Amazing Agra and Holy Varanasi

Incredible !ndia Continues...

Agra, Uttar Pradesh

The Taj Mahal


I woke up for sunrise at the one and only Taj Mahal, the majestic masoleum of Mumtaz Mahal and her husband, Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, who commissioned the masterpiece after his favorite wife's death in 1631.


The Taj Mahal took over 20 years to build and required the labor of thousands of craftsmen.


The gardens and fountains that surround the Taj Mahal are meant to represent the paradise of the Garden of Eden.


Inside the Taj Mahal mosque at dawn.


Made from white marble, the Taj Mahal is known for the semi-precious stones which are inlaid throughout its flowery motifs.


Inlaid jasper calligraphy (quoting Koranic scripture relating to the Judgment Day) wraps around the entrance and was designed so that all text looks of equal size as viewed from the ground.

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The Red Fort of Agra


Outside the Red Fort of Agra.


The Agra Fort, where Emperor Shah Jahan, founder of the Taj Mahal, was imprisoned at the end of his life by his son, Aurangzeb. Apparently, Shah Jahan was given rather luxurious accommodations despite his confinement, complete with a view of the Taj Mahal.


Monkey on the look out at the Agra Fort.


A sea of colorful saris...


The sun sets in the courtyard of the Agra Fort.

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Scenes of life from Agra...


What's great is that these two guys were already posed like this before I broke out my camera, just peddling along in a friendly embrace. Platonic male affection, such as men holding hands, is much more acceptable in India (and many other countries I have visited, especially Muslim countries) than in the Western world, a sight that always warms my heart.


I love these guys--their smiles are just so infectious! Despite scarcity and hardship, Indians are such remarkably emotive and amicable people, almost always at the ready with a giant grin and a hearty laugh.


School's out, flooding the Agra streets with a haze of blue uniforms and bicycle tires!


Sad but common sight of cows and other animals scavenging for edibles in heaps of rubbish. It's also common to see birds perched on cows, as seen here, scavenging for their own edibles in the cow's hide.


These two adorable children were sitting on this bench, quietly watching their classmates play on the playground equipment, when I asked to take this photo.


Aboard a cycle-rickshaw, where sweat equity competes directly alongside fossil fuels. This guy, like most cycle-rickshaw drivers, is amongst the poorest residents of the local community, and certainly works incredibly hard for his rupees. I preferred cycle-rickshaws when given the choice, as the air pollution is so bad in Indian cities, it's critical to support the environmentally friendly option!

Note: You rarely travel along a street without seeing a cow lingering calmly along...


All smiles on this cycle-rickshaw adventure!


A roundabout in Agra, featuring a proud Mughal statue, evidence of the distinct Mughal history of this region.


A classic sign in the Agra train station. For quite some time, India has had to deal with corruption in all levels of government, not that corruption is unique to the Indian government!

Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh

"Older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together."

--Mark Twain on the holy city of Varanasi

Varanasi, also known as Benares or Banaras, is said to have been established by Lord Shiva around 5,000 years ago...yeah, that's old! However, many historians assert the city to have been founded around 3,000 years ago (still, pretty old).


The view from my guesthouse balcony along the Ganges (Ganga) River, the holiest river for Hindus, Buddhists and Jains in India. It is here where the pious (and often wealthy) come to cremate their loved ones and deposit their ashes, while others come to bath in the waters or live out their remaining days... It is believed that if one dies in Varanasi, s/he is released from the cycle of birth and rebirth, entering into the final resting place of heaven.

The reason for the metal bars is featured in the next photo...


MONKEYS are always on the loose! After watching these monkeys reek havoc throughout all corners of India, I have decided that there really is no legitimate reason why they don't take over the world. They are such smart, rascally creatures!


I ate at this popular, no-frills restaurant several times during my four-day stay in Varanasi. These wonderful fellows would fry up the samosas and parathas fresh in the front of the shop as you waited for your order. It's like heaven, fried!


A typical thali meal served in eateries all over India. A thali generally includes two vegetable curries, dhal (a lentil curry) or some other protein, rice, roti/chapati (flat wheat bread) , a dab of pickle (spicy chutney), curd (plain yogurt), and if you get a special thali, you would also get a banana/piece of fruit and/or perhaps a sweet dessert item. Most places will top you up if you want more of any dish, too. Talk about a filling and well-balanced meal!


