I was positively giddy with happiness when I found out that my cousin was celebrating the birth of his son. Everything in me, right down to the pores of my skin, was expressing joy at the thought of meeting my extended family and be part of the festivities in India. So, our fourteen pieces of luggage hauled in two limousines, winsome smiles on our faces and a song on our lips (aptly “Chaiyan chaiyan”, ‘coz given the number of suitcases we had originally pondered if we would be sitting on top of the cars instead of inside it), we drove to JFK airport, eager to board our flight to India. The 15 hour flight was a grilling session on geography, what with Taran and Roshan’s consistent questioning “Are we still over the Atlantic?”, “Which European country are we flying over?” and “How long will it take?”, yet, the anticipation of the trip, made me respond to each question, however annoying I found it, with a beatific smile.
Taran and Roshan’s first reaction on exiting the airport was sheer amazement. During the drive to my parents house, they discovered the extraordinary variety of the means of transportation in India. To this day, they remain intrigued and enchanted by the autorickshaws, cycle rickshaws and the variety of buses, rattling or screeching, on the Indian roads.
As our trip was short, our determination was grim and blind. We felt we had no time to waste and so, right from the get go, we were savoring the pleasing things in life such as spending time with friends and family, shopping and pleasing the taste buds. We had promised the children a trip to the Taj Mahal and so off we drove 220 km to Agra. Sikandra, Akbar’s mausoleum, was the first monument we visited. It is a perfect example of the blend of Hindu and Muslim architecture with inspiration from Christian, Buddhist, Jain and Jewish motifs including the star of David. The project, started by Akbar, and completed by his son, Jehangir, was built over a period of 13 years. I found this monument stunning and unfortunately, highly under-rated. Every aspect of the monument is inspiring , right from the huge gateway, Buland Darwaza, modeled on the famed victory gate at Fatehpur Sikri to the great Moghul gardens where deer, monkeys and even parrots flirted with each other. The striking inlay work of white marble on red sandstone is grand. But the biggest feast to the eyes are the lavish stucco paintings in gold, blue, brown and green colors at the portico in front of Akbar’s grave.
The Taj is indeed, synonymous with profound beauty. This was my third visit to the Taj but so grand is the monument, so flawless is the calligraphy, so intricate is the stone carving and the inlay work, so magnificent are the Moghul gardens that each trip makes me spellbound. They say that the white marble reflects the various moods of the day so we decided to experience it and visited the Taj during sunset and in the morning. The bonus was to have a hotel room with a view of the Taj and indeed, we found Taj by sunrise to be breathtaking. It is not a surprise that the Taj is unsurpassed in splendour by not only any Moghul building, but by any other monument on the face of the earth. This, surely, is one site that surpasses any hype.
As Taran and Roshan’s restless hunger for excitement continued through the trip, we proceeded to Fatehpur Sikri. Akbar built this city in honour of Sheikh Salim Chishti, who had rightly predicted the birth of the son of the childless emperor. Akbar's first son was born in 1569 A.D. and was named as Salim in honour of Sheikh Salim Chishti. This town had its’ (not so) brief tryst with glory and abandoned only after 15 years of its construction, due to scarcity of water in the town. This one time capital of Mughal Empire still stands majestically, almost untouched by the passage of time. Today this ghost city has a population of about 30,000 and runs on the economy of tourism. The Jami Masjid, the tomb of Sheikh Salim Chisti and the Buland Darwaaza are all sights that will remain permanently etched in our memories.
The trip was spectacular in one more aspect - In one single trip, Taran and Roshan rode the camel, a cycle rickshaw, an auto rickshaw, a horse cart ride, a camel cart ride and a tempo. They were very insistent that I sit on the camel with them! I may not be the smartest alec around, but I was pretty certain that if I grant their wish, the camel is surely going to kick the bucket. So, with some cajoling from my side and a downright appeal from the camel owner’s side (you should have seen the gloom on his face), we saved a life that day.
The next day we found ourselves on a flight to Mumbai. We had a very good time with Ritesh’s family. My sister-in-law, Preeti, doted on the kids and, among other things, bought them umbrellas which they showed off to everyone including strangers at the airport. She also took us to Juhu Beach which enthralled adults and children alike and treated us to Naturals ice cream, which, to this day, remain my favorite.
