Day 1 Evening (14-Mar-2014) – Reaching Gurgaon
“Air
India announces the departure of its flight AI840 to Delhi. All the passengers
are requested to proceed for boarding via gate number 24A. I repeat, Air India
announces…” the speaker blared over the hustle of the people at gate 24A at the
Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Hyderabad. I tore my eyes away from my
father’s mobile phone and looked up at my parents. My mother gave me
instructions with her eyes to get up. We hurried over to the counter where a
security guard was checking the passengers’ boarding passes and letting them
pass.
“Ah!
Thank goodness! I’d thought that the flight had been delayed yet again,” my
mother said, relieved.
“It is
Spice Jet, which always delays, and not Air India,” I reminded her.
“I
still remember the day when the Spice Jet flight we had to board to Coimbatore
was held up for FOUR SOLID HOURS because of some reason,” my father piped in,
“God! What a nightmare that was!”
“Nevertheless”,
I said, smacking my lips “their food was good!”
“You
may proceed to the flight, sir”, the guard finalised, after checking our
boarding passes.
Five
minutes later, we were seated in the aircraft, tying our belts.
“Manikkutta,
it would be better if you would take a nap”, my mother advised me.
“Mother,
don’t even think of me being sick”, I pleaded, “I've grown up”.
“Yeah,
you could watch a movie”, my father said, pointing at the screen in front of
me, “There will be movies in different languages from which you can choose. All
you have got to do is plug the earphones provided into the audio port on the
armrest.”
And
saying that, he sat at the perfect angle, shut his eyes and went off to sleep.
“Let me
also take a nap, Manikkutta”, my mother said and following the same steps as my
father, she too fell asleep.
Meanwhile,
I switched on the television and browsed through the channels and settled on
“Bullet Raja” on channel number 8. I plugged on the ear phones and watched the
movie with interest. After a short gunshot-filled hour, at 8 PM, dinner was
served. I quickly woke up my parents. We had the choice of having vegetarian or
non-vegetarian food. I chose non-vegetarian without a second thought. When I
opened my box, I felt confused whether they served me vegetarian.
“Which
one of these is supposed to be chicken curry, ma’am?” I asked the air hostess
who served the food.
The air
hostess’s face turned red.
“Uh,
well, both curries look identical”, I stammered
“Manikkutta,
shut up” my mother whispered angrily, and turning to the hostess, she said “I
am sorry, he was…”
“Humph”,
she walked away angrily without listening to my mother’s explanation. There is
one thing you notice with the air hostesses of Air India. They have a
frustrated and serious face always and never smile.
“My
dear boy, why do you have to open your mouth unnecessarily?” my father said
outraged
“Do not
talk while eating”, I said with my mouth stuffed with food
“All
right, do whatever you wish to”, he said and opening his box, furiously
attacked his food. The remainder of the journey was spent with anger in the
air.
The
anger stored up within us vanished into thin air when we arrived at terminal 3
of Delhi’s IGIA (Indira Gandhi International Airport). We could only gape at
our surroundings as we passed aero bridges, automatic travelators, carpeted
floors, statues and malls. We hurried towards the conveyor belt. While waiting
for the luggage, my mother even posed for a photo in front of a display where
an Oracle Server advertisement was screened. After collecting our luggage we
headed out of the airport.
I first
caught sight of Smitha auntie with a smile lingering on her lips. Standing
behind was Sujith uncle, her husband and my father’s classmate in Engineering
College, and Rahul aka Appu, their only son and also a great friend of mine. It
was in their house we were going to stay during our trip. Despite our
friendship, I felt shy to interact with Appu. That is a starting trouble I
always wanted to overcome. Though my parents were urging me to talk with Appu,
not much of interaction happened between both us, for that day.
Sujith
uncle seated us in his Corolla Altis and drove us out of the parking lot. I was
astonished to know that there were six levels of parking and 4300 cars could be
parked at any given point of time. As we tried to drive ourselves out, Sujith
uncle was bombarded with suggestions from Smitha auntie and Appu.
“Sujith,
turn left!”
“Father,
that way!”
“Appu,
shut up!”
“Mother,
you are confusing him!”
“Sujith,
Sujith, take a U turn!”
“I don’t
think so; we should take a right turn here!”
After a
few hundred suggestions, we finally wound our way out of the airport. At the
entrance / exit gate, a security guard asked us for the parking ticket.
“I
don’t have any parking ticket!” Sujith uncle exclaimed
“Then
you have to go back , pay and get the parking ticket...” he said and then
stopped after looking at the expression Sujith uncle bore “Uh, sir?”
