I was woken in the dead of night. The sleeper-bus had come to a halt. The door of my cabin was slid open and a guy beckoned me out of bed. What did he want? Still half asleep I staggered up. Next thing I know my bed has vanished, crumpled upwards before my eyes and the wall next to it has been flung open – I’d been sleeping right next to a trap door. I look frantically around… where was my kindle? My charger? My galaxy pods?
The guy who woke me was now trying to haul a mighty sack through the open doorway. A whole pile of the sacks lined the middle of the bus. He was clearly struggling so I gave him a hand though I was still half-asleep, and together we began shoving these mighty sacks through the side of the coach where somebody caught them down upon the road below.
Eventually, our task complete, the door was shut again and my bed returned to me. RIP my Galaxy Pods. They were never found.
Several hours later I was let off at my new destination. I had gone from India’s largest state: Rajasthan, to Madhya Pradesh, “The Tiger State of India.” Walking through the city of Gwalior I felt enormously glad I’d ignored Aden’s forceful advice to forget about Gwalior. After the headache of Jaipur, Gwalior was wonderfully peaceful. I was getting stared at a bit but not hounded like I was in the Pink City. People were polite and curious and though there was a lot of hectic traffic about, I felt relaxed and free… though the heat was more crushing and harder to bear than ever before.
I breakfasted on an omelette and gravitated towards a large shopping mall. D.B. Mall it was called. D.B. Mall was about to become my new home and social hotspot for the next 4 days…
Part 2 – Introducing Vishal – (DAY 90)
I was recuperating… relaxing in the confines of D.B. Mall. Eating dominos pizza and chocolate cream cakes. I thought that getting out of Jaipur would rekindle my desire to travel and explore new places, but my motivation was still dead in the sun. After being kicked out of the food court, I found a bench on the other side of the mall with a plug socket where I could sit down, just me and my laptop… I couldn’t wait. But one other guy was already sitting on the bench and it wasn’t long before he began talking to me. His name was Vishal. I soon learned that he worked as a delivery boy for the nearby KFC and was having a break between orders. Vishal wanted to know about what I was writing. I told him about Barnet and he told me about Bhind. Now that I was sitting on the bench with Vishal, the bench began to get a fair bit of traffic. Groups of youngsters stopped to pepper me with questions and put me on their Instagram stories. I also started getting free lessons on how to swear in Hindi.
Vishal told me I should go to a place called Vrindavan. He said that lots of foreigners like me go there. Lots of foreigners like me even live there. I’d never heard of Vrindavan before. It was my plan to go to Agra next. Vishal told me Vrindavan is very close to Agra. I could go to both. But he stressed Vrindavan, told me I would find peace there…
Vishal is Hindu and he eats meat and drinks. He loves beer and chicken. (I suppose he does work at KFC). I showed him photographs of High Barnet. He said it looked beautiful. You’ve got to see it in person Vishal… We talked all the way until he had to go deliver an order. Then he came back and we talked some more. We talked all the way until the closure of the shopping mall.
Part 3 – Introducing Kakul (DAY 91)
The following day, after breakfasting on some delicious aloo parantha – that tasty Indian pancake bread upgraded with a filling of potatoes & spices – at Hotel Balaji, I got into an auto-rickshaw which flung and swerved itself through the busy Gwalior streets, taking me all the way to the bottom of a hill. A steep incline of rock known as Gopachal, at the top of which stood the magnificent Gwalior Fort. A fort which, despite being built all the way back in the 8th century and passing through the control of many dynasties, two of which fought against the British, is so well preserved you can’t even call it a ruin. Bolstered with dashing turrets and licked with blue paint it overlooks the city of Gwalior like an enormous, expertly crafted sandcastle. I entered the fort, exploring its dungeons and courtyards – it has a great many courtyards. Being accosted for pictures every 5 minutes was beginning to grate on me however. Luckily, one particular person came to my rescue and helped put an end to such inconveniences.
Gwalior Fort courtyard…
An open and friendly 22 year-old girl called Kakul offered to tell me about the history of the fort. She was the first person in the fort to try and help me rather than just snap pictures of me like I was part of the attraction. She spoke fast “Hinglish”, quickly changing between English and Hindi within the same sentence which meant it wasn’t always easy to understand her, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed listening to the half-legible historical ramblings and peering through the grills and staring at the wall patterns.
