwan-i-Aam (court for public audience) and a diwan-i-Khas (court for royalty), a Pcbisi (games) court, where the game was played using young maidens instead of some inanimate objects. Musician of Tan San fame supposedly sang Deepak rag in Naubat Khana (music hall), there is a row of ear ring design carved on outside walls of two sides of a building..
There is a mint and a treasury, a stable, schools, etc. in short, the whole complex made of red sand stone with beautiful carving is a city within a city surrounded with 50 ft. high and six miles long wall with seven gates including the one the locals claimed to be the tallest gate in the world. Due to the shortage of drinking water the city was abandoned as capital.
while I work on my next installment, please feel free to comment, reminesce or even correct any errors as I am relying on my not always reliable memory.
29-Jan-02 02:39 PM
sahastra
Devil in disguise :)
It is 'Mian Tansen'
(post#4)
Musician of Tan San fame supposedly sang Deepak rag in Naubat Khana (music hall)
RaziaJee,
Just a small correction; It is Tansen, the musician (and not Tan San). He was one of the Nav-Ratnas (Or nine jewels) in Emperor Akbar's court (the other Jewels included, Army chief Raja Mansingh who was also the brother of Jodhabai, and the famous Birbal of Akbar-Birbal stories ) and well-known as "Mian Tansen".
As the legend has it, Mian Tansen would sing Deepak Raga with such intensity that it could light up the wick-candle. He was also famous for the legendary Raga "Megh Malhar" that could inspire the rain.
Btw, Akbar founded a religion called as "Deen-E-Elahi" which was an amalgamation of Islam-Sufism-Hinduism. And he is also known to have allowed his Hindu-wife Jodhabai the freedom to practice her faith inside the palace.
For the same reasons, he is not much revered among the Muslim historians.
29-Jan-02 09:58
Yamraaj
The God of Death!
(post#5)
Razia, were you born in India pre-Independence or did you move to Pakistan later’
Its fun to read of your adventures!
29-Jan-02 10:31 PM
razia
free spirit
Sahastra, thank you for correction and other info.
I think Akbar was a very perceptive man. I wish there were more like him.
Rajasthan:
http://mapsofindia.com/maps/rajasthan/h3s2703.htm
India
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/mapshel...india/india.htm
30-Jan-02 08:41 PM
masood
root#
quote:
Originally posted by razia
Sahastra, thank you for correction and other info.
I think Akbar was a very perceptive man. I wish there were more like him.
So you support having three wives from three different faiths/cultures
30-Jan-02 09:00 PM
razia
free spirit
quote:
Originally posted by masood
So you support having three wives from three different faiths/cultures
If he had to have three wives I'd prefer them from three different faiths/cultures
31-Jan-02 09:21 PM
Kedar Bhandary
Shaitan-e-Hind
I wouldn't mind having three from different faiths/cultures as long as they were not my wives. Way too expensive and too much responsibility.
1-Feb-02 07:00
razia
free spirit
My Travels through India part 3
(post#10)
The road from Fatepur Sikri to Jaipur, our next destination, was straightforward national highway all the way. Along the way we saw both sides of the highway lined with stone carving outfits. They were so beautiful and intriguing that we had to stop. There were screens, benches, pillars, gargoyles, statues for yard, ...etc. in red white and cream colored stones, with intricate carvings of the type we had seen in forts and palaces. What surprised me how children as young as six or seven were involved in various aspects of carving. All workers were doing their things sitting on the ground. Then there was this man sitting in a chair-smoking hookah and very eager to be in pictures. He must have been a supervisor.
We saw a big beautiful sign welcoming us into Rajasthan, Agra and Fatehpur Sikri are in Uttar Pardesh. It reminded me of crossing state lines in the United States, I always look for welcome signs. Indian states are like minicountries with their own language, culture, dress code, etc. In Rajasthan, for example, women wear bright and colourful, chunee (~ 3 ft x 7 ft sheer fabric head cove), relatively short blouse and ghagra (skirt) and men wear long shirts and dhoti, a flat piece of fabric one side wrapped around and tied at the waist and the other side tucked in at the ends to look like two leg pieces.
About half hour into Rajasthan an officer in khaki uniform flagged us down. Several other officers were standing around a parked jeep on one side of the road. After stopping at about 100 yards distance the driver went out to inquire while we waited in the car. Remember it was a time of high alert. After the attack on its parliament on December 13, 2001, India was amassing troops in Rajasthan along the border with Pakistan.
We waited and waited, and waited. In the meantime some more cars were stopped. I was getting very excited and felt like a gumshoe secretly video recording the proceedings. Who knows they may find a terrorist, and I’ll have it all on the tape. After a while my friend went out to find out what was keeping our driver from coming back. The driver had left the keys in the car. I saw an opportunity to do something I always wanted to whenever I visited Pakistan but was afraid to do. I started the car, turned it around and drove closer to the officers’ jeep. It may not sound a big deal to you but it was a big accomplishment for me, especially considering that the steering wheel, the clutch and the driving itself were all on the wrong side. On top of that I had to use my less than perfect left hand to change the gear.
To my disappointment there was no hunt for terrorists, only a checkpoint for tax cheaters. When you enter from one state into another you are supposed to pay 700 rupees state tax. They used to collect it at the border but the government made it voluntary, we were told. We had no knowledge of this but our driver being the professional he was supposed to be, should have known. The officers didn’t let him forget that despite my friend’s pleading, and demanded 3,500 rupees, five times the original tax. The driver had no money and neither did I. I was getting excited at the prospect of a new kind of experience, going to jail. But the officer quickly put a stop to my thought that only the driver will go to jail, they’ll impound the car and put us on a bus to Jaipur. Luckily my friend’s husband had wired her some extra money, which she had collected from the post office just before we left Bhopal. She paid the fine and we were on our way.
The government made stopping at the borders voluntary and then set up random checkpoints’
We had our meals usually at quite primitive roadside cafes; actually they were truck stops called dhaway, my friend remembered from her childhood, traveling with her father. The real reason, I think, was it was much cheaper to eat there than at the motels we stayed at or at regular restaurants. Food was pretty good, hot n spicy, usually vegetarian, and included tea. Later we discovered thaali (plate) that consisted of little bowls of vegetable, daal and dahee(yoghurt) at 20 – 30 rupees and all the fresh n hot rotis we could eat, at 3 rupees a piece. We carried our own mineral water bottles. We usually drew a crowd and stares whenever we stopped at the truck stops because people who traveled in chauffeur driven cars didn’t stop at truck stops for meals.
Jaipur, the ‘pink’ city is quite unique. Driving into the city you pass through narrow pass in the hills with ornate high walls enclosing forts and palaces with shops on the outside. It is the most gated city we saw. It is said to be first planned city in northern India, conceived by Sawai Jai Singh in 1727. The current maharaja lives in one part of the palace while the other is open to public at a fee. Unlike other places, here the maharajah collects all the revenues and is responsible for the maintenance of the city.
After getting lost for about half hr we told the driver to forget the special hotel we were looking for and stop at the next one he sees, and there were plenty of them. The first one we stopped at cost 700 rupees less 10 % discount. My companion talked to the manager and got us 20% discount. At 560 rupees with no tax this was the best hotel we stayed in, quite a contrast to the dump, the first one at 385 rupees including tax.
Our driver surprised us by producing a friend who lived in Jaipur and knew about the city. We decided to go to a movie. Next showing was at 9 o’clock and we have to go an hour earlier to get the tickets. It was 7 pm; we had an hour to kill. The ‘friend’ took us to a place 45 minutes in the opposite direction to do window-shopping. We didn’t leave the place until after 11 pm. We were under a spell, like zombies being led from one department to the next by waiting salesmen. We bought lightweight traditional Indian quilts, silk sarees and everything in between. We didn’t have money and the credit card was at the hotel, but that was not a problem. The assistant manager brought his gadget to the hotel and charged our merchandize.
Next morning we were up early, ready to sightsee, fort, palace, etc. but the city wasn’t ready for us, there was no shortage of guides, though, to show us other things. We saw an open free for all type mandir (temple). there was a continuous flux of people, singing, chanting, bowing, and prostrating. Next we were led into the royal garden and then into queen’s warehouse with long tables lined up for printing, lot of freshly printed sarees were hanging to dry. The end of this early sojourn had to be a shop. But we were all shopped out from the night before. It was almost 10 o’clock.
Sight seeing was on but this time I decided not to buy a ticket for my camcorder. Therefore, no video except from the outside, lots of gates and hawa mahal or the wind palace - a five storey all screened porches for the royal females to view the bazaar and the city. As we were told, part of the palace was off limits because the royal family lived there. What we saw was as impressive as all the others.
Our next point of interest was Jantar Mantar. I was expecting a temple it turned out to be quite different. . It is the largest and best preserved of Sawai Jai Singh’s five observatories. Built in stone and marble its setting and shapes are designed scientifically and are one of the high points of medieval Indian astronomy. There are also two Ram Yantras for gauging altitudes. (Jaipur Guide)
There were structures representing horoscope signs for each of the twelve months, several sets of high rung stairs with linear scales on marble along the concrete railing, seemingly randomly scattered. May be some one can explain to us what all this means and how it works, I have no clue.
During our sight seeing we heard rumors but we didn’t believe that our charge from night before was declined. When we stopped by to pick up some merchandize from last night’s shopping we found out that, indeed, our charge had not been approved. I would have happily returned all my purchases but the merchants were not to give up so easily. We spent next 4 hrs calling New Delhi and the United States back and forth to get through safety clearance.
4-Feb-02 08:24 PM
w_guy
Hi razia,
As I said earlier you never went to Bhopal it capital of Madhay Pradesh(M.P) any how good story hope it is true.
4-Feb-02 10:55 PM
razia
free spirit
Wise_Guy,
What is your problem’
You are even goofier than Yaamraj
Why do you get stuck on one thing’First you were upset that I didn't convert to Hinduism. Now you are obssessed with my not going to Bhopal’And when did I say it is the capital of Rajasthan and not of Madhya Pardesh’
Yeah, I have never been to Bhopal or even India. I am just making up all the stories.
6-Feb-02 11:34 PM
Yamraaj
The God of Death!
Razia, I give you a compliment (and always have) and you call me goofy’
Serious, I am hurt.
7-Feb-02 01:16 PM
razia
free spirit
quote:
Originally posted by Yamraaj
Razia, I give you a compliment (and always have) and you call me goofy’
Serious, I am hurt.
Yamraaj,
Would this help’
8-Feb-02 09:35 AM
sahastra
Devil in disguise :)
I am hurt too ..
(post#15)
RaziaJee,
I am hurt too
Seriously.