“N-Nothing”
he said “Here we go back to the mazes” he muttered under his breath.
“Please
take a right turn here!” the security guard gave his piece of suggestion
“Mother”,
Appu shouted “Why didn’t you listen to me when I told to take a right turn at
that place? We could have saved so much time!”
“And
patience” , Sujith uncle muttered.
After
buying a ticket, making it out of the airport again, and showing our ticket to
the security guard, we were finally free to head towards 1C, Tower 9, Central
Park 2, Sohna Road, Gurgaon. Smitha auntie
seemed very excited to meet my parents. Four of the grown ups kept talking,
while two of us just remained silent listeners.
On our way, we passed a lot of big and new
looking complexes, seeing which Smitha auntie changed the subject of the talk.
“That is DLF’s head office and that one is Nestle’s. This one’s Deloitte and on
your right you can find the head office of Barti Airtel. Did you know that
there is a special metro named ‘Rapid Metro’ which covers only the DLF
townships? Oh that one is…”
I
started nodding off due to the drone of the car’s engine, and fell asleep.
I woke
up to my mother’s shaking. “Wake up Manikkutta, we have reached!”
I got
out blinking my eyes. Despite my sleepiness, I have to admit, their complex
looked fabulous. There were many towers apart from the tower 9 in which they
live. Several street lamps lightened up
the whole area. The surroundings were futuristic looking, so green. I felt like
I was dreaming. I walked drowsily along with them to the lifts, which took us
to the first floor. Smitha auntie opened the door and ushered us into the
living room.
“The
interior is no exception”, I thought.
I felt
attracted by the recliner set in the living room; where I laid down to continue
my sleep. But Smitha auntie stopped me from doing so, by shouting, “Manikkutta!
No! No! Don’t sleep! I made Palak Paneer for you!”
I
really wasn’t in a mood for another dinner, but at the mention of Palak Paneer,
I really couldn’t stay put. I quickly got up, washed my face with freezing
water (Yikes!) and seated myself at the dining table. Smitha auntie disappeared
into the kitchen and came back with a platter full of rotis and a bowl full of
yummy Paneer curry. When it was served, I gobbled down the delicacies in no
time, and even asked for a second helping. After completing my dinner, as I sat
rubbing my tummy in satisfaction, Smitha auntie brought in another platter which
revealed a delicious looking chocolate cake. I tasted it, and after doing so, I
could not stop myself from having two more helpings (by the way, I managed to finish eighty to ninety percent of the cake
single handed , before we returned to Hyderabad)
With a
full tummy, my eyes started feeling heavy and as I crashed onto the bed, I saw
both the set of parents getting ready for a long debate on the current affairs
and Appu rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.
“Sujith,
how was AAP’s rule in Delhi…”
Day 2 (15-Mar-2014) – Exploring Delhi Metro and Delhi Haat
When I
woke up today, I felt blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window.
The whole room buzzed with warmth. Slowly, as my eyes started getting used to
the sudden light, I could make out my father at the other end of the bed. He
was chatting animatedly with someone on the phone. I could catch few words
“Gurgaon…yesterday…Sujith’s house…wonderful…”. When he saw me, he smiled at me
and mouthed ‘Good Morning’ and mentioned me to brush my teeth, wash my face and
go to the living room. I quickly did all these and hurried over to the living
room where Appu was lounging on the sofa, with his eyes on his I Pad and
occasionally tilting the device. I wished everyone ‘Good Morning’ and sat next
to Appu on the sofa.
He was
playing some sort of racing game, and when he saw me staring at it, he
explained that it was ‘Real Racing 3’, one of the best racing games in the iOS app
system. He even offered me a race in the game, but I refused. After all, I
didn’t want him to know how bad I am in gaming.
Soon,
breakfast was served. I enjoyed the food very much, because, as usual, Smitha auntie’s
cooking was fantastic. After the breakfast, Appu and I played the card game
‘UNO’. He first explained me how to go about the game. After that, even though
the game appeared easy, Appu kept winning the game each time. I suspected that
he was cheating, though I had no proof.
After some time, when I started feeling
bored, I rudely interrupted the game and asked “Have
you got anything else that we could play?”
He
smiled at me and said “Well, I have got Monopoly…”
“You
mean that board game, where we deal with money?”
“Yes”,
he replied
“Hmm,
anything else?” I asked again
“Oh
Yes! Why, we have billiards, tennis, cricket, cards, football, hockey, squash, and
badminton”, he said, imitating a shopkeeper, “what would you like to play,
sir?”
“Uh,
what about…”
“Manikkutta,
if you want to play with whatever I’ve got, you are most welcome,” he said
without allowing me to finish my sentence.
