India > The Fatehpur Sikri fort

The last day of the vacation has arrived. Harry arrives at the hotel promptly at ten o’clock. I load my luggage into the bus and get in. Before heading back to Delhi for the flight to the Netherlands, we first stop at the Fatehpur Sikri Fort. This 13th-century fort lies forty kilometers outside Agra. The Mughal emperor Akbar the Great had it built on the site of a soothsayer.

India - The royal throne in the Fatehpur Sikri Fort

The soothsayer predicted that Akbar would have a son within a year—a long-awaited wish of his. When this indeed happened, he rewarded the soothsayer by making Sikri the capital of his empire. Within the walled complex are residential quarters, public buildings, and Hindu, Christian, and Muslim temples. After all, Akbar had three wives, each of a different religion. I find it remarkable to see how these religions coexist side by side. In several buildings, inscriptions from all three religions can be found. Just outside Fatehpur Sikri Fort lies the mausoleum of the Sufi soothsayer Salim Chishti. Around the mausoleum, I am swarmed by boys trying to sell me all sorts of things. I disappoint them. I am given a small cap for my head (free this time) and enter the mausoleum. Countless threads are tied to the white marble windows. Anyone who ties a string can make a wish. If the wish comes true later, you are supposed to return to remove the string. After wandering around for almost two hours, I return to the bus. We quickly head towards Delhi. Harry takes a shortcut to quickly reach the main road, so we don’t have to go all the way back to Agra. Unfortunately, after a few kilometers, the road turns out to be in very poor condition due to rainfall.

India - The fivestory palace in the Fatehpur Sikri Fort

We have to turn back. Harry decides to try a second route, asking locals several times about the road conditions. We drive through small villages. Judging by the astonished looks, tourists’ buses don’t often pass here. Without too much trouble, we eventually reach the main road to Delhi. From here, it’s at least another four hours of driving. As we approach Delhi, we also hit the city’s heavy evening traffic. Kilometers before the city, traffic frequently comes to a complete standstill. On the three-lane road, cars are lined up six abreast. Everyone searches for the fastest route, honking to tell others to move aside. Harry, too, is a true traffic artist, weaving left and right to move as fast as possible. It seems exhausting to drive like this every day. At some intersections, traffic police try to regulate the flow, though it doesn’t seem like they have much control. Everyone does what they please. Around half past six, we reach the Lotus Temple in South Delhi. The Lotus Temple is a place of worship for the Bahá’í faith community, which seeks to unite all religions. The forty-meter-high temple is shaped like a lotus flower. As I enter the park, I immediately see the temple, rising prominently above everything. I hand in my shoes at the entrance and wait briefly. Tourists and Indians are gathered in two separate lines for a short briefing. The English explanation states that the prayer house is open to everyone, of every religion, and that each person can spend as much time as they wish inside. As I enter, I immediately sense the silence. The hall can accommodate about a thousand people, but currently there are at most thirty inside. I admire the design of the building and the light streaming through the tip of the lotus flower.

India - The Lotus Temple is a Bahai House of Worship

I sit down for a while. When I go outside again, I am called back. The young attendant, almost indignantly, points out that I was leaving through the entrance. I follow him to the proper exit. Finally, Harry drives us through the evening traffic to Delhi Airport. We decide it’s easier to eat at the airport. Everyone’s cash is running low. At the airport, it’s simpler to use up the remaining rupees and, if necessary, pay the rest in dollars. Not everyone is very hungry either. At exactly eight o’clock, Harry parks the bus at Terminal Three. I say goodbye to him; he has contributed significantly to the success of the last few days. Once inside, I find the check-in counter isn’t open yet. I change into clean clothes for the return flight and order a cup of coffee. After checking in and passing through immigration and security, I get something to eat at the food plaza, where several restaurants are located side by side. I opt for French fries.