8-Feb-02 01:40 PM
Roshan
Senior Member
(post#16)
Raziaji,
I am more hurt than Sahastra
As far as contibuting to this forum (anti-India) is concerned, I am not for it. Why should I put my money in a forum where posts from Indians are blocked without giving specific reason. Secondly why should I promote anti-india propaganda.
9-Feb-02 11:17 PM
razia
free spirit
My Travels through India - part 4
(post#17)
Roshan, Sahastra et al,
I hope vigorous hula dance made you recover from your little hurts. Here's my next account of my adventures in India.
Our next destination, Jodhpur, was about 600 km east of Jaipur. But the driver and my friend wanted to make a brief stop in Ajmer, which was on the way, to say Fateha (prayer) at the tomb of holy man Moinudin Chishti, I don’t know if he was related to Saleem Chishti of Ftehpur Sikri, I mentioned before. Since we were delayed in Jaipur we decided to spend the night in Ajmer, even though the Dargah Sharif was open till late. Next morning I woke up to the loud singing from a nearby mandir. A good omen’
Our first order of business was a trip to the holy shrine also called Dargah Sharif, which was a walking distance away. We had to take our shoes off before entering the premises. To save a few rupees (pennies) we decided, instead of leaving them outside, to carry our shoes with us. We passed through a big room that opened into a courtyard. Across the courtyard and down a few steps was another courtyard (gated), which housed the grave. I was just outside the gate looking around when my attention was drawn to loud wrangling. A bearded hefty man was roughing my friend. He didn’t like her bringing shoes inside the courtyard even in her hands. I suggested to my friend that we could leave our shoes on the side but she didn’t agree and insisted that I hold her shoes along with my own while she goes inside and says her prayers. I reluctantly agreed, thinking it will take only a couple of minutes.
There I was, standing with the camcorder hanging on my left shoulder and a pair of sneakers in each hand. Next thing I know I was almost pushed around and yelled at that I couldn’t bring the shoes inside. That riled me up and I did some silly things like challenging their knowledge of Islam and the Qur’an and without going inside extending one of my shoed hand into the courtyard. That got them even more upset. They even started asking other women if they were hiding their shoes in the basket they were carrying. One man told me that the man in the grave is his God and Allah doesn’t mean anything to him. One man called us chudails another said we not human but animals. Things would quiet down for a while only to start all over again when new people came in or out of the inside the chamber and saw me standing there with shoes in hand. How the holy man must be turning in his grave at the hullabaloo.
I waited and waited but no sign of my friend. It seemed like an eternity. I felt as if I were surrounded not by humans but vultures. I could have put the shoes on the side and gone in. But that would have meant swallowing my pride and accepting defeat. Since stubbornness is in my genes and I hate to be bullied by any one into doing anything, that wasn’t an option for me. Besides, I had promised my friend to wait for her. Come to think of it this was not the first time I had to wait while she secured herself a prized position in the next life.
When my friend finally came out I asked her why it took her so long. She told me she had to fulfil her promise she had made to herself of reading Surah Yaseen, along with other shorter surah prayers, at the grave of the holy man, except, she forgot to tell me. I wondered if she was any closer to the promised Paradise, the driving force behind majority of Muslims’ actions. I went in for a quick tour of the inside. The place was jam-packed. People were praying, kneeling and carrying trays full of flowers and glittering cloths all around the grave.
After that lovely early morning encounter we took a leisurely walk, had breakfast and headed back to the hotel. Got in the car and headed out, we had already checked out. Before we left the city I asked if we could just drive around and have a look at the city. I was voted down, which I did not take kindly. I am keeping a count: this was second time.
We had tentatively planned to return to Bhopal by the January 20, 2002. It was already 17th and we had major travelling ahead of us, we needed to do some serious driving. The roads until Ajmer were straightforward national highways. From Ajmer to Jodhpur there was no major linear road. National highway dipped down in southeasterly direction and then come up northeast. I am not sure which rout we took. All I remember was asking directions every so often. One thing, I have to admit, that confused my friend and I was the round abouts of which there are many all over India. The arrow would seem to point to the right but the driver would go straight and he would be right.
We took turns sitting in the preferred back seat. The idea was person sitting in the back seat can relax, read or whatever, while the person in the front seat would keep the driver company and help with directions if needed. I can’t say much about the directions but my friend kept the driver very good company. She would read special surahs from her little book to ensure our safety. That made the driver very happy. Or she’ll have a bag of bers, kind of berries not found in the US that my friend liked so much and they were in season, we always had a supply of them in the car, they both would reach in the bag and enjoy the fruit and the scenery. Needless to say, they got along famously. Whenever I asked them to look at the map or pay attention to road signs I was rebuffed that I don’t know how India works. Mind you my friend lived in India 30 or 40 years ago.
Surprise, surprise, in Jodhpur we wanted to go to the Mehrangarh Fort but didn’t know how, even though we could see the walls of the fort high on the hill. It had become a routine for the driver to stop in the middle of the road or intersection and shout to any one across the street and ask for directions. It didn’t matter how heavy the traffic was, he’ll be oblivious to the cars, buses, trucks passing us from left and right. Right after asking he’ll resume his activity with bers, looking around and admiring the buildings and by the time I’ll spot the sign for our turn from the back seat, we usually had gone past it.
In a round about way and about half hour of circling a small area of the city we did finally find the entrance to the fort. The entrance ticket was 35 rupees, I don’t recall how much was for foreigners. The driver had gotten the tickets for us. The fee for the video camera was $100 rupees. I had decided not to get the ticket but a little ways into it my friend like the fort so much that she offered to pay half the fee.
Jodhpur, once the capital of the former princely state of Marwar situated on the ancient silk route, grew around the towering Mehrangarh fort which was built by Rao Jodha in 1459, on the advice of a saint. You get a panoramic view of the city from the roof of the fort. I had any say I would have named Jodhpur as the blue city because that’s what it looks from the top of the fort.
As we made our way to the top of the fort we saw two musicians sitting in a recess in the wall playing beena ( I think) and tabla (drums). A little further up a family formed a whole entertainment company. There was the father-playing violin like instrument, son playing drums, the daughter dancing and the mother singing. The tourists joined in the dance. It was a lovely and a lively sight.
The fort was very beautiful with ornate exterior and interior. Carved panels and latticed windows adorned walls of Moti Mahal, Shish Mahal, Phool Mahal … within the fort, musical instruments, the royal costumes, and the cannons all along the fort ramparts are well preserved.
Umaid Bhawan Palace, the only palace built in the 20th century, with sculpted lawns and bougainvillaea bushes offers a serene and soothing sight in this desert city. One part of the palace is run as a five star hotel and the other is the royal residence.
Next destination: Jaisalmer.
14-Feb-02 12:47 PM
My Travels through India - part 5
(post#18)
No correction, comment or challenge’Are you all getting bored with my rambling’
Jaisalmer is one of the larger cities along the Pakistani border (within 100 kilometers ) in Rajasthan. I was curious to find out how close to the border we can get and what kind of troop movement is visible in the city. Also I wanted to see something other than forts and palaces and Jaisalmer offered it in the form of Sam Dunes.
I don’t know if it was fear or something else, the driver didn’t want to go there. It was my friend’s idea to go on a trip to Rajasthan. I had no idea what there was to see. Jaisalmer was not on the hurriedly decided list of cities but I wanted to go there. My friend wasn’t very happy about it but she didn’t openly oppose it. The driver having sensed that tried to exploit her reluctance. He would look at the map and tell her that Jaisalmer was 'ulti taraf,' in the opposite direction. He would even tell her how many extra miles it would add to our trip and how we wouldn’t be able to get back to Bhopal by the 20th. But this time I was not going to give in even if it meant reminding him that his job was just to drive the car.
We arrived in Jaisalmer at about 11:30 in the night. The whole city seemed deserted or asleep. The population in the whole area was considerably sparse compared with rest of India. By some miracle we found a hotel to stay the night, had to awaken the hoteliers to get a room though. The driver had told us not to pay for his night stay. I don’t know how it works but the drivers get to stay for free.
Legend has it that Rawal Jaisal laid the foundation of the city on Tricuta hill in 1156 after consulting with a local hermit by the name of Eesul. Jaisal abandoned his old fort at Lodurva to establish this new capital.
We were out early next morning and even picked up a guide at an intersection for 100 rupees. One of the places we visited nearby Jaisalmer was a town that turned into ruins over night because of a curse. According to another legend the chief of the town was a very wicked and corrupt man and the people got so tired of him that one night they all left the town and the houses came tumbling down during the night. That is how it remained for about 70 years. Now the government is trying to rebuild the town the way it was, originally. It must have been quite a town. The stone/dirt houses were all connected in a row with a hole in each house aligned perfectly with the hole in the next house to form a communication system from one end of the street to the other.
On the way to Sam’s Dunes we could not resist the camels that came running from nowhere. We stopped to ride them not realizing that we’ll be disappointing so many more at the dunes. Once there we were all like kids playing in the sand. The dunes formed a huge spectacular square bowl. We had so much fun running up and down the sides, probably unbecoming two aging women. My friend and I had already ridden the camels it was the driver’s turn now. He was on the camel most of the time racing with any one who would let him.
We were told dunes were at their best at sunrise and sunset. I had hoped to go to the dunes would be the last thing and watch the sunset. But it didn’t turn out that way. It was not even afternoon. We could have gone to see other things and come back for the sunset, but my friend told me she had an appointment with someone in Bhopal regarding some business and had to be in Bhopal even if that meant getting there at night. That was a total surprise for me, I had to let go of the idea of seeing sunset from the dunes. It was already 19th and we were farthest from Bhopal. If we drove day and night we could make it to Bhopal at a reasonable time on the 20th.
After the dunes we went to the royal cemetery, where ashes of kings, queens, princes and princesses were buried. It wasn’t a cemetery in the usual sense, but I don’t know the exact term for the place. Each king had 1 - 4 queens occupying the same brick box called chhatree. While we were looking around the guide decided to go down to an orchard like patch of trees to pick bers. He was gone for quite a while. We had comeback to where the driver was waiting trying to change the tire that had gone flat.
Shortly the guide came back with pockets full of bers, and gave each of us a handful. These were very different than the ones we had been buying from the bazaar. They were smaller about the size of blue berries except red in color, sweet and slightly sour in taste with a big pit. I was going to give my share to my friend but after tasting changed my mind and ate every last one of them.
