Agra to Delhi: My Snake Story [Plus Bonus Material]

(Continued from Agra: The Fort [Closing Shot])

Featured Photo: “Stopping for Lunch – Woman in a Courtyard”  Somewhere Between Agra and Delhi, India—2011

So, what was it about the return trip from Agra to Delhi, that cast India as a third-world country? I saw a strange landscape where roads were shared between automobiles, ice cream peddlers on bicycles, and tractors hauling wagons.

Where a poor family might pitch a temporary tarpaulin tent on a sidewalk to rest, right alongside a wandering sacred cow.

Where unused concrete drainpipes were graffitied with bold lettering, then abandoned before dilapidated buildings.

We drove past roadside shops in crumbling concrete and brick buildings with tin roofs that seemed to me—a Westerner—more frightening than inviting…

…some standing side-by-side offering English Wine (is that really a thing?) and beer (with the advertising sign for Carlsberg Elephant Strong nonchalantly hung upside-down)…

…and some stores peddling hot and cold drinks right next to others selling engine oil (neither of which I’m sure I would trust).

About an hour before we reached Delhi, my driver said he was hungry and asked if we could make a short stop for him to grab a bite. Recalling it had been a while since his breakfast when he’d waited for me outside the Taj Mahal—and appreciating how accommodating he’d been throughout my sight-seeing—I said that would be fine. He turned into a driveway, which led to a red, white, and-pink brick building that was apparently a restaurant, although there was no sign to prove it.

He got out of the van and headed toward the red-pillared side entrance. I realized it was a sit-down eatery and understood I probably should not join him or disrupt his break. I whiled away the time walking around and taking uninspired photos of our van, a gnarled tree by an old stone wall, a grey-necked crow that seemed to be mocking me, then finding a nearby courtyard that was more interesting—shown in today’s Featured Photo—with a woman washing clothes, or perhaps food. I wandered back to the restaurant and snuck a photo of the entrance and interior…

…then curious what was written on the small sign beside the doorway, I went closer and read it silently to myself.

I looked around somewhat nervously for a monkey or a snake. I never saw the monkey, but I did see something at the other end of the driveway, back by the roadside that caught my attention. I began to walk slowly in that direction to take a look.

Either I hadn’t noticed him when we pulled into the driveway, or he’d set up his show after we arrived. The boy couldn’t have been more than 10 or 12 years old, sitting beside a woven rattan basket, with a flute-like pungi held to his lips. I was still some 30 or 40 yards away when the little snake charmer began to play, and the cobra slowly rose out of the basket.

I stopped and for a moment, my mouth stood open, and my eyes bulged. Then I gathered myself, turned around, and walked back toward the presumed safety of the restaurant. When I reached our van, I climbed in and closed the door; it was now my turn to wait.

I hadn’t taken a picture; I didn’t want to get too close to the cobra nor to have the boy expecting me to pay for the “entertainment”. Besides, I thought it wise to respect the “request” of the restaurant management. Still, without a photo to prove my snake story, you’ll just have to believe me. But then, why would I lie?

My driver returned to the van, and we completed our drive to Delhi. Once back at the hotel, I prepared and then rested up for the productive meetings that would follow. After that, I had planned a few more days of sight-seeing within Delhi, but I will save that for another time. For now, I’ll end the story of my first visit to the cities of Mumbai and Agra. Just as I felt while I was there, I need to take a break from India. I feel drained.

Epilogue: Enduring Memories

So, what do I remember most about India? There are so many things: the delicious food with its exotic spices, the satisfying chai masala tea, and the cool, sweet taste of kulfi—India’s version of ice cream, which originated during the Mughal Empire in the 16th century—that was so refreshing on a hot summer day.

Thanks to my photographs, I recall the interesting places I went and the wonderful sights I saw, full of history and culture. But perhaps even more, it is the feelings India evoked in me that I recall, and these emotions returned as I wrote these posts.

And of course, I remember the people I encountered along my journey. I recall the beggar woman and her baby, and the slum dwellers of Mumbai, and the pity I felt; the disparity I witnessed between rich and poor. I recall the enterprising young man who guided my exploration of the Taj Mahal, and my feelings of frustration with his intrusion, yet gratitude for his helpful assistance. I recall the patient van drivers who helped me navigate this strange land, and I’m grateful for what they added to my trip. And I recall my wonderful work colleagues—my gracious and welcoming hosts during the time I spent in India—some of the most talented, humble, and kind people I could ever hope to meet.

Overall, I remember India’s extreme foreign-ness, a country both amazing and bewildering, filled with bold colors and stark contrasts, dripping with mystery and contradiction. Indeed, I’ve never visited another place in all my travels that left me so full of lasting impressions and feelings.

Postscript: And What Does Rick Steves Have to Say About That?

Whenever I plan a trip abroad, I rely on travel books to provide sight-seeing highlights and practical tips for my destination. I have found the guidebooks by Rick Steves to be among the most helpful. But all of Rick’s travel books are about Europe. After my first visit, I began to wonder why he had never written a travel guidebook for India. I mused that perhaps he had never even traveled there himself.

Then one year, my wife gave me the perfect gift for my birthday: tickets to hear Rick Steves live at a local theatre. He was promoting his book, Travel as a Political Act, in which he describes how his travels have shaped his politics and broadened his perspective, and offered guidance to help Americans gain a better understanding of the interconnectedness of today’s world through their own travel.

During his entertaining and informative slide-show talk, I learned how one of his very first trips as a young man of 23 in the 1970s—a journey through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India—had changed his life. Afterward, he opened the floor to questions from the audience. Dozens of hands shot up from the sell-out crowd and among the first queries was this: “What is your favorite place to travel?” I can’t recall the specifics of his answer, but I vividly remember being astonished by what he said. Rather than trying to recreate his response from my imperfect memory, I Googled the topic and found a short YouTube video in which Rick answers the same question in an interview, transcribed below for your edification.

“People always like to ask me, ‘Rick what’s your favorite country?’ And I surprise them by saying India. I don’t write about it. I don’t teach it. It’s too personal. It’s too variable. I cannot teach it as definitively as I can teach Scotland or Germany or Spain. And what is it about India for me? It’s the refreshing-ness of having my ethnocentricity walloped.” He continues by giving this example of his intention to not be ethnocentric: “Why are all these Hindus feeding their cows better than their children? Well, I’m not going to condemn it or judge it. I just want to know, what is it about these cows and their religion. I remember I struggled with that…I just love those challenges we get when we’re on the road.” And he wraps up by saying, “If you want to be stimulated, if you want to be inspired, if you want to be humbled, if you want to get over your ethnocentrism, go to India.”

To which I can only reply, “Well said, Rick!”

(Coming next week: a Supplement to my India story…)