What the (Taj Ma)hal?!

Today I took on Agra. And 'sensation over-load' might be an accurate description. Instead of regaling you with a long prose piece I made my single goal (besides seeing the Taj itself) as making three observations per hour of this adventure and using them as "poetry notes." As such, here are the (first draft) hourly-poems I crafted about my excursion:

4:00-5:00am

today felt ripe for a double dose

of anti malarial pills

as if they'd bring me stamina.

Along with addition to the morning routine

of sunscreen,

purple t-shirt the only thing clean.

My room with a view

of the early morning market

shops closed

guarded by owners sleeping on their rooftops.

5:00-6:00am

frightened at the first corner

by the motorcycle ghost

but found comfort in barren morning bazaar.

Walk to the once-daunting train station

Mystery cyclist dismounts to escort me

then vanishes into the dark crowds.

6:00-7:00am

Too early young foreign lad?

His platform vomit.

My platform mantras.

Captured

by the dedicated-to-authenticity

Japanese couple

each with a video cam.

7:00-8:00am

Bhopal Stbdi departed on time

Coach 8 seats me backward

Chair 74 treats me kind.

As neighbour no. 75 inspects newspaper adverts

with such intensity they must predict his life.

Ripened wheat fields blow past us

Tea is served.

Tea is removed.

Making room for two rifle-toting guards

to sweep through.

8:00-9:00am

Free in First Class?

Breakfast toast, red jam

that is not Red Jam.

A bite of contentment at Kosi Kala

to the no-charge song of Hindi PSAs

with all the money I just saved

I'll buy myself three extra photo-opts.

9:00-10:00am

Your wrinkled arm

her block-print sari

trying to tell me a story between the train seats.

A tale cut-off by the HindustanTimes

and chair 84-occupant snores and sleeps

as we race past people-blurs whom I'll never meet -

Express train

where passenger 12 insists on standing.

10:00-11:00am

Disembark from my chauffeured A/C chariot

for which I bartered well.

Agra-guide with grandkids

cuts long-lines and 

takes copious well-poised portraits of me

in front of towering domes

empty minarets

"The Taj has lots of angles"

and stories of marble inlaid with precious stone.

Most unforgettably told 

by the baby in the security line

who punched me in the left eye.

11:00a-12:00p

Shopping sprees well-planned

not by me.

Mosaic demos, local jewels

Cottage industries explained.

All my guides get kick-backs

every time I contribute

to the web of Agra-tourism

12:00-1:00pm

Solo dining at a table-for-four

 beside one likewise table

accentuates the Lonely Luncheon

delivered with delicious food.

Where napkin wrapped fresh-lime-soda

sliver serving dishes

don't come cheap.

Next time omit the private butler and

stock the soap in the bathroom!

The punjabi hip-hop was nice though,

it took up at least one empty-plate-space.

1:00-2:00pm

with the Yamuna river trickle

inexalted Taj-face

hanging as my backdrop

I'm the tourist making faces

for (the kinds behind) the camera

who already thought me strange-

might as well make their tale worth telling.

2:00-3:00pm (at Agra Fort)

  Rosewater fountain in the Jasmine Palace

Kashmir-imported garden soil for vineyard grapes.

You'll know you're Daddy's Favourite

when he renovates your room in marble.

3:00-4:00pm

After ticket-counter chaos

in the safer (?) Ladies' Line

preserving queue integrity

with English arguments and backpack barriers

To secure my second ticket

for a train I'll never board

and earn my questionable seat

on the Train Station floor.

"A/C Here" sign is fallacious

when the power is on Strike.

Dazed by smells and flies and unnamed spills beside me

as my skin is liquified.

4:00-5:00pm

A free pass to be invisible 

 at the product-less cafe.

Its empty tables. Empty chairs.

Brief respite for this tired traveler.

Until there's eight freeloaders at my table

the unsavoury seven watch me 

as they buzz and fly.

Waiting in the dark

for a milkshake

or a cold drink

or just the power supply.

