by Reece Willis
'Oh no sir, much too late,' he replied.
I slid a fifty note across the counter, 'If my friend and I are very quiet, could we go up there for half an hour?'
He paused for a moment to deliberate and then replied, 'Okay sir, but much like mice. Please step quietly and speak softly as I may be getting into trouble.'
'Of course, you have my word.'
He passed me a key, 'Please be locking door when you leave and return key to reception.'
The drinks were waiting for us on a table when Kate and I tiptoed out onto the roof. In addition, a plate of cold samosas was at the centre, which we were both grateful for as we hadn't eaten since lunch. Hardly a sound was to be heard, as if we had the whole city to ourselves. The Taj, a deep blue and glinting ever so slightly silver by the pale moonlight, was made prominent by the lighter shade of sky. Everything was said in the silence that hung between us as we stared out over the rooftops to the mysterious silhouette. When we weren’t eating, our fingers were interlocked over the table and we gazed into each other’s eyes.
At her door, I leant in to kiss her. She stood on tip-toe reciprocating and I brought her in closer, my arm around her back. I held her hands for a moment longer before wishing her goodnight.
'Sleep well, Sam,' she said and clicked the door closed.
I hoped it wasn't all a dream or she'd got carried away with the moment, but when we met for breakfast on the roof and watched the sun warm the Taj, nothing had changed. Brima met us a little later and peddled us along the waking streets to Agra Fort where we met Ali, our driver for the day. The curves of a brilliant white Ambassador gleamed in the sunlight and we took our places in the back. A small fan hung precariously from the ceiling but did little to lift the stifling heat.
Ali didn't say much on the way to Fatehpur Sikri, but instead focused his attention on his driving. Every now and then a pair of thick rimmed spectacles and a neat moustache would glance into the interior mirror and he'd ask if we were okay which we returned with a smile and nod. When he brought the car to a stop, he leant over and told us we were in the village of Sikandra and asked if we would like to visit the Tomb of Akbar the Great before we went to Fatehpur. Kate and I got out and entered through a red sandstone gateway with a white marble minaret on each corner. The grand mausoleum itself was also of sandstone with arched colonnades either side of a pishtaq – the entrance to the tomb.
'Do you have any cats yourself?' I asked, short of anything else to say.
'Two, at my parent's house. Mickey and Holly. They're getting on a bit now though. Mickey stays in my room quite a bit while I study.'
'That's sweet,' I smiled. 'There’s quite a bond there then?'
'Yeah, they're real treasures. Cats are quite magical. They often appear when you think about them or when you need a friend the most.'
I wasn't sure if my eyes were deceiving me, but from behind an elliptical banyan tree, a skinny tortoiseshell cat appeared. Kate saw it too and looked at me, just as surprised as I was.
'See, I told you so,' she laughed, and then leant over and tutted. The cat trotted over and brushed up against her leg. We spent twenty minutes stroking her and playing with a stick. It was the first cat I'd seen in India, or had noticed.
'I'm sold on the idea of cats now, she was adorable,' I said, as we got into the car.
'Excellent, another one converted.'
She closed her hand around mine and a sense of euphoria filled me, as if my world was utterly perfected by her being in it. I tried not to think of tomorrow, but grasped every second of today, holding her tightly, reminding myself this moment was real and soon to be a memory.
Ali gave us the low down on Fatehpur Sikri as we arrived outside, 'The ghost city of Fatehpur Sikri was the capital of Moghul power between 1571 and 1585. It is one of the finest preserved examples of Moghul architecture in India. We do not know why city was abandoned, some say maybe bad water supply, but likely it was due to troubles in the Punjab where Akbar moved his capital to Lahore.' He cleared his throat, 'Your entrance fee has been paid for and I will meet you at the Buland Darwaza gate in one and half hours.'
I had the guidebook with me and consulted the map, walking us through Agra Gate and past the triple-tiered Naubat Khana where the Emperor’s arrival was often announced by musicians. Kate was upbeat and playful, deliberately bumping into me a few times as we walked. On the third time, I bumped into her back. She bumped me again and walked faster, flashing a smile over her shoulder. I sped up and so did she, through a courtyard and in and out of the Diwan-i-Am's elaborate pavilions.
