A Trip to The Taj

Originally written By Debapriya Priyadrashi Chakra Translated to English By Manoj Kumar Rath
It was a typical Autumn morning we set out to visit tajmahal, one of the seven wonders of the world. I was not accompanied by anyone yet I was not alone. In fact I was in a tourist group who were on their way to visit Tajmahal. The entire bus appeared to be a mini India. The bus strated from Lalkilla in Delhi. Probably I was the last passenger to board the bus from Pusp Vihar in Sheiksarai. One of my relatives who lived there had arranged everything for this tour and dropped me at the bus stob by his car early that morning. I was very excited as for the first time I was going to see Tajmahal from a close look ife. I had the perfect attire of a tourist. Wearing a six pocket cargo pant , a designer t-shirt, sunglasses on and carrying a camera to capture memories and a water bottle in my hand I looked like a perfect tourist. The bus moved forward exactly at 7.30 A.M. after I boarded the bus. There wre three Gujrati families, a fther and his son fro Kerala, a bengali couple, an airforce Jawan from Bihar, an old man from Manipuri , a young man from Maharastra , one family from Chatisgarh, a young couple from Bolangir(Odisha), and lastly myself. The tourists celebrated as soon as the bus started. It appeared as if it was a compulsory activity for my co passengers who have come out of their homes to travel at least once in their life time. It was a bright sunny day and we had crossed Faridabad by that time. The bus stopped near by a motel on the road side. All of us got down to have something from the Motel irrespective of our wish. It was the last stoppage for the tourists as the bus would not stop anywhere on the way even for refreshments. Not being choosy everyone were busy taking some food for themselves. The motel owner exhibited a close up smile after satisfying himself with a huge profit by applying all sorts of taxes on the food beverages. Suddenly the cleaner shouted roughly at the tourists to get in to the bus quickly. Everyone boarded the bus and the bus again resumed its service. Some tried to sleep immediately as the got back to their seat. But persons like me did not miss the opportunity to enjoy the roadside views. Hardly had we crossed two kilometers from Delhi, suddenly we heard a loud noise. Oh! What a sound it was . it appeared as if somebody had planted a bomb in the bus. Such negative thoughts are obvious to come in such situations. Everyone was getting impatient. The illmannered cleaner had no answers to the rampant questions of the passengers. Turning a deaf ear to the abusive language of

the people he took two or three puffs from his bidi(desi cigar) and jumped to the task of changing the stepney. The tourists got relxed when they found that it was a matter of burst tyre not a bomb. The thought of bomb explosion was very common in those days as very recently there was a bomb blast at Palika Bazaar by the terrorist groups. And planting a bomb in a tourist bus not impossible task. But anyway the poortyre betrayed us in the midway and the young driver was getting impatient for this unprecedented incident. Thats why its always advised to check everything before setting out for any journey.

The old man in our troup was looking to his wrist watch again and again. It was two oclock in the afternoon. The place where the bus broke down was very lonely and there was not a single shop to be found nearby from where we could shop. There was no option left for anyone except resting under the roadside trees and passing the time reading newspapers. The tourists emptied their stock of regional slangs on the tourist agency and the driver. However the cleaner succeeded in changing the tyres after a toilsome labour and we again resumed our journey. But lo.. it was not the end of our misfortune. Hardly had the bus moved some distance it came into sight of the RTO. Not having the required rout permission the driver gave some hush money to the RTO and our bus started it journey again. It appeared such unprecedented incidents were scripted for our journey. After so much of haltings and delays we finally reached Agra., our destination. The parking place was about three kilometers away fronm the wonderful monument. Battery operated vehicles were arranged for public transportation to avoid the disfiguring of one of the greatest world heritage from pollution. The horse and camel carriage were the most popular carriers at that place. So we hired a horse carriage for every five members. Oh sorry readers, I have forgotten to tell you the best part of my journey to Taj. She was sneha Bansal, a Gujrati girl. It was a family outing for them. They wanted to enjoy the most of their outing. Humabeings love to be in relatioships. They want to share their feelings with others irrespective of strange or known ones. And in our case we were the tourists giving company to each other. We had become very close to each other sharing lays, kurkure , Gujrati sweets with each other. I remember being warned by somebody not to take anything from the stranger on a journey. But sometimes man make mistakes knowingly and in this case it was I did the same. Within that short span of travel period we became so close to each other that we purchased entry tickets together to enter into The Tajmahal. Inside the Tajmahal it was very lively decorated revealing the crazyness towards art and their lifestyle of the Mughals. Built in the seventeenth century ,it was the brain child of great Emperor Shahajahan who had never imagined that it could be revered as a world heritage and could attract people around the world. We entered through the Western Gate and its artistic beauty mesmerises us. Unnoticedly I

