Corbett

Jim Corbett, an Anglo-Indian, was born in 1875. A second-generation descendant of Irish immigrants, he lived in Northern India where he worked for the railway companies. In his spare time, he hunted man-eating tigers. A fine hobby for a fit, young man. Across India, as many as a thousand people were killed by tigers and big cats each year. The Champawat tiger, which killed over 430 people in Nepal and India, was Jim’s first man-eater which he shot in 1907. He went on to shoot many more and wrote books about his exploits. As he got older, he became one of the first conservationists. He wrestled with the conflict between his love of the forest and killing forest animals. From 1920 onwards he became increasingly interested in photography. Corbett was fascinated by the work of his acquaintance Frederick Champion, who devised ways of recording tigers on cine film. Jim soon came to appreciate that unlike a trophy, which soon loses its colour and elegance, photographs lasted forever, did not result in an animal’s death, and required somewhat greater skill—because the early cameraman had to get much closer than the rifleman. In 1934 Corbett was instrumental in establishing India’s first national park. Over 300 square kilometres of forest in the Ramganga river valley. In 1957, it was renamed the Jim Corbett National Park.

Our residence was delightfully named Jim’s Jungle Retreat. The general area around here is what I would call a forest rather than a jungle. However, at the retreat, they have made a big effort to plant it up like a jungle. Gravel paths flanked by lush vegetation wind their way between the lodges and the pool/dining area. Gravel is used to ensure that nobody inadvertently sneaks up on any visiting animals. Leopards and tigers have been filmed by the lodge.

We arrived late afternoon. The resident naturalist introduced himself and then took us on a walk round the site. The kitchen gardens were extensive. We saw many things growing that were new to me. Okra, turmeric and others. I took a fresh lime from the small orchard of trees. Later, I squeezed the juice and mixed it with gin. This was remarkably satisfying and very tasty.

At Vanghat, we walked everywhere. Here it was all motorised. Much less effort but also felt nowhere near as close to nature. We still began early in the morning. It was cold and we had not had any breakfast. We sat in the back of an open-air Mahindra. An Indian AWD vehicle similar to a Jeep. With the wind in our face, it was very cold. For the first time in months, I needed a sweater and a jacket. A short drive took us to the park entrance. Here we needed to queue until the official opening time. A few vendors tried to sell us hats and t-shirts, but their heart was not in it. Still too early and chilly.

We finally got into the park, along with a handful of other visitors, all in regulation jeeps. The vehicles soon split up and went in different directions. The pattern for the next couple of days was soon established. Diane had the binoculars. I had my camera. The guide sat next to the driver. Occasionally the guide would spot something. The car would stop. I would attempt to photograph the thing that was spotted and Diane would observe it though the binoculars. We saw birds. An awful lot of birds. I do not know enough about birding to say whether they were rare or special. However, some of them were very cute, or colourful, or both. There are a lot of peafowl around. That is one I knew. The peacock is the national bird of India. We typically would see a group of one peacock with three or four peahens.

The sun came up and very quickly thawed us out. By 10am we were back at the lodge and very ready for breakfast. The food was great. Massala cheese omelette served on a stuffed paratha is becoming my new favourite breakfast. After breakfast, we went back to bed. We had been up since before 5am and had a second safari scheduled for the afternoon.

Early afternoon and we did the same thing again. This time it was warmer. We also visited a different area of the nature reserve. Tigers are the big draw of this nature reserve. All the guides assume that visitors mostly want to see tigers. Other animals and birds are incidental although their warning calls could help us find tigers. Hopes were high of a tiger sighting for the afternoon. We crossed a bridge and saw two Langur monkeys licking the wall. They like the salt that leaches out of the bricks.

Further on, we came across an elephant. A male elephant with large tusks. Locals call this a “tusker”. It was stood in the middle of the track throwing dust over its back. We stopped well back and watched. The tusker was picking up a shovelful of dust from the track and flicking it over its back. The layer of dust acts as a natural sunscreen, protecting their sensitive skin from sunburn in hot climates. It also creates a barrier that deters biting insects like mosquitoes and helps to get rid of parasites and other skin irritants.

While we were watching, a sloth bear slipped across the road in the distance. Sloth bears have nothing to do with sloths. They are a black bear, 100 kg, shaggy fur. Quite a rare sighting and I completely failed to get a photograph of it. We left the tusker to its dust bath and headed off in another direction. Many classic great vultures were flying along a riverbed. I managed to get a few pictures. A few spotted deer and a wild boar later, we came across a whole heard of elephants walking away from us.