One of the produce markets of Old City Varanasi. As atmospheric as it is confusing (especially when the power randomly goes out at night), Varanasi's labyrinthine Old City is rich with culture, paanwallah stalls and small shops.


My friend Shiva is in the middle, with his brother in the blue, and our trusty auto-rickshaw driver friend at the helm of his three-wheeled chariot. Shiva was the best friend I made during my time in India. He would take breaks during his work day to meet me and show me the temples and crematoriums of Varanasi. I spent quality time with his family in their home and at their lassi shop, and even enjoyed a home-cooked meal while his whole family peered on. I joked that he was the Indian Johnny Depp, since he looked so much like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean (complete with black eyeliner!). Thanks to connections with local people like Shiva, I feel like I have been able to experience the real and beautiful India.


These are two of Shiva's uncles, one of whom is a TV repairman, seen here working away in his shop below the family's home.


Shiva's dad, manning the family's famous Blue Lassi shop, which is written up in a Korean guidebook and has a huge following amongst Asian travelers. I had at least one lassi (a delicious yogurt-based drink) every day from the shop, and like smashing glass at a Jewish wedding, they would have me shatter the small clay cup container against the trashcan when finished. I am now determined to get the Blue Lassi Shop featured in the Rough Guide book that I have used during my time in India as it truly is the best lassi I have ever tasted!


I awoke one morning before sunrise to embark on a boat ride on the River Ganges to observe the faithful in their bathing rituals. This young man was my valiant captain, rising in the wee hours of the morning (alongside his father and mother, who did this for a living) to take tourists and pilgrims out and make some money before going to school at 8am. What a day and what a remarkable young man!


Lighting a candle garnished by a heap of fresh flowers as a puja offering...


...and letting it go on the Ganges River. Shanti...


One of the many bathing ghats along the River Ganges where the faithful come to bath in the holy (but rather polluted, thanks to the many factories upstream and the crematoriums in town) waters. There are roughly 100 ghats in Varanasi.


Ghats are the concrete steps leading down into the water, and were originally used for boatmen when Varanasi was founded. This ghat was promoting an exhibition about sex slavery in India, an issue very dear to my heart (I have read two books so far on this journey about modern-day slavery--there are 6 million slaves in the world at this very moment--sex slavery being one of the key kinds).


A busy nightlife scene on the streets of Varanasi.

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Overall, I have to say that Varanasi is the craziest and most intriguing place I have ever visited.

One thing I could not have shown photos of is the live cremation ceremony, which is something I witnessed with immense reverence and rapture on several occasions. [Out of respect for the dead, photos are not allowed at cremation ceremonies.]

Everyday, hundreds of bodies are burned using special, and rather costly, wood from another part of India, shipped in along the same river that sees the bodies off to eternity. Before the bodies are captured by flames, they are wrapped in sparkly, orange cloth, and adorned with fresh flowers. The body is then wrapped tightly onto a bamboo ladder and is carried down to the river Ganges by male family members and friends, all singing the same chant "Shri Ram nam satya hai!" Many times, I would be sitting in the Blue Lassi Shop, enjoying my drink, talking to Shiva and his family, and a funeral procession would careen past, my Indian counterparts completely unfazed by this unreal scene whisking by, gone as quickly as it had appeared. I would sit there, slack-jawed and on the verge of tears, amazed at how the rites of death can coexist so peacefully with the daily routines of the living in Varanasi.

When the funeral party reaches the river, the body is dunked into the holy water, and then everything but a thin piece of clinging white linen is removed from the fragile corpse. The family members place the body on the funeral pyre, seeming astonishingly composed despite such a moving duty, sometimes adding sandalwood sawdust to the loved one's white, soaked outline. The body burns until all that remains is the skull and the hip bone, at which point the fire begins to shrink and the bones are taken out by boat and thrown into the middle of the river. Children, pregnant women, and animals are not cremated, but are tied tightly to a heavy rock and placed into the river directly.

Varanasi, where I experienced life and death side by side as I never thought possible. INTENSE. Inevitable. Inexplicable.

I was particularly inspired to come to Varanasi after viewing a rather emotional photo presentation from my friends' Bob and Diana Leitch's trip to Varanasi some years ago. They spoke with such soul as we went through their images of life and death along the ghats. Thanks to them both for encouraging me to spend time in this unparalleled place.