From the village of Shamli in the state of Uttar Pradesh, 102km from New Delhi, Kakul is a Hindu, but her name, she tells me, is Muslim. Kakul loves travelling and exploring. Since she is unable to leave India she’s travelling around the subcontinent and she’s getting around by hitch-hiking. I was impressed. Why had I never tried to hitch-hike? Could I hitchhike?
Anyway, Kakul hitchhiked to Gwalior for medical reasons. She had to see a doctor here.
As Kakul continued to give me a half-English, half-Hindi tour of the Fort, she introduced me to her friend, Lakhan Singh. He was pretty quiet with me – perhaps he didn’t speak much English. Kakul explained that Lakhan Is her friend from school. He has asked for her hand in marriage more than a couple times now, but Kakul does not want him. Still, he does not give up. He follows her everywhere and is constantly looking out for her. Kakul maintains he wants her hand in marriage and will continue to seek it, but she cannot give it to him.
Just as we were beginning to hit it off and take pictures on the balcony below the fort, Lakhan suddenly vanished. I asked Kakul where he’d gone. She didn’t know. But she told me he’d left because he was jealous… He gets that way apparently. But, Kakul pointed out he most likely went to the nearby Sikh temple… if we ventured to the Sikh Temple we would find him there.
Me and Kakul outside Gwalior Fort
Anyone is welcome at a Sikh Temple. I wished I could have taken a picture of the place, for its exterior was grand. A steep flight of steps followed by a road across an elevated stone platform led to the entrance. This path forced you to walk through a shallow pool of water to cleanse your feet before entering. On such a blistering hot day, paddling my way into the temple was very pleasing.
Part 4 – Inside the Sikh Temple in Gwalior (DAY 91)
Kakul told me you could pray to any God here, told me I could pray to Jesus. After orbiting a huge glass box which was filled with holy items and figures, a Sikh Priest served us a large chunk of cinnamon sponge each. Or at least something that tasted exactly like that. You weren’t allowed to eat it standing up. We had to take it to a corner of the temple where we sat cross-legged (me failing as usual) and breaking off tiny chunks of the cinnamon sweet to eat. Turns out Sikh holy communion is a hell of a lot tastier than the wafer you get at church.
Lakhan wasn’t in there. We finished our cinnamon sponge balls and circled round to a dining hall behind the temple. Once again we sat upon the floor, this time being served Dal and rice and roti from buckets. It reminded me a bit of the spiritual retreat I’d attended with Ashish in Mumbai. When the attendants saw I was unable to sit cross legged they brought me a stool and insisted I sit on it.
I asked Kakul what her favourite food was. It was Dal and roti. She only ate Dal and roti. ‘I am a simple girl’ she said. Dal never disappoints, and every-time I happened to glance at the attendant, he’d instantly come forwards with his bucket and start splattering more of it onto my plate. Kakul eventually had to tell me to stop looking at him otherwise we would be stuck there eating Dal forever.
Down Gopachal we walked, marvelling at the mysterious Jain statues carved into the rock as night rolled down along with us. Kakul had so much to say for herself. She continued to talk lots and fast, switching between languages as she went. I tried really hard to understand when she spoke in Hindi but I was pretty much lost the entire time.
When I told her I was going back to the D.B. Mall she insisted on coming with me.
Part 5 – D.B. Mall Antics… (DAY 91)
I was stupidly excited to be getting back inside D.B. Mall. Before Kakul and I could decide where to go, I spotted Vishal sitting on the same bench as yesterday. I rushed over to him. Kakul followed. Within minutes I’d introduced Kakul and Vishal to each other and they’d hit it off strong.
Their interaction progressed naturally from English into Hindi. The language barrier obscured the depth of what passed between them, but I could tell when Vishal was poking fun at Kakul and when Kakul was mocking Vishal. The whole charade was greatly amusing to witness, especially when they each reported their grievances of the other in English. Two reports which were always conflicting.
