Agra, India
Date: Lodging: Distance: Total:
24/01/2001 Mughal Sheraton 372 KM 141215 KM

More school girls outside of Fatehpur Sikri

The well-preserved, walled city of Fatehpur Sikri is more than 400 years old.

Archway leading into Fatehpur Sikri

Outside the mosque at Fatehpur Sikri built by Akbar in honor of Sheikh Salim Chishti, who correctly foretold Akbar would father three sons after losing all of his other children at infancy

The capital Fatehpur Sikri, built by Akbar who married a Hindu princess thus gaining respect and honor in the Rajput region unlike his predecessors, was occupied for only 14 years.

Shoe sign outside Fatehpur Sikri

Jim was delighted to borrow a bee mask from the head beekeeper.

Itinerate beekeepers follow the flowers from province to province.

Marble sculpting is still an age-old skill in this area of India.

A lot of granite is mined in this part of Rajasthan, although locals use little.

The street is often a playground for the very young.

Women in Rajasthan think nothing of carrying two pots – often brass – atop their heads.

Girls look to the village.

Another school girl

Pierced noses are common among little girls.

Blue, white and red are the colors of girls school uniforms in this part of Rajasthan.

School girls in a village south of Dausa

Traditional dress of Rajasthan is tremendously colorful, while the silver jewelry is abundant and weighty.

Jim showing a Polaroid photo to an aged, disbelieving woman.

An out of the ordinary village home with carved wooden doors and bright paint

A typical painted village house

Throughout Rajasthan we've seen scores of vivid green parakeets.

Many of India’s roads are wide enough for only one lane of traffic. Passing tractors, trucks and scooters and worse – facing oncoming traffic is troublesome on good days and hair-pulling on bad ones.

24 Jan 2001 – In a village south of Dousa we stopped to take a photo of a teenage girl gracefully carrying two pots – one brass and one metal – upon her head. She smiled and giggled when I handed her a Polaroid photo of herself. As the crowd grew to see it, a man placed his hands firmly on my bottom and kept them there long enough for me to turn and see him. (This happened twice in Pakistan and once before in India, but I had never seen the culprit until now.) Instantly my mind decided I would never explain that his action was wrong, and offended me, so I smacked him. In fact, I smacked him thrice and he stood in absolute disbelief that a woman had confronted him. The crowd of mostly men fell silent watching to see what would happen next. The smacked man darted away and the photographed teenage girl looked at me in shock, but with a wee glimmer of glee over my response, or perhaps I imagined this.

The world is full of too many men who do not respect women. As we have traveled I have witnessed this firsthand. Part of reason is cultural. Plus, the loose foreigner mentality held by so many men is engineered, and even encouraged, by governments, media and movies. As a woman punishing the man the way I did was probably the worst humiliation he could face. I sure hope so. I just hate that there is nothing more I could do. Wife-beating is an all too common and accepted part of life in India. In Africa, where women are often thought of as compliant to men, but admittedly not as submissive as here, no man ever touched me inappropriately.

Fatehpur Sikri