spoke up Taj is always Taja(Fresh). The atmosphere was full of romance. Now I understand why it has been a dream place for young lovers. Sneha and I were walking very close to each other. She was enthralled to look at the water sprinklers around. We entered into the dome to see Mumtazs tombstone. It was evening outside but inside the dome it was pitch dark. Sneha clutched me firmly and leaned on me in that darkness. I thought we were the hero and heroine of any bollywood movie who had been separated from the tourist group. Their co-travellers had gone away after making a futile search for them . the hero and the heroine enjoyed a lot inspite of facing many troubles on their way. I was just wondering if these things are going to happen in my life. Unnoticedly we had come to a corner of the Tajmahal and our group members were nowhere to be seen. The evening was setting in and the caretakers of the monument rushed to vacate the tourists from that place. By mistake we came out of the Eastern gate instead of the Western gate. It was a blunder for us. This side was the famous market of Agra, Puranamandir. All sorts of gift items were available here. The vendors wait here to lure the tourists and avail profit. Unfortunately we became the victims of them. Girls are very prone to shopping and I couldnt deny Sneha of anything. Very soon we ran out of money, but the zeal of shopping was not over. So we stepped towards an ATM counter. It is rightly said by someone that when bad time comes it comes in groups. I couldnt think whether I met with her by chance or it she was my bad luck. Nothing was going right at that time. It was really frustrating to know that the ATM we had stepped in was temporarily out of order. We were penniless to hire even a horsecart or an autorickshaw. So we had to walk two miles before coming across another ATM counter. We felt relaxed after getting some money from there. It was very late by that time. I had noone to enqiury about me, but she was getting a lot of phone calls from her parents and relatives. She was at the verge of crying. I thought that the co-passengers might be irritated and would loose temper when we reach there. But to my utter surprise I was warmly welcomed by her parents and relatives when we reached there. They had forgotten everything and the lines of satisfaction was clearly visible on their foreheads because I had brought their young girl safe to them. Now the bus was moving towards Brundavan & Mathura. As I am very young and I have no interest in visiting these pilgrim places, but many of our tour partners were old age ones. So they were quite adamant to visit these places inspite of being late. The bus was moving ahead carelessly piercing the darkness in the night. Everyone had fallen asleep by that time I wondered how could people sleep in a running bus. My eyes were wide open and I was reliving the past incidents. We were crossing the holy river Yamuna. Suddenly the bus shievered heavily. There was huge sound of explosion and it had taken the sound sleep of the passengers with it. The bus lost its control after its two tyres burst out and was about to fall into the river breaking

the barricade. Everyone were panic and unanimously they were praying their god for their rescue. I realised the unity diversity here. Though they were praying in various regional languages but all expressed the same meaning of their helplessness. The local people came to our rescue. With their help we broke the glass windows of the bus and and came out one by one. We spent that night in that unknown place nad early in the morning we journeyed towards Delhi. By a passenger train. There was a mixed expression of fear nad satisfaction on everyones face. Nobody could understand why such accidents happened to us from morning to evening that day. Whether we were unlucky tourists or the tour was unlucky for us , this question puzzled everyone.

What an unlucky tour for a tourist!