Well, what a busy few weeks on our way here to Pushkar—a small town in eastern Rajasthan. First, Claire went to hospital in Manali with ‘Delhi belly’. Then we just missed the Dalai Lama in McLeod Ganj. And, finally, we were inspired by the Golden (Sikh) Temple in Amritsar.
But before telling these stories, I should tell you a little more about our time in Agra...
Agra take two...
Claire was so focused on talking about the Taj Mahal in our last post that she forgot about two other important sites: Agra Fort and nearby Fatehpur Sikri.
Agra Fort is a majestic red-sandstone fort and palace just west of the Taj Mahal. Surrounded by double outer walls, the fort houses a series of interconnected tunnels, towers, and rooms. Much of the interior is made of white marble and decorated with mosaics, arches, and balconies. There are private and public halls, a ladies bazaar, an elephant fighting pit, and several mosques. And it offers unobstructed views of the Taj Mahal. It makes for a pretty impressive prison really—which was the fate of one of its rulers, Shah Jahan, who was imprisoned by his son in 1658.
India is dam hot in summer; and Agra Fort is no exception. Crowds brave the heat with umbrellas and turbines while entrepreneurs profit from it by selling iceblocks and cooled coconut. It is not surprising that the moot surrounding the fort was dry—and had been for long time.
Fatehpur Sikri is a fortified ghost city just west of Agra. Once the capital of the Mughal Empire, the much revered ruler Akbar made the simple mistake of building the city where there was no water.
But his mistake does not detract from the city’s architectural splendour. Palaces and pavilions, mosques, gardens, an ornamental pool, and an astrologer’s kiosk make for enticing viewing. Arches lead into alcoves that lead into stone columns. Some have intricate carvings while others are protected by blue Persian roof tiles. And, apart from the odd Indian tourist, the city was relatively empty when we visited. The only real pain: the constant demands for our used entry tickets made by local kids.
...now, back to Manali, McLeod Ganj and Amritsar.
Hospitals in Manali
As Claire noted earlier, we nibbled our way through street food in Delhi. This may not have been our best idea...
Claire is usually a complacent traveller on long, bumpy, dusty, crowded and hot overnight bus rides. But not this time. After a restless sleep bussing north from Delhi to Manali, Claire began showing the classical symptoms of the infamous tummy bug, ‘Delhi belly.’
Upon our arrival into Manali it became clear that she was not well. This diagnosis was confirmed after she was admitted to an emergency room the next day with dehydration and acute gastroenteritis. The cause: unknown but presumed to be Delhi street food. Fortunately her stay at the hospital was brief (about 3 hours); and after some intravenous fluids, antibiotics, and some prescription drugs, it was back to bed for her.
This left me with some alone time to fill. Most of it was spent exploring Manali with its cool climate, fast-flowing river, pine-tree covered ranges, and mix of Buddhist and Hindu cultures. Gompas—not unlike those in Nepal and western Sichuan province—are draped in colour prayer flags in the Tibetan area of town while the Hindu temple of Hadimba nestles between pine trees and is decorated with woodcarvings and bull horns further up the road.
The people are friendly enough; with tourism an important trade for the town. Stores selling Tibetan clothes and Hindu paintings line the muddy streets, while food vendors offer Indian sweets, samousas, and masala chai.
Owing to its relaxed vibe, Manali is also a bit of backpacker ghetto. Many foreigners come here to smoke dope and be lazy. Others come for paragliding, zorbing, canyoning, and other outdoor activities. But we fall into neither category. Instead, we were transit travellers: seeking to head further north to the Buddhist-influenced city of Leh in Ladakh province.
But, unfortunately, the weather was not on our side as heavy rains closed the temperamental Manali-Leh highway. So, after Claire recovered, we instead bussed west to McLeod Ganj—home of the Dalai Lama, the exiled leader of Tibet.
Buddhism in McLeod Ganj
McLeod Ganj is one of the wettest places on earth. Even more so than the west coast of New Zealand’s South Island. And it showed: it rained on every day of the four that we stayed.
