Calcutta/Kharagpur/Bombay

Calcutta/Kharagpur/Bombay

Here we are at last in Calcutta, seventy odd miles away from my Kharagpur, knowing it will not be long before I will be walking those streets and seeing the house I spent my happiest years in.

On landing at Dum Dum Airport all passengers descended the plane and started to walk towards the airport - I noticed palm trees - in all the excitement I took a couple of photos of these trees - I do not remember seeing any palm trees in India when I lived there. Of course the two men (Eric- my husband & Alan my brother-in-law) being engineers - were viewing the one and only dilapidated airplane parked in the corner of this airport.

Once inside the airport - in walked the military towards us. Just think we four tourists were greeted by India’s military. Before we knew it, one of the high ranking military men got hold of Alan’s arm and told him he had to come to their office as he was seen taking photos of their airport.

Alan, born in England not knowing what on earth was happening being his first visit to India wondered why he was picked to see their military officer. I went up to this military man and told him it was I who took the pictures. All this time Eric was visiting the little boys’ room, when he came out and found us surrounded by these military men wanted to know what happened.

Words were exchanged between the military and Eric - Eric removed the film from my camera and gave it to Mr. Singh - accompanied with the signed letter from Eric.



Before leaving I mentioned to Mr. Singh – IF, India does not want their tourists taking photos of their airports – there should be signs barring photos to be taken – like all other countries display at their airports.

Dum Dum Airport does not have these warning signs: “Photography is forbidden at Dum Dum Airport” – since no law was broken by me – this film should not be seized.

Here seen as an unlawful step - taken by Mr. Singh to a tourist visiting his country – this made no difference to Mr. Singh – he still kept my film.

Keep this in mind when reading our exit from Dum Dum Airport to Bombay.

We gathered our luggage and climbed into the waiting cars to drive us to Hindustan International Hotel, Calcutta. Not much can be said about our stay at this Hotel, it was somewhere to refreshen ourselves - ending our first day in Calcutta with a quiet dinner at the Hotel.

The following morning was our day trip by car to Khargpur. I was so excited - at last, after 36 years returning to the town where I was born, educated and married.

Would she remember me as much as I remember her? Would she have changed as much as I have changed? With all these nagging thoughts while the hands of the clock was ticking away drawing me closer and closer to 345 Third Avenue, Kharagpur.

The morning started with having breakfast at the Hotel, moving on to the Office to check for the two drives, each couple had their own driver. When we got to the Office there stood the manager from the Travel Service, greeted us with a big smile and happy to introduce us to our driver (singular). One car, one driver for both the couples, and to top the incomplete order this car was small without air conditioning, for which both couples had paid for two cars with air conditioning. No credit was offered for this short change order.

Words mounted between the other couple and the Manager for this poor service.

Now with a bad taste in our mouth - this small car - no Air, we pile in and set off for Kharagpur with the car windows open and the dirt blowing on us. It was very uncomfortable squeezed into this car, but just the thought we will be in Kharagpur kind of softened the tension here.

A stop was made for a drink - some coconut milk - I remember referring to them as ‘dabs’ bought from a vender along side of the road.





The closer we arrived to Khargpur I remember the driver (a very helpful man ready to please – his credit made up for his employer’s error) brought us down Third Avenue near All Saint Church, two blocks away from 345 Third Avenue, our house. My sister and I had to get out of the car, set our feet on Khargpur soil, the road I had walked often during those 1937-1949 days.

Eric, my sister Blossom and yours truly Clare, were so excited and started talking all at once, while Alan new to this country shouted out for us to please quiet down. One cannot - when you do not want to miss a single moment here.

Finally we come to 345 Third Avenue, our (my sister Blossom and Clare’s) home.



That camera of mine was working over time, click, click and oh the two Neem trees still standing, tall as ever, gracing the entrance of 345 Third Avenue. I run to the back of the house to see if our Mango tree was still there. No, gone our Mango Tree that produced lovely mangoes - Mum made her favourite mango pickle, every year. My first stab felt on my return to 345 Third Avenue. I walked around close to our bedroom window, click and more clicks, when a man on his bike stopped me and asked me why I was I taking these photos.