My “rakhi-bhai”, Sonu bhaiya, Anju bhabhi and Roshni played the perfect hosts. They made us feel completely at home and took us around on a big shopping spree apart from introducing us to the high and mighty of the Indian corporate world at the Bombay Gymkhana on the bar night. They also indulged our taste buds with mouth watering Konkani food at the Konkan café at the President and Chinese food at Marine Plaza. It was also a delight to catch up with our friends, Prashant, Preeti and their son, Pratham and to meet up with other family friends.
We then moved to my uncle’s house in Delhi to stay with them and the entire extended family. For those who do not know my family, just imagine 50 times me. That is how vocal and demonstrative my whole family is and yes, we all love our own voices. What? Did you say “Cacophony”? We all, i.e. the whole 50 of us, respectfully disagree. We call it “Lyrical”. The festivities, extended over 3 days, saw, apart from the rituals and customs, some family drama, music, a lot of dancing, merry-making and feasts of monumental proportions. Ritesh, unused to such cultural fervor, was overwhelmed initially, but by the end of our stay, I had a sense that he was enjoying every bit of it. As regards myself, I was completely at home. By now the heat was really beginning to get us but nature forever holds surprises. Delhi was blessed with showers a few days in a row bringing the temps down. It meant that I no longer felt guilty of letting the children play outdoors throughout the day while I was busy exercising my vocal chords.
I also had the privilege (or not) of visiting a government office for some personal work. Coincidentally, I was reading “Yes Prime Minister” during my trip. Suffice to say, the combined forces of Hacker, Sir Humphrey, Bernard Woolley and the whole of Whitehall/ 10 Downing Street seemed the epitome of efficiency when compared to the Indian bureaucracy. For those who are yet to discover the joy of reading Anthony Jay and Jonathan Lynn, imagine someone explaining the word “delay” in slow motion – that is how I felt.
The remainder of the trip was spent shopping, eating mouth-watering food and meeting and calling friends and family. The air waves became so crowded that one fine day papa’s cell phone chose to humbly retire. And MTNL, in the fear of making excessive revenues and therefore disturbing their trend, thought it prudent to, not only disrupt the lines in my parents phone, but the whole community/colony’s phone lines lest I trouble the neighbors. Phoneless, but not clueless on how to spend time, we decided to ride the metro everyday and hit the malls. The former was a joy to my children and the latter, to Ritesh’s chagrin, was bliss for me.
Soon, it was time to pack our bags (yet again) to come back home. Oddly, despite the fun in India, I was beginning to miss home, my life in NJ, my friends and my schedule that revolves constantly around my kids. Yet, I had the most wonderful time during this trip. On the flight back I was ruminating over my trip and the amazing memories I was carrying back of this trip and of all the time that I have spent there. I can truly relate to Shantaram where he says, “I surrendered to India, as I did every day, then, and as I still do, every day of my life, no matter where I am in the world”.
Taran and Roshan’s first reaction on exiting the airport was sheer amazement. During the drive to my parents house, they discovered the extraordinary variety of the means of transportation in India. To this day, they remain intrigued and enchanted by the autorickshaws, cycle rickshaws and the variety of buses, rattling or screeching, on the Indian roads.
As our trip was short, our determination was grim and blind. We felt we had no time to waste and so, right from the get go, we were savoring the pleasing things in life such as spending time with friends and family, shopping and pleasing the taste buds. We had promised the children a trip to the Taj Mahal and so off we drove 220 km to Agra. Sikandra, Akbar’s mausoleum, was the first monument we visited. It is a perfect example of the blend of Hindu and Muslim architecture with inspiration from Christian, Buddhist, Jain and Jewish motifs including the star of David. The project, started by Akbar, and completed by his son, Jehangir, was built over a period of 13 years. I found this monument stunning and unfortunately, highly under-rated. Every aspect of the monument is inspiring , right from the huge gateway, Buland Darwaza, modeled on the famed victory gate at Fatehpur Sikri to the great Moghul gardens where deer, monkeys and even parrots flirted with each other. The striking inlay work of white marble on red sandstone is grand. But the biggest feast to the eyes are the lavish stucco paintings in gold, blue, brown and green colors at the portico in front of Akbar’s grave.