Back at the lodge we found that it was film night by the pool. Several couples were sitting around, each with a personal fire pit. We took our seats and watched a documentary about Jim Corbett. We also watched some footage from trail cameras that are dotted around the lodges. The previous night, a leopard had walked past. Very exciting. Dinner, as usual in India, was excellent.  We made sure to crunch the gravel path loudly on the way back to our room.

Vanghat

We were back in Delhi and the city was as polluted as ever. Rubbish everywhere and a smog that you could cut with a knife. I learned that the reported Air Quality Index (AQI) is capped at 500. So, officially, it can never be higher than 500. The morning we left, the AQI was just a shade under 500. Looking out across the city, the limited view was like a heavy and slightly yellowed fog had rolled in. It was a long drive to the Vanghat safari lodge but we were quite happy to put plenty of distance between us and the smog.

Early-afternoon we met Sumatha Ghosh, owner of Vanghat Lodge at a small village for lunch. He explained what we would be doing and drove with us for an hour or so until we arrived at a pedestrian suspension bridge. The car could go no further. We were prepared for this and had packed everything we needed for a few days into our two smallest cases. Fortunately, there were some young, strong men to carry them for us. One of the most remote wildlife lodges in Northern Indian forests, Vanghat is an internationally acclaimed eco-lodge located on a secluded bank of the Western Ramganga River deep inside Kalagarh Tiger Reserve division of the Corbett Tiger Reserve. Crossing the bridge felt like the start of a small adventure. We had a bit of a hike to the lodge where were going to stay in a mud hut. We left the main track and descended down to the river on a small footpath. It was easy going and we took our time while Sumatha pointed out various birds. He clearly had a passion for birding.

After a steady walk of half an hour or so we got to the river crossing. This was a small raft attached to a rope stretched across the river. A little care was needed getting on and off the bamboo platform. In all other respects a perfectly effective way to cross a river. Each year the monsoon raises the river level by many metres making a more permanent bridge quite impractical. A little further beyond the raft brought us to a gate through a high electric fence. This was mostly to keep elephants out simply because they can inadvertently cause so much damage. Tigers on the other hand could easily leap over the fence. We were assured this was unlikely to happen. Finally, we arrived at the lodge just as it got dark.

Our room was quite nice. Mud was used in its construction but it was not the kind of circular thatched affair I had imagined. We had a nice bed and some of the usual facilities except for hot water. That arrived later in a large bucket. Dinner was made, in part, from plants found around the lodge. It was excellent. Then it was an early night ready for a start before sunrise in the morning.

A cup of masala chai and we were off at first light, literally. Soon as it was light enough to see we were trudging off along the riverbank. Further along the valley we came to another raft. We hopped onto this like old hands.  From here the path looped quite steeply up away from the river. Like the previous day, we stopped frequently to look at birds and other things. There were termite mounds all over the place. A sign of a healthy forest apparently.

We came across some tiger tracks. Fresh from the day before. We also found elephant dung. This is easy to spot. It is enormous. No special skills required to identify where elephants have been. A couple of hours drifted past pleasantly and then we arrived at a waterfall. Time for breakfast. More masala tea, hard boiled eggs and wraps with curried vegetables. A variety of birds were flying around the waterfall. Sumatha pointed them out and I mostly failed to photograph them. It was dark in the gulley where the birds were flitting around. And they were very small. That is my excuse.

Breakfast done, we walked back the same way. We spotted a few more birds and an enormous spider. After a light lunch we grabbed a couple of hours sleep. Then it was another walk but this time staying quite close to the lodge. Back just as night was falling. We sat around a fire pit munching freshly cooked pakora and listened to the forest sounds. The alarm call of a Barking Deer alerted the guide to the presence of a tiger. It never came near the lodge but later on we heard its deep roar. Much more exciting than piped music while we were eating dinner.

The next day also started before sunrise. by first light we were crossing on the bamboo raft. This time we headed quite steeply up the side of the valley. The path became narrow and quite precipitous. A steep, loose slope to the river. To my surprise, we found elephant droppings. Despite their great size, elephants are extremely capable on steep mountainsides. An hour further down track we came across tiger prints. A mother with a cub we were assured. Shortly after this we stopped for breakfast.