“Eric” I called out loud. Once again, Clare was in trouble with that camera of hers. Eric to the rescue, spoke to the man on the bike, and told him that I used to live in that house during The British Raj days, and that my dad – Mr. Ernest Johnstone was a Mail Driver on the BNR – etc etc and etc.

The unbelievable - this man was my dad’s fireman, he was so pleased to meet us, and said my dad was the best Mail Driver in Kharagpur, a perfect gentleman, hard worker and treated everyone with respect. He invites us for a cup of tea to his house, now a living neighbour to our house, 345 Third Avenue, Kharagpur. Thoughts racing through my mind – what would dad think about this, his fireman living next door to our old dwelling. On going inside I found those rooms so small, while my mind always thought of them as large rooms during my stay in 345 Third Avenue.

Back to the outside - a lady on her bike stopped to talk with us. Guess we tourists stood out like a sore thumb - We asked her if there were any folks still in Kharagpur after India’s Independence? Her reply was; “The Lennons and Gaudins.” Our driver followed her to Dick & Olive Lennons’ residence that happened to be on the same Avenue. Dick Lennon a friend of Eric’s both completing their five years apprenticeship at the BNR Shed - Olive Peters Lennon (Dick’s wife) was one of my teachers at the European High School. It was great meeting old friends - after spending some time with them, Dick asked us if we heard about the American couple whose camera had been seighed at Dum Dum Airport, Calcutta. We four tourists broke out in a loud laugh. Now I must mention here, Clare is not an American citizen she is a Canadian Citizen. Dick brings out the News Paper and shows us the short article of Clare’s welcome at the Dum Dum Airport, Calcutta, India. Not only do we get an Indian Military welcome at Dum Dum Airport, we also hit their Newspaper News for that day.




From Olive and Dick’s place our driver following the lady on her bike taking us out of Kharagpur to Jhatapatpur where most retired BNR employees either rented a couple of rooms while some built a home for themselves – these retired BNR employees chose to stay in India after Independence Day – 1947. I must add here some of those houses were real large homes.

Our driver drove us up to Darrel Gaudin’s abode, while the lady on the bike who knew Darrel and his wife - mentioned to them that Effie Johnstone’s (Clare’s mother’s nick name) daughters (Clare & Blossom Johnstone) are here to see you. Darrel is our cousin.

Now, place yourself in their position – the shock to Darrel, his cousins returning to Kharagpur after 36 plus years on his door step – he must have thought he was in a dream – I know would think this has to be a dream – impossible cousins long gone and forgotten on my doorstep? You have got to be joking.



Shocked to see the conditions they were living in, when compared to the way of life during The British Raj Days. One will have to say the “Beyond” did not look prosperous - more on the deterioration side for most of those who stayed on in Kharagpur after India’s Independence.

One could not but feel sorry for them, these one time BNR’s employees either chose to stay back or their finance held them from moving forward. Were they happy at this life style? I cannot answer for them, but they sure were living below stand to what they were accustomed to during the British Raj Days.

Some of these folks were happy they did not leave India – some had returned to Kharagpur from Australia and of course there were those who were plain unhappy all round.

On the whole, our day in Kharagpur, returning after so many years was a happy day too short of a visit for Clare.

We visited All Saints Church, the European High School and took a few photos of the most important place, known as the European Institute.





THE EUROPEAN HIGH SCHOOL: Naturally several photos were taken – we walked around the whole layout of classes – and recalling each class with the teacher who taught one in that particular class. Mixed emotions here – seeing the Head Master’s Office was open – I went inside - introduced myself mentioning I was a one time student of this school and asked if they have any records of this school dating back to the l940s.



Here I received a very rude blunt reply; “Ohhhhhh NO – all Brittissh records were burnt – we have no records of those days”. A great shame I told him – you have erased a very important part of India’s History – caused by bitterness.