“Actually
Appu;” I said, mimicking a dissatisfied guest, “I feel like reading something,”
“Well, if you feel like reading…”
“Yes, I
want to read. Can I?” I asked
expectantly
“All right.
You can browse through the books I’ve got just in case, in the book shelf in
your room.”
I ran
to my bed room and scanned the book shelf.
“Hey, I
always wanted to read this book! They don’t sell this along with the set!” I
exclaimed, taking it out.
It was
titled “Diary of a Wimpy Kid – The Movie Diary”.
“Hmmm…
seems interesting” I concluded from the cover.
I
leaped upon the bed and opening the book, I started reading. I had my nose in
the book till lunch time, when I had a great surprise. My father rushed into
the room.
“Manikkutta,
get ready quickly. We are going out for lunch and shopping,” he shouted.
“Father,
why do you have to shout unnecessarily?” I asked, rubbing my ears.
“Stop
blabbering and start dressing!” he said with a mildly irritated tone, while
buttoning the shirt he had donned.
After a
few minutes, as I sat on the couch, waiting for everybody to get ready, I could
hear another squabble going on in my room.
Finally,
after what seemed like hours, everyone was ready for action. We followed Sujith
uncle to the basement and into his car. We drove quickly out and did not stop
until we reached ILD Trade Centre, a shopping mall.
We got
out of the car and followed Smitha auntie. When I pushed the revolving door at
the entrance, I used a little more force than required, which made the door go
around faster and smacked Appu, who was standing right behind. Because of this,
Appu made a rocketing entry into the lobby.
After
he regained his balance, he tried chasing me around the lobby, but I was too
fast for him. Smitha auntie led us to a restaurant named ‘Bikanerwala’.
“Isn’t
Bikaner in Rajasthan?” I blurted out.
“Yes,”
returned Sujith uncle; “and you know, the region was earlier called Jangladesh
which…”
“Cut
down your historical studies, Sujith”, my father snickered.
Meanwhile,
as I was opening the door of the restaurant to get in, I could see Appu
standing well away to avert any more disasters. My surroundings were suddenly
filled with the noise of customers and the lovely smell of food. The latter
made me look up at the menu which was displayed on a board.
“The
service here resembles the one in a chaat centre,” Smitha auntie said, “The
name too,” she added as an after-thought.
“Well,
let’s get eating,” my father interrupted, “Appu, what would you like to have?”
“A mix
of red and white sauce pasta,” he said, looking smug,” It’s my own invention”
He
passed on the order to a person sitting in the cash counter. He looked
confused.
“I’ll
explain, bhaiyya,” Appu said.
“Well,
the pasta counter is over there, he’ll make the pasta as per your suggestion”
he said.
“Manikkutta,
what do you want?” my father asked, shifting his attention to me.
“Chole bhature,” I said promptly.
“All right
and …”
After
all the orders were made, the dishes arrived. We finished our lunch in half an
hour and walked out of the restaurant complementing the food.
“So,
what next?” I asked my mother.
“We go
to the HUDA CITY CENTRE, board a metro, alight at INA, shop at Delhi Haat and
come back”, she said; with the speed of a computer processor.
I let
it all sink in. Several questions started buzzing in my mind. What is HUDA CITY
CENTRE? What is INA? How is the Delhi metro different from the Bangalore metro?
Where is Delhi Haat ? Why is it so special?
Smitha auntie
started explaining as if she had read my mind.
“HUDA
is Haryana Urban Development Authority. You can see Qutub Minar and AIIMS on
our way. We even go underground during the journey. You must be aware that the
Delhi metro is the longest in the country and is built by Malayalees’ own
‘Metro Man’ E Sridharan. Delhi Haat is very similar to the Shilparamam you have
in Hyderabad.”
“Then
what is INA?” I asked
“Hmmm…
Ah… Actually I have no idea what it is,” she said, absorbed in thought,
“Sujith, do you know anything about it?”
“Uh,
no…”Sujith uncle said, as he turned on the ignition of the car and we seated
ourselves.
Appu
and I started making our own expansions for INA.
“Could
be International or National Academy,” he said
“Or
Inter National Academy,” I countered
“Nah,
that can’t be”
“Or
Indian Nannies Association”
Both of
us burst out laughing. Finally we settled on Indian Naval Academy.
We were
a merry group, not bothering even to curse the heavy traffic which prevailed
that day.
“Smitha,
where do we park - the front or the back gate?” Sujith uncle’s question set
Smitha auntie thinking.