I caught up with her in a passageway leading into the inner citadel. 'Got you,' I said laughing and tagging her arm. We came out breathless into the Turkish Sultana's House – the fine dado panels and sculpted walls giving the appearance it was made of wood rather than sandstone.
'Phew it's hot,' she said, wiping her brow.
'We can take a little shelter over there in the Diwan-i-Khas,' I said and pointed to a square building.
Inside was cooler, but not much. At the centre of the small room was a circular platform intricately carved and supported by serpentine brackets. It was connected to each corner by four stone pathways where we stood underneath sipping from our water bottles.
'Representatives of different religions would discuss their faith and stoop forward along one of those pathways to talk in private to the emperor who sat comfortably at the centre on a throne of cushions,' I explained, craning our necks. 'Maybe court staff would take notes on the discussions where we're standing. It's strange when you think about it, how this was such an important place and how it would have been a great privilege to be in the Emperor’s presence.'
Kate walked ahead of me into the next courtyard, ‘So where are we now?’
I opened the Lonely Planet at a bookmarked page, 'Um, I think this is the Pachisi Court, named after the traditional game of pachisi, where people – often beautiful ladies – would serve as playing pieces.'
'How the other half live,' she said and walked ahead into the Harem complex where I lost sight of her.
I looked around, wondering if she was watching me looking clueless from the shadows somewhere. Just then I heard a shriek to my right. I scanned the archways and caught a glimpse of two men with their backs to me, and then Kate in front of them with her back to the wall. I ran over, threw one of them aside, got hold of the other and pinned him by his throat against a pillar with the length of my forearm. I was consumed with rage, white heat coursing through my veins. I stared into the man's eyes baiting for his blood.
'Kate, are you alright?' I shouted.
'I'm fine, Sam. Let him go, he's done nothing wrong,' she said from behind me.
'What do you mean? I saw them right on top of you. I heard you scream.' I still held him fast, his anxious face inches from mine.
'No, everything's fine, honestly. I got a little lost, turned around and ran into these gentlemen by mistake. It was my own silly fault. I broke this poor man's glasses.' He waggled his head and smiled nervously. 'Please, let go of him.' I softened my grip and released him.
'Are you sure? They didn't hurt you?'
'Of course, I'm sure.'
I apologised to the men, offering to cover the cost of the glasses. 'That will not be necessary, please, they are very old. I have a new pair at home. No harm is done. It was our stupidity for not looking where we were going.'
I thanked them again and apologised to Kate as we made our way under a gateway leading to the courtyard of the Jama Masjid. 'I don't know what came over me, I guess I panicked. I was so worried something had happened to you. I would never have forgiven myself if it had. I'm sorry I got angry.'
'It’s okay to get angry. What scared me was how terrified you looked when you held him against the pillar.’ She put her hand on my arm in reassurance, ‘Let's not worry about it too much. Thank you for coming to help me, that was incredibly gallant of you.'
'Ah, you have arrived, very good,’ a voice spo
ke from behind us. We turned to find Ali. We were grateful for the distraction. I was still shaken and could tell Kate was too. He walked us out, pausing at a tomb clad in white marble and adorned with delicate jali screens on all sides. 'In 16th century, Fatehpur Sikri was only small place of pilgrimage,’ he said. ‘Salim Chishti, a Sufi saint, live in village and would welcome visitors seeking advice. Despite his many wives, twenty-six-year-old Akbar, still he have no son as heir to throne. He seek words of comfort from Salim Chishti and saint tell him he would have three sons. And three sons he is having, over three years, fulfilling saint's prophesy.
‘In honour of saint, Akbar shift capital from Agra to Fatehpur Sikri.' Ali pointed at the different coloured threads fluttering from the screens, 'To this day Tomb of Sheikh Salim Chishti attract childless women from all over who tie small cotton thread to jali screen and make wish in hope of miracle.'
