A Tryst with Rickshaw in Agra
The cycle-rickshaw is the best way of getting about Agra. Its smooth gliding motion and leisurely rate of progress are in keeping with the pace of life in this old world city. The rickshaw-boy jungles his way through the crowded bazaars, exchanging insults with tonga-drivers, pedestrians and other cyclists; but once on the broad Mall or Taj Road, his curses change to a carefree song and he freewheels along the tree-lined avenues. Old colonial style bungalows still stand in large compounds shaded by Peepal, banyan, neem and jamun.
The Kite Story
Looking up, you can notice a number of bright paper kites that flutter, dip and swerve in the cloudless sky. If it is a festival then the numbers can be uncountable. In Agra people still fly kites. There are kite-flights every Sunday and heavy bets are sometimes placed on the outcome.
As you approaches the city, you can notice kites stuck in trees or dangling from electric wires; but there are always others soaring up to take their places.
In the afternoon walk through the old bazaars which lie to the west of Akbar's great red sandstone fort, and don't' be surprised to find a small streets which is almost entirely taken up by kite shops. Most of them sell the smaller, cheaper kites, but one small dark shop has in it a variety of odd and fantastic creations. Stepping inside, you can find yourself face to face with the doyen of Agra's kite makers, Hosain Ali, a feeble old man whose long beard is dyed red with the juice of mehandi leaves.
You can always entice the old man talking, for he likes to talk and is not very busy. He complains that few people buy kites these days in comparison to Agra 25 years ago, when kite flying was the sport of kings and even grown me found time to spend an hour or two everyday with these gay, dancing strips of paper. Now he says everyone hurries, hurries in a heat of hope and delicate things like kites and daydreams are trampled underfoot.
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History
of Agra