A long steady climb uphill brought us to a village. We were met on the outskirts by an older villager who was going to show us around. First, he told us that a mother tiger with two cubs had been spotted very close to the village the night before. The village was quite interesting. Lots of kitchen gardens and an impressive spread of plants that can be grown. Everything from potatoes to mangoes. Our guide also showed us the village cannabis plants. Not for smoking but they did make little balls from the leaves that then went into the cooking. We sat around and drank some masala chai with biscuits. Finally, we walked down to the roadhead and met up with our car ready to take us to the next jungle lodge.

Varanasi

When we arrived back at the train we found that the platform was packed with people. Apparently, a train had been delayed. Without making a fuss, everyone just settled down to wait it out. Most people seemed quite prepared with food and blankets. Some chose to have a snooze while others served out food. Small groups sat around with some chai having a chat. Fortunately our train was waiting for us. Jumping on, we had a party to prepare for.

Indian night on the train meant dressing up and dancing. Two of my least favourite things. On the positive side it also meant eating and drinking which are two of my more favourite things. Diane had a sari to wear. Essentially this is a length of cloth which is wrapped around the body to form a dress. There are over eighty documented ways to wear a sari. We did not know any of them. It was fortunate that one of the hosts on the train was prepared for this. In less that five minutes and with a couple of safety pins, Diane was dressed. I was given some pyjamas. Actually, traditional men’s wear. Comfortable but sufficiently pyjama-esque as to remind me of childhood dreams where I would find myself at a school lesson still in my night wear. Re-wrapping the turban was beyond me but fortunately help was at hand. With that, we were ready to party.

We met up with Jo and Franki, two women with an enthusiastic sense of humour that were travelling together. There was dancing which I avoided but there was no stopping Diane, Jo and Franki. Quite a few of the people that worked on the train were more than keen for a jig so before long the whole end of the bar carriage was hopping. I took a few photos and then retreated behind the safety of the bar. Things eventually calmed down when dinner was served. For once, we did not have to be up at a silly early time so we could relax and chat a bit later than normal. Diane also took the opportunity to be photographed with the barman, our new best friend, and her favourite, valet who I suspect she would have liked to take home with her.

Before we arrived at Varanasi, we made a stop at Sarnath. Here are numerous ancient ruins, stupas, monasteries, and temples. Significant to Buddhism and other religions like Jainism and Hinduism. Dhamek Stupa marks the spot where the Buddha gave his first sermon in the deer park. This is one of the four sacred sites for Buddhist pilgrimages. I briefly pondered the problems of where the Buddha spoke becoming more important than what he said.

Then we visited another carpet shop. This one in the guise of a silk weaving factory. The old weaving machines were of some interest to me. They used cards to control the pattern that the loom would weave. At 250 years old, one of the earliest programable machines in the world. The sales pitch in the showroom was exceptionally good. Many of our fellow visitors walked out with a fortune in silk bed covers, cushion cases and the like. Diane and I however have built up a robust immunity to carpet shops now.

As evening fell, we arrived in Varanasi and were taken down to the Ganges. The holy river. This place has a central position in the traditions of pilgrimage, death, and mourning in the Hindu world. Many people come here to die. They can rent a flat or stay at a hospice once they feel their days are numbered.  

We got bundled onto a boat that was moored close to a road bridge. From here we motored upstream. The boat had a top deck with chairs. The lower deck was reserved for a disturbingly young and inexperienced looking lad who was steering and wrestling with the noisy engine. I was a bit concerned as to how stable this arrangement was and tried not to think about it. The river may be holy but it is also filthy. Thousands come here to bathe each day but I really did not fancy an unplanned dip. The river used to be way worse. A serious stink from sewage and all the dead people that are tipped into it. Today, it does not smell too bad but is still a suspicious colour.

The river is lined with buildings and steps. Many, many steps so that there is room for everyone to get down to the water to bathe. We passed old, fortress like buildings and others completely adorned by strings of lights. We arrived at the burning place. Manikarnika Ghat is where funeral rites and cremations take place continuously. This ancient practice is considered a path to salvation, freeing the soul from the cycle of birth and death. The cremation fires burn day and night. Bodies are laid out on open-air pyres. There is constant chanting.