Our guide was a well-groomed, smart and intelligent person, unlike most other guides we have had before. I didn’t catch his name, but I noted an excitement in my friend’s voice saying 'oh you are a Muslim'. The driver challenged his faith by asking how he could say his prayers with necklaces and bracelets he was wearing, which I gathered are typical of Hindus. I got mad at the driver and challenged him to prove why it was so wrong. Of course he couldn’t. My friend had her doubts about his religion. As the day progressed her suspicion got stronger and she started believing he was no ordinary guide but a military man spying on us to ascertain whether we were terrorists. She was pretty sure he didn’t pick the bers himself but had gone down to meet with some one and had used bers as an excuse. I don’t know what to make of it. All I can say he was very a nice person.
Dunes were ~ 40 km west of the city and the cemetery was on the way to city via another rout. While coming back to city I remember discussing with my friend whether we should see the fort/palace or go eat lunch. Next thing I know we were in a market at a restaurant. My friend paid the guide and he took his leave. To this day we don’t know why we didn’t go to the fort in Jaisalmer. Who made the decision, the driver or the guide or were there some other forces at work ’Was it a simple case of amnesia’ We’ll never know.
While waiting for the driver to have the flat tire fixed my friend thought of calling Bhopal to let her relatives know of our whereabouts. Because of the impending war with Pakistan, the government had suspended the telephone service. We were told even local calls were about to be stopped. That was the only place where war was ever mentioned.
Yes, we did see many soldiers in the city and many along the highway when we first drove in. the restaurant was more than half full of army people. We also saw caravans of supply trucks all along the highway as we headed south towards Udaipur, our next stop.
razia
free spirit
23-Feb-02 05:03 PM
Razia:
I want to ask you few questions’
How long did you stay in India’
how was your experience’
WHat are the diffrences between India and Pakistan’People places and economics, roads, attitude of people in general etc ‘
Did you feel insecure as a pakistani muslim visiting India’
How do you compare corruption in India VS Pakistan’
Do you think India gain any thing as a democrtic country’
thanks in advance
panram
Junior Member
26-Feb-02 07:28 AM
Raziaji,
Did you see Hindus killing muslims (like Sunnis kill Shias in pakistan) everyday.
or
Did you see tolerence?
Roshan
Senior Member
26-Feb-02 12:24 PM
Roshan,
Your question should be: did you see hindus killing hindus’
or hindus declared not-hindus by other hindus’
that would be more interesting...
masood
root#
26-Feb-02 12:30 PM
My Travels through India - 6
(post#22)
Panram, hold these probing questions, I'll address each one at the end of my travelogue.
Since it was at my insistence that we went to Jaisalmer I felt responsible to chart out our route. There is no national highway directly linking Bhopal or even Udaipur a large city along the way. There is a national highway going south that we could take to Barmer and from there zigzag in southeasterly direction on local roads. Or we could keep going on the highway to Dhorimanna, from there local roads to Sanchor were straightforward albiet smaller. Beyond Sanchor it was zigzag again all the way to Udaipur. I suggested we go via Sanchor, that way we’ll have more highway miles. My friend agreed with me. The driver wanted to go back to Jodhpur but we prevailed upon him because we already had experienced a long stretch of very bad roads on that rout.
After getting lost few times around Barmer we continued towards Sanchor. Somewhere along the way we stopped to go to bathroom*. As usual the driver asked for directions. I was waiting in the car when my friend came huffing and puffing that we are going the wrong way. I showed her the map but she wasn’t interested because she thought the truck and taxi drivers know better. They had told her it will add 400 km if we go the way were going. I tried to show them on the map that it would not make much difference.
It was pretty dark and nobody got a good look at the map. I left them arguing and got in the back seat of the car. We turned around and headed back to Barmer. Now it was my turn to huff and puff. After that I paid no attention to driving or the directions.
Since we were driving at night more bizarre patterns emerged. When I first sat in the front seat at night after awhile I could understand the signals other drivers were giving using high/low beams. But our driver’s flipping and dipping made no sense to me. He did not explain his MO either.
When my friend sat in the front she guided him like you would a child for the longest time. When she stopped he went back to his erratic dipping. I was half asleep in the back seat when I heard her angrily say ‘you shouldn’t have done that’. Apparently during his random flip flopping he had thrown high beams on some people sitting in a jeep somewhere on the side.
We stopped and got out to stretch our legs and use the rest room. When we came back the driver was talking to some one. I didn’t pay any attention but my friend sensed danger. She sure was right; these were the people the driver had shone his lights on. They were either the police or the army who had followed us and were interrogating, who we were, where we come from, etc. He told them we were two aged American women traveling in India. My friend got upset and she really let him have it. You wouldn’t blame me if I quietly gloated.
We arrived in Udaipur at 3 o’clock in the morning. My friend had gotten very good at bargaining. She got us a room for 280 rupees provided we check out by 10 o’clock in the morning.
I thought we were going to go straight to Bhopal. Instead we went into town looking for the fort/palace. The ticket as usual was 35 rupees. Inside we found out there were three other points of interest, a crystal palace a temple and one other place each costing 200 rupees or 400 rupees for all three including a boat ride that will take us to the other places. It was tempting and I know my friend was interested. This time I made an executive decision not to see any more palaces, forts or temples.
Next city on the list was Chitorgarh. By now all the forts and palaces were all mixed up in my head. Besides chitaurgarh was out of the way. It seemed my friend had forgotten her appointment in Bhopal. Anyway we decided to skip chitaurgarh and headed for Ratlam.
*The rest rooms were a big problem, usually the stench was unbearable. People either didn't flush, there no water or simply no sewage. In fact we preferred going in the woods with our water bottle we carried specifically for that purpose. We used kleenex as toilet paper because there was none in any of the bathrooms unless you were in a five star hotel.
Razia.
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Either men will learn to live like brothers, or they will die like beasts. Max Lerner
razia
free spirit
2-Mar-02 11:47 PM
My Travels through India - part 7
(post#24)
We left Udaipur sometimes after 3 in the afternoon. The driver and my friend negotiated our way to Ratlam without much interference from me.
Like most cities Ratlam located in Madhya Pradesh has its share of history andl points of interest. It was also on the list our way to Bhopal. It was dark when we got there. By now my friend had dropped the idea of any more sight seeing and was determined to reach Bhopal before the sunrise next day.
Next city we had to pass through was Ujjain. As soon as we got out of the city of Ratlam we turned on a road that was much darker than the usual roads and there was hardly any traffic. It struck very strange to me that the city that was on the way to Bhopal would have so little traffic. I expressed my concern that we must be a going the wrong way. Again I was told, indirectly, to shut up and that the only other way was to go through Indore which was way down south.
We were barely a couple of km out of town that the paved road ended. After that it was roller coaster ride all the way to Ujjain. I was literally knocked off my seat in the upwardly direction that my head hit the ceiling of the car many times. It was cold and dusty and then he’d roll down his window. During the course of our travel I had heated words with my friend several times but I was never said to him until now. Good thing we didn’t eat dinner in Ratlam, I would have definitely gotten sick. It took us two and half hours to get to Ujjain, 65 km away.
We really didn’t have to go to Indore. If we had gone a little ways down south we could have taken another road to Ujjain. Only if they had looked at the map!
We probably drove through every street in Ujjain before we found the proper road.
We stopped at a dhaba (truck stop) for dinner. There was no place to sit except worn out cots with little wooden boards that served as tables for food. This was the first time we saw rotis being made right in the front by two boys barely 8 or 9, the regular guy was sick so his son was filling in.
I thought by now we should be asking direction for Bhopal instead the driver as asking for Dewas a small city along the way.
In addition to its capital, Jaipur, Rajasthan has many districts. Each district and its headquarter have same name. Ratlam, Ujjain and Dewas are in Madhya Pradesh and district head quarters, although I could not identify districts on the map. Bhopal is the capital of MP.
After dinner I sat in the front seat. All of a sudden the driver stopped right in front of a blindingly well lit place. Without saying a word he jumped out of the car and a few moments later appeared with several men in tow, eating something out a little bowel, laughing, talking loudly, … just being obnoxious. Once he was finished eating he asked us something which I didn’t understand but my friend did. Unbeknownst to me this place, Dewas was famous for gulab jamans, he used another name for them. I have to say I had never tasted anything like that before.
Needless to say he was in familiar territory.
All this time men were standing around looking at us as if we were animals escaped from a zoo. My friend decided to go to the bathroom. I was getting angry at the driver for parking the car so close, facing the lights. Ah ha, I see a way out. As was his habit the driver left the keys in the ignition. With everyone watching I climbed over the hump in the middle and moved to the driver’s seat, started the car and turned it about 45 degrees in clockwise direction.
It got me away from the lights but not far enough. In the meantime my friend had come back and was standing outside watching and wondering what I was up to. The car was sandwiched between a big truck parked at an angle on the left side and a jeep on the right side. With very little room to maneuver, I needed to back up the car and turn around another 135 degrees in the same direction. I wasn’t sure about the reverse gear but I was determined to somehow move the car farther away.
By now every one understood my intentions and gathered around. My friend was hysterical, screaming at me that I am going to hit the truck behind. With the driver and some other young men running behind me I managed to move the car 100 or so feet away. I felt triumphant.
We bought the famous gulab jamans in kilo and half kilo clay pots. I bought two, one each for people in Bhopal and Khandera, a village about an hour and half east of Bhopal. My friend and the driver bought about a zillion of them.
We reached Bhopal at 4 o’clock in the morning.
5-Mar-02 12:24 PM
My travels through India part 8
(post#25)
About 2 hrs drive from Bhopal is the village that my friend’s relatives own land in. They call it Khandera, the ruins, apparently it has some archeological importance. My friend could not come because she wanted to stay with her only surviving maternal uncle in the hospital who took ill rather suddenly, some angina problem. The rest of the house hold had to come for the 40th day rites of passing of the father.
It was a bumpy ride with 8 people crammed in the back of what looked like a jeep. The place in the village is much nicer than in the city. Other than the annoying hum of the refrigerator in the room it is a quiet and clean place. The front of the house facing the fields gives it a very serene and peaceful look.
On the other side of the bathroom at the end of the courtyard I saw a small patch of sugarcanes. It was a pleasant sight to behold, brought back memories of my childhood days when I used to visit my grandmother in the village in Pakistan.
Special talent needed to peel the sugar cane, cut in small pieces, chew and suck the juice out of it without the help any weapons is not practiced any more, not even by farmers themselves. People always seem amused at my attempts to revive this forgotten art.
I remember the Catholic nuns in Songea, Tanzania, being amused and worried to see me go at it. They brought knives and they brought scissors but I wouldn’t have it any other way than relying on my teeth n all.
( January 12, 2002, 12:30 am, local time. A page from my occasional journal)
Had I known I’ll be writing my travelogue I would have asked more questions and kept better notes. I found out later that the village is called Khandera not for any archeological reason but is a one word version of Khan Dera, the place where the Khan clan lived. One of the daughters recited a verse in Urdu which I can’t remember. It said some thing about one special Khan who once lived here but is no more, the place without him is like ruins. It was named after the patriarch of the family who had migrated from Afghanistan and settled here along with workers who helped him lay down railroad tracks.