Evening sneaked by and the smells from the food court beckoned. The sheer range of fast-food restaurants, the likes of Burger King and KFC intermingling with chains I’d never heard of like ‘Delhi 6’ and ‘Bake N Shake’ thrilled me ridiculously. Bake N Shake was serving fast-food pasta. Kakul had never eaten pasta before. She only ate dal and roti after all. She wanted to know if it was any good. I told her it was and that she should eat it. So Kakul and I both ordered pasta. I wanted Kakul to be impressed by the pasta though I thought maybe she wouldn’t like it. But she did like it. It was very spicy and came with gorgeously greasy garlic bread. Just like the other pasta dishes I’ve had in India, it was heavy on the sauce and heavy on the spice. Another spicy pesto pasta soup – good and greasy.
Kakul was heading to Vrindavan – or at least that was her plan. She wanted me to come with her but I wasn’t ready to leave Gwalior. Vishal urged me to go to Vrindavan with her. But I was adamant about going to Agra before I ventured to this other place I knew nothing about. I obviously wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Then Kakul suggested we go to Agra that very night.
This was the last thing I wanted. I wasn’t ready to leave Gwalior. I was too in love with the comforting confines of D.B. Mall and the mysterious peacefulness of the place. Vishal continued to urge me to go with Kakul, and I felt guilty for not wanting to leave, but I’d already booked my hotel for another night anyway.
The night drew on. Vishal regularly had to get up to go and deliver someone’s fried chicken. And as he rushed off across the mall I’d shout ‘Phir Melenge!’ to screams of laughter from Kakul. Kakul burst out laughing almost every time I spoke Hindi. She said it was so weird to hear her language coming out of my mouth. She called some of her friends in Delhi and had me speak to them on the phone. She even called her mother and got me to speak to her as well.
Eventually the shopping mall was closing. Kakul and I were still waiting for Vishal to come back from delivering one of his orders. We weren’t going to leave without him even though the security guards kept pressuring us to get out. Soon we were the only two left in the shopping mall who weren’t security or staff. We were both bored and had begun to talk about music. I of course had to bring up R.R.R. and the songs from the movie. Kakul hadn’t heard of it so I began playing Sholay out loud on my phone, and then we both began dancing to Sholay as the security guards watched us with suspicion.
Eventually Vishal came down to join us. Kakul headed off to the train station and Vishal gave me a ride on his bike back to Hotel Balaji. Vishal came into my room and we chatted for a while. Then we got a message from Kakul. She was sleeping overnight at the train station… staying in Gwalior another night… She was waiting for me to come to Agra with her. But I didn’t want to go to Agra. Not yet anyway. Vishal didn’t think it was safe for her to be sleeping on the platform by herself. It certainly didn’t sound safe. We both felt bad for her. Vishal messaged Kakul, insisting she come and stay at my hotel. But Kakul wouldn’t. So Vishal decided to go and spend the night with Kakul at the train station… even though it didn’t sound like she wanted him there…
Part 6 – Fallout (DAY 92)
The following morning, shortly after I’d woken up and breakfasted on some more aloo parantha, Vishal texted me to say he was outside my hotel on his bike. I checked-out and went to meet him. He drove me straight to D.B. Mall. I asked him how the night at the train station had been, but he didn’t have much to say.
Up in the food court on the top floor of D.B. Mall, Kakul reunited with us. She was furious. Her and Vishal had had some sort of falling out the night before. Something had happened that they weren’t telling me about. Kakul bought some coffees and we sat down at a table but the air was tense. Kakul was flat out refusing to speak to Vishal and Vishal appeared a little nervous. I decided I didn’t care about their fall-out and tried on Vishal’s sunglasses. Vishal soon left and it was just me and Kakul. Kakul wanted me to come out and explore some Sikh markets with her, but I was exhausted, and the thought of going out into what now felt like the most extreme heat I’d ever had to put up with was too much. I didn’t want to step foot outside the air-conditioned mall. I thought I’d be able to put up with Indian heat, but it seems to be proving too much for me.
I managed to further frustrate Kakul by deciding to stay yet another day in Gwalior. I felt sure I’d be ready to explore again the next day, and there was still plenty to explore here. I just needed a day sheltered from the sun. So I stayed in the mall for the entire day – treating it as some kind of bomb shelter, only looking at the sun through the windows and thanking God I wasn’t out there in the furnace of the city.
