My Indian Boyfriend

(Thursday the 17th)
Boy India really is a mixed bag. I haven't been writing not because I don't have stories, but just because I've been too emotionally worn out to put them into words. Yesterday about 7:00 am I arrived in Khajuraho after taking an overnight train from Agra. Since I spent all of the 8 hours doubled over on a bunk with my bag at my head and three men occupying three of the six bunks I didn't get much sleep. Consequently after getting to my hotel (who, to my surprise picked me up at the train station) I fell asleep. But not before taking the most thorough shower possible. Seldom have I felt so thoroughly disgusting.

In the interest of clarity I will start more or less where I left off.

More or less between Agra and Jaipur is a beautiful Mogul palace and mosque. In my anxiety to get out of the car and away from my 'buddy' I almost passed it up. I am profoundly glad that I didn't. My favorite fact of the day was that Akbar, Mogul king in the 16th century I believe, had three wives. One Muslim, one Hindu, and one Christian (from Portugal of all places). Despite being muslim himself his Hindu wife was his favorite as she gave him a son. Naturally he had about 800 concubines (not exaggerating by the way).

To my dismay, embarrassment, and utter exasperation Amid expressed his deep love for me on the drive from Jaipur to Agra. Even Miss Manners, I'm willing to bet, wouldn't have known how to handle a driver/guide tell me (a woman alone in India) that he would marry me if I wasn't already (though he didn't believe me), that he loved me, and would wait for me until my next trip to India. When, I guess, I would have conveniently ditched my husband. Luckily he told me over and over that he wouldn't touch me unless I said it was alright. (Telling me repeatedly that he should get brownie points for this since few other men would not allow me the chance to say no.) Naturally, in true male fashion he finished his speech by taking my hand and lacing his fingers with mine while telling me (excuse me, 'asking me') that i didn't mind, right? Torn between my instinct to keep things as civil as possible between us and my instinct to try my luck hitchhiking the rest of the way I extricated my hand with assurances that I liked him but loved my husband. He spent the next half hour trying to convince me I could have a husband in America and a boyfriend in India. I know, right?

The reason for his deep devotion, i was forced to listen to, was my 'nice girl' appearance, my lack of a drug habit, and some other crap. That was the first time in my life I considered taking up a drug habit. Finally, he assured me for the umpteenth time that he really loved me with all of his heart and would give me time to think about my feelings for him. Six o'clock that evening, to be specific.

By the time we reached Agra I made up my mind to make inquires as to where I could purchase a burka, or at the very least a hijab. Not a very realistic plan but still, a girl can dream right? To perfect the scene Amid wanted assurance from me that I wasn't mad and that I wouldn't call and complain to his boss. At that I couldn't help bursting into a fit of giggles.

Perhaps imprudently I decided against ditching him. Besides the money and the convenience of having him my success was improbable. He was staying at the hotel also and seemed to spend all of his time in the lobby. He knew the owner, obviously, and was sure to search high and low for me. Even if I managed to get out of the hotel undetected Agra is a small town and I'd be looking over my shoulder the whole time. Just to finish up with my supposed Indian boyfriend, he left mid afternoon the next day with a hug from me and an assurance from the guard outside that he really had left.

Now, on to Agra. No matter what you have heard or read about the Taj Mahal, no description comes close to its overwhelming grandeur. What makes it that much more spectacular is that the king built it as a monument to and a tomb for the love of his life. "Is this the face that launched a thousand ships..." has a contender in this statement of devotion. (hats off to those who got the reference) You literally can't take your eyes off of it. Turning your back to look at someone else takes conscious effort. The three gates to the complex are less overwhelming, but only just. Once again, pictures are necessary to complete the account.

On a different note I was, once again the center of attention every time I sat down on the marble to cool off. I lost count of how many people took pictures of and and with me. Happily almost everyone asked permission. Three hours felt like maybe one by the time I got back to the car. Amid couldn't imagine what I had been doing but then again, he is very into the whole when-you-take-a-picture-youre-done thing. My travel style baffled him.

Our conviction that doing Nepal before India would make India easier might have been flawed. When I got to Nepal I was prepared for something like India. Over the two months (despite some difficulties) I relaxed and picked up some bad habits. Like not worrying about going out after dark. Big no-no especially in Agra. Jaipur was actually fine but Agra no way. Well hell, was I going to eat at the hotel every night? Since I never managed to find anything resembling a local restaurant I might as well have.