All the farm hands and their families were invited for dinner in honor of the departed one. A long cloth about the width of a dinning table was spread on the brick courtyard floor. Sitting on either side of this virtual table, women ate in shifts. Men ate some place out of sight. They were served pilaf, korma (mutton curry) and zarda (sweet rice colored yellow with saffron). They seemed to really enjoy the dinner. I was told more than two hundred people showed up that night
Among the women who came one was pointed out to me whose image has graced the pages of a book on India written by Doranne Jacobson of Springfield Illinois. There was a girl about 10 yrs old who was to be married to a 30 yr old man. Then there were women who had lost a daughter or a sister to abusive husbands and/or in-laws. It was all hush-hush.
Sanchi, about ~70 km northeast of Bhopal and north of Khandera is the home not only of world famous stupas but also boasts of the World Heritage Monument, a statue of a nude woman carved on one of its gateways. The Great Stupa, crowning the hilltop of Sanchi is part of a complex of 40 structures. In addition to stupas, hemispherical structures constructed between 3rd century BC and 12th century AD as monuments to Buddhism, there are many raised round platform, the height and the width depending on the intended sitter. Ashoka Mauraya, the architect of early stupas, was the most famous Buddhist ruler of India ( 273 - 236 BC ).
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http://rogershepherd.com/WIW/solution12/stupa.html
A nearly perfect hemispherical dome, the Great Stupa is topped by a triple "parasol" set within a square railing or harmika. A third of the way up from its base, a raised terrace, enclosed by a fence, is meant for ritual circumambulation of the monument. A second, stone-paved procession-path at ground-level is enclosed by an encircling stone balustrade. This path is accessed from the cardinal directions through four exquisitely carved gateways.
The Great Stupa is 120 feet across (36.6 meters) and, excluding the railing and umbrella, is 54 feet high (16.46 meters).
Stupas may be made of brick, brick and rubble, or encased in masonry.
razia
free spirit
11-Mar-02 06:17 PM
Oh! finally you did go Bhopal then why deny it earlier.
I just returned from vacation yestarday I am OK if you call me goofier as long as you stick to truth.
w_guy
1-Mar-02 11:56 PM
What am I going to do with you, Wise Guy.
Is every body as confused as wise Guy’
razia
free spirit
13-Mar-02 09:26 AM
Razia ji, did you go to South India’To Karnataka’If you did, you will find it vastly different from North India.
Yamraaj
The God of Death!
13-Mar-02 03:30 PM
My Travels through India - part 9
(post#29)
quote:
Originally posted by Yamraaj
Razia ji, did you go to South India’To Karnataka’If you did, you will find it vastly different from North India.
Yamraaj,
Are you from Karnataka’On my next trip I plan to travel to SAouth India.
My friend and I arrived in new Delhi on Saturday December1 at 1 o’clock in the morning. Our final destinations were different, she was going to go to Bhopal, where I was going to join her later, and I was headed for Lahore. In Delhi she decided to come with me to Lahore for a few days.
We waited at the airport until day break to call another friend’s sister, whom I had met in Peoria, to leave my friend’s two huge suite cases with her. After dropping her suitcases checked in a motel in Karol Bagh at 1200 rupees per night. .
My memory of the sequence of events in New Delhi is kind of fuzzy perhaps because we didn’t have good night’s sleep in three days. Between Saturday and Tuesday we did some sight seeing shopping and changing the motel a cheaper one i.e. 900 rupees per night.
I think we spent the rest of Saturday sight seeing in the same taxi that we hired at the airport. We paid somewhere between 500 - 700 rupees for the whole day
Our first stop, Bahai Lotus House of Worship was completed in 1986. It is a beautiful architectural marvel surrounded by pools and gardens, and people of any faith are free to visit the temple and pray or meditate silently according to their own religion.
A large crowed was out that beautiful day. Among many people I remember meeting an Iranian girl from Australia. May be because Iran is the birthplace of Bahai Faith from where they were driven out by mullahs and their followers.
Next we stopped by Humayun’s Tomb. Humayun as you know was Akbar the Great’s father and Shah Jahan’s great grandfather. Humayun and his wife Haji Begum is also buried there. Like all Mughal monuments it is on a grand scale but somewhat in disrepair. I don’t remember if we had to pay any entrance fee.
On our way to the famous Jamia Masjid we briefly visited the India Gate. It is in a very lively park. You could buy almost anything. I bought a 2002 calendar with Indian paitings, set of picture cards and a round peacock feather hand fan. There we also met Kajul and Ritig. Kajul danced beautifully at the end of the string in her master’s hand. Ritig was no less impressive in his acrobatic skills.
Jamia Masjid is another Mughal Architectural gifts to India. It is one of India’s largest mosques. As in any mosque you have to take your shoes off before entering. An unusual sight here was a bunch of bare feet foreigners wearing dhotis over their short pants.
I was afraid that I may not be allowed to take pictures. To my surprise they all, young and old including long bearded mullahs gathered around for picture taking. They especially liked it when I turned the screen towards them.
Our last stop was the Red Fort. We could not get in because it was past 6 pm. My friend’s negotiating skills were not yet honed enough to work their magic or may be she was too tired. After walking and driving around the outside we returned to the hotel, the word motel is not used very often.
By the time we got to the Pakistan Embassy on. Monday it was already 1 o ‘clock in the afternoon. There was a block long line of people outside the embassy. Mercifully with American passport we could bypass the line. They unlocked the iron gate and let us in. We found out that everyday passports and the supporting documents are collected until 11 in the morning and if everything checks out your passport could be returned next day by 2’clock in the afternoon with a visa stamped on it.
Besides your passport you need a filled out application form, two passport photos and a bank draft of 2070 rupees. Luckily there were rickshaws standing outside. For 100 rupees one agreed to take us to the nearest shopping area, wait for us while my friend got her picture taken and the bank draft drawn, and bring us back to the embassy. While waiting for the pictures to be developed she rushed to the bank to get the draft I filled out the application form.
We rushed back to the embassy, waited for the iron gate to be unlocked and got inside. It was already past 2 pm but they were kind enough to take her papers anyway. They also wanted a letter from the American Embassy what the letter should state, they didn’t say. They’ll allow us to submit the letter even though it was way pass their closing time.
American Embassy was not too far, caddy corner across a big highway. They had no idea what kind of letter to give her. After several high level consultations they gave us a preprinted form letter saying something to effect that the embassy does not object to anyone’s traveling at their own peril. We hurried back to Pakistan Embassy and submitted the letter.
We got the passport with visa stamped, the next day.
razia
free spirit
18-Mar-02 02:35 PM
My Travels through India part 10
Re: Welcome
(post#31)
quote:
Originally posted by sandy
Hi Raziaji,
I am admirer of your thoughts and i am from Bangalore in India. You are most welcome in bangalore City.
Thank you Sandy dear. I would love to meet you in Banglore.
Do you know you are 11 days older than my son?
Folks, be patient I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Part of the following account I had posted early on but for continuity sake I am keeping it in.
Going to Pakistan, next door, proved to be much harder than coming to India half way around the world. At the airport we did not see any flights coming from or going to Pakistan, no trains either. We were told about a bus service to Lahore but you had to book seats weeks if not months in advance.
Not many people, even in the railway, knew about one train that left for Pakistan from old Delhi station twice a week, Sunday and Tuesday evenings. You had to buy the ticket from the train station on the day few hours before departure.
Obviously we could not take the Sunday train. After getting visa for my friend we were all set to depart on Tuesday but found out we were misinformed, the second train left on Wednesdays not Tuesdays. We did not want to wait for another day; so opted to go to Amritsar instead, ~ 40 km from the border.
We spent half a day going from one place to another trying to locate the ticket office. When we did get to the right place we had to fill out a form, wait in one line to be approved and then in another line to buy the ticket. We could pay in dollars, it cost us five dollars per berth for an overnight train from Delhi to Amritsar.
The train, Golden Temple was ~5 hrs late. Once on the train journey wasn't bad, except our car was next to the lavatory that stunk unbearably.
I had wanted to experience the romantic tradition ( of movies ... ) of eating in the dining car but couldn’t find any. I had to resign my self to ordering government approved dinner, breakfast fairly inexpensive at a fixed price.
At Amritsar train station we met a Sardar Ji, a retired fauji running taxi service. For five hundred rupees he agreed to show us his beautiful city before taking us to the border.
Our first stop was Golden Temple, of course. Beside the beautiful architecture there is lot of history. The history is mostly bloody, though. We were especially sickened by the barbaric killings of some of Sikhs by Muslim rulers when they refused forced conversion to Islam.
There were also a museum with pictures of all the people who got killed in 1984 along with the assassins of Indira Gandhi. Although most of the temple destroyed during the massacre of 1984 has been rebuilt, a portion of the wall riddled with bullet holes is preserved as a reminder.
We also saw Jalianwala Bagh where an English General by the name of Dryer had God knows how many people killed. There was and still is only one gate to the whole garden. Some 120 of the trapped people jumped in the well to escape the bullets only to die there.
What a bloody history we humans had and continue to have.
After Golden Temple we went to another very interesting temple. It was like going through an elaborate labyrinth of mountains and tunnels, walking through water doubled over, people singing and praying along the way.
After sight seeing we bought some burfee to take to my family in Lahore and for the family in Bhopal. Sardar ji had told us the best burfee you could buy on the subcontinent was in Amritsar.
The taxi dropped us at Atari border, about 40 km from the city, outside the Indian customs. Sardar ji hired two porters for us and told us to pay them 50 rupees apiece, the government fixed rate. They took us inside the customs’ building, waited for us while immigrations checked our papers, and after customs were done poking the porters carried our luggage to the Pakistan border about hundred yards away.
(The immigration antenna went up when I told them I had a little computer in my luggage. They wanted to know if I was a journalist. Failing that they wanted to know my education background. My Ph. D. in chemistry saved me from further interrogation. Imagine that?)
Next thing we know three Pakistani porters were carrying our luggage into Wagah, Pakistani border town, customs. I protested that we need only two and that we are going to pay for only two. They were very agreeable and said it is no problem we can pay whatever is appropriate. (Never trust them)
The poverty on the Pakistani side was apparent all around, from the run down building to the dilapidated furniture and the demeanor of the personnel.
We got through immigration and customs without much problem. Paying the porters was another matter. They wanted us to pay all three of them 100 rupees each. We had only paid 100 rupees to the Indian porters. We ended up paying 250 rupees but they were still very angry so was I. It was a matter of principle, so I thought at the time.