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An unfortunate ending to an amazing month in India...


Hasta la victoria, siempre!

After my Dehli to Chennai flight landed, I was hanging around the airport for some hours until my next flight to Sri Lanka, when I just couldn't ignore the chills anymore. (Nor could my neighbors on the bench outside, who grew especially suspicious as I shivered under the hood of my beloved sweatshirt amidst the 32 degree heat plus humidity). Near delusional, I checked myself into the medical clinic at the airport, where hours later they called an ambulance to take me to the local hospital to diagnose my worsening condition. I spent the next three days being treated for an acute bacterial infection in the gut (affectionately known as 'Dehli Belly').

I may have been down, but I fought on! I am feeling 100% better now, owing my recovery to a steady stream of IV drips and an artillery of antibiotic medications. Thanks to my family for their encouraging phone calls while I was in the hospital...it really kept me going.


My outstanding medical caretakers at the Lakshmi Nursing Home in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, where I spent three days getting to know the intimate details of patient care in south India. Note my hottie doctor on the far right, who I just relished discussing my 'loose motions' with...not!

Namaste India! Now, to Sri Lanka...

Incredible !ndia

I LOVE INDIA!

I have always been enchanted by everything Indian: the food, the color, the dress, the music, the religions, the diverse culture, the dance...the list goes on. I also value the complexity of the history here; riddled with colonialism and caste cruelty, India is certainly not for the faint-of-heart, but it is also the most rewarding place I have ever traveled. I only hope to convey an ounce of the magical realism that I feel transpires on a daily basis here in incredible India.

Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram), Tamil Nadu

While working on the Robinson-Turner farm in Cork County, Ireland, father Barry recommended I visit Mahabalipuram, a laid back town south of Chennai along the coast of Tamil Nadu where he had spent time in his youth. Following his sage advise, I made my way to Mamallapuram (its new name since many Indian cities have reclaimed their proper Indian names post-British colonialism) for a blissful five-day stay.


Riding in an auto-rickshaw between seaside towns near Mahabalipuram. Normally, the roads in India are NEVER this empty.


Riding in an auto-rickshaw out of Mahabalipuram.


A man harvesting coconuts at my guesthouse, with the owner's daughter, Pooja, looking on from the left of the balcony below.


Ram and me sipping from the freshly-harvested coconuts in the courtyard of my guesthouse where Ram worked. One day, I asked Ram where he lived. He walked into a small room off the courtyard and pointed to a straw mat and blanket, folded in a small pile in the corner. He laughed about being devoured by mosquitoes in the door-less room while he stole hours of shut-eye between guests coming and going. He told me that his village was too far away to travel on a daily basis, so the guesthouse owners let him sleep in this spare room at night and prepared him a portion of their food at every meal. On weekends, he made the 1 1/2 bus trip (one-way) to attend classes in Chennai, hoping to pursue accounting one day. Stories like his are common in India, demonstrating a somewhat national desire to work incredibly hard, pursue higher education, and hopefully create a better life despite the odds of poverty. It was a real honor meeting and befriending Ram and his employers.


Mamallapuram is home to one of South India's most important temples, the Shore Temple, picture above. The temple is fashioned from stone and reflects an iconic Dravidian style of architecture that set the standard for most Southern Hindu temples, with influence reaching as far as Southeast Asia.


A view of the Shore Temple from the beach.


A family playing on the beach. Everything in India is beaming with color, even the fishing boats!


Fishing boat adorned with Lord Shiva and the Indian flag.

Bengaluru (Bangalore), Karnataka


I thought I would show you a glimpse of my personal space as a traveler, complete with my guide book and a local map sprawled out on my bed. This is my room at the home of Sumitha and Jay, a family that runs a homestay hostel in Bangalore.


My host mother, Sunitha, and her son, Anath, outside their lovely home in Bangalore. I enjoyed this homestay immensely, as it allowed me to talk with the family, ask questions, and relax in a home setting.


Bangalore is one of the fastest growing cities on Earth, owing much of its success to the IT (Information Technology) industry that is growing more rapidly than the infrastructure to handle it. Here, you can see the aerial metro that is being constructed to transport people around the city.


I appreciate how the public works works around this holy Hindu temple, with the street light perfectly perched on the very top.


