Rajdhani Express 3

Weekend one
The morning alarm was an awaited one. A 200km journey on the cards. Where to? To one of the wonders of the world. One of the most famous grave sites. The Pyramids of Giza and Aztecs might come in your head. It is because I have not mentioned the purpose behind this grave. Love. This marble edifice has found its place in every Indian’s heart. Form some its an inspiration for some it is the poster on the Barbers door. But they know the Taj Mahal.
Blame the harmones or how our civilization has progressed; the thumping of a 350cc motorbike is always music to a boy’s ear. We ride on meticulously laid out roads. Stopping for the occasional tea. But the civilized roads, like civilization itself, met its end. An incomplete expressway. We continue on mud. Much slower. More dirtier. Manuvering on the muddy “motorable” service road is like our country’s state. We have tasted the fruits of development. But we are on a slow track now. Bumpy and dusty. On One side is the lure of the lush green fields of prosperity, while on the other is the grey dry development. We have so far moved on enjoying both the sides. Each separately. But will these three paths meet somewhere in the future. Not in the near future. May be the distant one.
The aim was to visit one of the most Islamic grave site. We ended up in an Islamic graveyard alright. But it was nowhere close to Agra. We were in a graveyard for the worshippers of Mecca, in one of the holiest places for the Hindus. Mathura. It was here , these very grounds , where lord Krishna took birth. Like most religious centers, Mathura is also dirty. The roads are filled with dust ,dung and devotion. It is one of those places which has an identity crisis whether it is a village, a town or a city.
We were there, deciding whether to head to Taj or take a U-turn and find a road, a proper road back to Delhi. Our thoughts were like a pendulum, until we saw the temple with around 200 people, lined up in front of the temple and countless more inside, to have one look at the idol. Devotion and belief acted as force fields to the people who were waiting outside. The dry afternoon sun, the dust from the roads, the smoke from the vehicles, cow dung filled streets , nothing mattered. Their souls needed no cleansing, it was their feet and faces that needed some.
From that sight the bike had a mind of its own and decided to take the highway. Stopping occasionally at dhabhas and tea stalls we reached back with a lot of memories and a lot more road sense!!