It was late afternoon there was just one taxi and we took it. He charged us 550 rupees to the city of Lahore, 30 – 40 km from the border.
razia
free spirit
26-Mar-02 11:52 AM
sandyMember Retain Your Avatar OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: Bangalore, IndiaPosts: 41 (post#32) Sure Rajiaji, I will wait for you.Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged (Keep Your IP Hidden)
27-Mar-02 01:55 AM
free spirit Retain Your Avatar OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: IL, USAPosts: 538 Part 11: Lahore, Pakistan (post#33) Situated on the east bank of the river Ravi, Lahore is very old and full of history. Legend traces its origin as far back as to Loh, the son of Rama Chandra, the hero of the Ramayana. The history records begin with the 8th Hindu ruler, Lalitiditya. In the early 11th century it came under Muslim rule and evolved as a centre of Islamic culture and learning as well as trade and commerce. In the 13th century it was depopulated and razed to the ground by the Tartar-Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan. Timurlane and his Muslim Turks also arrived and destroyed the city. Lahore was a cultural and intellectual centre during both the Moghul and British eras, and it's an atmosphere which still prevails today, but it is the diversity and contrast of the different sections of the city which make Lahore interesting. Apart from local tourists with their blaring transistors, you could almost be back in the Moghul era. In the 13th century it was depopulated and razed to the ground by the Tartar-Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan. Timurlane and his Muslim Turks also arrived and destroyed the city. We started out for Emperor Jahangir’s mausoleum but could not help make a few stops along the way. The first was Data Darbar. Data Darbar refers to the shrine of the 11th century saint Syed Ali bin Usman Hajvairy popularly known as Data Ganj Bakhsh. A large number of devotees come from different parts of the country to pay their homage to the saint. It is a beautiful structure of mostly marble, surprisingly in good repair by Pakistani standards. The day we visited the place was crowded as usual. We were reprimanded by some keepers of the faith for carrying our shoes at a higher level than the Qur’an, as some people were sitting on the floor reading. I was also chastised for not covering my head. Every year in May a big three day celebration called Urs takes place there. Prominent qawwal and naat reciters from all around the country participate in the celebration. A round of speeches by ulema and scholars at the Data Darbar mosque highlight the life and achievements of Data Ganj Bakhsh, particularly in the field of mysticism and preaching of Islam. Our next stop was at Badshahi Mosque and Badshahi Fort, which are in close proximity of each other and Data Darbar. The Mosque was built by Emperor Aurangzeb, the last of the great Mughals in 1674. It has a beautiful gateway, measuring 21.33 meters in length and is built up entirely of red sandstone. The mosque is claimed to have the largest courtyard in the world for outdoor prayers. The marble domes cover seven prayer chambers. Four huge minarets stand at the four corners of the mosque. The Badshahi Fort crowns the northwest corner of the old (walled) city of Lahore and is spread over 40 acres. The fort history is an interesting mix of Mughal, Sikh and the colonial rulers. A major part of the Royal Fort was constructed around 1566 by the Moghul Emperor Akbar the Great, on the remains of an old mud fort, dating back to 10th century A.D. Every succeeding Moghul Emperor, as well as the Sikhs and the British, added a pavilion, palace or wall to the fort. Emperor Jehangir extended the gardens and constructed the palaces in Jehangir’s Quadrangle, while Shah Jehan added Diwan-e-Khas, Moti Masjid and his Sleeping Chambers. Aurangzeb built the impressive main gate. There is Akbar the Great’s court, Jahangir’s quadrangle. There is Hammam-e-Shahi (Royal Bath), Paien Bagh (Ladies Garden), Shish Mahal decorated with mirrors, walls, ceilings n all. It is all quite elaborate, those people knew the meaning of good life. Unfortunately it is in disrepair. According to our guide United Nations has designated the Fort as one of the World Heritage monuments and renovations are under way. The tombs of Jahangir lies northwest of Lahore across the River Ravi. The mausoleum has a majestic structure made of red sandstone and marble. A perfect setting with a typical Moghul garden, speaks volumes about its design and architecture. Queen Noor Jehan and the Emperor’s son, Shah Jehan, built the tomb around 1637. In a courtyard next to Jehangir’s tomb, lies buried his brother in law, Asif Jah, father of Queen Arjumand Bano who later became Mumtaz, of Taj Mahal. The Empress Noor Jehan, “Light of the World” was the only Empress whose name appeared on the coins of the Moghul Empire. She was buried in 1645 at Shahdara, near Jehangir’s Mausoleum. Three miles east of Lahore are the famous Shalimar Gardens laid out by the Mughal emperor Shah Jehan in 1642 AD. Here once again you see typical Mughal style spread of pavilions and terraces surrounded by high walls with watch-towers at the four corners. Of the original seven ascending terraces, only three remain now which cover an area of about 42 acres. The brick-work of the floors of the three terraces have been repaired according to their original designs which differ on all three terraces. T here is a marble pavilion under which water flows and cascades down over a carved, marble slab creating a water-fall effect. Across the water-fall is a marble throne. At the end of the second terrace is a beautiful structure called Sawan Bhadon, a sunken tank niches on its three sides. Water cascades down from it in sheets in front of the niches, producing the sound of falling rain. In the olden times, small oil lamps were placed in the niches which reflected myriad colours, through the water. Shalimar gardens have the proud privilege of being the stage of all important state receptions. Outside its walls the annual festival of Mela Chiraghan is held every March,special lights on the first and second terraces of the Gardens have been installed and the area is illuminated half-an-hour after sun set. But for me the highlight of the day was a quick drive through the famous UET campus. It is a very impressive campus indeed, by Pakistani Standard of course. It was of special importance for me because later on I would meet beautiful student in person whom I had met on this forum.
30-Mar-02 07:04 PM
hamidengJunior MemberOfflineRegistered: Oct 2000Location: CanadaPosts: 1 (post#34) Your mentioning of UET campus makes me very pleased as I studied there for 5 years. Yes, indeed, it is a beautiful campus. Also, in Lahore, LUMS (Lahore University of Managament Sciences) campus, though small, is modern and beautiful. In addition, New Campus of Punjab University, built along the tree-lined Lahore canal, is also worth a visit. For those who do not know, Lahore is known as "City of Colleges and Gardens".Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged (Keep Your IP Hidden)
1-Apr-02 04:58 AM
HawkMember Retain Your Avatar OfflineRegistered: Jul 2000Location: UKPosts: 49 Re: Re: Welcome (post#35) quote: Originally posted by razia We were especially sickened by the barbaric killings of some of Sikhs by Muslim rulers Really, I suppose its not to be expected at your age you would be suffering from myopia. You should have asked themt o show you pictures of the rail cars with Muslim woman, childrenn and man who were butchered or the more recent events of the charred remains of Muslims in Gujrat. Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged (Keep Your IP Hidden)
3-Apr-02 12:08 PM
Re: Part 11: Lahore, Pakistan
(post#36)
Anokha_Laadla
urf BUGS_BUNNY!
Retain
quote:
Originally posted by razia
But for me the highlight of the day was a quick drive through the famous UET campus. It is a very impressive campus indeed, by Pakistani Standard of course. It was of special importance for me because later on I would meet beautiful student in person whom I had met on this forum.
7th January was a special day for me too as I got the chance to meet my fellow UETIANS, who are also participating here. And it became possible only due to RAZIA.
Have you ever met ppl who leave the guest to pay the bill for lunch etc’Yes,. we are those ppl i.e, me, charlie n novakaan.
thx Razia! for paying the bill and also Thx for sharing ur plate with me.
You must have noticed the sensitivity of UETIAN guards that day. Have I told you that one of them were suspecting you for a newsreporter due to your movie camera and he asked me about you too when you entered the Cafeteria.
PLUS :- you really deserved a more warm welcome and I am sorry that we couldn't show the whole campus to you and also you met very few UETIAN GIRLS coz you wished to chat with as many ppl as possible. I wished you to show all those places i.e, the dating spots, etc,which were discussed by the UETIANS in the thread "best place in UET" by 'AZHAR' in LIBRARY CHOWK. I hope you will come again to UET whenever you come to pakistan.
4-Apr-02 04:42 PM
razia
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Posts: 543 (post#37)
Laadlay,
You are very kind and sweet. On my next trip to Pakistan I'd love to meet you all. But you'll have to save me a whole day. We'll go on the town. May be a movie, dinner .. on me of course.
razia
On December 10, my friend left for Bhopal by the ‘direct’train that seemed so elusive in New Delhi. We got to the train station at 6 am one hour before departure as we were advised. We had arranged for the taxi the night before to come by 5:15 in the morning.
As I remember it used to be that you buy the ticket and go to the platform with your luggage to board the train. But that morning we had to go through weight check. The weighing room was small and crowded. My friend and the taxi driver pushed their way through the crowed to buy the ticket and arrange for the luggage to be weighed while I and the porter.
When we got to the platform there was no sign of the train. It was there but way out of sight off the platform. We got in and secured the seat. At 8 o’clock the train pulled into the platform. It was another hour before the train left.
While waiting for the train to depart I decided to go to the bathroom. After walking up and down the platform several times I found one inside the first class waiting room. A cleaning woman sent me to an office to get a ticket. There was no body in the office and I could not find anyone to take my money. I came back and told the woman that I don’t need a ticket and proceeded to use the facility.
The place was pretty clean but stench was still there. I don’t know why people don’t flush the toilets. Anyway when I came out there was a man in uniform waiting for me. He made me fill out a form and pay 5 rupees. I was quite amused at the determination and resourcefulness of the cleaning woman.
My friend was quite distraught when she called me from New Delhi to advise me not to take the train. It took her half a day to go through customs.
Three days after that the Indian parliament was attacked and by December 31all means of transportation, were going to be stopped.
I was not planning to go to Bhopal until January. That was the time of high anxiety for me. I made telephone calls to Indian consulate in Islamabad, I sent emails to Indian consulates every where including Chicago asking if I could cross the Atari ‘Wagah border on foot in January. I even tried to call Sardar Ji who had driven us from Amritsar, but the telephone number on his card was one digit short.
The only answers I got were from people working on the Pakistani side of the border. One person told me the situation was pretty tense and I should not go. Another said there should be no problem.
My friend in Bhopal was urging me to come before the December 31. My father and friends in the states were advising me not to go to India. Surprisingly my mother didn?t say a word. Anyway, I had made up my mind to wait and go in January, no matter what.
So on January 9, 2002 my family and I piled up in a taxi and headed for the border. Security was tight but nothing out of the ordinary. After going through immigration and customs I exchanged dollars for Indian rupees and walked toward the Indian border.
