The Golden Triangle, from my Angle

What better way to celebrate your parents’ Golden

Wedding anniversary than to take them, and your

two tweenage children, on a road trip of India’s

Golden Triangle.

Yes, what a thoughtful daughter I am. I imagined us

puffing through the Indian landscape on a

magnificent old train, sipping sweet lime and

garlanded with marigolds and roses. When I

mentioned the word ‘train’ to the travel agent, she

almost choked on her chai and asked if Mum was a

good runner. Well, she has just had a new hip.

“We can’t have your 72-year-old mummy running

along the platform, goodness gracious no, better to

book an Innova.”

A quick calculation…driver in front with my husband

(Mick), Mum and Dad in the middle seats and me

wedged in between son and daughter in the back.

Hmmm.

The plan was to fly to Delhi, have a couple of days

sight-seeing and then drive to Agra to see some old

Mausoleum there and then on to Jaipur for the City

Palace and Amber Fort. Then fly back to Mumbai.

We set off on a Tuesday morning, Dad insisting we

leave three hours before the flight which led me to

panic and leave my make-up bag behind. We arrived

at the domestic airport precisely two hours and forty

minutes early with me in a right old strop.

“It’s not like a proper airport with a nice Lancome

counter where I could buy more make-up, is it?” I

complained. Aah, family holidays have to start like

this, it’s tradition.

Arriving in Delhi early afternoon, we met Ali, our

driver and his (v.old) Innova and transferred to the

Sheraton Hotel. Squashed as I was in the back, I had

 a good feeling about this trip and relaxed into it

especially when Mick told me the Sheraton was next

 to a giant mall. He always stays here on business so

 had arranged a special package for us.

Mum and Dad were delighted to get the preferred

customer treatment, flowers, finger-food etc. In fact,

 such was everybody’s delight in the hotel (the kids

had a quick swim) there wasn’t that much

enthusiasm to go sight-seeing. But sight-seeing was

what were here for so at 3pm we dutifully returned

to the car and Ali promised us a magical mystery

tour.

First stop, the Baha’i Temple, built in the shape of a

blossoming lotus. The petals are clad with white

marble and, in contrast, red sandstone is used for

the walkways and stairs. Around the blooming petals

there are nine pools of water, the idea is to create

the illusion of a floating lotus. And I have to say, the

 organization of getting people in and out was

fantastic. Shoes off, a quick introduction in English

 and in you go, no waiting. Total silence is demanded

once you enter and I must admit, the atmosphere

was kinda spiritual. It is a spectacular 20^th century

structure in a major city, made all the more alluring,

in Dad’s eyes, because it was free to get in. Unlike

the Qutb Minar which was the next stop.

Green parrots flew overhead as the sun set

illuminating the red sandstone of this magnificent

heritage site. Built in 119, the tower was used to call

the faithful to prayer. It measures more than 72

meters and, with 379 steps, is hard work for even

 the fittest muezzin to climb. At 5pm, it was time to

 think about dinner. Friends from Delhi had given us

 a list of fabulous eateries in the Defense Colony but

 Mum was tired and wanted to go local and anyway

“she doesn’t like spicy food” so it was with heavy

heart, encouraged by the kids and , believe it or not,

 the oldies, that we stepped into The Hard Rock Café.

 I will say no more other than the kids loved it and

their grandparents, funnily enough, complained

about the racket. Plus Mum’s Marguerite was too

salty, oh, and the chips were cold.

Day Two, everyone up for breakfast bright and

breezy despite Mick and I  propping up the bar the

night before. Ali drove us up the Janpath, to

Connaught Place, past India Gate and up to Chandni

Chowk where we took bicycle rickshaws through the

 narrow, busy lanes. What with the new hip and

everything, I didn’t think Mum would go for it, but

blow me down, she did! And Dad, a retired electrical

 engineer, was in his element marveling at the

spaghetti-like wiring and telegraph poles. As we

stopped to take a family photo, an English gentleman

 whom we instantly recognized as Robert Plant out of

Led Zeppelin, walked past with his missus. Big

Highlight for me!

And so to the Raj Ghat where we had lunch in a park

 café for less than 80/- (Well, mum only had the

coffee) We were studied closely by the other clientele

 who then wanted to take photos with us (a recurring

 theme of this holiday)

The afternoon was spent at Humayun’s Tomb,

another spectacular site which warmed us up for the

Big One in Agra but by this time, culture fatigue had

set in and everybody wanted to go back to the hotel

and swim.

This night the dining experience was worse. There

are hundreds of places to eat out in Delhi and there

 is no need ever to go to TGI Fridays unless you are

 accompanied by children who like to eat while their

 ears bleed and/or old people who do not like spicy

 food.

Day Three. We head off to Agra, me in the back

between Tom and Jerry, listening to Led Zep on the

ipod and freezing cold as the air con bypasses a

certain old woman who insists on racking it right up

so that I can no longer feel my nose. We stopped

somewhere in Uttar Pradesh for lunch where we

couldn’t get out of the car for dancing monkeys on

leads. Dressed up in frilly dresses and, bizarrely,

wearing full make up, blue eye shadow and lipstick

smeared all over their little monkey mouths as if they

 were taunting me for having no makeup of my own.

“Dance little monkey, dance!” the handlers cried as I

tried to look as disdainful as possible. All the while

my Dad was whooping and laughing and generally

showing encouragement. Thankfully my little

daughter, Polly was as disgusted as me.

“Poor little monkey, she said “And it’s dress isn’t

even fashionable!” We entered the barn-like café

cum niknak emporium and ordered omlettes and

coffee in total darkness as the electricity cut out.

When, eventually the lights came back on again, our

12-year-old son, Hugh, had gone missing.

“We’ll probably come back in years to come and find

him dancing in an ugly dress for money” Polly

squealed.

But he had just gone to watch a snake charmer out

by the toilets and came back looking for small

change.

Now entering Agra, this is the India I had imagined

as a child, ambling camels, car stereos blasting

Kishore Kumar songs, colours and dust. We arrived

at the Taj View in Agra, had a quick wash, and

minutes later met the tour guide who would take us

to the Taj Mahal. Let the magic begin! Yes it is jaw-

dropping and does appear to float, this vision which

 adorns biscuit tins around the world, is something

you should see before you die, most definitely. We

were photographed ‘holding’ it in our fingertips and

Mum sat on the ‘Lady Di’ bench for the camera. A

wonderful day in all. That night we went to see ‘The

 Show’ which told the story of the great love Emperor

Shah Jehan had for his bride, Mumtaz. It wasn’t

exactly West End, but very colourful and entertaining

all the same.

And so for the final leg of the journey, Jaipur. Here is

where I left my heart.  (We did stop at Fatepur Sikri

on the way, fabulous, what more can I say, I’m

running out of space)

Our day in Jaipur began with a

ride on a painted elephant up

the ramparts of the Amber Fort

in blistering sun. We had driven

though the Pink City on the way

and I had to be physically

restrained from leaping out of the Innova and into

the handicraft shops. We walked around the City

Palace with our jaws hanging open at the beauty and

craftsmanship. I managed to get a picture of one or

other of my family in each of the four ornate

doorways. Frankly, I was blown away by the sheer

splendor of the place. As we drove away, elephants

and camels mingled with the traffic. Dad thought it

would be a good idea to get to the airport a few

hours early, no time for shopping. My business in

Jaipur is not finished. I’ll be back, alone if necessary.

 Happy 50^th Anniversary Mum and Dad!