EUROPEAN INSTITUTE: where we all gathered for Movies (pictures) Dances, Bingo (Housie), Tennis, outdoor grass Bowling, Badminton, twice a week the Gurker Band played on the famous Bandstand in the Institute - while this band played, the children would be skipping around the Bandstand and their ayahs sitting in groups exchanging their employers’ gossip for the day. There would be Fancy Dress Balls, Bridge, and no end of entertainment for all Kharagpur’s employees’ of the BNR – members to this Institute.







Doubt if I can find one BNR expatriate who will disagree with me here - we all lived in a Paradise unknown to the rest of the world - life in Kharagpur will never be repeated nothing will be able to be match that era.

No amount of money will be able to produce those simple, carefree, happy days – children were allowed to be children and morals ran real high.

Speaking for myself - with all the blessings God has bestowed on me - travels to endless countries - living in six different countries (after my marriage) - none can compare to my first twenty years spent in Kharagpur, India - none.

Poor as church mice, rich in happiness – one mother one father – and we came home to a mother – not placed in Day Care Centers while the mother went out to work. A united family – no step parents or couples living together having children out of wedlock – all meals were eaten as a family at the family dinning table – sharing our day’s event with each other.

Seeing our beautiful building ‘The European Institute’ now - was an eye sore, to what it used to look like during The British Raj days. If, only those bricks can talk, it sure will cry out; “Please bring back The British Raj, where we were taken care of and made people happy within our clean walls.”


SACRED HEART CHURCH: where Eric and I were married, 30, March 1949.



Sacred Heart Church looked the same, stayed a while talking with the Parish priest who brought out their marriage registrar showing our marriage date and signatures - signatures of the every young happy couple, Eric & Clare.




Drive back to Calcutta was hot and muggy – our white outfits were covered with brown dust accompanied with dust blown hair.

The end of those few beautiful hours spent in Kharagpur – my thoughts at that time were mixed – is this all a dream – or did I really see my Kharagpur after so many years.

Kharagpur’s deteriorations deepened my love for her.

Loving her more for her deteriorations - like one’s love for their child who has made weak choices in their life increases – so it was for the European Institute and all the other deteriorated buildings in Kharagpur.

Hate for the British Raj is seen in the deteriorations of their one time beautiful historical buildings, gardens, clean streets etc - as the saying goes; “Hate in the end destroys the hater”.

At that time I did not know I would be blessed with two more visits to Kharagpur (1998 & 2001) – with each re-visit – Kharagpur deteriorated to the point - one had lost her completely – nothing was/is left of The British Raj years – their history erased - successfully by their destroyer.

I failed to see any improvements in Kharagpur – only deteriorations after India’s Independence.

I would like to take this opportunity to help my readers understand some of my feelings toward the living standard in Kharagpur, India before her Independence – view the photos and read the life history of all these expatriates - please visit:

http://web.ncf.ca/kharagpurdiaspora

Here you will see photographs of Kharagpur – the before and after, of India’s Independence – plus read of other Kharagpurians’ lives spent during The British Raj days in Kharagpur - our “City of Happiness & Joy”.

Arrived at our hotel in Calcutta – hot, tired and sadly in need of a shower.

On picking up our keys at the front desk - we were greeted with a photocopy of a letter from the Travel Service employee - attached below is his letter that brought laughter to us – and yet showing humility of the author.







And so ends my first return to Kharagpur - with all the disappointments - Kharagpur through my eyes - shall always be: my Kharagpur – one can replace the cover of the Book on Kharagpur during the British Raj – but the contents will spell the same for me – my life in Kharagpur; 1937-1950 – happy carefree days – always thanking God for giving me India as my birth country. Thank you God.

Patna/Darjeeling

Patna/Darjeeling
April 22, 1986

Here we are in Darjeeling, known to many as “The Himalayan Queen” an elevation of 6812 ft., and a West Bengal, Hill Station.

This Himalayan Queen’s hilly terrain shares her fruity floral aroma the Black Tea with the world that has no equal, and differs from season to season.

Recalling history of which I am not too sure of, this Tea planting was born in 1841 by a Dr. Campbell where he used seed from China.

What a sue case this would be today; ‘China’s seed and Darjeeling’s reaping’ Dr Campbell must have bought the seed from China, so the case is dropped, no suing, please.