5:00-6:00pm

At the same sweltering snack-bar

my tour guide finds me:

a final lesson, last farewell.

Agra pyramid-scheme education

that now I'm mixed up in.

For my information,

if his compensation

could be quoted as "200"

he explained with gratitude,

he'd avoid a reprimand &

could take home the cash in-hand

I had paid to him  

and not his over-seeing boss-dude.

6:00-7:00pm

Eating figs in relative-silence to pass the time but

Platform 2 has conversation:

family values and bank exams.

Until I board in the Second-Class cram

I never anticipated.

"Seats 6" holds 10.

but a reservation saves me

(plus my sex and novelty).

So I'm pried in W-55

as centre-attraction- soon too see

just how boring I can be:

sipping water, gazing outside

wedged in hip-to-hip, knee-to-knee.

7:00-8:00pm

Cool outside circulation now humid

turns to rain, 

soaks my window-side

provokes a train-wide chanting cry

when we try

to close the window.

The ventilated Train-Wash.

8:00-9:00pm

Just as I found comfort and the perfect scheme

to be friendly, to be me

all co-seat-dwellers exit our fair train.

Mathura Junction is their stop.

Spaces quickly turn-over

company changes face and name

forcing me to re-plot and wait

to share my cookies.

9:00-10:00pm

First attempt failed

all the coconut treats still mine.

But I have time.

When the hoarse voiced chai-walla comes 'round

he brings me success:

I produce the cookies

and the Indian chaps've got the rest.

10:00-11:00pm

 A photo-shoot requested

by new, live, Facebook friends

professing the Internet is perfect

for linking people 'round the world, both ends.

With the train's REAL late arrival

my eyes are tired...

but my smile still sends.

11:59pm (seriously, to the minute)

this Princess of Endless Journeys

is back at the Prince Palace Hotel,

the nick of time

to avoid turning into a squash of some kind... 

as I'm sure you can assume these were actually finished/posted the next day but let's just pretend I had the capacity to do it all in 24 hours.

And, of course, photo-proof of the Taj-visit (with many MANY others poses too):

Lyndia & SpongeBob storm the Taj

The Silly-Face from "Hours 1-2pm"

photos and poetry property of LyndiaP April 2011

ERRATA

It is with sincere apologies that the editor of this blog addresses an inaccuracy that appeared recently. The statement of measurement "5 cows" made in regards to the distance from the Golden Temple to the hotel the author resided in during her visit to Amritsar . This is a complete and utter (slight pun intended) fallacy. The author did not even observe 5 cows in all of the city of Amritsar in the period of March 22-24 (inclusive), let alone between monument and accommodations.

Please accept this apology. In light of such blatant, lying exaggeration one factual note - however, potentially more unbelievable than the false-cows: the existence of a mirage-like place called the Galaria. It confounded the India-adjusted senses and boggled the logical capacity of all linguistic likelihoods!

First off, that such a clean picturesque park existed, UNINHABITED only a few metres from the main road by a major tourist/pilgrimage site in a city of 1 million people is hard to conceptualize at all in India (for this author, at least). BUT that it also had well-manicured lawns, marble steps, fountains (albeit off), patios AND beautiful magenta-blooming shade-giving trees?! I almost teared up and was certainly speechless.

Tree in the Galaria outside the Golden Temple

It also had a lovely walking path (used by less than 10 people while I was there) and seeing that it was all shady and cool in the 30C degree + day... I was again surprised that there were so few people there!



So I sat myself down with my newly acquired book* on Sikh Philosophy and let my mind into this parkland oasis and allowed my senses a reprieve from the endless hectic show of which I tend to be a spectacle. (As all blonde (or red-) haired people in Asia can basically attest to.) Then I took a break from reading and just observed.



*Book note: I've gotta STOP buying books and start taking more pictures of flowers... the latter takes up WAY less suitcase space!



Rested.