“Try
out the front gate, Sujith,” she reasoned, “they are usually empty”
But as
the car neared the front gate, we learnt that it was fully occupied.
“I knew
it,” my father muttered.
“How
would you have known it, Salim? Sixth sense, eh?” Sujith uncle sniggered.
“Be
careful, Sujith, or the car might dash something.” My father said, imitating an
oracle.
CRASH !
Everyone
rushed out of the car, causing a traffic jam, to check if the car had any
damage.
“Thank
goodness! There is no major damage;” Smitha auntie sighed with relief.
Sujith
uncle came rushing.
“Dents?”
he asked.
“Nah”,
Appu replied.
“Bumps?”
“Nope”.
“Scratches?”
“Not
one”.
Nobody
had yet seen the big scratch the car had on its bumper, by hitting the tree.
“Thank
God,” he said, “now let’s get into the car. We’ll try the back gate”
Sure
enough, there was abundance in the availability of parking space in the back
gate.
We got
out, walked to the metro station and purchased tickets for our journey. In no
time the metro arrived like a slithering snake. I stepped into the metro, and a
blast of cold air hit me. Because of my swift-footed nature, I could reserve
two seats, thinking that my father would sit along with me, But everyone dashed
off to the five seats Smitha auntie had reserved, and even I had to follow
suit. As a result, my father had to stand the fifteen to sixteen stops we
travelled.
I
looked around at the interior of the metro to see if there were any videos
being displayed, as in the Bangalore metro, which I could watch and pass time.
But I was disappointed. Appu, meanwhile passed away his time by peeping into
the mobile phone in which the man sitting next to him was playing a game.
We
alighted at INA and proceeded to Delhi Haat, which was just beside the metro station.
We purchased six tickets and went in.
Smitha auntie
and my mother could no longer suppress their feelings as they disappeared into
the stalls displaying dress materials. As we went after them, we found them
bargaining with the shop keeper over a particular piece. After some time, they
came out of the shop clutching it, looking triumphant.
“We got
this for Rs.800 when its MRP was Rs.1200!” my mother said cheerfully.
My
father raised his eyebrows.
“This
is a unique piece, which is available only in Delhi”, she said defensively.
“So
what about the five other unique pieces you bought back in Hyderabad last
week”, he asked.
Her
face went red.
“Stop
bickering and move on! I can spot a café up ahead!” I shouted, forgetting my
parched throat.
There
is a joke in Malayalam. ‘Edmund Hillary was astounded when he scaled the peaks
of Mount Everest, because he found a Malayali selling tea over there!’ which
came true in our case that day. The shop I spotted was no café. It was a cent
per cent Malayali tea shop! Everyone was delighted when they saw the shop.
“Kairali,”
my father said, looking up at the name board, “Perfect name!”
“Tea
for everyone?” Sujith uncle enquired.
“And
Mirinda for us,” Appu said and I nodded to support the statement.
Soon,
we were sitting around a table, chatting with each other until the last drop of
each beverage was finished.
We then
walked aimlessly around the place, enjoying the fresh air. After that, we went
back to the metro station and bought tickets for HUDA City Centre. During the
onward trip, only my father had to stand, where as the return trip was spent
standing by Appu, my father, Sujith uncle and me. As I stood trying to pacify
my aching legs, I saw Appu making faces at his reflection in the window glass.
I tried to hide my laughter, seeing Appu’s antics. I wondered what the people
outside were thinking, it’s not everyday that a 12 year old travelling in a
metro makes faces at them! The long aching and tiring journey finally ended as
the metro glided to a stop at HUDA City Centre. I rushed out, plopped myself at
a seat on the platform, and started massaging my legs (which I started
immediately, lest my father should ask me to massage his). I dragged myself
wearily into the car and lounged on its seat. Sujith uncle revved the engine and the car shot off to
their apartment.
Back
home, I freshened up and sat down with a good book. Meanwhile, Appu was playing
a CD on the telly with everyone watching it. Just out of curiosity, I looked up
from the book. It was his parent’s wedding CD! Sujith uncle looked so young and
handsome and Smitha auntie looked childlike! The video was really long, and by
the time it ended, I had finished my book, and it was time for dinner. After
dinner, I was thinking of watching a movie. But Smitha auntie sent us to our
rooms saying, “Sleep early today, for we have to get up very early tomorrow for
the long trip planned.”
Day 3 (16-Mar-2014) – Visit to the Wonder of the World
‘Ring,
Ring! Ring, Ring!’ went Sujith uncle’s
mobile phone as Appu and I sat on the sofa early in the morning playing games
in the I Pad, fully dressed up and ready for the Agra trip.