Break time from history for a laugh at Clare, who ‘still’ has her only souvenir from Darjeeling, a packet of Darjeeling Black Tea bought in 1986. Twenty-two years later, this souvenir stares at one in Clare’s food pantry, has never been used.

Does Tea taste better with age like wine does?

Our one night stay at Sinclair Hotel was not a happy one for me. I recall having water shortage in the bathroom area and was happy to leave the following morning for Calcutta. Credit is due here, for the inspiring view of the Himalayas from our bedroom window of this hotel.

The day was spent visiting, The Toy Train, Tiger Hill, Ghoom Monastery and Zoo Park leaving the rest of the day strolling down their main street.

Houses in Darjeeling are built of concrete, brick and lumber very closing knit on the sloops of this Hill city.

Darjeeling’s inhabitants were mostly Nepalese and Tibetans, several temples in view reminding one of their Buddha.

THE TOY TRAIN:

The Toy Train is quite close to the Ghoom Monastery, where Mount Everest the world’s highest peak can be spotted in the distance. This Toy Train a UNESCO World Heritage site is a treacherous rail journey.

TIGER HILL:

Tiger Hill is also near the Ghoom Monastery where there is a 9-hole golf course for you golf lovers.

GHOOM MONESTERY:

Here one can see a 4.57-m high statue of a seated Buddha.

ZOO PARK:

This is a lovely place to visit, the Siberian Tigers and the Himalayan Black Bears two of my favourites were seen. These Tigers are beautiful animals, from a distance of course.

Tomorrow we leave this Black Tea scented air, Himalayan Queen city, for Calcutta.

Do you get that feeling this long vacation is finally catching up on Clare?

No, not as yet, the closing chapter is the funniest and happiest, lots happen here.

The day after our arrival in Calcutta our driver will drive us to, ‘My Beloved Kharagpur’, seeing her for the first time, thirty-six years later.

Secretly hoping, she has not changed too much since the Exodus of the British Raj folks.

345 Third Avenue, Kharagpur, my home, with our favorite Mango Tree and the two Neem Trees that graced the front of our home, wonder if they will be still there waiting to welcome me back home.

Good night, see you in Calcutta.

God bless
Clare

Delhi/Kathmando

Delhi/Kathmando
April 18, 1986

Our overnight stay at the Taj Mahal hotel in Delhi followed a flight to Kathmando, Nepal the following morning.

On our arrival at Kathmando, Nepal we were driven to Hotel Del’Annapurna, a small more on the modern style hotel.

Kathmando, capital of Nepal is a city of pilgrims, carved brick temples on every street, mobbed by beggars, monkeys, accompanied with dusty crowded roads.


Afternoon Prayer



Prayer Bells

Nepal’s history is largely the history of Kathmando Valleys on the southern slops of the mid Himalayas with a population of more than 26 million people made up of over 40 Races and Tribes.

The endless viewing of the exterior of these temples between the crowds of people was tiring. One had to be careful where you stepped. Having lived in Taiwan, both Eric and I were familiar with the open drains known as the Binjos in Taiwan, laughingly I told Alan he better look where he was walking, a few minutes later Alan had stepped into one of these Binjos.

Here is Alan washing the waste matter off his shoes, at the Hotel.





Indian Jewelry

While in Kathmando a helicopter flight over Mount Everest was on our itinerary, however, both the wives of this foursome group declined this adventure. One can say a helicopter flight over the most famous Mount Everest is one of Eric and Alan’s biggest achievements, where so few have had this opportunity.

Our Tour Guide’s Legend of Kathmando:

“Legend speaks that this valley was once covered by a Lake until the Bodhisattva Manjushi raised his sword of Wisdom and sliced a passage through the mountain walls draining the water and creating this first settlement.”

The country was frequently called The Gorkha Kingdom, the source of the term “Gurkka” used for the Nepali soldiers.

In Kharagpur, India, where I was born, we had Gurkkas living at the Armory, neighbours to The European Institute in Kharagpur. If my memory is correct, these Gurkkas in WW2 were Britain’s number one fighters in Burma.

