by Reece Willis
Just then a thumping bhangra song began to play and the four waiters serving stopped what they were doing, lined up and danced in perfect time to the music. Kate and I looked at each other and laughed. A couple of minutes went by, the music stopped and the waiters returned to their duties, applause aplenty from entertained customers.
Baffled and none the wiser, we resumed eating. 'Those monkeys in the fort were naughty,' said Kate. 'It was so funny when they ran off with that girl's banana, though she was asking for it holding it out like that.' I laughed and agreed, but didn't pursue my question, the moment had passed.
I couldn’t help thinking there was something very ‘first date’ about all of this. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt exciting, as if I had a school boy crush. Aside from us getting on so well, I was captivated by how her face lit up every time she smiled, which she did frequently, and by the way she played with her hair as she talked. She was sincere and I wholeheartedly believed that the girl sat before me was the real Kate.
The wide roads were as manic as any other Indian city with the usual anarchy of dogs, cows and people and the competitive clamour of rickshaws, cars, buses and trucks, but Jaipur had the addition of camel drawn carts and working elephants to slow progress further. Parts of the city were painted pink in honour of a visit from Prince Edward of Wales and to this day the colour of most of the buildings were the same, although somewhat bleached by the sun.
Outside City Palace, a heavily bearded man closed-in on Kate's side of the rickshaw. He gently wagged his head and held out his blistered hand. His disfigurements shocked her for a moment. The hand and foot on his right side were missing and he leant heavy on a crutch. She placed her index finger up to suggest he wait for a second as she pulled out some notes.
‘I feel awful when I see people living like this,' I said as he limped on. 'There I am travelling around without a care in the world while so many have no choice but to scratch around for the slightest of a living.'
'It certainly does put some of the trivialities that preoccupy us into perspective,' she responded. 'But that said, you shouldn't feel too bad, Sam. If that man was in your position, I'm sure he would be making the most of his life like you are. Have empathy for others and appreciate what you have also.'
‘Hello, I am sorry to interrupt. Maybe I tell you about City Palace?’ Jameel asked.
‘Thank you that would be nice,’ Kate replied.
‘City Palace built in early 1700s. Inside are two largest silver urns in the world at one and half metres high. They are made from fourteen thousand melted silver coins. Also, you will see Chandra Mahal where family of former rulers of Jaipur still reside. Okay, I will come back for you in forty-five minutes.’
A man dressed in a long white coat and with a red turban upon his head greeted us at the gates and guided us into a courtyard at the foot of the Mubarak Mahal. Blended of Rajput, Moghul and European styles it now housed a museum. Inside, the laughter of school children echoed throughout the hall as we browsed embroidered shawls, silk saris and other costumes of the former royals.
Kate paused to study the detail of a Kashmiri pashmina, 'Nathaniel would hate this sort of thing. In fact, I think he'd hate India altogether.'
'Nathaniel?'
'My boyfriend. Well, sort of.'
My heart dropped. I hadn't realised until that moment just how much I liked her. I followed her into another courtyard; the scarlet Diwan-i-Khas commanding the centre. We went inside to look at the silver urns Jameel spoke of.
'Oh, is it serious?' I asked.
'It's early days yet. He wasn't too keen on me going away to India, which is a kind of ironic as he's applied to the University of York, so we wouldn't be seeing much of each other anyway. We'll just have to see how it goes I guess.'
In the shadow of the Chandra Mahal, a seven-storey domed pavilion, I watched her photograph a set of lavishly designed doors said to represent the four seasons. I wondered if I was pursuing a lost cause and should put my heart in check.
By the side of the road as we left, I spotted a soft drinks stall. 'Pani?' I asked the young guy perched on the refrigerator. He nodded, pushed himself up, lifted the lid and retrieved a bottle of water. I held up three fingers, 'Kitna hai?'
'Tees,' he replied. I didn't haggle and gave him a reasonable thirty rupees.