Fortunately it has good drainage. Sitting atop a ridge just north of Dharamsala and nestled amongst pine forests, McLeod Ganj was originally established as a British garrison in the 1850s. Now it is home to the Tibetan government in exile, including its leader the Dalai Lama—who, unfortunately, was away in Europe during our visit.
Tibetan influence is everywhere: with prayer flags, red-robe-wearing lamas, stupas, and momo-selling food vendors dotted around. But so too is the presence of Indians who trade with Tibetans and tourists alike. The two cultures seem to fit comfortably together, for now. But there must be a tipping point. How long I wonder before local Indians begin to protest the growing number of Tibetans?
There are many important sites in McLeod Ganj. The Tibet Museum was well worth the sobering visit. Photos and film of atrocities and protest after the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1949 show the plight of many innocent people. It is truly distressing how little the West got involved.
Also, a walk around the Tsuglaghang complex was rewarding. The complex includes the Dalai Lama’s residence, his government’s secretariat, and several gompas. Many Tibetan pilgrims—and tourists like us—follow the semi-wilderness path that snakes around the outside of the complex.
Apart from walking the streets of McLeod Ganj, our only other adventure was a short loop walk through pine forests and the nearby villages of Bhagsu and Dharamkot. Views along this walk are normally inspiring. But when the weather sets in the views are less so. We got the latter.
We have experienced many religions (and cultures) during our trip; and so after leaving McLeod Ganj for the Sikh city of Amritsar (in Punjab province) further south it was time to say goodbye to another, for a while at least—Tibetan Buddhism.
Sikhs in Amritsar
Sikhism is a relatively new religion founded in Punjab province in the 15th century as a reaction to the caste system. Many devotees wear turbans of all colours and all believe in reincarnation and karma—much like Buddhists and Hindus. Spiritual idols are called gurus and the Sikhs’ holiest shrine is the Golden Temple in Amritsar—and this is what we came to see.
It is a magnificent temple complex and free for all to see. A gleaming two-story golden temple stands in the middle of a sacred blue pool and is reached along a narrow causeway packed with pilgrims queuing to enter. The temple is made of marble and the pool is surrounded by a wide walkway. Some pilgrims bathe in the sacred waters while others rest under archways away from the sun. A loud continuous chant echoes around the complex and everyone walks barefoot with headscarfs.
The complex also houses museums, a tower, the Sikh parliament, and dorm rooms. But perhaps one of the more interesting dimensions to the complex is its dining hall—which offers free meals to all. It is a massive operation serving more than 60,000 vegetarian meals per day to pilgrims sitting cross-legged on the floor. Making the most of the opportunity, we ate dal, chapatti, and rice pudding for lunch with the masses.
The other main attraction of Amritsar lies 30 km west of the city: the India-Pakistan border closing ceremony at Wagah. The ceremony is pure theatre. Just before sunset every evening, border guards from both countries engage in an exchange of loud salutes, comical goose-steeping, trumpeting, gate opening and closing, and flag lowering. There is some kind of rhythm to the exchange. But we were unable to pick it.
The exchange is not just between border guards. In fact, the ceremony has become as much as spectator activity as anything else. Large grandstands have been built on both sides of the border to watch the ceremony where crowds exchange cheers and compete in flag relays. But despite the good nature of both sides, it is clear that the Indian supporters far outweigh their Pakistani counterparts.
We thoroughly enjoyed the event, as much for the organisation required to seat all the Indian supporters as for the ceremony itself.
After the excitement of Amritsar, it was time to head back to Delhi on our way to the fort-covered state of Rajasthan.
Delhi
A short stopover was all that was required of Delhi before heading to Jaipur, Pushkar, and further into Rajasthan.
We had two missions: visit the Red Fort and meet our friend Uryia. The fort was nothing special so I won’t bore you with the details.
After both were complete we moved on: leaving behind India’s capital, which for me was nothing special but not a drag either.
* * * * *
Pushkar is an attractive town. But we won’t stay forever: next we head to Bikaner and further west into Rajasthan in search of more forts and camel safaris.
Love to all,
xxx.
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