Ari's Planet

Fatehpur Sikri, a World Heritage Site, is the ancient abandoned capital of the Mughals. They only used it for 10 years or so before it was abandoned, according to the LP due to water shortages. From Agra I took a bus to Fatehpur Sikri at 1330, arriving around 1500. I arrived on Saturday, which was market day. The main street was packed with shoppers, including many women. I stayed at a hotel right next to the bus station. The hotel was ok, but the location turned out to be a mistake. Then I ran up to the huge mosque and then to the ancient palace. I wandered around a scene of well-preserved buildings laid out in an unusual arrangement. It felt truly ancient, or like one of those first-person shooter games, or like no other place. As evening fell mist could be seen covering the mustard fields in the valley below.

At night, around 1900, the most amazing noise started up. An engagement party was in full swing. The engagee, I think the groom to be, covered in an elaborate costume climbed into a garrishly lit horse-drawn cart, along with a few young boys. In front, a marching band played very loud music which was further amplified with horn speakers. I had to run back to my hotel room and get earplugs just to be able to watch. Two rows of men carrying electric lamps on their hands added light, and a kind of humurous effect, to the display. When I tried to take some pictures the young guys hanging around started getting out of hand wanting their picture taken and I finally had to stop shooting for a few minutes to get them to leave me alone and stop making a scene. Eventually the procession moved on to the next stage and I figured I would be able to get a nice quiet night's sleep. I had dinner in the hotel and retired to my room. Several times during the night, on into 0800, I was repeatedly woken by the loud sounds of music coming from the party. The racket stopped only when power to the town cut out, but was soon restored with the help of a generator.

I went to the mosque in the morning, explored its old graves, and then wandered around the ruins of the old city. At the bottom of the hill is a (probably) muslim cemetery with graves marked with simple painted stone markers. A tower outside the main gate can be climbed for some nice views. A group of girls (around 18-20 yo) came up after me and one of them said that since I had gone through the doorway at the same time as one of her friends we were to be married. Then they wanted me to write them something, so I wrote on the back of a picture "Fatehpur Sikri reminds us of the desolate beauty of the world." Probably not what they were expecting. I went back down and found some men huddled around a well and a water pump. One of them had climbed down and was working on the water pipe. They got it going and water came out. This seemed an apt juxtaposition given the history of the city. Back in the city, at least two cricket games were ongoing. How can you top cricket in an ancient city? A large open area seemed perfect for a match, complete with a bench of sorts for spectators.

In the afternoon, around 1330, I caught a bus to Barahtpur, from where I was going to catch a bus to Jaipur. The proprietor of the hotel said this was better than trying to get a direct bus, but when I reached Barahtpur I doubted his wisdom. The bus got to Barahtpur around 1500. I walked over to the main bus station, which was a very confusing mess of busses, piles of rubble, open urinals, and people. I stopped to put my backpack in the cover I use to protect it, surrounded by an overly (annoying but harmless) curious bunch of children and young men. A small beggar girl attached herself to me and spent the next hour saying "hello chocolate" over and over in an incredibly annoying tone, occasionally touching my feet. I couldn't shake her and couldn't convince her to leave. There were no signs in English. I managed to shove my way to the front of the ticket line and get a ticket to Jaipur (88 INR) on bus 880. I had no luck finding the bus. Eventually I realized that the bus number is the last 3 digits of the license plate number. I wandered up and down, asked people (who invariably gave contradictory responses), all to no avail. The beggar girl kept on reappearing. I was already annoyed at the bus station and from dragging the backpack on my shoulders, since I didn't want to deal with unpacking it again and the attendant convergence of locals, and she was just adding to the annoyance. I managed to scare her off finally by shouting at her and looking big. I was about ready to give up and try another tack when one of the shopkeepers helped me. He spoke to one of the officials. The officials do not wear uniforms, so there is no hope of figuring out to whom to speak without some kind of help. One of the workers changed my ticket and put me on another bus. Then we got transferred to a third bus, with me sitting up front crammed in the cabin between two other passengers. At various times during the bumpy 4 hour ride--which was on time--the cabin hosted more or less people, resulting in us all trying to squeeze our legs together in such a way that they didn't go entirely numb. The passenger next to me got to asking about whether I had any dollars on me; I generally do not lie, but not knowing his motives I said no. We got to Jaipur around 2100 and I set in search of a hotel.