Further on, we came across some sort of ceremony. I have no idea what it was. There were thousands of people crowded onto the steps and into the streets behind. We watched for a while. The tourist boats jostled with each other to try and get a good viewpoint. Just like the car drivers, they thought nothing of deliberately ramming another vehicle. My concerns about the boat’s stability surfaced again. Ultimately, nothing bad happened. I never learnt what the ceremony was about. We headed back and landed safely.

Next day we were done with the train. End of our journey on the Maharajas Express. It was fun for the most part. What I found lacking was the absence of any real progress. We never travelled too far each day. When the train moved, it was usually at night. The experience, for me, was more of a mobile hotel than a luxury journey.

That evening we went into Old Delhi with a local guide in search of food. Street food. Brilliant stuff and ubiquitous. But there is a lot to be said about having someone with a bit of knowledge who can guide you to the good places with the safe food. We began with samosas from a little corner shop that has been trading, selling the same type of samosa, for over 150 years. They were good. Deep fried pastries filled with peas and spices. At the next stop we had fried potatoes with a spicy tamarind sauce. There was a small echo of chips with brown sauce but this was so, so much better. The evening went on like this. Wandering around the incredibly crowded streets occasionally stopping for snack or a cup of chai. We really enjoyed it and came back feeling really well fed.

The following evening, we attended a cooking class. Just us and a wonderful chef called Neha Gupta. Diane decided to step back and take a few photos. I love to cook but can only think of one time, many years ago, where anyone tutored me. Turned out to be fine. I found myself really enjoying it. Spicy paratha. Previously, I had an inkling as to how these were made but it is so much easier to have someone show you precisely. Rotis got finished off on the flames. This puffs them up into balls. Another small revelation. We also made paneer makhani and I discovered how to get that authentic smoky flavour. This involves burning charcoal inside the cooking pot. One day I will really impress someone with that one. Finally, we sat down with our host and ate all the food with a glass of beer. Terrific way to spend an evening.

We got back to our hotel quite late and discovered a bomb had gone off in Old Delhi. At least 15 people were killed and 20 seriously injured. It was a car bomb. Definitely a terrorist attack although responsibility to a specific group has not been declared yet. Big, homemade explosive in car with at least two suicidal occupants. The previous night, at about the same time in the evening, we had been dropped off there. At the lights, outside the Red Fort. The exact spot where the bomb went off. This was very disturbing. Obviously, we were shocked and saddened for all the people killed and injured. I don’t think it scared us or made us worry about our safety. Reality is these things happen very rarely. It did make the incident feel very real in a way that just reading of an event in the news does not.

Orchha

The evening after visiting the Taj, we went to a show. This was a very Indian show of the story of the Taj Mahal. Lots of dancing and bad acting. It was not particularly good. The focal point of the whole show was a scale model of the Taj. Clearly a lot of work had gone into the remarkably detailed construction. It was impressive. Not impressive enough to save the show but a good effort. No photographs allowed.

During the night the train sneaked down the track to Orchha. In the morning, we were whisked off to Orchha Fort in tuk-tuks. This was one of those situations where we lost contact with the guide completely. I mean, we tried to follow him but he was noticeably quiet with a strong Indian accent. I just could not work out what he was saying at all.

Work was started on Orchha Fort in 1501. Various by successive Maharajas expanded it over the following 150 years. Ultimately, it was abandoned in 1783. Left to our own devices, we wandered around at random. There were a lot of impressive carvings. I particularly liked the elephants used to hold things up.

The surrounding countryside seemed especially jungle like. This gave a wonderful feel to the place. A lost fort deep in the dark forest. We found several buildings. All quite similar and all echoing an age of opulence. Off to one side, was a high-ceilinged stone shed originally constructed to home camels. Inside we found some cows.

Back into the tuk-tuks we went off to see a traditional village. I found this a bit weird. It was, sort of, a traditional village but one that had set itself up to receive scores of tourists. There were a few visits and talks. I was impressed by a potter working on the floor outside a house. He span a heavy stone wheel balanced on a point by using a stick. Once the great lump of heavy stone was spinning like a gyroscope, he proceeded to throw small clay pots and cups on it. Impressive skills.

Back on the train for lunch we proceeded to Khajuraho. This is one of the most popular tourist destinations in India. The country’s largest group of medieval Hindu and Jain temples are here. They are famous for their erotic sculptures and are listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We arrived there late afternoon and were shown round by a particularly boring guide. I could understand him fine. He just didn’t seem to have anything interesting to say.