Kate and I held each other's hand tightly all the way back to Agra. From time to time, by the side of the road, we caught sight of several performing bears, stood on their hind legs with their front paws out as if they were about to clap. Their owners had a tight hold of a chain that was connected to a ring through their nose. Ali told us the parade was for the benefit of passers-by who might stop and pay good money to be entertained by a dance from the poor creature. It was a very sad sight.
Brima was waiting for us at the Fort. He handed Kate her ticket to Delhi as we transferred from the Ambassador to the rickshaw. The train was scheduled to leave first thing the following morning. We looked at each other and back to the ticket again, both wishing the sands of time would re-tip in our favour.
Brima was keen to take us to a couple of businesses for him to earn a little extra money. He assured us we wouldn’t have to buy anything and we wouldn't have to stay long, so we agreed. The first stop was a jeweller. From a side street, we followed Brima through a doorway into a small room where a stout man sat behind a glass counter filled with sparkling stones on cushioned velvet. He got up, greeted us, went into a sales spiel and insisted on showing us his workshop behind the counter.
Ten boys, of primary school age, worked hard in silence on a dusty floor polishing stones at spinning wheels. With no intention of making a purchase, we politely made our excuses and left.
The next business was a carpet warehouse. Again, some of the workers were young men who busied themselves sweeping soapy water from large carpets while older gentlemen mumbled memorised patterns at hand-worked looms. We cracked through the hard sell from the owner and met Brima outside, who at last took us back to the hotel where we enjoyed a late lunch.
'Would you do me a favour, Brima?' I asked as we approached his rickshaw. He tilted his head. 'Could you take us somewhere where we can get a nice view of the Taj Mahal from the opposite riverbank?'
'I know very good place and on way is fine gift shop.' Kate and I looked at each other and chuckled. We had to admire his spirit.
The gift shop displayed a vast collection of items, from large stone statues of gods such as the elephant headed Ganesh and the monkey god Hanuman, to gruesome paintings of Kali adorned with a necklace of skulls and holding a severed head in one hand and a bowl to collect the blood in another. I bought a miniature marble Taj Mahal and as it was being boxed I turned to Kate and said, 'Something to remember me by.'
Brima peddled us across a busy bridge over the Yamuna. 'I will take you to Mehtab Bagh,' he called out over his shoulder. 'Mehtab Bagh mean Moonlight Garden. This Moghul garden perfectly aligned with Taj Mahal on opposite bank. Shah Jahan come here to collect thoughts and look out to River, wishing he were still with his beloved Mumtaz. Some say Shah Jahan want to build black marble mausoleum for himself in garden, as a twin to Taj Mahal, but this could not be as he was imprisoned by son.'
The area was all fenced off, overgrown and deserted, but Brima assured us all would be well and to wait for a moment. He strolled over to a dishevelled shack, tapped on the roof's plastic sheeting and a hunched up elderly lady appeared from within. He returned with her at his side. She grinned and said, 'Come.'
We looked at Brima. 'Yes, go, it is okay,' he said. 'I have given her twenty rupees. I can collect from you at end of day, no problems.'
Dismounting our carriage, we trailed behind her for a while until she came to a section of the fence. A small crudely cut-out door flapped open when she pushed it. She nodded and waved us through, 'Straight ahead,' she croaked.
Kate let me go first as she held my shirt for guidance behind. We followed a trail flanked by sand banks and tangled shrubs. The fire of the sun flickered around tall swaying reeds as we approached the water's edge. There was nothing but the river, and for a moment we thought we'd been duped, but our eyes followed a man walking his camel along a shallow ledge, and as he disappeared from view, we realised we were the wrong side of a large twisted tree. We squeezed round and there, the camel drank on his master's tether from the rippling golden reflection of the Taj.
I held Kate's hand, helping her under some barbed wire and we sat upon a wall. With an arm around each other, listening to the echo of city life, we watched the sun melt into the Yamuna, transforming the Taj from a merlot to the arrival of evening indigo.
She looked up at me, 'Thank you, for everything. It's all been so amazing.'
I leaned in and kissed her softly on her lips before we left the secret garden to the shadows of the moonlight, and carefully made our way back to our rickshaw wallah.