The following has nothing to do with Kathmando, since I do not have much to add to this visit, I thought I would end it with Mark Twain’s words on India.

“So far as I am able to judge, nothing has been left undone, either by man or nature to make India the most extraordinary country that the Sun visits on his rounds. Nothing seems to have been forgotten nothing over looked.”

Mark Twain
“Following the Equator”.

We leave Kathmando April 21, 1986 via New Delhi arriving Darjeeling April 23, 1986.

The end of this 1986 three-week vacation of India is coming to a close. Memories of this vacation will always be with me.

Are you up to meeting me at Darjeeling?

God bless
Clare

Srinagar, India

Srinagar, India
April 17, 1986

SRINAGAR/KASHMIR

Before I open up my next episode of the beautiful Dal Lake, I would like to thank all you kind folks who have accompanied me on this 1986 vacation in India and for all those who added their comments to “Clare’s Blog”. Thank you. God bless.

Srinagar city founded by king Pravarasena 11, well over 2,000 years ago is known for her beautiful Lakes in Kashmir, India. This city was a part of the Maurya Empire history has it there have been several rulers – Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim. The famous Arbar the Great established the Mughal rule in Srinagar and Kashmir Valley. In the year 1846 (101 years before Independence) the Treaty of Lahore was signed between the Sikh rulers and the British in Lahore that provided the British suzerainty over the Kashmir Valley and an independent and sovereign ruler Gulab Singh, ruler over of the region. Srinagar became part of his Kingdom, until 1947 when India received her Independence from the British.






During The Raj years the ruler of Kashmir did not allowed the British to build homes on Kashmir land, so they built on water and lived in Houseboats on Dal Lake. These British Houseboats have stayed on to become a symbol of the most beautiful Valley and is still there today. Houseboat living transfers you to another world.

Kashmir is dotted with villages surrounded by mountains, giving us this beautiful view from the Deluxe Houseboat.





Eric took several beautiful slides of this Deluxe Houseboat’s interior, shame I do not know how to add those photos off the slide to this site. Clare is not too familiar with steps that can be taken here to make it possible. Sorry about that.

M.T. Kenhard in 1888 was the designer of the first Houseboat in Srinagar named “Victory”. Tourists flock here during the summer months to stay on Dal Lake’s famous Houseboats, luxury floating caravans, reminders of The Raj, where the British families spent most of their summers away from those hot summers in the South of India.

On our first evening in Srinagar we took a shikara ride on Dal Lake to view the natural beauty God has graced this Lake area with, our ride was shortened by a heavy shower, forcing us back to the Houseboat.





Venders glide up to your doorstep in shikaras a floating market of fruits, flowers, shawls, jewelry, handicrafts and paper-mache boxes. Never in my lifetime did I ever think one day I would be blessed to stay in a Houseboat on Dal Lake. I have read about these houseboats, heard about these houseboats and seen them in movies, but never thought one day I would be staying on one with Eric. It was an exciting time for both Eric and I.

The Deluxe Houseboat we occupied had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a dining room and an extra large living room where stood a pot-belly stove heater, and there was the porch in front with a seating area, a place where you haggled with the shikara boatmen for his sales.

Sandalwood is used through out the interior of this Houseboat, every piece deeply carved with Indian open pattern craftwork, so very Indian. Sleeping or just sitting in the Living room one felt another world present, the Kashmiri-style world.

All through this trip I have forgotten to mention the cuisine, all our meals have been great, no complaints from Eric or Clare. Being back in my birth country India and eating the true Indian cuisine is another plus to this vacation for me.

An early morning knock on our bedroom door and in comes the Houseboy with our morning tea on a tray, dressed with a flower in a vase, and a tea cozy on the tea-pot. I have not seen one of these tea cozies in use, since I left India in 1950. Could this be real me, being served morning tea in bed?



The Houseboy’s attire when serving is a white lab jacket accompanied with white gloves. Yes, I do feel uncomfortable being waited on by the Houseboy after having to do for myself since I left India.