At this time I was the only person crossing the border on either side. At the check point I was asked by a reporter on unknown (to me) accent and nationality if I was afraid to go to India. To which I answered with an emphatic no, of course. My biggest worry had been whether or not I’d be able to cross the border. Now that was behind me and I was elated.
As I looked back before entering the Indian space I saw my father standing all alone in the middle of the road with his head slightly raised trying to see me through the narrow vision of his left eye looking kind of lost. He had completely lost sight of his right eye to glaucoma. My mother, sister and her daughter were waiting in the taxi out of sight.
On the Indian side there were some very anxious people who wanted to know if I had seen a fat woman in burqa trying to cross the border. I had not. I was very sorry to see disappointment in their faces.
On the Indian side the immigration and customs went quite smoothly. I remember one low ranking fellow wanting to ask me more questions about the contents of my luggage but an officer kind of dismissed him and I was done. The officer also mumbled something that I couldn’t fully comprehend but didn’t want to probe any further.
The porters brought my luggage to the taxi stand and a different Sardar Ji was ready to take me to Amritsar. He wanted 50 rupees in addition to 450 rupees, the government fixed fare. That sounded reasonable. As I was getting ready to settle in his jeep come taxi the immigration officer appeared from nowhere and settled in the middle seat without saying a word to me. Sardar ji was very apologetic and asked me if I minded the officer’s riding with us to Amritsar. I didn’t mind but I was amused at difference in attitudes of two men. I got in the back seat and we were off. The officer get off somewhere before my destination, the train station. He did say goodbye to me before leaving which I appreciated.
I had come to India without knowing anything about the train schedule to Bhopal. It was about noon when we got to Amritsar. For 200 rupees the porters agreed to help me get the ticket, take me to the platform and help me get on the train. The train 36Garh Express to Bhopal was scheduled to depart at 4:15. But you couldn’t buy the ticket until 2 hrs before the departure. I was told the train is 4hrs.late. The porters left me in first class waiting room at Platform #2 to go attend other leaving and incoming passengers.
It was the same old confusion, going back and forth to buy the ticket, finding the schedule of the trains. Adding to frustration was my inability to read Hindi; it is very similar to Urdu that I could understand perfectly, but written in totally unfamiliar script.
It is miraculous how things do work out in the end. The porters came back told me where to get ticket and where to go to change to the right one; the train was back on schedule to depart at 4:15 pm. .
Once on the train another worry got hold of my mind. I had not heard from my friend in Bhopal for a while. She had gone to Mumbai with the bride to attend the reception given by the groom’s family. The only information to where I was going was a telephone number. I didn’t know the name or the address of the family she was staying with.
I tried to make sense of the digits (the country code, the city code, etc) in the telephone number I had received in one of the emails. It didn’t make sense. Some one told me it is the mobile number.
Thoughts were crowding my mind, what if the telephone number was wrong ’What if the train leaves before I get all my luggage out. What if .
I got to Bhopal next day at ~ 7 pm i. e. > 27 hrs later. Some passengers helped me with the luggage and hired a porter for me before leaving.
I called the number it was the right one and I even talked to my friend. She came and got me. Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
10-Apr-02 01:52 PM
razia
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Posts: 552
My Travels through India: Bhopal
(post#38)
City of lakes and mosques! With two man-made lakes in the center of the city and home of India's largest mosque, Taj-ul-Masajid, Bhopal is the capital of the largest Indian state, Madhya Pradesh.
It is a bustling city of a million or more people; dirty and polluted like any large city on the subcontinent. One bright spot that the Bhopalans take great pride in telling visitors is the VIP road
The road is a divided highway with sidewalks on both sides. On one side of the road is the lake and on the other high a wall within which sits Bhopal on the hill. From the sidewalk the city looks like a fort with slums just outside the walls. We had long walks on that road.
My first recollection of Bhopal, however, is as the site of one of the largest industrial disaster that struck it in 1984.
A dangerous chemical reaction occurred in the Union Carbide factory when a large amount of water got into the MIC storage tank # 610. The leak was first detected by workers about 11:30 p.m. when their eyes began to tear and burn. They informed their supervisor who failed to take action until it was too late. In that time, a large amount, about 40 tons of Methyl Isocyanate (MIC), poured out of the tank for nearly two hours and escaped into the air, spreading within eight kilometers downwind, over
the city of nearly 900,000. Thousands of people were killed (estimates ranging as high as 4,000) in their sleep or as they fled in terror, and hundreds of thousands remain injured or
affected (estimates range as high as 400,000) to this day. The most seriously affected areas were the densely populated shanty towns immediately surrounding the plant -- Jayaprakash Nagar, Kazi Camp, Chola Kenchi, and the Railway Colony. The victims
were almost entirely the poorest members of the population.
http://www.american.edu/TED/BHOPAL.HTM
During four days of my stay in Bhopal before going on the trip to Rajasthan on the 14th of January, 2002, I visited Khandera, and Sanchi but you already know all about it.
From January 21, the day we drove in early from our trip, to January 22 evening, when we were to travel to Delhi to commence our homeward journey, we had zillion things to do.
We had to order our blouses tailored, laundry done, packing done. My friend had also to shop for her husband.
In one of his emails while we were away he had asked for some shirts and sweaters. Of course my friend had to buy two or three times the quantities he had asked for.
I also needed to pay for the sewing and some other incidentals. We were out of money, but my friend's relatives loaned us some.
They had also booked us two berths in the first class compartment. Until 6:30 on the day of deoarture my friend had not come home. Her cousin and I packed her things. Some of her relatives living in Bhopal had come to say goodbye. But there was no sign of her anywhere.
Besides taking care of some business affairs she had to see her other relatives scattered in Bhopal and the nearby villages.
I was going out of my mind worried that we'll miss the train. About 6 o'clock our host, her cousin's husband, decided to take our luggage to the train station, have it weighed and take to the train platform.
As soon as she came in a little after 6:30, without saying goodbye to anyone I went downstairs and waited for her in the car. We didn't leave the house until 6:50.
It seemed like the whole of Bhopal was out on the road and in our way.
At the train station we were told that my friend's luggage weighed about a ton over the limit. What is to be done about that?
It was past 7 o'clock. I was told to follow the porter with my luggage along with a relative and his young daughter to the platform, soon to be followed by my friend and the others.
There was no train at the platform; has it already come and gone? For once I was happy that the trains in India keep the desi time tradition alive.
The platform was holding as many people as could possibly fit on it. We walked up and down the platform looking for the others. I was sure we wouldn't find them until the train was at the station and we were in. We did find and there many more than I remembered.
The train arrived shortly, after settling in our compartment we still had time to socialize. There in the crowed was an attorney whom I had met in Peoria with my friend's father. He brought me a gift. I was bamboozled.
Our berths were up and down instead of across from each other. One of my friend's suitcases could not be fit anywhere it was put on the top seat. I don't know how she spent the night up there. The management provided the pillows and the blankets. I slept very well most of the night.
In the wee hrs of the morning I overheard men talking about a terrorist attack somewhere in India. The morning newspaper revealed a confusing account of the events of that morning, January 23, in Calcutta.
To me traveling by train meant looking out of the window, watching the scenery, buying stuff from yapping vendors. People getting on and off, scrambling for seats, noise, .. mayhem.
Because the compartment was air conditioned and beyond the reach of majority of the Indians, it was very quiet and 'civilized'.
I also had to behave with reserve lest I appear uncultured and disturb a very serious and stern looking man across from me.
What bothered me most, was the fact I could not open the window and could not even see through because the window glass was all mottled and scratched to render it opaque.
The train was 3 hrs late, still Manoj Kumar, an eighteen-year assistant manager at the government shop we had met in Jaipur, was waiting for us at the Delhi railway station. He had come to deliver some jewelry my friend had custom ordered. He had driven overnight from Jaipur and was with another young man from the local shop to take us to pick up the jewelry. Of course they wanted us to buy more things at the shop.
Our luggage did not fit in their car. For 200 rupees we had to hire a taxi to take us to the shop.
In Jaipur they had promised to pick us from the train station store our luggage and provide us with a car for the day to sight see. There was no place to safely store our luggage. It was sitting on a side outside the busy shop.
While waiting at the shop my friend remembered she had promised some friends in the states to buy saris for them. We were out of money again. We literally had to count our pennies. We pooled our money including a single dollar bill and paid them much less than they had asked and they accepted.
They took us to the airport in a station wagon. Manoj could not accompany us because there was no room for him to sit. Many roads were blocked to traffic; they were rehearsing for some kind of celebration of upcoming event. I think it was the Republic Day..
At one point the traffic had stopped to let the cavalry horses cross the road. People on the motor cycles started driving on the dusty and bumpy side walks as if that was the purpose for it being there.
Only in India and Pakistan you'll find such innovative and ingenious people!!!
23-Apr-02
Sanjeev
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Registered: Dec 1999
Location: Fairfax, VA
Posts: 1688
Good Narrative
(post#39)
Razia,
Very interesting safarnama. Growing up in Hinoodia, we travelled by road all across the country. It is a land of tremendous contrasts, colors, the cacophony of sounds, the crush of people, the rutted roads, the heat & dust (in the North) and friendly and simple people (for the most). Having travelled the world in my adulthod, I still miss the experiences of travelling all over India in all modes of transporation with my family. Your write up has rekindled the memories of my childhood experiences. In April 2000, I visited India with my parents. We travelled by car from Delhi to Chandigarh, to Jullundur to Amritsar and back to Delhi. Upon return, we went from Delhi to Jaipur to Kota by car and then back to Delhi by train. What I miss is the feeling - you can stop anywhere on the way, sit ont he charpai at any of the numerous dhabas that dot the roads and still feel completely secure and at peace. May be it is my inherrent conditioning, but I have never been able to recreate the same feeling trevelling in any other part of the world.
If you get a chance, you must travel to the Eastern part of India (the seven sisters) or the south, which are completely different in the scenery and in the outlook of the people. It is truly a beautiful and magnificent experience, if one can over come the nuisance and inconvenience of dust, lack of defined toilet facilities, having to watch what you eat, the sparse infrastructure and so on. Visiting all the temples, mosques, dargahs and other historical places is a different experience. I cannot say that I really enjoyed the visit to a religious place, other than the golden tample in Amritsar. The temples, dhams, mosques and dargahs - I just found them to be too much to handle - in terms of rituals. I did enjoy my visit to all the historical sites, the forts, the national parks and the stupas.
Please continue with the absorbing description. BTW, I have driven on the Jaipur to Bhopal route. Is it just my observation or ewhat, but I think that your fiend is perhaps not the most seasoned traveller around. One thing I learnt from my dad while growing up - Travel light... if you must. Hats off for being able to do it!!!