Most of the Khajuraho temples were built between 885 CE and 1000 CE by the Chandela dynasty. By the 12th century, there were around 85 temples although only 25 now survive. The complex was forgotten and overgrown by the jungle. Their “discovery” was in 1838. Captain Burt, a British engineer, visited the complex and reported his findings in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal.

Again, we ended up wandering around on our own. There are a lot of temples here. We just focussed on the most famous one. The walls are covered with intricate carvings depicting many types of human behaviour. Some quite lewd. While they are famous for their erotic sculpture, sexual themes cover less than 10% of the temple sculpture. The erotic scene panels are neither prominent nor emphasized at the expense of the rest. They are in proportional balance with the non-sexual images. It was fun to spend a while spotting the X-rated carvings. Eventually, the sun was setting and it was too dark for photographs. We headed back to the train for an “Indian Evening”. More of that in the next post.

Taj Mahal

Designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983 for being “the jewel of Islamic art in India and one of the universally admired masterpieces of the world’s heritage”.  The Taj Mahal is regarded as one of the best examples of Mughal architecture and a symbol of Indian history. It has been voted one of the new seven wonders of the world. Obviously, this makes it a massive tourist attraction. Over five million visitors a year. We needed to have a look. I think pretty much everyone that comes to India needs to give it a look.

As seems to be our new normal, this involved an early morning. We arrived just after sunrise. Unfortunately, the harsh and premature awakening did not help from a photographic perspective. Although the sky was clear of clouds there was thin mist hanging over everything. My hopes of a crisp, clear picture were thwarted. On the upside, the crowds are considerably smaller at this unholy hour.

The Taj Mahal is not a temple or church or mosque or anything like that. It is a mausoleum. Inside are just two coffins. It is not used for worship or celebration. Although, it would be a cracking place for a rock concert. In short, it is a monument to love. In 1631 Mumtaz Mahal died while giving childbirth. It was her 14th child to her husband the fifth Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan. He was heartbroken. Jahan was feeling bad. Historically he was mourning the love of his life. I wondered if there might also be some remorse over his role in so many childbirths. Either way, he decided to build an impressive monument to her. The Shah succeeded spectacularly. Construction took 22 years. When Shah Jahan died at the goodly age of 74, he was entombed there as well.

Our guide was very enthusiastic about the artistic perfection of building. Certainly, it was clear that a lot of work went into it. 20,000 artisans, labourers, painters and others. A 15 km earthen ramp to transport marble, hauled on specially constructed wagons by teams of oxen and elephants. Our guide explained how the foundations were designed to be earthquake proof. The evidence for that being observable fact that it has never collapsed. He also explained that the minarets leaned slightly outwards so as to not intrude into the artistic perfection of the main citadel. Wikipedia however, suggests the outward lean is to prevent damage to the dome if a tower should collapse. These days pollution is taking its toll. Acid rain and pollution affecting the Yamuna River including the presence of Mathura Oil Refinery have turned the dome a bit of a mucky yellow-brown colour. Cleaning is underway.

We queued for a while to have a look inside. There is more of the impressive marble work but not much else. The tombs are tucked away underground and not accessible. Photographs are not allowed. We exited on the river side. The Taj sits on a platform above the banks of the Yamuna River. Another great photo opportunity here but sadly, with the mist, we could barely see the river.

Taj done we went for breakfast. The train people had set up a camp on a grassy hill with a view of the Taj. This was rather nice. The weather was pleasant. A couple of guys were doing some music. We got dots painted on our foreheads with some chanting. I wasn’t too sure about this but there was champagne afterwards, so I let it go. Finally, back into the golf carts where the children chased us back down the hill to the train station.

Ranthambore

It was a 5am start. Never my favourite. However, we were off to see some animals and it is often the case that dawn is the best time to spot stuff. Ranthambore National Park is 500 square miles of protected land to the SE of Rajasthan. We were collected from the train in open top small trucks. Sixteen people to a truck. We had a reasonable view and I was pleased that I did not have to try to photograph through a window. It had been raining overnight. Serious, heavy rain that I could hear bouncing off the roof of the train. Only just stopped by the time we set off. The roads were muddy with large puddles. The air felt cleaner and fresh. A blessed relief from the smog of Delhi and the people smells in the crowded train.

