Tim & Liz, Agra

Rise early this morning for the first of many rabies jabs. At the doctors house we have to first meet his wife, children, sister, father-in-law and what seems to be far too many children for any one man, before we can finally get the big man on to the important issues: like how long I’ve got to live. He redresses the wound and then agrees to meet me at his surgery at 11am.
“Surgery” is little more than a shop with a small waiting area in front and a low partition separating the consulting room. There is no privacy. When we arrive a man is having an injection in his bottom and all the other patients are looking on! The doctor gives me one jab of rabies vaccine and sells me four more packs, which I am to get various doctors to stab into me on certain days over the next four weeks. This is a daunting task considering our itinerary but the most concerning thing is the little note on the side of the packs: keep refrigerated. The total cost for saving my life is a meagre £20 and he won’t even give me a receipt for the insurance claim…
When we return to the hotel our very own friendly rickshaw wallah is waiting for us outside. He knows we will give him good money so we agree to let him take us to the Jama Masjid mosque to resurrect our day and do some sight-seeing. Our self-assuming guide around the mosque is a very funny man who has deformed knees and walks on his hands and feet in a kind of constant yoga position. It’s very disconcerting to see a man scuttling like a spider towards you at high speed across a religious establishment.
The sun is roasting today and when the delights of the rather dilapidated mosque have been thoroughly consumed, we take in the ‘main bazaar’ in a slightly larger than intended circular walk taking in the chaotic stalls and bustling streets. Lizzie gets a lot of hassles and stares which isn’t good. The meat stalls are particularly unpleasant which is why at lunch-time ordering a vegetarian curry is an absolute must along with two ice-cold Pepsis.
We play our trump card of the day by getting our wallah to take us to the Agra Ashok hotel (a faded four star), claiming we are meeting friends again. Our purpose for this little scheme is that they have a swimming pool and for a small fee we can negotiate to use it. As it turns out we’re the sole users of it and it is a peaceful, outdoor pool with leafy shade and sunbeds. Finally we get some relaxing respite from the heat and bustle.
Later, for dinner, we escape by cycle-rickshaw to a well-recommended restaurant called ‘Zorba the Buddha’. The 7km trip is pretty good fun in unlit streets without bike lights and with buses and mopeds flying by. The place turns out to be an enclave of profundity and cleanliness: Zorba (the Greek) and Gautam (the Buddha) fuse in mythically celebration of the new man, as written on their menu:
“My concept of the new man is that he will be Zorba the Greek and he will also be Gautam the Buddha: the new man will be sensuous and spiritual, physical, utterly physical in the body, in the senses, enjoying the body and all that the body makes possible and still a great consciousness, a great witnessing will be there. He will be Christ and Epicurus together.”
It would seem we still have some way to go…
Tonight turns out to be our 19 month anniversary so we consider the extravagance of dinner in a clean place worth it. The return trip (by the cycle-rickshaw wallah who has waited for us through the meal) is most exciting of all, half way through in the darkness, some bastards on a moped come past us and chuck a bucket load of water at us. Can’t believe it but it certainly cools you down.

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