8h. Train station of Agra. Our time is short here as we get off the train. One day and a half and our plan is full with the differents places we want to see. We trust a tuk-tuk's driver that offers us to drive us at the castle of Fatehpur Sikri, 40km away from the city. We'll meet in one hour, just a moment to have breakfast from the rooftop of the guesthouse with a nice view on the Taj Mahal. Despite the relative distance, its whiteness is radiant and splashes down all the other buildings. Dwellings are nothing but pale, tasteless houses dramatically crushed by the marble mausoleum. We forget what we have in the plate. Our last steps in India are going to be magical.
We go for the castle of Fatehpur Sikri. Despite the undeniable beauty of its outlines, my thoughts turn back to Agra and the desire of trudging in the gardens and on the marble floor of the white mausoleum. Our visit at the castle is short and we go back to Agra.
As we arrive, we stop at the red fort. Well-preserved, Agra can vie with the innumerable castles scattered in the Rajasthan state. The lawns and gardens bring out the straight and vertical lines of the red fortress. The interior of the fort is composed of myriad of rooms that look out onto one another. They are sometimes separate by some interior courtyards. A part of the fortification flanks the river and several openings turn our looks towards the opposite bank. The Taj Mahal's outline looms in the distance among lands barely spoilt by the human hand. My eyes are magnetized by this white monument. An obsession since I arrived in India that changed into unbearable desire since I got off the train.
We keep on visiting the monuments of Agra with the baby Taj Mahal. We cross the river and stop in front of this replica of its illustrious "big brother". Just a sample before dashing to the Taj Mahal.
We go alongside the river by tuk-tuk. A few meters by foot, we race down from the small embankment and our looks set on the white-radiant funerary palace. The river separates us from the backside of the mausoleum. The quintessence of the moghul art reflects the last glows of the sun. A spike-ended dome walled by 4 minarets and hemmed in by 2 brick red mosques. We tread along the bank to contemplate the monument from different angles. Harmonious proportions and calming colours. One of these architectural jewels the History bequeathes to the Humanity. One of these treasures which beautifies the brochures of the travel agencies. And however, despite all the photographies taken by the best photographers, the emotion is there, intact. Perfect symmetry between the 2 mosques that embrace the mausoleum and marvellous reflection into the calm waters of the river. The marble palace floats above the time, above the reality. So do we.
Little by little, the mausoleum darkens with the veil of the night.
Keyword - castle -
Sunday 14 October 2007
Monuments around Agra
By dorian on Sunday 14 October 2007, 22:08 - RTW-India
Wednesday 10 October 2007
The fortress of Jodhpur
By dorian on Wednesday 10 October 2007, 23:10 - RTW-India
The cow is holy in India and nobody is moved when one of them roams in the train station hall of Jaisalmer. We go to Jodhpur we reach late in the evening. We laid in a laid-back guesthouse among a maze of alleyways.
The close stitches of this asphalted network filter the sound pollution because only pedestrians and bicycles can slip through in some parts. Jodhpur is a quiet city. I didn't think we could use this term for an Indian town.
Jodhpur has the distinctive feature to be built around a fort overlooking the vicinity from the top of a mound, the Meherangarh fort which Kipling, in his day, described as "work of angels and giants". The winding and narrow streets lap its foothills. We pace them and step out a stairway leading to the fort.
So be the Rajasthan province; not a city that doesn't boast of possessing excessive fortifications within its close horizon.
We go though the fort entrance specially reinforced against the elephants' charges. The balconies, alcoves and main buildings got a particular attention from the local craftsmen. Outside, the inhospitable and gloomy lines of the ramparts to show the assailant he isn't very welcome and inside, the gentle bends of richly carved illuminations. Better to be from the maharaja side. Cannons occupy a few crenellations of the mighty wall and point at a hypothetical enemy. From the fortification, the vista on the blue city is splendid. Terraces on the rooftops, intricate alleyways and azure-hued walls. A soothing color which contrasts with the hostile desire of the cannons of the fortress.
Before closing the short visit into the blue city we stop at the Jaswant Singh II memorial, benefactor of the town during the 19th century.
Tuesday 9 October 2007
On a dromedary's back in the Thar desert
By dorian on Tuesday 9 October 2007, 22:54 - RTW-India
The stone castle dances in the desert wind of the Rajasthan. These thick bulwarks carry a bloody, more or less glorious past within their bowels. The fort of Jaisalmer knew its moments of prosperity, at the thriving time of the silk roads. Vendors of every kind sold their textiles, spices, elixirs and miraculous products. But the development of the maritime saling in the south of India suddenly shattered the opulent prosperity of the city nestled on the edge of the Thar desert. It had to wait for several centuries before some backpackers rediscover the serenity of this small hamlet overlooked by lofty ramparts. Sensing the fledgling market, a great deal of inhabitants turned towards this new type of modern business, the tourism. To the point to spoil the old buildings, from now on being weighed down with signs utterly dedicated to the tourists.
The touts fidget as soon as we get off the train and are omnipresent in the city. Up to lose patience several times. The inebriating alleyways within the ramparts are dotted with souvenirs shops and snake among sable-hued delicately chiseled buildings. Jaisalmer epitomizes Rajasthan where the time seems to get fixed. Most of tourists come here to enjoy riding a dromedary and sleeping on the sand dunes of the Thar desert.
We leave for a 3-day meharé in the desert. The jeep draws away the fort of Jaisalmer while a swarm of windmills whril in the glowing morning sky.
A short stop at the royal cenotaphs and we take our way again. We plunge into the flat and dry roads of the desert.
On the edge of the road, 2 heavily loaded dromedaries wait for their hosts. We make Badia's acquaintance who will guide us throughout this stroll in the desert.
We sit astride the animals and with a slow and gentle pace we leave to the unknown. The dromedary is not really comfortable. We often stop to get over our trials. We take advantage of the stops to watch this fascinating animal able of staying 2 weeks without drinking and then swallowing 200 liters of water within 3 minutes. The soles of their leg cushion the heavy carcass when the long bend neck swings at the rate of the steps. A timeless experience while we reach a bit of sand dunes where we get off the animal to spend the night. We run onto the sandy mounds. A magical sensation of the feet which sink into the blong sun-heat sand. We sit down on the crest of a dune, vague look and fixed mouth. These desert wind-shaped landscapes penetrate and mesmerize us. We share the diner in a deep silence and dash to settle a pile of blankets up a dune. Lying down on the sand area and the eyes skywards, the star-dotted sky shows our pettiness. Without being able to say anything, our looks peer into the sky, endeavour to piece the constellations together, capture the fleeting apparition of a shooting star or the slow trip of a satellite. We fall asleep as in a dream, a dream full of stars.
We sit astride our mounts for a long stroll, far from all. We start again our slow drift towards the inknown et lose the notion of time and space. Bushes and small trees immortalize the few signs of life that surround us and mark a set of dunes out. Without comparison with the Sahara infinity, the sunset over the dunes of the Thar desert remains poignant. The golden disc vanishes in the distance, the bronze shades darken and the first stars break through the celestial vault. A second magical night lying down on a dune, the hands crossed under the head and the eyes getting the light of these millions of stars and galaxies that slowly turn around the polar star. Silence and admiration.
Third and last day of our stroll and our dromedaries drop us off at the edge of the asphalted road where a jeep waits for us to go back to the fort of Jaisalmer.
A break in the desert utterly out of time and completely invigorating.
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