With our water, the three of us took shade on a bench beneath a tree and watched two young men eyeing up the ladies as they walked by. They laughed and teased each other oblivious to the entertainment they were providing us.
‘Thank you so much for today, Sam. I’ve had a wonderful time,’ Kate said.
‘No, thank you, it’s been amazing. I hope you weren’t too bored.’
‘It was a bit touristy, but to be expected I guess. I'm not into history so much, but it’s all been ever so romantic,’ she stumbled for a moment. ‘I mean, you know, the buildings like the palace in the lake and the fort with those lovely views over the hills.’
Something amazing was happening and I liked to think Kate felt it too. Meeting a girl had been the farthest intention in my mind and the happiness was tinged with uncertainty, but the more I compared Kate to Saskia the more differences that became apparent. In Kate’s company, I felt at ease, even when a little nervous to impress. Her beauty came from inner kindness and she was smart; not in a pretentious or condescending way, simply that conversation could go in so many directions.
Later that evening after Jameel had taken us back to the hotel, she asked if I played Blackjack. ‘The card game? Yes, but I’m not very good.’
‘Me neither, it’s just a bit of fun. I brought a pack of cards along just in case I was at a loose end.’
She was good, thrashing me five games out of seven. I reached over to tidy the pile of cards and she did the same. Our fingers touched a little longer than necessary. We glanced at each other before I moved my hand away. ‘I suppose we should probably get some sleep so we can make the most of the day tomorrow,' I said.
She saw me to the door and then leant forward to kiss me on the cheek, ‘Thanks for a nice evening.’
My guard was now a crumpled heap on the floor.
A section of the Palace of Winds appeared on the cover of my Lonely Planet and I’d dreamt of seeing it ever since Kurt gave me the guidebook. Pyramidal shaped and built from orange and pink sandstone, the fifty-foot-high honeycombed façade consisted of fine latticed windows, carved grills, majestic domes and finials.
Jameel gazed up from the roadside, ‘Hawa Mahal or Palace of Winds was built in late eighteenth century and was designed to resemble the crown of Krishna. The tiny windows you see were meant for royal ladies to look out on the street below and not be seen by passers-by.’
It was a cloudless sunrise, excellent weather for photography. While I was loading a film into my camera, a man came over from across the street and asked if I’d like to photograph the palace from his rooftop opposite. Of course, there was a small fee, but the view was worth every rupee I was assured. He invited us up and it was just that. From where we stood we could see the building and street below in all its glory.
‘I take it from all the pictures you’ve taken you like this place?’ Kate asked as we descended the stairwell.
‘Definitely! It’s just how I imagined India to be. I can’t believe I’m seeing it for real.’
Squatting nearby on the roadside were two men with a pair of round wicker baskets at their feet. They wore vibrant orange turbans, matching shirts and baggy white trousers and both sported dashing handlebar moustaches. As soon as they saw us they lifted the lids to the baskets and began playing a strangulated tune through their flutes. Within seconds a cobra in each basket rose and swayed, hypnotised by the sound. Kate paid the snake charmers for the performance and said to me, ‘This is how I imagined India to be.’
Inside the Hawa Mahal, climbing the stone staircase to the upper palace, we paused occasionally to look through the windows and to imagine what it must have been like for the lad
ies of the royal harem.
During lunch in the old city, she asked if I would like to accompany her to Agra. 'Of course,' I replied, elated. 'It'd be my pleasure. Maybe we'll bump into Kurt.' Honestly, I didn't want to meet up with Kurt until I had to; I was keen to spend as much time alone with her as possible.
With two bus tickets bought for eight in the morning, we returned to the hotel and played cards as the sweltering afternoon spilt into a warm evening. I asked her what her plans were after university, 'I was hoping to work for a cat welfare charity to learn as much as I can with the view of maybe starting my own one day. '
'Cats, huh? I've never really given them a second look; they don't seem to do much but sit around.'