Regards, Sanjeev
23-Apr-02 10:32 PM
razia Offline
OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: IL, USAPosts: 563 ) Where were we? Oh yeah we had been dropped at the airport. We thought we'll go in the lobby
razia
free spirit the sinner!
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Where were we? Oh yeah we had been dropped at the airport. We thought we'll go in the lobby inside the airport terminal or the waiting room across the road from the terminal and while away the long wait until our flight. I hate waiting.
We tried to go to the waiting room. The guard at the door wouldn't let us in unless we paid 25 rupees or was it more? We had no money! He told us to come back 5 hrs before the flight and he'll let us in free. We had like 12 hrs to go.
Our next adventure was to try the lobby across the road. No luck there either. If you have ever traveled in a third world country you know how crowded usually one and the only terminal is. Delhi was no exception.
So what are we to do, with luggage overflowing each of our carts...? We tried the Swissair office, no help there. We tried a restaurant, no go. Thankfully there was an accessible CLEAN world class bathroom. WHAT A RELIEF!!!!!!
After catching our breath a little we were on the prowl again. Went to the airport manager and pleaded our case. He sent us somewhere else and they ... Having exhausting all our resources, I was resigned to sit on the floor and wait just outside the waiting area until we were allowed in. My friend left me with the luggage and went to talk to the airport manager one more time.
I could not believe when she came back with the good news. The manager was standing by the guard at one of the entrance doors to let us in the airport lobby. My friend!
Inside we were sandwiched between people waiting lines and the crowd outside peeping in through the tainted glass walls. But we didn't care and settled in some empty chairs near the walls to the outside. We took turns to roam around; trips to the rest room; change clothes. Occasionally there will be other people here and there stopping and staying briefly in our vicinity.
I remember one girl Alisa, 20ish, skinny kind of lost. I struck up a conversation with her. She was originally from Bosnia but living in Austria with some friends. I can't recall where her family was and why she didn't have any contact with them. Raised as a Muslim though she had no idea about Islam, was traveling in India alone seeking the 'truth'. It was difficult to understand her because of her accent. I gave her my women for humanity card and I still have another WFH card with her telephone and address in Austria. I never wrote to her nor she to me. She cut a very sympathetic figure. I often think about her and wish I knew where she was and how she was getting along.
We still had some food left that the good folks in Bhopal had packed for us. But I was craving for hot food. My friend was content and didn't want any. Between the two of us we had cached $60 for our trip from Chicago to Peoria; it cost
$27 per person. I cashed $5 for Indian rupees hoping the fair hasn't gone up. I enjoyed a very fulfilling vegetarian thali and roti. yummy
Time was slow in passing but pass it did. We could check in our luggage. Remembers my friend's luggage weighed a ton over the limit in Bhopal. She had rearranged while we were waiting. The heavier stuff was in the carry on on-wheels. Besides that she had couple of other bags she intended to carry with her. She left those with me and checked in her two big suit cases without any problem.
Then it was my turn. I was so confident that my luggage wasn't over the limit that I took all with me. After the attendant checked in my two big suitcases she noticed my carry on and decided to weigh it. Instead of 6 kilo, the limit, it weighed 14 kilo. My two checked in suitcases were brought back so that I could transfer some of the contents to those. I was embarrassed and upset in the middle of crowded place.
After three transfers and reweighs I was nowhere near what would satisfy the attendant. She was very patient and finally told me to check in my carry on as well. I was happy of course, but I had to go through the security check with my entire luggage all over again.
Since my carry on load was much lighter than my friend's she had asked me to help her to board. Still in the lobby, while filling out the exit forms we lost each other in the crowd. I waited and waited finally I decided to go through security and head for the gate. There was another line outside the lounge. But my friend wasn't there. I left a few times to look in the lobby. She was nowhere to be found. I was worried she might be waiting for me somewhere. Anyway I went trough this line and into the lounge. Still didn't see her. Well, what could I do? A short time later I looked again and there she was as if materialized from thin air.
On January 24, 2002 at about one o? clock in the morning our plane took off for Zurich. The flight was crowded but uneventful. Somewhere along the way during boarding no body could lift my friend's carry on they had to check it in.
At Zurich airport we had to change the plane I stopped only for a moment to look at the monitor and she was gone. I decided to get in line to use computer which happened to be right there. Thinking my friend will soon turn up, I checked my e-mail and surfed the net a bit. But she didn't come. I proceeded to the concourse and there she was.
We landed in Chicago at about noon.
At Chicago airport coming out of the plane we were separated from the rest of the passengers because on our landing passes we had listed Pakistan as one of the countries we visited. They asked a few questions, which must not be unusual because I can't remember any, and allowed us to proceed. The immigration was no problem. But customs was another matter. After going through the regular lines we were sent to red lines. I didn't know they existed.
We didn't have to wait very long because there were very few people. My friend and I were in different lines. We approached the checking part within minutes of each other. We were advised of the custom officer's right to search our luggage.
Mercifully they were not opening all our suitcases only randomly pointing to one to open. I was so afraid for my friend that they might ask her to open that one special suitcase. Remember the Gulab Jamins we bought at Dewas? She had some of those in that suit case, in addition to ubtan and some other silly things like that. I don't know the exact composition of ubtan, may some desi readers can help me with that. Roughly it has some herbs and flour of some sort that they mix with oil and water and rub on the face of bride to be to make her complexion beautiful. My friend's niece was getting married in the states, that's why she had brought some extra baggage.
Getting back to the customs, they didn't ask her to open that one and we got through the red lines safely.
What's going on? Coming out I lost her again. Every time it happened each of us blamed the other May be we were tired of each other and were subconsciously trying to get away?
Any way we met by the gate 5-E, where we catch the Peoria Charter coach. She called her husband to let him know we have arrived so that he can come and pick us up from the Bradley campus. We took 3: pm bus which arrived in Peoria at 7:30 pm.
Her whole family was there to pick us up. They invited me to have dinner that grandma had prepared but I was anxious to get home. There was a little problem though. I didn't have the key to the house. Normally I don't swear but I could that I gave the key to my friend for safe keeping. She had no recollection of that. From Bhopal I had emailed to my son to Fed. Express his key to my friend's house. They had not received it.
While pondering on the key problem, we visited my friend's dad, and decided to stop by my house and see if the back door or any of the windows were unlocked. Walked around the house in the cold shivering, checked the back door and some windows. They were all locked. We were about to leave to go to their house but decided to check one last window into my son's room. Eureka!
I WAS HOME!!!!!!!!!!
Next: Some lasting impressions and answers to questions some of you have raised.
Where were we? Oh yeah we had been dropped at the airport. We thought we'll go in the lobby inside the airport terminal or the waiting room across the road from the terminal and while away the long wait until our flight. I hate waiting.
We tried to go to the waiting room. The guard at the door wouldn't let us in unless we paid 25 rupees or was it more? We had no money! He told us to come back 5 hrs before the flight and he'll let us in free. We had like 12 hrs to go.
Our next adventure was to try the lobby across the road. No luck there either. If you have ever traveled in a third world country you know how crowded usually one and the only terminal is. Delhi was no exception.
So what are we to do, with luggage overflowing each of our carts...? We tried the Swissair office, no help there. We tried a restaurant, no go. Thankfully there was an accessible CLEAN world class bathroom. WHAT A RELIEF!!!!!!
After catching our breath a little we were on the prowl again. Went to the airport manager and pleaded our case. He sent us somewhere else and they ... Having exhausting all our resources, I was resigned to sit on the floor and wait just outside the waiting area until we were allowed in. My friend left me with the luggage and went to talk to the airport manager one more time.
I could not believe when she came back with the good news. The manager was standing by the guard at one of the entrance doors to let us in the airport lobby. My friend!
Inside we were sandwiched between people waiting lines and the crowd outside peeping in through the tainted glass walls. But we didn't care and settled in some empty chairs near the walls to the outside. We took turns to roam around; trips to the rest room; change clothes. Occasionally there will be other people here and there stopping and staying briefly in our vicinity.
I remember one girl Alisa, 20ish, skinny kind of lost. I struck up a conversation with her. She was originally from Bosnia but living in Austria with some friends. I can't recall where her family was and why she didn't have any contact with them. Raised as a Muslim though she had no idea about Islam, was traveling in India alone seeking the 'truth'. It was difficult to understand her because of her accent. I gave her my women for humanity card and I still have another WFH card with her telephone and address in Austria. I never wrote to her nor she to me. She cut a very sympathetic figure. I often think about her and wish I knew where she was and how she was getting along.
We still had some food left that the good folks in Bhopal had packed for us. But I was craving for hot food. My friend was content and didn't want any. Between the two of us we had cached $60 for our trip from Chicago to Peoria; it cost
$27 per person. I cashed $5 for Indian rupees hoping the fair hasn't gone up. I enjoyed a very fulfilling vegetarian thali and roti. yummy
Time was slow in passing but pass it did. We could check in our luggage. Remembers my friend's luggage weighed a ton over the limit in Bhopal. She had rearranged while we were waiting. The heavier stuff was in the carry on on-wheels. Besides that she had couple of other bags she intended to carry with her. She left those with me and checked in her two big suit cases without any problem.
Then it was my turn. I was so confident that my luggage wasn't over the limit that I took all with me. After the attendant checked in my two big suitcases she noticed my carry on and decided to weigh it. Instead of 6 kilo, the limit, it weighed 14 kilo. My two checked in suitcases were brought back so that I could transfer some of the contents to those. I was embarrassed and upset in the middle of crowded place.
After three transfers and reweighs I was nowhere near what would satisfy the attendant. She was very patient and finally told me to check in my carry on as well. I was happy of course, but I had to go through the security check with my entire luggage all over again.
Since my carry on load was much lighter than my friend's she had asked me to help her to board. Still in the lobby, while filling out the exit forms we lost each other in the crowd. I waited and waited finally I decided to go through security and head for the gate. There was another line outside the lounge. But my friend wasn't there. I left a few times to look in the lobby. She was nowhere to be found. I was worried she might be waiting for me somewhere. Anyway I went trough this line and into the lounge. Still didn't see her. Well, what could I do? A short time later I looked again and there she was as if materialized from thin air.
On January 24, 2002 at about one o? clock in the morning our plane took off for Zurich. The flight was crowded but uneventful. Somewhere along the way during boarding no body could lift my friend's carry on they had to check it in.
At Zurich airport we had to change the plane I stopped only for a moment to look at the monitor and she was gone. I decided to get in line to use computer which happened to be right there. Thinking my friend will soon turn up, I checked my e-mail and surfed the net a bit. But she didn't come. I proceeded to the concourse and there she was.