After breakfast the Houseboy would ask us what would we like for the day’s meals, all three cooked meals. I recall him asking me would I like English food or Indian food for that day. You guessed correctly, it was Indian all through our visit to India, and it was lovely to be back in that saddle again, reliving our childhood days and eating the real Indian cuisine. What a life to have abandon.

Another one of The Raj’s most popular summer retreats was Mussoorie, once the home of Sir George Everest, the legendary Surveyor General who mapped Mount Everest, they say this area is rich in medical plants.

There are so many Legends in India, however this one baffles me.

“Legend has it when Pravarasena 11, decided to build himself a new Capital, to choose a location he started walking at Midnight and was confronted by a demon on the other side of the Mahasarit River. The demon spread his bent leg across the stream and dared the King to cross over it to the other side. The King cut off this bent leg with one stroke of his sword and calmly crossed over. The demon was so delighted with the King’s boldness and told him to build his city where he would find the beginnings of his plan laid out for him. To this day the waters of Dal Lake are separated from the Tsont-i-kul by a Sathu or Bund that is shaped like a bent leg”






TO AN EMPEROR A DREAM GARDEN
TO A TRAVELER AN IDYLL:

THE MUGHAL GARDENS:





These 17th century gardens, Shalimar, Nishat, Chashma, Shahi, were laid out by the Mughals and are the formal gardens of Srinagar. The air that day while touring these gardens was refreshingly cold and crisp, not that piercing cold one gets in England that goes through your bones. The views surrounding us were like looking into a storybook and seeing nothing but beautiful sites of Mother Nature, untouched by human hands.

Our two nights on this Deluxe Houseboat has come to a close, tomorrow we leave for our flight back to Delhi where we shall stay overnight at the Taj Mahal Hotel.

Leaving this haven was hard, but then, each departure was difficult for me to let go.

Meet you in Delhi.

God bless
Clare

Kharjuraho/Delhi

April 14, 1986
Kharjuraho/Delhi

On our arrival at Delhi, we were driven to The Maurya Sheraton Hotel at approximately 1640 hours, the short flight from Kharjuraho was quite comfortable. This hotel was like all Sheraton Hotels, nothing special about it.






The following morning tours were of Old and New Delhi, including visits to the Qutab Minar, Humayun’s Temple, India Gate, President’s House, Government buildings, Connaught Place, Red Fort, Raj Ghat, Shanti Vane and a drive through Chandni Chowk.

QUTAB MINAR: A minaret – calling people to prayer. Historians believe this was named after the first Turkish Sultan – Qutb-ud-din Aibak. Constructed in 1193 with 399 steps leading to the top.



THE IRON PILLAR: shown below was built during the Gupta, Hindu Empire 320 to about 350 AD. This pillar is made of sure iron that has never rusted. According to legend, per our tour guide, anyone who can encircle the pillar by standing with their back to the pillar and clasping their hands together will have their wish granted. Another failure for Clare, her wish was not granted.




INDIA GATE: is a war memorial for the fallen soldiers of WW1, which is illuminated with lights after Sunset. This monument was designed by Edwin Lufyens, dedicated to the country ten years later, by the Viceroy, Lord Irwin with the foundation stone laid by the Duke of Connaught in 1921.





CONNAUGHT PLACE: is Delhi’s largest financial, commercial and business center, designed by Robert Tur Russell in 1932, Chief Architect to the Government of India. Connaught Place’s Victorian architecture is modeled after the Royal Crescent in Bath, England.

CHANDNI CHOWK: is a shopping place with narrow lanes, shops on either sides and very crowded even the rickshaw bells can be heard here trying so hard to get through. Pure silk, jewelry and India’s precious stones are the top sales.






Tomorrow we have an early flight to Shringar. You must set your clock to meet us in Shringar, Kashmir to spend your night on a Deluxe Houseboat on the Dal Lake.

See you then, DV.

God bless
Clare

Kharjuraho

April 13, 1986
Kharjuraho, India

I do not seem to have much to say on my uninteresting stay at Kharjuraho. I guess it is because it had too much of the Eastern and Western Group of Temples. Being with another couple on this tour we had to be sociable. I stayed out of these Temple tours, one can only marvel at the craftsman’s ship on the exterior of these buildings that carried no meaning to both Eric and I.