'I think you share that view with Nathaniel. He's not an animal lover. He thinks the knowledge I gain at university would be wasted on such a venture, and that I should be pursuing a career elsewhere that receives a wealthy income. Money has never interested me though, but I care very much about animals.' She was passionate and focused about what she wanted to do, that much was clear. When she spoke about Nathaniel, it seemed to irritate her. I wasn't surprised, he irritated me too.
'You've got to do what makes you happy. Don’t get me wrong though, I do love animals, I've just never had much to do with cats. I've always been a dog person, been around them all of my life.'
'I've never had a dog, though I used to walk the neighbour's Jack Russell when I was younger. He was a sweet little chap called Ben.'
'The dog or the neighbour?'
'The dog, silly.'
We thanked Jameel for his services and paid him well. He’d been an excellent driver and his upbeat demeanour as well as his local knowledge had added to the joy of our sightseeing. While we waited for our bus I noticed a group of Indian men staring at Kate. I asked her if it made her feel uncomfortable.
‘Sometimes, but I’m getting used to it. A few guys got a little too friendly when I first arrived in Delhi, but I was quite firm with them, which seemed to work. My friend Rani told me what to wear and how to handle the men, but it can still get a little scary. I’m so glad you’re with me though.’ She placed her hand on my arm and smiled.
23
The journey east along the baseline of the golden triangle was bumpy and I’d noticed an increase in roadside carnage. Recent accidents were more frequent than ever before. My nerves frayed every time we were thrown from one side of the road to the other in what felt like an intense game of ‘chicken’. And I think Kate even had a look of worry about her.
After two hours, we came to a stop, the road ahead blocked by an annihilated tractor with a goods carrier crumpled into its rear. We weren’t going anywhere any time soon and as the stationary bus became an oven, we took refuge from the sun in the limited shade of a pathetic looking tree. A couple of metres away four vultures squawked and fought over the rotting flesh of a buffalo carcass, while around the accident site three men stood arguing.
It was fast approaching midday and our water was running low. The other passengers were looking as clueless about our future progress as we were, but they took it all in their stride as if this was an everyday occurrence of travelling this road, which it probably was.
A young man leant over us, ‘Hello, you must come, we leave now,’ he said. We followed behind as he whistled to himself. He pointed to a rumbling green jeep, ‘In back please.’ Four men were crammed in the back. Before we had time to think about what we were doing, we were politely coaxed in and on the road again.
The jeep made the bus ride feel like travelling on a cushion of air. A bar pressed into my lower back, which I was sure was going to result in a colourful bruise and I lost count how many times I whacked my head against the metal frame above me. Kate gripped the seat just as tightly and we forced a smile at each other.
An hour or so later we were reconnected with a bus that took us the rest of the way to Agra and alighted in the shadow of the imposing Agra Fort. A group of cycle-rickshaw wallahs huddled around us, pulling us this way and that. With a little haggling, we chose one and hoped for the best.
We were taken to a hotel that Kurt recommended to me. Supposedly it commanded the best view of the Taj Mahal, and although busy all year round, Kurt told me to drop his name to the manager which I did. As if by magic the fully booked hotel suddenly had two vacancies.
The rickshaw wallah hovered in the reception area and as we collected the keys he tapped me on the arm, ‘My name is Brima, I am very good rickshaw wallah. Maybe you would like to be hiring me for city tour also.’
‘You know the city and its history well?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes. Very good knowledge I am having, sir.’
‘Okay then. Can you come back for us at five o'clock?’
‘Yes, no problem. Nothing is problem for Brima.’
I assisted Kate upstairs with her backpack. She walked into her room and quickly turned around to exit.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I know I’m being stupid, but can you get rid of those bug things on the bed and the wall?’