24
I waited for her on the roof for breakfast. The bells and buzzes of rickshaws and the motorised traffic below interrupted the peaceful swell of the Taj Mahal. Morning light had not long broken and dark monsoon clouds threatened the sky. Over coffee I contemplated last night; the Mehtab Bagh, laughter over our evening meal, black jack and Limca back at her room, her falling asleep in my arms once again with me following soon after. I fell in love with her the moment she boarded the coach in Delhi and now time was inches away from piercing my heart.
She surprised me, placing her hand on my shoulder and leaning in to kiss my neck. She hung her woven shoulder bag over the back of her chair and ordered an apple porridge and an orange juice. I ordered another coffee. 'Sam, you need to eat and look after yourself,' she said.
'Thanks, but I’m not that hungry.'
‘Two apple porridges and two orange juices please,’ she said to the waiter.
The food arrived as Kate was reaching into her bag. She retrieved a pen and her journal, and opening it in the middle she began writing. 'I can't believe we're here already. Here's my telephone number.’ She ripped out the page and passed it to me, ‘I hope we can continue this when you get back.'
'I hope so too, but what about Nathaniel?'
'To be honest, I never saw it lasting anyway,' she smiled.
I folded the paper and carefully tore it in two, placing the piece with Kate’s number safely into my wallet. I was about to write my number down on the remaining half when I heard a faint siren coming from downstairs, followed by a member of staff bursting through the doors. 'Please be vacating your seats immediately. There has been a very small fire in kitchen, nothing to worry about, it is all under control, but you must all come now.'
There was only one other guy, a young European, who joined us as we made our way outside with the other guests. After a little commotion, we were told we could return to our rooms. There was hardly any time left for us to grab our things before Brima whisked us away to the railway station.
I could have only wished the train was late, but it rolled into the platform five minutes early. She boarded and waited for as long as she could at the doorway. Not knowing if we were ever going to see each other again, tears welled in both our eyes, 'I'll wait for you, I promise,' she said. Then her eyes widened with sudden realisation, 'Your number?'
'Oh yeah, of course,' I desperately rummaged my bag and found some paper and a pen. The train jolted forward and moved away. I scribbled frantically, walking at first in time and then into a jog.
'Take care, Sam,' she said, but then I lost her and all I could do was call out, 'I love you,' as she disappeared in a metallic blur. When I could see the train no more, I looked in my wallet to check if I still had her number. I stared at the gentle swirls of her childlike handwriting, then tucked all that I had left of her safely away.
I was brought back to earth by a boy of maybe nine or ten blocking my path. His dusty feet and legs were swollen like balloons and for a moment I stood shocked. I recognised his condition as elephantiasis and wondered how he coped, he could hardly walk. I withdrew some money from my wallet and placed it in his outstretched hand and then walked on to meet Brima in the foyer.
Kurt answered the door to his hotel room dressed in only his shorts, 'This better be good,' he grumbled, squinting in the sunlight and rubbing his eyes. 'Sam!' he laughed, 'You are early, how great to see you. Come in, come in, put your things down. I will get dressed and we will go out and get an early lunch at my friend's restaurant. I was getting a little bored to be honest. I have seen the Taj five times since I arrived.'
'But you've been okay, yeah?'
'Yes, yes, I caught up with a few people and took it easy,' he shouted from the bathroom. 'You enjoyed Jaipur?' I filled him in of my encounter with Kate. 'You are very lucky to have met her,' he said. 'Do you have her contact details?'
'Yes, but she hasn't got mine.'
'My friend, if it is written in the stars it will be. If not, it is better to have known her than not at all, yes?'
'Of course, but you know?'
'Oh yes, I know, as much as any other man that has loved and lost. Have you been to Agra fort yet?' I said no. 'Then after lunch we shall go and then catch the train back to Delhi.'
I introduced Kurt to Brima downstairs, 'Here is Agra's finest rickshaw wallah.'
Brima went all coy and blushed, 'Oh thank you, sir, I am trying my best.'
He listened to Kurt intently, one foot on the spoked wheel of his carriage, elbow on knee, hand under chin, 'No problems, we will be finding this place, this much I am sure.'