Patterns and Texture

Originally Written : May 27, 2010


I never would have guessed Indian-inspired masala and lamb pizza would be so tasty. Fortunately, I met Matan in the Mumbai airport who convinced me to try it. Matan, an Israeli about my age, had recently finished his service with the Israeli military and is backpacking through India for several months before starting school in the Fall.

Early yesterday, I left Puthappally for the Cochin Airport with the hopes of being in Delhi by dinner time. Unfortunately, fate did not concur with my plan. At the same time I left Cochin on a plane for Mumbai, where I had a stopover before continuing on to Delhi, the Indian President, Pratibha Devisingh Patil, decided to fly to China for a conference. In doing so, her trip, classified as “VIP Movement” shut down the entire Delhi airport for several hours. To further exacerbate the situation, two Indian Airlines planes nearly collided at Mumbai International Airport while one was landing and one was taking off on the same runway. As a result of the two incidents, I was left stranded in Mumbai airport for eight hours with nothing to do but get to know my new friend Matan. For several hours we were fascinated by stories and questions of the other’s culture and life. We argued about politics, talked about our favorite Family Guy episodes, and shared photographs that we had taken in our travels. My conversation with Matan did not stop for one moment during those eight hours and I boarded my plane to Delhi surprised and excited that, even though I grew up in the United States, I could relate so well to someone from Israel.

By 1am I had finally arrived in Delhi, exhausted and sleepy. I had been outside of the airport for more than a few seconds before I felt the intensity of the Delhi heat. The temperature often rises above 100 degrees Fahrenheit and the air is extremely dry in the summer. I can only imagine that this is what it must feel like to literally be baked alive in an oven. I grabbed a taxi from the airport to my cousin Bikku’s place in a well-known neighborhood behind the main market. However, with absolutely no knowledge of Hindi, I attempted to explain to the taxi driver where I wanted to go with the limited phrases that I memorized before leaving Kerala.

“Malviya Nagar, market ke pechey,” I say.

“Ok,” is his only response.

“Great,” I think to myself, “he understood.”

About 2am I finally reach Bikku’s place, grateful for a cool place to lay down and rest. I fell asleep immediately, despite the dreadful heat.

I woke this morning at about 5am, still groggy but very excited, to jump in another taxi which took me to Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal. It is often said that the Taj Mahal is like the Grand Canyon; you see pictures of it your entire life but can never appreciate it’s beauty or power until you see it in person. Four hours later, I arrived in Agra and my driver Ramesh gave me one warning before I left to go exploring—“keep drinking water by the liter, this heat is very dangerous.” It did not take me more than a few seconds to understand why he had offered the advice; the temperature today was almost 120 degrees Fahrenheit and I was nearly knocked off my feet by the overwhelming wave of heat that hit me. A thick, white haze of heat and pollution blanketed the sky like a thick smoke so densely that I could stare directly at the sun without hurting my eyes. Determined, I set out for the Taj Mahal, passing many “tour guides” trying to scam visitors with a few historical facts in exchange for a hefty compensation. I finally entered the site and immediately began documenting the amazing Moghul architecture and siting strategies. The procession and entrance were grandiose and set a fantastic stage for revealing the Taj as I proceeded.

As I had imagined, the pure white shined in the summer sun and at times felt almost blinding. I explored the mausoleum and the adjacent mosques and was intrigued by the textures, patterns, and materiality that spoke so powerfully. The deep red sandstone of the mosques and surrounding buildings, inlaid with perfectly carved patterns, provided a beautiful contrast to the purity of the Taj itself. The interior spaces provided a surprisingly cool retreat from the heat and I spent several minutes inside rehydrating and reflecting on the experience. After a few hours of exploring the site and thoroughly exhausting every photographic opportunity, I decided to head towards Agra Fort, stopping in a few shops along the way.

Shopping in India is quite the experience in itself. I get the sense that every individual in India shares the common goal of trying to take advantage of me, willing to charge me several hundreds or even thousands of rupees more because I am a foreigner. I quickly learned to bargain with the dealers until I came to a price I was happy with. Ironically, I still left each shop feeling like I had just been duped. Regardless, I purchased a few souvenirs and continued onto Agra Fort where I spent another few hours exploring and trying to stay cool. At about 1pm I had been thoroughly cooked and decided that it was time to get out of the sun before I suffered from any serious heat exhaustion or spent any more money on useless trinkets.

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