by James Spiller

Created on: May 27, 2008   Last Updated: November 24, 2008

Travel Diary: Agra, India

Only when we are alone can we find true peace. Only when we forget humanity around us and their stringent rules, when we forget our own preconceived notions of what others should think about us, can we begin to look introspectively and subjectively at ourselves. Only then can we understand who we are.

I didn't know peace until I was surrounded by one billion people. I'm not talking about freedom from war, nor am I talking about a quiet environment. I'm talking about the peace that can only come from being satisfied with who you are, in your surroundings, and not caring what anyone else in the world has to say about it. I suppose that is what they call inner peace. I'm not an expert by any means, but I think I may have found it in India. It may have only lasted for a short instant, but it was there and I will never forget it.

When I was thirteen years old my father took me to New Delhi with him on one of his hundreds of business trips to the Asian Subcontinent. I fell in love the moment I took my first step out of the airport and onto the Indian streets. I waited on the curb with our baggage while my father hailed a taxi. People with no more than a robe to their name made homes out of the airport sidewalk. It was a shock to my western eyes. A man working for the airport took one of our bags. I didn't realize that he thought the bag was now his, and that he was a thief working AT the airport, until my dad ran up and grabbed the suitcase from him. The thief simply gave a wry smile that seemed to imply "You got me this time, but next time you won't be so lucky," and happily sauntered off to try again with another unsuspecting tourist. "You have to keep your eyes open around here," my dad told me. And I did. I was enamored from the very beginning.

One day, my dad decided that I should go see the Taj Mahal while he stayed in Delhi for a business meeting. It sounded like a great idea until he told me that I had to go to Agra, a city three hours away, by myself, in a taxi. What could I do? I got in the taxi with the morning sun bringing dawn's light to the new day.

It took the driver some time to navigate out of the city. Delhi was bustling. Pedestrians shared the road with cows, bicycles, and push-carts. "Weren't roads built for cars?" I asked myself.

As we tore through the Indian countryside, I stared out of the dirty window, unblinkingly taking in every sight for the entire three hours it took us to get to Agra, the city that the Taj Mahal calls

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