Part 7 – A Night at The Gwalior Regency (DAY 92)
Tired of trying to persuade me against my plans Kakul left me in the mall. I booked myself into a new hotel: The Gwalior Regency. Thanks to the Gwalior Regency I furthered my exploration of my new favourite Indian delicacy.
Lounging in my new hotel room, I ordered Keema Parantha. This was parantha with tender lamb baked inside of it. The bread melted in my mouth and oozed lamb gravy. Nobody could make me do anything. I’d never leave Gwalior unless I felt like it.
Part 8 – Getting out of Gwalior (DAY 93)
When I woke up the next day I felt at once that I must get out of Gwalior and booked myself a bus to Agra. Little did I know that this bus would turn out to be rottenly unreliable.
I breakfasted at D.B. Mall on some strange bread that may or may not have been parantha and a cup of liquid that tasted like water with loads of salt and curry powder in it. MMMM… LOVELY. Vishal gave me a ride to where I was to be getting my bus. Before however, he took me around to other parts of Gwalior showing me some cool places I hadn’t seen. Then he dropped me at what was supposed to be my bus stop though it didn’t seem like a bus stop at all. More like a place where drug deals get made.
After waiting for over an hour I was pretty sure my bus wasn’t coming. I was furious with myself and couldn’t understand how I’d missed it. I obviously wasn’t even in the right place. As I had been sitting here, wasting time I had been attracting more and more stares. There was now almost a crowd surrounding me, most of whom couldn’t speak any English so they just stared at me instead. I began to feel like some sort of object. What the hell had happened to my bus?
Beginning to get desperate I called both Vishal and Kakul. Like two guardian angels they came to my rescue at once. Kakul turned up first. She was on the phone to one of her friends. I hadn’t realised Kakul had friends in Gwalior – not only that but she apparently had connections not 500 yards from my very position. She announced confidently that my bus service was a scam. I was adamant that this was not the case. I had booked all my buses in India from the same website. Kakul shook her head. We hurried away from the crowd of curious bystanders, across some alarming roads and through a crowd of people to where a young bloke stood. He looked roughly the same age as Kakul.
Kakul introduced me to Ashu Tosh. He could help us apparently. It was not made clear how. I really had no idea what was happening at this point and had given up on the idea of getting to Agra. Kakul, Ashu Tosh and I sat at the back of a crowded restaurant at a table where we were given a silver jug of water. I wondered if it was safe to drink the water as Kakul and Ashu Tosh began examining my mobile bus ticket in some detail and talking away in Hindi.
Kakul continued insisting my bus did not exist. I’d been scammed out of my money by a dodgy website. And now that I thought about it I realised she must be right. The bus operator was refusing to answer any of our calls. Then Vishal came triumphantly into the restaurant. Kakul blamed him for leaving me on my own. Things between her and Vishal were still tense. But Ashu Tosh had an overwhelmingly calm persona and his presence seemed to diffuse a lot of the tension. We all discussed what we should do about this dodgy bus situation. I was astounded at the lengths these three people were going to help me… I mean, they seemed more concerned about my problems than I was…
Kakul began typing an email to the operator while Vishal started downing water straight from the jug (it was the waiter’s fault for not leaving us any cups) and I tried to find out who Ashu Tosh was and how he knew Kakul. Now new plans were being made for the next day and I wondered for how long I would stay stuck in Gwalior. It served me right for not just leaving Gwalior the previous night when I had the chance.
Suddenly, my phone began to ring. Kakul answered it. It was my bus driver. He’d arrived at the bus stop and he couldn’t see me. If I didn’t come right that minute he was driving off. I knew it wasn’t a bloody scam! I wanted to yell. We all bolted up from our chairs and rushed out of the restaurant and back across the hectic roads. Kakul was still on the phone to my bus driver. I hoped she was giving him a piece of my mind. He was almost two hours late after all.
We made it to the bus in the nick of time. I bid goodbye to Vishal, Kakul and Ashu Tosh, although Vishal pissed the bus driver off by getting onboard to wish me good-luck. We will meet again… but for now I was off… off to Agra to see the most visited monument in India, and beyond Agra that strange place called Vrindavan where Vishal promised me I would find peace. As I would soon find out, there would be nothing peaceful about Vrindavan…. Or Agra for that matter….