“Manikkutta,
you continue with the game, I’ll hand the mobile over to my father,” Appu said,
picking it up and running over to his father’s room. Meanwhile, my father was
getting dressed up in our room and Smitha auntie and my mother were packing
everything needed for the trip.
Sujith
uncle came hurrying out of his room.
“The
cab driver says that he’s been waiting for about half an hour and he’s getting
impatient,” he said.
“Suggest
him to take up Yoga. It calms our mind and helps us to be patient,” my father
said coming out of the room.
“Smitha,
we’ve got to pack faster,” my mother muttered.
After
some time, we were comfortably seated in the Innova, and the driver turning on
the ignition, let the car speed away towards Agra.
“So,
what’s the plan?” I asked
“Our
first stop is at Taj Mahal,” my mother said, “where we plan to stop for
approximately two hours.”
I gave
a gasp of astonishment and mouthed, two
hours?
“Then
we will have our lunch at a restaurant,” continued my mother indifferently,
“After lunch, stop at Agra Fort for another two hours, after which we’ll start
of Gurgaon, and on the way, we’ll have tea.”
“Anyone
cares for some cake?” Smitha auntie asked, holding up a box of chocolate cake.
After
an hour, as we neared a toll gate, Sujith uncle announced “Now we are crossing
the boundary of Haryana and Uttarpradesh.”
I
looked at my surroundings with a new found interest. So, this is how UP looks! Good morning, everybody!
Driving
through the potholes was not such a rewarding experience, and soon enough, I
had a king-sized headache. As I sat trying to refresh myself up by the blowing
wind, a boy of about 15-16 years in a lorry, who smiled at with his yellow
teeth, threw a handful of Gulal at me.
“Holi
hai!” he screamed, flashing me a yellow smile, as the truck passed on.
“I
should have told you Manikkutta,” Appu said “this is Holi time”
As the
distance between Taj Mahal and us kept decreasing, I spotted a rusted board
passing us which read ’Mathura’.
“We
have set foot in Mathura,” Smitha auntie said, “the birth place of Lord
Krishna”
I knew
enough about Mathura, as I’d spent hours learning the pasts of Mathura and
other such cities in my History classes. So when I continued in Smitha auntie’s
line of conversation, everyone seemed dumbfounded, except for Appu.
“I
learned all that last year,” he muttered, “when I was in the sixth.”
After
an hour, the car halted at our destination. I got out, along with the others,
dusting myself.
“Welcome
to Taj Mahal, sir. The tickets can be purchased from the ticket counter over
there and then we go in through that gate,” heard a voice.
I
nearly jumped out of my skin on hearing a stranger’s voice.
Oh, I thought, It was only our guide. Silly me!
We’d
decided to hire a guide as my mother had insisted The first guide whom we’d met
had an arrogant air about him.
“So,
how much will you charge?” Sujith uncle had asked
“Since
you are visiting Taj Mahal and Agra Fort,” he’d replied, ”I’ll charge 400
rupees.”
“400
rupees!” my father had exclaimed, “that’s too much!”
“But
sir,” he’d reasoned, pulling out his identity card, “I am a
government-authorized guide. I assure you, you’ll have a first-class experience
of your visit, if I assist you!”
Meanwhile,
another guide, with a humble look on his face, has approached us and said,
“Sir, I am ready to accompany you and I’ll gladly accept whatever you pay me.”
All of
us looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“Sir,
even I am authorized by the government!” he had said showing his identity card
to us.
“All
right, you are in,” Sujith uncle had said.
The
guide’s chatter brought me back to the present.
“These
are shoe covers,” he said, handing each of a pair of polythene shoe-shaped covers
and keeping one for himself, “These have to be worn like socks on the footwear
just before we step onto Taj Mahal, as the monument gets accumulated with dirt
when people stamp on it with their footwear on.”
Clutching
our tickets and shoe covers we hurried over to the queue formed at the
entrance.
After a
long wait, we made our way into the compound. Our guide, on reaching particular
building, decided that it was the moment to start his business.
“These
buildings, as you can see madam are…”
This
statement made Smitha auntie and my mother inch closer to the guide. Meanwhile,
my father, taking his camera out, started snapping photos all over the place,
with Appu acting as his assistant.
“Salim
uncle, a group photo next…”
Click.
“Uncle,
that tomb…”
Click.
I
watched Appu with admiration. How freely was he interacting with my parents!
This was something I should definitely learn from him!
“Now,
madams, we’ll make our way to witness the GREATEST MONUMENT IN INDIA!” the
guide said, giving it a dramatic effect. As we followed him on the road leading
to the Taj, Smitha auntie and my mother were discussing about the guide.