A short drive took us the park entrance. With very little discussion, by India standards, we were allowed in. Each of the trucks from the train headed off in different directions. The park is divided into sectors. Trucks are allocated a sector to visit. This is to prevent overcrowding in specific areas, I think. We bounced along for a kilometre or so and finally got clear of the rubbish. India is a big rubbish dump. I do not want to sound too rude about this but there is rubbish everywhere. Every street, every river, along the rail tracks. Absolutely all over the place. I guess the locals become so used to it that they stop seeing it anymore. Just seems like a part of life. Fortunately for the wildlife in the park things are a bit more controlled.

We passed a couple of small lakes and spotted some crocodiles. They lurked in the still water with only the tops of their heads and their eyes above the water. Crocodiles are an ancient species. Millions of years before a human ever used a club as a tool, they were prowling and waiting in rivers. Perfectly evolved for their environment. They float quietly until prey get too close. With an incredible burst of primal power, they grab the animal and drag it down to a dark, watery grave. Birds too. Marsh crocodiles have been observed using branches and leaves on their heads as lures. The bird come down to collect some nesting material. By the time the hapless heron realises its mistake the jaws of death are closing around it. Clever and patient the crocodile watches us.

Signs on the truck advise passengers not to get off within the park. Crocodiles might snack on a tourist. So would the Bengal Tigers that the park is famous for. We were told it was unlikely we would see a tiger. Naturally this does not put anyone off hoping to catch a glimpse. Also, monkeys can be a problem. They will not eat you but they might steal your sunglasses or a hat or your camera.

Birdlife is abundant. The Rufous Treepie is bright and colourful. It is a type of crow. Usually, we do not like crows and do not photograph them. This one however looked lovely and took a piece of cake out of Diane’s hand. Red-wattled Lapwings were common along the lakeshores. Nice snack size for a crocodile. We saw several small groups of Great Thick-knee Curlew. Quite a few Peacocks were running around and I spotted an Indian Darter (snakebird) showing off in a tree. I hope this all sounds like I know what I am talking about. The reality is more to do with Google.

There was also White-throated Kingfisher which I identified correctly as being the bird on the label of Kingfisher Beer. Later we spotted a White-breasted Waterhen with outrageously big feet. There was a heron of some sort and whole bunch of Yellow-footed Green Pigeons. Again, normally, no-one wants a pigeon photograph. These, however, were cheerful and cute. Very pretty. Monkeys as well. Grey Langurs were the only ones I could identify. Considered sacred in some areas.

Then our driver got a radio call and we were told to sit down and hang on. There was the possibility of a tiger. The calm, gentle pottering along tracks suddenly turned into a competitive off-road event. Frankly, this was not a great vehicle for muddy tracks. Two-wheel drive and balding tyres. Our driver was not put off however. He slammed the gearbox crunching through gears while we swung perilously round corners. Mud and water sprayed everywhere. We all tried to hold onto something. There were involuntary communal groans when we hit a bump. The suspension had given up trying many years before. But driving like a rally stage worked. We dropped down into a dip and came across a couple of other vehicles.

There, in the bushes to one side, was a Bengal Tiger. 250 kg of apex predator, a perfect killing machine, snoozing in the bushes with his legs in the air. The sheer size of the magnificent animal was impressive. Took no notice of us. No need to really. They know guns are banned and nobody was going to poke him with a stick. We were only there for mere moments. I tried really hard to get a clear photograph through the undergrowth. Then we were off again. Apparently, we were late now so we had to rush back. I think the driver just enjoyed channelling his inner Colin McRae. Almost made it back before the rain started again. The heavens opened. The truck had no canopy. At least the rain was warm. We arrived at the station utterly soaked but triumphant. We had been the only group from the train that saw a tiger.

All that before breakfast. I was hungry. As already mentioned, food on the train was good. Breakfast was a stuffed paratha to accompany a chilli, onion and cheese omelette. A glass of mango lassi, coffee, croissant and I was good to go. Where I actually went was back to bed for an hour. Meanwhile the train moved on down the line a few more miles. Here we all bundled off for a very ordinary drive in a coach to the deserted Mughal City of Fatehpur Sikri.  Built by Emperor Akbar in 1580, this was the capital of the Mughal Empire for a brief period before being abandoned, likely due to water scarcity. 20 years from new build to total abandonment. I am sure there should be more to this story but I have not found it yet.