We landed in Chicago at about noon.
At Chicago airport coming out of the plane we were separated from the rest of the passengers because on our landing passes we had listed Pakistan as one of the countries we visited. They asked a few questions, which must not be unusual because I can't remember any, and allowed us to proceed. The immigration was no problem. But customs was another matter. After going through the regular lines we were sent to red lines. I didn't know they existed.
We didn't have to wait very long because there were very few people. My friend and I were in different lines. We approached the checking part within minutes of each other. We were advised of the custom officer's right to search our luggage.
Mercifully they were not opening all our suitcases only randomly pointing to one to open. I was so afraid for my friend that they might ask her to open that one special suitcase. Remember the Gulab Jamins we bought at Dewas? She had some of those in that suit case, in addition to ubtan and some other silly things like that. I don't know the exact composition of ubtan, may some desi readers can help me with that. Roughly it has some herbs and flour of some sort that they mix with oil and water and rub on the face of bride to be to make her complexion beautiful. My friend's niece was getting married in the states, that's why she had brought some extra baggage.
Getting back to the customs, they didn't ask her to open that one and we got through the red lines safely.
What's going on? Coming out I lost her again. Every time it happened each of us blamed the other May be we were tired of each other and were subconsciously trying to get away?
Any way we met by the gate 5-E, where we catch the Peoria Charter coach. She called her husband to let him know we have arrived so that he can come and pick us up from the Bradley campus. We took 3: pm bus which arrived in Peoria at 7:30 pm.
Her whole family was there to pick us up. They invited me to have dinner that grandma had prepared but I was anxious to get home. There was a little problem though. I didn't have the key to the house. Normally I don't swear but I could that I gave the key to my friend for safe keeping. She had no recollection of that. From Bhopal I had emailed to my son to Fed. Express his key to my friend's house. They had not received it.
While pondering on the key problem, we visited my friend's dad, and decided to stop by my house and see if the back door or any of the windows were unlocked. Walked around the house in the cold shivering, checked the back door and some windows. They were all locked. We were about to leave to go to their house but decided to check one last window into my son's room. Eureka!
I WAS HOME!!!!!!!!!!
Next: Some lasting impressions and answers to questions some of you have raised.
5-May-02 12:33 PM
raziafree spirit the sinner! OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: IL, USAPosts: 597Contributor Some memorable moments, regrets and other tidbits (post#43) It was great fun for me to write my travelogue. I could not have done were it not for you all. Thank you for listening. Also, thank you Aamir, Anokha Laadla, Archita, Bashar, Beth, Chris, Doug, Hamideng, Hawk, Kathy, Kedar Bhandary, Masood, Nusrat, Pam, Panram, Roshan, Sahastra, Sandy, Sanjeev, W_Guy, Yamraaj, I am sure I am forgetting some names and the rest, my 'silent majority’ , for your corrections, comments, for reminiscing with me and for just being there. I am so inspired by your encouraging remarks that as I was getting closer to the end of my account I began thinking of writing my travels through Africa. But don’t worry I won’t do it to you! JIn case you were wondering my friend and I are still very good friends. In fact we are planning a joint party later in June or early July. You are all invited, details later. She is one of the kindest and nicest people I know. She may be a little 'nuts' but hey who isn't' We are very much alike, she and I, with one difference: I have and know my limits she doesn't have any! . Attending the henna ceremony and wedding of a friend's daughter in Lahore was a memorable experience. I met people there I had met in Peoria and I met people I had not met before but they had lived in Peoria at one time. Peoria played well in Lahore. Strange! It was the coldest and the foggiest two days of my entire stay in Pakistan. It was a miracle we didn’t get lost nor had an accident. Henna night my friend arranged one of several kin folks to take us home in one of fleet of their cars. Coming back from wedding reception my sister, her 5 yr old daughter and I could not find a taxi from Pearl Continental hotel passed midnight on that cold rainy and foggy night likes of which I had never seen before. With my lahnga wet from dragging in mud and rain heavy on me, my at least 3 “ high heeled sandals killing me and we tried to hail a taxi which was nowhere insight and almost getting run over by cars carrying other guests of the wedding and the hotel everywhere. There were no side walks at all. We were ecstatic beyond belief and jumped in the only rickshaw that came along after a long wait. . As I look back at my trip to India, despite some frustrating moments was a very enjoyable and memorable time for me. I was in India for a total of about three weeks. It is too short a time to form an objective opinion of the people and the country. But since there are so many things common between northern India and Pakistan that it didn't feel I was in a foreign country. Differences in language, the food, and the clothes were minimal. Unlike in the US, you could be in different parts of either country and encounter similar differences. . I think smaller communities, such as our little township and other neighboring townships managing their own systems, work very well. But the management of the city at large is riddled with corruption. Although the electricity is better than it used to be but still black outs happen for no apparent reason. . In our little town since it got its own tube well clean water is plentiful, the sewage system works pretty well. But the streets are still dirty and our telephone is still not reliable may be because it is under the management of the city government.. Only people who refuse to bribe suffer. The rest have no problem. In 1997 I looked all over Lahore but could not find any public access to send email to my children in the States. In 1999 my son and I spent most of our stay in Lahore back and forth trying to get telephone in proper working order. In 2001 there were several internet cafés easily accessible in our little town at 15 rupees per hr. It sounds unreal but I heard cable television is available at 200 rupees per month and broadband internet in the works. . In Bhopal access to internet was more expensive and not as convenient. The bazaars are organized by categories. You could not go on one side and run your errands and send email back home. The shops in Bhopal closed early, at dusk because of a fear of violence due to upcoming elections. Older neighborhoods in both countries are still dirty and there is stench common to both that comes from lack of proper sewage system. I saw people in Lahore, Pakistan in tents living next to stagnant water and garbage pile and I saw people camped out by a garbage dump in Bhopal, India. India seemed ever so slightly less dirty. I wonder pigs roaming freely there have anything to do with it. . I think our trip to Rajasthan was much too hurried. I would have liked to visit other places like the national parks, universities and libraries than just the forts and palaces. They were nice but after a while I got saturated and lost track of what I saw and where. I would have like to get to know people a little better. . Before going on the road trip to Rajasthan I looked for self teaching Hindi books but could not find any useful ones. I did buy children's picture alphabet books. Recently I found a good source of Hindi writing on the internet. Next time I go to India I'll be able to read Hindi. . Outside Taj Mahal a street vendor with his ware spread on the floor having heard my name from my friend called me Razia Sultana and looked at another vendor nearby with a naughty smile. We all smiled at each other and without saying a word knew exactly what was implied. cont.Last edited by razia on 3-Jun-02 at 07:06 PM Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged
3-Jun-02 07:02 PM
raziafree spirit the sinner! OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: IL, USAPosts: 597Contributor Tidbits cont. (post#44) Train Strain http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/...?art_id=3199700 MIRIAM D'SOUZA[ FRIDAY, MARCH 08, 2002 11:55:41 PM ]??FIGHT, fight! Ladies fighting??, the cry went up from the urchins, and within seconds there was a crowd of interested spectators on the platform outside the ladies? compartment. The trains had not been running on schedule, and were consequently terribly crowded. By dint of vigorous elbowing, I had managed to squeeze my way to the centre of the compartment between the two doorways. As I reached up to hold one of those what-you-call-it devices meant to give support, more people surged in and I found myself hoisted in the air. This was one instance when the law of gravity did not operate. There was I, balanced delicately in space, with both arms stretched upwards, one leg outflung and the other pointed down, straining to reach the floor. I was held immobile in a stance Nadia Comaneci would have envied. . When I read the above article it felt that the lady was describing my experience in New Delhi except I was traveling by bus, no separation of men and women, and the crowd was normal state of affairs and not because busses were running late. Unlike that lady my 'suffering' was eased when a man gave me his seat. Who said chivalry is dead? I don’t know which God he prayed to neither he knew what my religion was. I don’t understand why so much fuss is made over religion? . A man in Rajasthan asked me if I was a Hindu. I can be a Hindu or whatever he wants me to be, was my reply. That made him very happy and philosophical and made me happy as well. . A very popular word used by street vendors you’ll hear is bohni. It used to mean the first item you sell or buy. But we heard it used at all times. Although we spent thousands of rupees at one place in a Jaipur at and we looked at but did not buy any stone carved statues. Next day we had to go back to the shop to clear some credit card problems. We found the statue people very distraught. They told us because we did do their bohni they had made no sales since we left. I don't know how serious they really were but I ended up buying a marble statue of durgah to appease them. . Did you feel insecure as a Pakistani Muslim visiting India? Not at all, I usually forget to be afraid, it must not be in my blood. I wanted to shout to every one at every chance I got where I came from, but my friend wouldn't let me . How do you compare corruption in India vs Pakistan?I think corruption in Pakistan is worse than in India. When I came to the United States I was very impressed with the system, every day life, worked. The corruption is at higher level. I think it is the same way in India. The poor people have to follow the rules and regulations while the rich and the government officials don’t. In Pakistan it is free for all system.. Do you think India gain any thing as a democratic country? I think the biggest gain India as a democratic country has is the international prestige. Is an average person better off in India than in Pakistan because of democracy is another matter. My father once remarked that an ordinary person in Pakistan is freer in than in India might be true. In India the porter’s wages are fixed, the taxi and rickshaw rates are fixed and there are so many other little things that protect the consumer and the government than in Pakistan. We heard people in India express anger and distrust of the government more often than in Pakistan. . I wish I had spend some time with Hindu families. The only Hindus I came across were professionals, sales people, vendors taxi/rickshaw drivers, except a brief glimpse of ordinary Hindu families in Khandera.. I wish I had been more generous with service people and small vendors in India and Pakistan Of course my answers are based on limited experience in north western India. South India, I am told, is quite different. One thing driven home though was the enormity in size of India relative to Pakistan. The End Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged
3-Jun-02 07:26 PM
Anokha_Laadlaurf BUGS_BUNNY! OfflineRegistered: Jul 2001Location: LAHOREPosts: 260Silver Contributor so its here... (post#45) Its nice to see a reply from you here too. I dont remember when did MASOOD move this thread here from GD. I was looking for it coz I couldnt follow it then. I wanted to re-read this from the very beginning. It sounds like one is reading MUSTANSAR HUSAIN TARD's SAFARNAAMA. I really like it. I suggest you to do some more work on this and publish it, if you have time to do that. I am serious. I am going to copy this to my harddisk coz it can be deleted anytime if you stop adding new posts to this. I guess MASOOD have got you now that why you said quote: oh My thread is about to be wiped off the forum Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged 3-Jun-02 08:44 PM
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Currently I do not have plan to delete anything, but who knows
3-Jun-02 11:30 PM
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