“He seems
to be an expert in his field,”
“He
explains very naturally,”
“Couldn’t
it be that he copied all his information from Wikipedia?” Appu asked.
“No, I
don’t think he did anything like that,” opposed my mother.
Finally,
the great monument came into my view. My jaw dropped. It was really
magnificent. It looked like a glistening pearl in the dazzling light of the
afternoon sun. A sea of people was spread out in front of me, at different
locations in the garden, posing for the cameras pointed at them. When we found
an empty spot right in front of the Taj, the photographer in Appu aroused. On taking
his DSLR out, he started ordering us about.
“Manikkutta,
sit over there, on that bench. Salim uncle, beside him... Yes, that’s right…”
“Uh,
Appu, may be …” I tried to intervene.
“Manikkutta,
don’t interfere!” Appu shouted, “’cos I am the Gamma here!”
“The
Alpha, you mean,” I corrected him.
After
we had enough of squinting out through the blinding sunlight towards Appu’s
camera, we got up. Our guide reminded us to put on our shoe covers. All of us
pulled those out and started tying those. Meanwhile Appu’s face turned a little
pale, as he searched the side pockets of his jeans.
“Uh
mother, where are the shoe covers I’d given you for safe keeping?” he asked,
uneasily.
“Given
me?” Smitha auntie shot back, “Now don’t tell me that you have lost them.”
“He,
he, I think I have,” Appu continued in his uneasy tone.
After a
long search Appu found those.
“Where
did you find it?” asked an irritated Sujith uncle.
“Er…”
was his hesitant reply.
“Speak
up Appu!”
“Uh, in
the camera cover,” he replied, and shut his ears, anticipating a storm from us.
Soon,
we were exploring the Taj with the guidance of our chaperon.
As the
guide was rattling on his by-hearted information, Smitha auntie and my mother
were all ears, but I was interested only in sight-seeing. After he completed
his audio documentary, he led us into a hall inside the marble tomb.
There
was a huge grille which surrounded a staircase leading underground. This,
according to the guide, led to Shah Jahan’s and Mumtaz Mahal’s graves, which
was open to tourists once a year for few days. But during the major part of the
year, symbolic graves which signified their death were set up.
A man
was standing near the grille, signalling the visitors to move faster. As we
moved on, the guide explained that this monument, which is symmetrical in
shape, was a fine piece of Mughal architecture – a blend of Persian, Indian and
Islamic styles.
We
noticed several beautiful semi-precious stones on the walls of the tomb, but at
some places, there were empty spaces, as if they had been removed.
“It is
sad,” the guide reflected, “to see people behaving shamelessly. These stones
were stolen by vagrants.”
We got
out of the tomb through the exit. My father, relieved that we were out of the
‘no photography’ zone, took his camera out and captured several more photos. We
trudged back, tired after the sight seeing, to the parking lot where we got
into the car as it got ready to leave for Agra Fort.
“Sir, I
suggest we have our lunch before touring Agra Fort, as it will take at least
two hours and it’s already 30 minutes past 12,” the driver proposed.
“Well,
it’d be better if we …” Sujith uncle tried to reason.
“Sir, I
have got a lot of experience.”
“All
right, all right, let’s find a hotel,” he replied.
The
first thought that passed my mind after I stepped into the hotel was, What a cheap looking hotel!
There
was not one customer in the whole restaurant. Dusty chairs and tables made up a
large part of the room. A waiter, on seeing us, hastily took out a cleaning rag
and dusted two tables, joined them and motioned us to take a seat.
“We
could find a better place,” my father said.
“Sir,
this is the best hotel in the whole of Agra!” our driver said grandly.
“I
thought Agra could do better than this,” Appu murmured, “Anyway, let’s eat
something. I’m ravenous,”
Everybody
agreed with him as we took our seats. I
ordered a bowl of paneer butter masala and two rotis, which was the best lunch
I could find on the menu.
----------------------------
“It was
not such a bad lunch after all,” my father said, wiping his washed hands on a
towel, “I’d say it was decent,”
“Your
bill, Sir,” the waiter approached us and said, handing the bill over to my
father.
“Thanks,”
he said, taking it.
He
looked at it, and his eyes widened as he re-read the bill over and over again.
“I
can’t believe it,” handing me the bill. “Mind blowing, I’d say,”
The
figures at the end of the bill made my eyes nearly pop out.
“Mind
boggling, I’d say” I muttered
Soon,
we were on our way to the Agra Fort. It took us very less time to get there, as
the hotel was pretty much in the centre of the city. On the way, Appu made a
startling discovery.
