by I’m not saying I’ll never take a long-haul flight again, but it’s not likely. My husband Andrew and I are making efforts: getting rid of the hassles of air travel and jet lag and also doing our bit for the planet; and pursue a passion for Europe that will keep us happily occupied until our travel days are over.
But before we stopped, there was one country we had to visit again.
It’s the country where every disturbing or infuriating thing that happens is quickly followed by something captivating and uplifting. In 1983, before we became parents, Andrew and I spent three enriching and never-to-be-forgotten months traveling through India. We were determined to return, this time with our eldest son, Alexander.
In fact, I did not start the trip with them, but with my old travel companion Widge, on an almost circular dive through Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh, in the north of the country. Our route took us from Lucknow to Varanasi, Khajuraho, Panna National Park, Orchha and the Chambal Valley. Here we met Andrew and Alexander, who then embarked with me on a quieter week, pausing in Agra and Delhi en route north to Shimla in the Himalayas.
The last time I traveled in India, I was on a tight budget and it was quite a challenging experience at times. The poverty we witnessed – still present but certainly diminished – was difficult to bear, the train stations were chaotic and the bureaucracy disconcerting. We were young and it was okay, but now we are not young and the hassle and confusion is not okay.
This time, expertly guided and pampered by a tour company that fetched, delivered and made all the arrangements, our path became serenely smooth as we immersed ourselves in today’s India, economically stronger, rapidly modernizing but still a whirlwind of intoxicating views, both urban and urban. and rural, colors, sounds and flavors. Our goal upon returning was to harvest those sensations and store them forever.
Places to see
History, often dramatic, sometimes brutal, somehow seems to pass over India like a wave, leaving poignant and half-forgotten reminders of once-powerful dynasties and rulers, among them the British. Lucknow’s wide boulevards, historic buildings and often overlooked faded grandeur date back to both the Nawabs of Avadh (patrons of music, dance and culinary arts) and the British Raj. Among the remains of the residence, our guide Samir vividly brought to life the siege of Lucknow in 1857.
That evening, Widge and I embarked on a lively tour of the street cafes on the hectic, bustling streets of Chowk, where we sampled some of the city’s famous fragrant, slow-cooked specialties: buffalo raisin, nihari curry, and kebabs. marinated plans. On my last trip, food safety had been an issue; This time it was not like that: we ate very well, without qualms.
You may very well get tired of temples in India, but the array of stunning Hindu and Jain temples in Khajuraho is electrifying. Freed from the forest vegetation that had virtually overtaken them after a visit by British Army Captain T.S. declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. Place.
By contrast, Orchha has a more desolate feel, a fascinating island oasis of long-abandoned Mughal-influenced structures surrounded by the Betwa River and a forested countryside beyond. They capture the imagination, while the surrounding town, with a revered Hindu temple, is remarkably quiet.
And who could forget the Taj Mahal? Forty years ago, Andrew and I had stood before him, very young, with the future unknown, and here we were again, this time with our adult son who had wanted to see it for himself. His extraordinary beauty, floating, ethereal and lacy white, never disappoints.
Delhi, on the other hand, disappointed. We found a city now seriously polluted and traffic-clogged, although a morning walk through the ramshackle lanes of Chandni Chowk proved, thanks to another great guide, Girish, both an instruction in Hindu philosophy and an objective one. Haveli Dharampura, a restored Mughal mansion, became a historic and characterful retreat, where we flew kites from the rooftop at sunset and watched the sport of kaboortar-bazi (pigeon flying) in the morning, as we had done with the host of our backpackers. ‘guest house so many years ago. Compared to the budget-imposed discomfort of 1983, all the hotels on this wonderful trip, comfortable without being bubbles of unreal luxury, seemed appropriate for their location.
Natural wonders
How I love, then as now, to contrast urban life with rural India. I never saw a tiger on my previous visit, but I did this time, on safari in Panna National Park. It was exciting, of course, but looking at the beautiful landscape, full of birds and animals that are slowly waking up and crossed by the Ken River, remains in my memory even more than the majestic tiger.
On the riverbank, we stayed at the hidden Sarai in Toria, which perfectly reflects its natural surroundings. Conceived with great care by wildlife photographer Joanna Van Gruisen and her conservationist husband, Dr. Raghu Chundawat, it is a place of true relaxation, where we take a magical morning boat ride, with the air filled with birds, including many kingfishers.
Mela Kothi – Chambal Safari Lodge – was another idyllic rural location, declared by Alexander as the best place he had ever stayed. It’s hard to disagree, as friendly local landowners Ram and Anu Pratap Singh have created a cultured, homely base for spotting crocodiles and freshwater dolphins in the Chambal River and for bird watching, nature walks and village visits. Alexander was particularly happy there and his photograph of a gharial crocodile now decorates one wall.
Heady colors
The colors of India have stayed with me for 40 years, but I wondered if, in the world’s fastest-growing major economy, I would still find them among the sober clothing of the burgeoning middle classes. I didn’t have to worry.
Even by Indian standards, Varanasi remains a kaleidoscopic color bomb, packed with sari-clad pilgrims, orange-clad saddhus and pink-clad priests. Widge and I had been to the holy city of Lord Shiva before and had both felt quite wizened among the sea of people and piles of rubbish, but this time, our stay at the historic and recently renovated Brijrama Palace, in the heart of La action and our seats on the balcony at dusk for the light ceremony transformed the experience into something intense and fascinating. Who could forget those burning ghats seen from a boat ride at dawn?
In 1983, we hitchhiked in one of India’s famous brightly painted trucks after our bus broke down. The roads were in bad condition and the driver was alarming, but we survived. This time, our transportation was by excellent air-conditioned, chauffeur-driven trains and wagons on newly constructed roads. As far as the cows are concerned, there is no change: they filled the highway in its sacred impermeability and we surrounded them, as before.
Near the end of our trip, Andrew, Alexander and I found ourselves in a small red carriage with silk curtains and a painted roof, en route to Shimla. The Toy Train, inaugurated in 1903, winds spectacularly towards the foothills of the Himalayas.
Shimla is also full of color with its brightly painted houses. What remains of the former summer capital of the Raj can be found in its car-free centre. As we walked along The Ridge and The Mall from Christ Church to the Cecil Hotel, visiting the 1877 Gaiety Theatre, frozen in time but still relevant, I felt the development of Shimla, from the first bungalow built in 1822 to the sprawling hilly metropolis today, encapsulates the ever-evolving history of India.
Eight miles away, on the site of Lord Kitchener’s residence, is Wildflower Hall. Purple umbrellas, edged in yellow, frame the view of the snow-capped mountains from the stunning terrace of this exceptional hotel, a deeply relaxing and pampering last stop. He was a long way from our last days in India in 1983, when he lay in a clinic in Shimla, sick as a dog.
Little did I know then that, in addition to a severe version of the usual discomfort, I was also pregnant. Nine months later, our lives changed. Alexander was born with autism and developmental delay and lives at home, where she loves to play the keyboard, model, ride her bike, and take photographs. Despite these joys, his has been a lonely and sometimes traumatic path, struggling to fit into the neurotypical world. By introducing India to him, we somehow felt like we were squaring a circle. It was one of the reasons we had to return.
Essentials
Fiona Duncan was a guest of Ultimate Travel (theultimatetravelcompany.com), which offers a 15-night trip to North India, including accommodation, private transfers, guides and international flights from £5,490 per person. Her personalized itinerary costs from £5,985 per person, including B&B accommodation (full board at Sarai at Toria), two exclusive jeep safaris in Panna National Park, private sightseeing tours with local guides, train, domestic flights and international.