And a little boy crossed the marble steps in front of me and a poem-like feeling crossed my mind.

barefoot and kicking

flower petals

Enter: A playful Breeze



to perpetuate the game -

tickling the blossoming branches

until one more floral ball

dives

in a delighted dance

into the arms of awaiting gravity

to twirl it gently

dip and spin

releasing softly to the



marble steps

to rest

poised

yet eagerly counting down

the next pair of bare

feet to come

and join the game.

After the Flower Kicker came the Flower Pickers

 THEN THIS HAPPENED! Little girls replaced the little boy and began to gather the flowers as I was taking some macro-floral shots. I gave them my photographic subject and then they...

Flower Girls (who ASKED me to take their photo - uh, YES!)

It was such a beautiful afternoon and I was even able to tell the portrait-girls that they were beautiful too! (my one minor accomplishment in Hindi... soon eradicated when they asked me a question about the picture that I was beyond useless to answer further than: A polite smile. I know I missed something...)

**oh and further note to the book-note: I am quite sure my 40Litre backpack must be, literally, 14Litres of books right now. Possibly 15L - too many Litres, L* too many Litres.

words, words, words!

It commenced with a couple emails, a few poems midway through and then ends with a certificate. And all the while the Contentment Study...

Words, words, words... except on "silent day" - when, I suppose, I still wrote a paper... hmm.

I graduated with my Yoga Teacher Certificate and hope I can upload the great picture from the ceremony... but no promises. Suffice it to say... I passed!

 

 

Certified Y.O.G.A

Yoga "Dancer" of Joy!

But I also wanted to share two poems (as I think both were really important to me in this part of my India journey). First, my St. John of the Cross (from the book "Love Poems from God" edited by Daniel Ladinsky)

They Can Be Like A Sun

They can be like the sun, words.

They can do for the heart

what light can

for a field.

I am sold.

And then I realized... my frame of contentment: Life as Poetry. So I will be working on that; starting with:

I Am In Between

the grace of the water

the smile of the clouds

And I am in between.

Himalayan birth canal of green

ocean of sky for its mythic decent

And I am in between.

this River Goddess to millions

this heavenly blue blanket for all

And I am in between.

on a  grey stone seat.

Mantras on the shore

majestic hills lush with trees

carry on long after, born eons before.

My dissolving white sweet

laughs of splashing boys

melting blue candle

all fade like fleeting wave-noise.

And I am in between.

LyndiaP February 5, 2011

Welcome to Rishikesh

I'm sorry I haven't got a chance to upload a picture here for you but these hills are breathtaking. I love the ashram and the flowers and colours. I love the sun rises during the first yoga class and I love the dining hall with its individual floor-tables and no chairs. This is going to be great!

I should have known how lovely it would be when we got the official Rishikesh welcome. There was a little white "WELCOME" message scrolled in chalk on the pavement near the door and a handful of the wonderful staff there to greet us. Then we had a ceremony (of which the official name alludes me) where each student received her (or his... in the case of one of the 34 students at this YTT course*) a careful dot of red dye and a grain of rice on our third eye (in between the two visible eyes we all know and love) and then a fresh garland of marigolds. We were each fed a small sesame sweet (a bit gummy like thin Jello but more paste-y like fudge.) It actually made me feel so welcome I almost shed a tear. Awww. I know.

I also composed a short poem:

placing an offering of time

hearing nothing in return

seeing nothing in return

feeling everything at once.

At least it wasn't one of the S.T.D. shops we saw along the way to Rishikesh. Some were closed and some looked welcoming. I was going to take a picture but I'm sure you can imagine it... little blue or yellow hut resembling a phone booth or an old-fashioned ticket booth. Just big enough for... uh... well...I had to ask what that was all about because I was both confused and disturbed. Luckily I found out I would not need to visit the STD shop and would not have to explain myself to any medical professionals in the near future... as long as making a cell phone call doesn't suddenly have awkward physical symptoms. Although I didn't look any further into the exact meaning of the acronym it has to do with getting a cell phone card. Intuitive? Not so much. That is one shop that could definitely benefit from a visual logo... of A CELL PHONE.


*YTT is the Yoga Teacher Training and I will use the shorthand of YTT or YTT200 to keep things simple!