The Taj is indeed, synonymous with profound beauty. This was my third visit to the Taj but so grand is the monument, so flawless is the calligraphy, so intricate is the stone carving and the inlay work, so magnificent are the Moghul gardens that each trip makes me spellbound. They say that the white marble reflects the various moods of the day so we decided to experience it and visited the Taj during sunset and in the morning. The bonus was to have a hotel room with a view of the Taj and indeed, we found Taj by sunrise to be breathtaking. It is not a surprise that the Taj is unsurpassed in splendour by not only any Moghul building, but by any other monument on the face of the earth. This, surely, is one site that surpasses any hype.As Taran and Roshan’s restless hunger for excitement continued through the trip, we proceeded to Fatehpur Sikri. Akbar built this city in honour of Sheikh Salim Chishti, who had rightly predicted the birth of the son of the childless emperor. Akbar's first son was born in 1569 A.D. and was named as Salim in honour of Sheikh Salim Chishti. This town had its’ (not so) brief tryst with glory and abandoned only after 15 years of its construction, due to scarcity of water in the town. This one time capital of Mughal Empire still stands majestically, almost untouched by the passage of time. Today this ghost city has a population of about 30,000 and runs on the economy of tourism. The Jami Masjid, the tomb of Sheikh Salim Chisti and the Buland Darwaaza are all sights that will remain permanently etched in our memories.
The trip was spectacular in one more aspect - In one single trip, Taran and Roshan rode the camel, a cycle rickshaw, an auto rickshaw, a horse cart ride, a camel cart ride and a tempo. They were very insistent that I sit on the camel with them! I may not be the smartest alec around, but I was pretty certain that if I grant their wish, the camel is surely going to kick the bucket. So, with some cajoling from my side and a downright appeal from the camel owner’s side (you should have seen the gloom on his face), we saved a life that day.The next day we found ourselves on a flight to Mumbai. We had a very good time with Ritesh’s family. My sister-in-law, Preeti, doted on the kids and, among other things, bought them umbrellas which they showed off to everyone including strangers at the airport. She also took us to Juhu Beach which enthralled adults and children alike and treated us to Naturals ice cream, which, to this day, remain my favorite.
My “rakhi-bhai”, Sonu bhaiya, Anju bhabhi and Roshni played the perfect hosts. They made us feel completely at home and took us around on a big shopping spree apart from introducing us to the high and mighty of the Indian corporate world at the Bombay Gymkhana on the bar night. They also indulged our taste buds with mouth watering Konkani food at the Konkan café at the President and Chinese food at Marine Plaza. It was also a delight to catch up with our friends, Prashant, Preeti and their son, Pratham and to meet up with other family friends.We then moved to my uncle’s house in Delhi to stay with them and the entire extended family. For those who do not know my family, just imagine 50 times me. That is how vocal and demonstrative my whole family is and yes, we all love our own voices. What? Did you say “Cacophony”? We all, i.e. the whole 50 of us, respectfully disagree. We call it “Lyrical”. The festivities, extended over 3 days, saw, apart from the rituals and customs, some family drama, music, a lot of dancing, merry-making and feasts of monumental proportions. Ritesh, unused to such cultural fervor, was overwhelmed initially, but by the end of our stay, I had a sense that he was enjoying every bit of it. As regards myself, I was completely at home. By now the heat was really beginning to get us but nature forever holds surprises. Delhi was blessed with showers a few days in a row bringing the temps down. It meant that I no longer felt guilty of letting the children play outdoors throughout the day while I was busy exercising my vocal chords.
I also had the privilege (or not) of visiting a government office for some personal work. Coincidentally, I was reading “Yes Prime Minister” during my trip. Suffice to say, the combined forces of Hacker, Sir Humphrey, Bernard Woolley and the whole of Whitehall/ 10 Downing Street seemed the epitome of efficiency when compared to the Indian bureaucracy. For those who are yet to discover the joy of reading Anthony Jay and Jonathan Lynn, imagine someone explaining the word “delay” in slow motion – that is how I felt.
The remainder of the trip was spent shopping, eating mouth-watering food and meeting and calling friends and family. The air waves became so crowded that one fine day papa’s cell phone chose to humbly retire. And MTNL, in the fear of making excessive revenues and therefore disturbing their trend, thought it prudent to, not only disrupt the lines in my parents phone, but the whole community/colony’s phone lines lest I trouble the neighbors. Phoneless, but not clueless on how to spend time, we decided to ride the metro everyday and hit the malls. The former was a joy to my children and the latter, to Ritesh’s chagrin, was bliss for me.
Soon, it was time to pack our bags (yet again) to come back home. Oddly, despite the fun in India, I was beginning to miss home, my life in NJ, my friends and my schedule that revolves constantly around my kids. Yet, I had the most wonderful time during this trip. On the flight back I was ruminating over my trip and the amazing memories I was carrying back of this trip and of all the time that I have spent there. I can truly relate to Shantaram where he says, “I surrendered to India, as I did every day, then, and as I still do, every day of my life, no matter where I am in the world”.
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