My experience was dominated by the intricate carved sandstone and a man jumping into a water tank. We had a guide. There was quite a large group of people and anyhow I could not understand him. Wandering around on my own I peered over a wall to see a man, 30’ below, waving at me frantically. “I will jump into the water for you” he said, pointing into a large tank of bright green stagnant water. I honestly was not too sure what to make of this. It was a good guess that he would be wanting some money but diving into a lethal lake seemed a bit extreme. I looked around for mutual support. Soon there were a good dozen people looking over the wall. “Don’t worry, it’s my job” he shouted. Whipped his shirt off and leap a good 25’ down into the terrible tank. I was pleased to see him emerge without obvious damage. I imagine the pus oozing sores will erupt later. He was rewarded with a small shower of small notes that we dropped down to him. What a way to make a living.

Jaipur

Time for a train ride. We joined the Maharajas’ Express for a few days. This is a luxury train that does several circular routes from Delhi. It meant an early start. 7:30 am saw us arriving at the train station. The red carpet had been rolled out and we were greeted with garlands of flowers. The train arrived a few minutes later and we were shown to our cabin. This all seemed very promising. We found our way to the restaurant car and as the train set off for Jaipur, we settled down for a late breakfast.

By lunchtime we had unpacked and installed into our new room. I was enjoying watching the countryside roll past but there was a problem. I could not take any photographs. All the windows on the train are heavy and tinted so that people cannot see in from the outside. They are thick and distort the image. You do not notice this especially when looking through the window because your brain is remarkably good at compensating for this sort of thing. However, as soon as you look at a photograph taken through the window, you can immediately see how distorted it is. I searched the train. I could not find anywhere to get outside. There was not a single window that could be opened. I tried a few ways of taking pictures but the results were hopeless. For me, this was a big disappointment. I would have been very happy watching the world roll past and snapping a few images of it.

Second disappointment came just a few hours later when we failed to arrive in Jaipur. We did arrive eventually. I don’t know what caused the delay. It was dark when we finally arrived. We were given a tour of Amber Fort. In the dark. So, we could not see too much and photography was difficult.

Jaipur is the capital of Rajasthan. Amber Fort sits on top of a hill above the village of Amer and overlooking Jaipur. The views are probably spectacular. Back at the train, we were served an excellent dinner.

Next day started with a museum visit. We survived that and then got taken to the first carpet shop of the trip. This one was making jewellery. We sat in front of three craftsmen that were hand cutting stones. They looked very bored and were possibly keen to get back to their day jobs. An enthusiastic young man explained how their jewellery was the authentic item and how many hours it took an artisan to make. Each craftsman was descended from generations of craftsmen all passing on the secrets of stone cutting. We were eventually led into the showroom. Many of our group, especially those spending US dollars, embraced this with gusto. Diane looks at a few rings but then spotted the prices. I got a free cup of instant coffee.

After a few more hours train travel, we arrived at the Hotel Rambagh Palace. This is a very posh hotel. We were there for dinner. First, we got taken on a tour. I thought it was a bit of an odd tour. We were shown three dining rooms of increasing opulence. They were impressive and eating in any of them would have been a grand experience. We were taken outside and shown a parade of elephants, camels and horses. This was not for our benefit but for a wedding taking part in another part of the hotel.

Finally, we were shown to our tables set up outside, on a lawn. Bit of a letdown after the grandiose rooms we had strolled through. Shortly after I sat down, a man turned up and proceeded to wrap a turban on my head. I am not really one for dressing up, but Diane was impressed. The meal was very good. If, like me, you enjoy vegetarian curries then India is definitely the place. Also, turned out to be very pleasant sitting outside. Who needs a posh dining room?

Delhi

At Manchester airport we spent ages in queues for security, passport control and the rest. Jordan was an epic security check. We had to wait for a phone call to ensure that our binoculars were allowed – this was as we were leaving the country which seemed a little late to me. Dubai by comparison, was wonderfully easy and quick. The airport is right in the middle of the city – so just a 5-minute transfer. No queues at all. Easy checks. The flight was great. Air India do not have a great reputation but it worked well for us. The food was excellent and a glass of champagne for breakfast made it feel like a celebration. Delhi airport was reasonably painless and just like that we were in India.