The sun setting behind a temple in my neighborhood in Bangalore.


A tranquil spot in Bangalore's Lal Bagh Botanical Garden.


This little girl was hilarious! I watched as she lectured and scolded this animal statue on some serious breach of etiquette at the Lal Bagh Botanical Gardens.


This family was eager to take a photo with me in the foreground of this temple at the Lal Bagh Botanical Gardens.


Welcome to the streets of India, home to auto-rickshaws, cars, lorries, cows, motorcycles (precariously transporting entire families, including un-helmeted children), bicycles, and pedestrians. This street is very quiet compared to most, but I just had to capture the cow, sitting lazily along the traffic, as many do. I kept thinking of the expression: "Calm as a Hindu cow", because it is SO true that the holy cow (!) has nothing to worry about in India, even while I feared for my life as a pedestrian.


Ah, only in India... I watched as this (unattended) horse walked past these people and helped itself to a drink in the water fountain.


This photo hardly does this scene justice, but it attempts to capture a beautiful, canopied tree and a bamboo patch in Cubbon Park.


A great portrayal of Bangalore, recently renamed Bengaluru, as the booming "Garden City" of India. Here, the red building is the city's art museum.


Road sweepers in Cubbon Park. These ladies spend their days whisking away the dirt, leaves, and trash from the roads and sidewalks of Cubbon Park with basic hand-held thatch brooms. Like many occupations in India, much labor is still conducted manually, as the cheap labor force is so plentiful.

Benaulim, Goa


I have enjoyed most of my meals in simple thali joints, where locals can get a full balanced meal for under one dollar. Here, I was carefully attended by a group of young boys (two of whom were brothers), who watched dutifully and acted promptly as people finished their meals or required refills. They giggled when I smiled at them between bites and later relished the opportunity to have a photo taken.


An amazing sunset from my balcony in Benaulim, Goa. The Arabian Sea was just beyond these palms and rice paddies, a five minute walk from my simple but charming one room accommodation. The short walk felt like an eternity, as I was convinced there were snakes hiding in the brush, ready to bite at any opportunity.


A typical home in Goa, where residents are often hardworking fishermen with a more relaxed pace of life than most other parts of India. In the photo above, this family is drying small fish along with airing out the fishing nets. Especially during the evenings, you can see the men repairing the tired nets as the sun starts to dip.


Water buffalo grazing in the recently harvested rice paddies. I found the water buffalo to be such perceptive and curious animals, recognizing my watchful gaze immediately and following it until I looked away.


Throughout Goa, you will find small Roman Catholic churches and shrines in the middle of nowhere, adorned by followers on a daily basis with fresh marigold and chrysanthymum garlands. Due to the Portuguese colonial history here in the tiny state of Goa, a majority of residents are Catholic, living peacefully alongside Hindus and other religious sects.


Everyday, I would walk past this shop and get gently hassled by Subash and Pooja, the two children pictured above. These two eager salespeople helped their mother sell souvenirs from the shop located adjacent to their humble shack abode. On this day, I finally relented to buying something, a purchase which afforded them rice with their staple dhal (lentil stew) dinner.


I love the dreamy mist that seems to settle over this "Reve Lane" ("Dream Lane") road sign on the beach road to Benaulim, Goa.


On the morning I left Benaulim, I snapped this shot of a schoolgirl walking to her bus stop, guided by the first rays of the day. Although basic education is not free or compulsory in India, many poor families do everything in their power to send their children to school, whether it be public or private, as Indians realize a better future is accomplished with education. Oddly enough, even children not attending school can speak several languages at a young age, something that should show Americans the value in learning other languages as a valuable skill!


The railway station in Margoa, Goa, where I took a 12-hour train to Mumbai. The train network in India is certainly one of the best vestiges from the British Raj, being the world's largest employer...but also one of the world's most dangerous... Overall, I have really enjoyed taking the trains throughout India, all of which have been on time, super affordable, clean and full of chaiwallahs and samosa-hawkers! Thank goodness they offer an A/C class!


The train ride from Goa to Mumbai was lush and green, as vaguely seen here by sunset through my cloudy window on the train.

Mumbai (Bombay), Maharashtra

About a year ago, when I began planning this around the world trip, I envisioned staying with my friend Amee Master's extended family in Mumbai (Bombay). I was elated to find out that her grandparents, aunts and uncle were happy to have me during my five days in the financial capital of India.

