Day 10: Dance Monkey, Dance

Goofing off at The Taj Mahal

Chris establishing a 2-1/2 degree Tilt

Playing Their Parts

We made a pit-stop along the highway. There was a man with his boy and two monkeys at the driveway entrance. They apparently couldn’t cross the property line. I decided to go back and take some pictures. The father-son-monkey quartet went into a routine where each played a part on cue. The clothed monkey wearing make-up was good at standing like a statue with hands on head. The natural monkey did back flips. The father played a little drum set and held ropes. The son ran around us all as he make little comments.

My curiosity itch scratched and my photos taken, I began walking away. The humans each held out their hand and exclaimed, ‘MONEY!’ I gave a little chuckle because I’ve seen this pattern a lot here. People will engage you in some way and then ask for money for their services as you leave them. It works great too. An outright beggar you will just disregard, but an undercover beggar will get you to feeling indebted.

When I showed Tom he said, "there are some sick individuals out there."

As I opened my wallet for a 10 Rupee note, the father exclaimed, ‘500!’ ‘No, here’s 10’, I said as I handed out the little red piece of paper. ‘500!’, he shouted back, not daring to cross the property line. I turned to walk away and give them nothing, but the boy ran up and took the 10 Rupee note. The father then shouted out, ‘what about me?’ ‘You guys can split it’, I yelled back. I do like my monkey photos though. They’re definitely worth the 10 Rupee.

I was feeling rather sheepish about saying our tour company was fleecing us a couple days ago. Yesterday there was no indication of a fleecing, although I now think that’s because we robbed them of the opportunity by turning in early. Today we were assigned a great young tour guide for the Taj Mahal who spoke excruciatingly slow and deliberately in his thick accent to the point that my mind would wander. Yet he had a charm and sincerity that just made you love him. It wasn’t until our trip back to the hotel that another fleecing commenced.

Rock Inlay in Marble

We were taken to an industry shop where craftsmen made beautiful white marble pieces with colorful rock inlays. Chris took one for the team by making a “thank you” purchase so we wouldn’t feel guilty. Just kidding (sort of). Chris apparently genuinely liked his purchase. Next up was a jewelry shop where Laura helped satisfy their sales quota by purchasing a ring with pretty lavender colored stones. We played along until finally hearing from our captors, ‘and let me now take you upstairs to our textile shop’. That’s when we snapped by leaving the store and emphatically declining.

We passed through many slum-like areas on our drive from New Delhi to Agra today. One of the more interesting sights was a dead body covered in white linen. As I stared out the window, I wondered what images (what photos) would best illustrate the general poverty. After a couple hours, I finally became sickened and tired dwelling on it. I decided to just tell you to visit your own garbage dumps and imaging some additional features.

Showing you a picture of a slum would be like showing you a picture of your own garbage dumps but worse. It would contain the weathered garbage accumulated over decades (not fresh garbage being prepared for burial like at Western dumps). It would have black cesspools that bubble. The ones I’ve gotten close to actually bubble. It would have feral cows and dogs and pigs sifting through and eating remains of who knows what while adding their own defecation. Speaking of that, there would be open sewers or natural waterways contaminated by sewers. Most people would somehow look clean with reasonably nice clothing. I don't understand how they're able to do it. Some would be dirty. The dirtiest, the ones seemingly dirtier than the garbage, would be rummaging with the feral animals. There would be tin-roofed shacks and poles with tattered tarps and people sleeping in the dirt. Of course, there would be the smells to accompany it all. How depressing. I remember a quote from Mahatma Gandhi at the museum yesterday that read, ‘…our villages are dung heaps.’ That might have been generous.

We got to our hotel, which was located not far from real poverty. We had to pass through tight security that included a sweep of the van by a radiation detector at the gate and a metal detector with pat down at the front door. I was surprised to realize we were at a 5-star accommodation and asked Andrew how much money I’d be paying. This one was Andrew's pick. ’90 bucks a night’, he resplied. What a deal! He then added, ‘this is how the other half lives’. It’s a good point. There's wealth and poverty in this country like every other. The thing about India is that the gap between them is so tremendous. I also think the saying should be more like, ‘this is how the other half-a-percent lives”.

Andrew knew I wanted photos of the slums for my blog. Although we had reached all the creature comforts a person could want and the freedom to ignore the poverty, he suggested we leave to take a walk on the streets. I realized what he was doing. He was trying to help me get my photos. Thanks mate, but I think I’ll leave the rest of this topic to their imaginations.

"God of Woman" (as tall as a Giant Billboard)

Piece of Akbar's Tomb through a Rock Lattice

Taj Mahal

Wedding in India

Day 10: Dance Monkey, Dance

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