“Hey!
Hey!” he shouted, “Over there! Look at that hotel!”
All of
us turned our attention to the place Appu was pointing to. On the opposite side
of the road was a restaurant which was way better than the one we had our lunch
in. We all turned to glare at the driver.
“…the
best hotel in the whole of Agra,” Appu said, imitating the driver’s earlier
talk.
“Er…he,
he,” was his sheepish response.
The
slowing down of the car signified our arrival at Agra Fort.
“Welcome
to Agra Fort,” our guide said.
----------------------------
“I
would’ve liked to meet the architect of the fort,” I said puffing and panting
as I trudged up the slope leading to the first floor of the fort, “Couldn’t he
have designed rooms on the ground floor?”
“Forts
were generally built for wars,” said the guide, “and were seldom comfortable,
as these were not their palaces. But in the case of the Mughal emperors, this
fort was also their abode,”
Finally,
after a lot of heaving and cursing, we made it to the top of the fort.
“The
fort is built over a vast expanse of land as…” the guide began.
As
usual, my restlessness made me lose interest in whatever the guide was rambling
on about. I even thought that my History teacher next year would explain better!
I decided to begin an expedition (my imaginary
quest) by picking up a stray twig (my imaginary sword) and making sure my cap
(my imaginary helmet) was in place.
I could
only make it to a storeroom inside the fort before a guard chased me out.
“Stupid
bloke,” I said under my breath.
As I
walked back to my starting point, I could see and hear a war of words between
Smitha auntie and Sujith uncle. I regretted throwing my twig away as I thought
I’d have made a good swordsman in the background. As I neared them, their talk
became audible to me.
“…could
you make Appu wear his thermal underneath?” asked agitated Smitha auntie.
“But
Smitha,” Sujith uncle protested, “it was chilly in the morning. So…”
“Wait,
wait,” I interrupted. “What exactly happened?”
“Appu
is having dehydration walking in this hot Sun.,” Smitha auntie explained, “and
to top it all, Sujith made him wear his thermals!”
“Oh…” I
said a trifle confused, as I have no idea what a thermal was.
“Where
is he then?” I asked when I found him missing.
“He’s
removing it over there,” my mother said, pointing, “there, in that corner.”
After a
while, Appu, clutching a white shirt, came back. He did look very tired, with
his drooping eyes and sullen face.
“Do you
want more water, Appu?” Smitha auntie asked, caressing him.
“No,”
he said hoarsely.
“Suggest
we leave for Gurgaon immediately,” my father said. “Appu could take a nap, and
we could have refreshments on the way. I am sure he will be all right then.”
“All
right,” Smitha aunty said, sounding re-assured, “off we go to the car.”
We paid
the guide’s fees before we began our return trip. Funnily, we willingly paid
him 500 rupees, where as the other would-be guide had asked us only 400 rupees.
Our
driver started up the vehicle, and the car sped off through the historical
streets of Agra.
“What
about Fatehpur Sikri?” I asked aloud.
“There
is nothing much over there. We can skip that.” Smitha auntie replied.
After
an hour, I broke the eerie silence which prevailed in the car, when I spotted a
shop selling tea, coffee and cool drinks.
We woke
up Appu and asked him he wanted. “Sprite,” he mumbled and he sat up yawning.
Soon,
after having refreshed ourselves, we continued our journey, with fresher minds.
Appu, now wide awake, seemed to be filled with energy.
“Manikkutta,”
he asked, “What do you want to become when you grow up?”
“A
software engineer,” I replied, “What about you?”
“I want
to,” he said proudly, “become a cardiac surgeon.”
“A
cardiac surgeon!”
“Yep,
you know why? I simply love to tear things up.”
“… and
what other job than a cardiac surgeon would satisfy me?”
After a few hundred minutes, the scenery changed
into the familiar scene of Sohna road. As the car pulled into the drive way of
our apartment, we got out and made our way to the house, but Sujith uncle
stayed behind to pay the driver his fees.
We
decided to have the dinner from
Bikanerwala again, as Smitha auntie and my mother were too tired to prepare any
food.
Dinner
over, we headed back the house, where I rolled onto the bed as soon as I got
there.
Day 4 (17-Mar-2014) – Kicking Back and Relaxing
I
opened my eyes at a quarter past nine in the morning (which I still think is a
great feat). This surprised me a lot as I usually never have a nap for more
than nine hours. I groggily sat up straight on my bed. Then I quickly jumped
out and went through all my errands before I went to the living room. I felt even more surprised there, as it was
the first day in my stay that I woke up before Appu. But he was not much of a
sleepyhead because, as I sat on the couch, trying to find out his iPad pass
code, he made his appearance.