But, here are a couple of photos to give you an idea of Kharjuraho and her Temples.






We spent the night at Hotel Jass Oberoi once again tired with the daily touring. If I recall correctly it rained making it a stay in evening for us.

We leave next morning for our flight from Kharjuraho to Delhi arriving there on Tuesday 15, April 1986.

Hope this short visit to Kharjuraho has not disconnected your interest to The Raj & Beyond, 1986 vacation.

Take rest, hope to see you in Delhi tomorrow.

God bless
Clare

Fatehpur Sikri/Agra

April 12, 1986
Fatehpur Sikri/Agra
India

I am glad you have decided to join me on this excursion of Fatehpur Sikri city, built 1571 at the orders of the Mughal Emperor, Akbar the Great. This great Emperor had a keen interest in architecture, literature and the arts.

Fatehpur Sikri city is approximately 26 miles west of Agra, the buildings at Fatehpur Sikri blended both Islamic and Hindu elements in their architectural style, Red Sandstone is the material used in this city. Fatehpur Sikri was the capital of the Mughal Empire for only 10-15 years. Due to the lack of an adequate water supply, Fatehpur Sikri was abandoned and is a Ghost City, to where Akbar never returned to his one time Capital. Within 20 years the Capital was shifted to Lahore.

I recall our tour guide showing us this huge Chess Board painted on one of the several courtyards where humans were used as chess pieces and moved at the Emperor’s command.

The observatory here was built by Sawai Jai Singh in 1726 to measure, local time, the sun’s declination of the fixed stars and planets to determine eclipses, all this in India dating back to 1726.

All of the above information I have taken from my photo album of our 1986 vacation. Due to space limitations, I have had to make the decision of posting just a few photos of Fatehpur Sikri, even though there is so much history in this city. The short time we spent did not do it justice.

Fatehpur Sikri city the ghost town is a marvel for engineers and builders. I don’t think you ladies would want to spend a morning walking through this ghost town. Eric (my husband) being an engineer was fascinated with Fatehpur Sikri city.

An epitome of love:



Time to move on to Agra where we shall stop and visit the magnificent Taj Mahal, a monument built to show the world of a beautiful queen and an emperor’s love for each other. Mumtaz Mahal made Shahjahan promise that he would build a tomb to remind the world of their great love, where he titled her “Chosen one of the Palace”, she died giving birth to their fourteenth child in 1631.

It took twenty-two years to create this Jewel in Agra. For over three hundred years the world has gazed at the wonder of this monument a building of a love immortalized in marble.

A sad ending to this saga on the Taj Mahal, 1657 Shah Jahand fell ill, his son Aurangzeb imprisoned his father and seized the throne. Shah Jahan remained in captivity until his death in 1666, spending these last days of his life staring into a small mirror’s reflection of the Taj Mahal where laid his beloved Mumtaz Mahal, dying with this mirror in his hand.





Photo taking of the inner chamber of the Taj is forbidden where one sees the magnificent craftsmanship. Once again thanks to the Internet photos can be obtained of the Taj Mahal with complete History for those who want to learn more about India and one of the Wonders of the World, the Taj Mahal.

For me the calligraphy seen on the Taj adds to it’s mystery, if only one were able to read these verses. The calligrapher Arranat Khan a Persian, displayed verses from their Qur’an which adds to her mystery.

Our Tour Guide translated one of the several verses for me: “O Soul, thou are at rest. Return to the Lord, at peace.”

Makes one want to know what the other verses say, this verse is so beautifully expressed, to the one you love, lying in a tomb.




We arrive at hotel Maurya Sheraton Hotel in Agra such a drop to today’s living, very incepted, after spending the previous nights in Palaces converted into Hotels.

Having spent this whole day touring both Fatehpur Sikri and the Taj Mahal we welcomed this over night rest at Maurya Sheraton Hotel, knowing it was an early rise tomorrow for our flight to Khajuraho, India.


Always hoping you will join us at the next stop. DV, we see you at Khajuraho, India.

God bless
Clare