I investigated the room. Three cricket-like insects resided. They sat motionless: one on the bed, one above the bed on the wall and one on the teak bureau next to a glass and compliment slip. I trapped the first one, slipping the paper underneath the glass and at arm’s length, disposed of it outside the door. The next was livelier and had me chasing it around the room. I came in close, leant over and it leapt, landing on my cheek. I screamed and brushed my face frantically as Kate looked on, peaking in from around the doorway. I flicked it off and it landed at her feet which in turn had her jumping around on the spot shrieking.
We must have made quite a racket as a member of staff came running up the stairs and to our rescue. ‘Yes, yes, please do not be worrying. Very unharmful,’ he grinned and collected the remainder of the insects by hand. So much for my heroics! The assistant left me red faced and looking for a hole to crawl into. Kate laughed as she settled in, ‘We’re as bad as each other.’
Brima arrived all smartened up and on time. His hair – side-parted – was shiny and flattened to his head and he looked to have trimmed his moustache. His bright open-necked shirt complimented his smart trousers and his worn leather sandals. He enthusiastically ushered us to his rickshaw and then rode us through the dimming streets.
‘Sunset very good time for Taj,’ he called back whilst snaking in and out of the heaving traffic. ‘Shah Jahan build Taj Mahal for love of favourite wife who die giving birth to fourteenth child in 1631. It take twenty thousand men from all over Asia to construct Taj which is being finished in 1643.’
Catching a glimpse every so often of the huge dome, we sauntered through a set of immaculate gardens and as we drew closer, the mausoleum appeared in its entirety through a shaded archway. It suddenly looked so small, yet so perfectly formed. The immensity and beauty of the structure was revealed when we passed through and for a moment we were motionless. Nothing I had ever seen could compare. The sheer size alone held me in awe.
With an occasional ripple from a gentle breeze, the bevelled edges, ivory dome and brass spire reflected in a long pool leading up to the structure. We climbed the stairway to the base and stepped inside the inner chamber that housed the cenotaphs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz, who lay side by side. Escaping the loud echoes of chatter from other visitors, we went outside again and stood below one of the four soaring minarets to look out to the setting sun turning the Yamuna river scarlet with its reflection.
My head filled with a million thoughts, each one connected to Kate. I wanted to know everything about her, to hear her speak and hold on to every word so I could remember her voice once she was gone. For a moment, we stood in silence, unified by the splendour of the scene before us and by the emotion of simply being here, together. She surprised me by discreetly placing her hand in mine and squeezing it tight. With what looked to be tears in her eyes she turned to me and said, 'Sam, I have to book my train ticket to Delhi tomorrow. I'm really going to mis
s you.'
'I'll miss you too.' Whatever I tried to do to stop this from happening, I was helplessly falling in love with her. 'We can still keep in touch when I get back, right?'
'I hope so,' she said as we descended the steps and walked the charbagh in shadow, taking in a final view of the Taj, now tinted crimson in sunset.
Brima wiped imaginary dust from the back seat when he saw us. As he manoeuvred through the heavy traffic I asked if he knew where I could hire a car and driver for tomorrow morning. Agreeing a reasonable rate, he assured me that one would be waiting outside our hotel first thing. I was steadily discovering that Brima could make just about anything happen. He told us he could also arrange flights and porter services, personalised shopping experiences, accommodation, sightseeing tours and luckily for us, train tickets. He said to leave it with him and he would acquire a ticket. He may have made a little commission, but it took the sting out of arranging things ourselves.
Joining Kate in her room, we commenced a long game of cards before falling asleep on the sofa. I awoke with her head resting on my chest. She stirred as I freed my legs from the pins and needles that had gripped my legs. As I stood I stumbled, allowing the wall to support me as I circled each foot to resume circulation.
'What time is it?' she asked in a half yawn.
'Um,' I checked my watch, 'late, just after one.'
We were both thirsty. I told her I would be back in a minute, and went downstairs to see if I could get some drinks. Half expecting to trawl the streets, I was surprised to find a member of staff at the desk, wide awake and with a little too much energy for the hour. Ordering a couple Cokes and two bottles of water, I went to pay and asked, 'Is the rooftop open?'