It is strange that a symbol of such beauty known throughout the world would be found in a ragged, rough city like Agra. Agra, the place through which so many tourists pass, doesn’t shine as brightly as the gems nearby. It seemed a dirty, squalid cousin to Delhi. For all the extra dollars collected at the Taj from foreign tourists by the Agra cantonment, those development funds apparently don’t make it past politician pockets. The condition of Agra is so egregious that Air Sahara has become the corporate sponsor for the city, pledging money to develop and rehabilitate the city.
The train, as it turned out, was quite a fiasco. Getting to Agra was simple, even with Jonathan’s constant eye rolling. Getting across the bridge to see the Itimad-ud-Daulah was an experience. Shopping, of course, was yet another. However, our time in Agra expired and back to the train station we went. Then four hours later, the train finally came, only after we had nearly frozen on the platform and drank liters of lukewarm chai.