I want to extend a most gracious and heartfelt thank you to Kaka, Baa, Nita, Sunil, Tina, Rohan, Avande, and Agam for hosting me and showing me the best Mumbai has to offer. I would also like to thank Amee and the Master family for a lifetime of sacred friendship, a priceless gift that planted in me at a very young age the seed of profound appreciation for India and its mesmerizing culture, food, music, etc. I am forever grateful for this influence and continue to be amazed by all that India has to offer.


The local fruit and vegetable market by night in Vile Parle, a suburb of Mumbai where I stayed with the Shah family. Aunt Nita buys her fruit on a regular basis from this stand.


Another colorful shot of the fruit and vegetable market in Vile Parle.


One of the remarkable business ventures of Mumbai is the dhabawallah network. Dhabawallahs hand deliver thousands of hot lunches from the suburbs and private homes of Mumbai to workers in the city, so that workers can enjoy a cheaper meal during their busy day. Lunches are prepared at home, packaged in metal tiffins and often insulated by lunch bags, each labeled with a unique hand-written code that corresponds to the individual recipient of the meal, their place of work, etc. At each train station, dhabawallahs exchange and collect tiffins bound for a certain destination, amalgamating and hustling off to the next point where they hand off the meals to another dhabawallah. Finally, all of the meals for one office building are gathered and delivered, food still hot from home and always on time. Later, at around 4 o'clock, the tiffins are collected and returned to the home where they started, ready to begin again the following workday. The network is incredibly accountable and efficient; on average, out of 6 million tiffins, one is lost, a statistic that has brought much attention to the over one hundred year old practice, including press from Forbes magazine.

I had read about this network in my guidebook, and when I asked the Shah family about it, they arranged a morning following their family's dhabawallah. Above, a dhabawallah is helped in balancing a load of tiffins on his head. You can generally spot a dhabawallah by their clean, starched white uniforms and sailor hats.


Nita translating and probing the dhabawallah on the routine as we follow the tiffins from one station to the next via the local (and most heavily used nationwide) train network.


A mad, hurried scramble to assign each tiffin to its appropriate rack before the next train arrives! I appreciate the order amidst the chaos that the dhabawallahs orchestrate on a daily basis, all in an effort to feed office workers their home-cooked food, still piping hot, all without leaving their desks.


This is one entrance to Dharavi, Asia's largest slum and home to Slumdog Millionaire. I toured Dharavi with a group called Reality Tours, which specializes in culturally-sensitive tours in Mumbai. Eighty percent of the tour cost goes back into the community, and has helped start several primary schools and one community center. I learned so much and witnessed some interesting economic enterprises, such as the incredible recycling facilities that thrive here, but because of a strict (and completely understandable) no-photo policy, I have only this photo to show for my time in Dharavi.


Paanwallah at work! There are roadside stands for just about everything in India, this one being for a digestive edible called paan. Paan is the name of the green leaf that is filled with a variety of sweetened herbs and spices, rolled up and eaten after meals.

I love how Indians seem to add wallah to just about anything, as it denotes the person who does a job or sells an item. Example: dhabawallah (delivers tiffins), chaiwallah (sells chai=tea), dhobiwallah (washes clothes along a river), paanwallah (see above), the list goes on...


Auntie Tina Vakil and me relaxing on an indoor swing.


A child performer on a tight rope in Mumbai, India. Sometimes you just have to watch the show and forget that this kid should be in school...!


Avande Vakil and me in front of the Gateway of India, Mumbai's defining edifice built to welcome British royalty during the 19th century. Just across the street is the Taj Hotel, Mumbai's most famous luxury hotel which was bombed nearly one year ago.


Avande and Agam Vikil, along with Rohan Shah and me, savoring a Punjabi meal at one of the family's favorite restaurants in Mumbai: Zaffran! Absolutely mouth-watering...


Eating another wonderful, home-cooked Indian feast with the Shah Family in their Vile Parle home outside of central Mumbai. Pictured from left to right is grandfather "Kaka", grandmother "Baa", mother "Nita", and father "Sunil". I stayed in their lovely home for my five day-stay in Mumbai and was treated like absolute royalty. Thank you so much for having me! I will miss you all...

Now, off to Agra and Varanasi! Namaste.