First thing that struck us was the pollution. On the day we arrived the Air Quality Index (AQI) was over 400. By comparison, 50 is the usual limit for clean air. You could see the misty pall of smog hanging everywhere. Since then, the smog has not cleared. The day after we arrived there was cloud seeding. Several aircraft flew over the city spraying silver iodide in an attempt to create rain to the clear the air. I thought this was quite exciting. Sadly, it did not work. There was not enough moisture in the clouds. Published opinions varied from “worth a try” to “waste of money”.

We had a day tour of Delhi. First stop was the Jama Masjid mosque in Old Delhi. Diane had to wear a grey robe despite being perfectly modestly dressed. She was not impressed by this. We both had to take our shoes off. This despite the dog and pigeon dropping all over the floor. We bought some lightweight slippers but mine were too small and kept falling off. The mosque was built in 1650 and is still the largest mosque in India. British rule began in 1803 when they repaired and renovated the building. However, British opinion changed, after the revolt of 1857, which was blamed on the Muslims. Many mosques in Delhi were razed. The Jama Masjid was spared but was pressed into use as barracks. The Masjid was returned to the Muslims in 1862. It was protected as a religious space but was used for political rallies right up until the Partition of India in 1947. Today it is Delhi’s primary mosque and has a largely congregational function.

Next was the Red Fort, also known as Lal Qila, an historic Mughal fort also located in Old Delhi. Unfortunately, I was having trouble understanding our guide. He spoke English but quickly and with a strong accent. Without extreme concentration, I could not follow him at all. So, I cannot say too much about the Red Fort. From here we clambered onto a rickshaw and set off to explore Old Delhi. This was fun and interesting. The place is a chaotic mix of colours, people, rickshaws and vendors. We were guided into a spice shop where we politely listened to the sales pitch and left.

We visited a Skih Temple. Diane had to wear a robe. I had to wear a head scarf and we both needed to take our socks and shoes off. What is it with religion and dressing up? The temple was very impressive in that there was a lot of gold. No photographs allowed. We walked round an altar where a holy man was sat cross legged in front of a book. Round the back I spotted a man counting a large quantity of cash. He also had a credit card machine. Business seems to be good for the Sikhs. Next up was Raj Ghat. The place where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. It is marked by a plain marble box which is empty although an eternal flame burns at one end. I settled on taking a photograph at distance rather than taking my shoes off yet again. Then we were supposed to see a panoramic view of the government buildings along the Raj Path and the imposing India Gate. The smog put paid to this. In fact, we could barely see the India Gate at all.

Lunch was great. We are vegetarian and we like spicey food. India, at least so far, has proved very obliging in both these respects. Wonderful, tasty vegetarian food everywhere. Next stop the inevitable carpet shop. Original, handmade, artisan, unbelievable value. The pitch remains the same. This one was genuinely selling carpets. Very nice silk on silk with intricate patterns. No space for it in our 23 kg suitcases though.

Final stop was the Qutb Minar complex. Built in 1200, the Qutb Minar is the tallest minaret in the world built of bricks. The whole area is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and tells an ancient story of temples, vanity projects, changing religions and aliens. Beginning with the Qutb Minar tower, numerous emperors and rulers, including the British, have added their bit. The first mosque in Delhi was built here at the same time as the tower. Some years later the site had become a Hindu temple as seen by some remarkable carved pillars. Then there were Muslims again who defaced the pillars. Literally, images of faces are not allowed in mosques, so they cut the faces off the carvings. No way to treat a god. A summary of the history is beyond me because I find it confusing and couldn’t understand our guide. There is an iron column there weighing in at over 6 tons with origins going back 400 AD. Erich von Däniken (Chariot of the Gods, 1970) cited the absence of corrosion on the Delhi pillar as proof of aliens. Science has disproved this but it is still interesting.

We changed hotels in Delhi so that we could have a couple of days in the rather grand Leela Palace. The room was lovely and the bathroom borderline outrageous. It included a television that could be watched while you had a bath. Opposite our room was a large building site where they were working 24 hours a day. Bit noisy. But the real problem was the pollution. Put us right off going outside. I amused myself by taking photographs from the top floor. I tried to capture the pollution. And the Black Kites that wheeled around the building occasionally. There were also some pigeons but nobody is impressed by a picture of a pigeon. We had a couple of short walks and spotted some monkeys living by the road.