“Trying
to crack the code, eh?” he asked me.
“Er…yes,
but I have been trying for about 10 minutes, and yet I am not able to crack
it,” I said, giving up the task.
“Hmm,”
he said wistfully, “I wish I know the code, I gave up on it long before.”
“Breakfast’s
ready!” called out Smitha auntie from the kitchen.
After
breakfast, Appu begged Sujith uncle to unlock the iPad for him.
“Hmm,
all right,” he said, “but don’t play too many games on it.”
After
doing just the opposite of what Sujith uncle had instructed us, and making our
eyes red and puffy, we got fed up.
“What
next?” I asked Appu
“How
about…some TV?” was his reply.
“I
don’t think I’ll be able to stand it,” I said absorbed in thought.
“Then
how good would be UNO?”
“You
mean that card game?”
“Yeap”
“Er…” I
said hesitantly, fearing cunning tricks up his sleeve, “all right”.
For the
first time, I started winning duels even with Appu as the opponent. After
shouting ‘UNO’ for the umpteenth time, which made me the winner of that match,
I stood up and said, “Now would be a good time for television.”
“But
before that,” said my mother, emerging from the kitchen, “you’d better have
some lunch.”
----------------------------
“Any
good movies you've got?” I asked Appu, as chappatis and fried chicken
disappeared down my gullet.
“Hmm..
I did have the DVD of ‘Amazing Spiderman’, but I kind of misplaced it,’ he
replied.
“Appu,”
Smitha auntie said, from across the table, indignantly, ‘You yourself told us
that the top of the almirah in your room is the perfect place form safe-keeping
such items!”
“Oh,”
he said indifferently, “I completely forgot about it.”
After
lunch we searched for the DVD and found it on the almirah as Smitha auntie had
said.
“Spiderman,
Spiderman... Does whatever a spider can,” hummed Appu as he inserted the disk
into the CD player.
Amazing
visuals, good background effects and a nice plot put Amazing Spiderman
together. It was around five in the evening when the movie got over.
“Fantastic
film,” I said, getting off the couch and washing my face, “what next?”
“Hmm…hey!”
he said, something clicking in his mind, “I've never show you my bicycle,
right?”
“Nope”,
I said as a reply
“Then,”
he said grandly running over to his balcony, “behold the magnificent Firefox SWR10- made
for racers”
“Wow”,
I muttered as I looked at the beast. It gleamed mischievously in the light of
the setting sun, ready to be raced upon.
“Ready
to go for cycling?” he asked
“Of
course,” I replied readily
We wheeled
the cycle to the elevator and pressed the ‘ground floor’ button. As the
elevator slowed down and finally stopped, we got out.
“Manikkutta,”
he said, getting on his cycle which he stationed at the start-point of his
route, “You follow me on foot as I cycle trough my usual route, so that you get
an idea of my route.”
I
jogged at Appu’s side as he cycled past towers, a swimming pool, well mown
lawns and the children’s play area. He halted as he arrived at the starting
point, having cycled through a whole lap.
“Now
it’s your turn, “ said Appu, getting off.
We
played about like this until it started darkening. We wheeled the cycle back to
the elevator and into his apartment which brought me a surprise.
“Finally!”
said my mother, looking with disapproval at our dirty selves, “go, have a quick wash, for
Smitha has prepared Paneer Tikka.”
Having
cleaned ourselves and throwing on cleaner clothes, Appu and I rushed to the
dining hall, where everyone was munching on the paneer tikka Smitha aunty was
serving.
After
every scrape of the meal was eaten up, Smitha aunty announced, “we’ve got to
pack provisions for tomorrow’s tour around Delhi.”
“And
for that,” continued my mother, “we need basic supplies.”
“Which
is why,” interrupted Smitha aunty, “we’ve got the need to do some shopping. So,
giddy up.”
We
hurried to the basement, locking the door behind us, and got into Sujith
uncle’s car. He drove out of the compound and rushed towards one of the biggest
supermarkets in Gurgaon – ‘More’,
“All
right”, said Smitha aunty, taking out a shopping list (which measured a cubit
in accordance with my body!).
“Let’s
start with the veggies.”
After a
long period of shopping, Appu and I finally got something to enjoy.
“Have
some ice cream,” said my father, handing us each a Cornetto cone.
On the
way back home, we had an extremely light dinner from a wayside restaurant.
The
moment we stepped into the house, my mother sent me to bed, saying “We’ll be
leaving at half past eight tomorrow. Better have a good sleep.”
