by Sanya Kapoor
After five interminable years, my family and I traveled back to India to visit relatives. Elation swirled in my heart as the day of the flight came closer and closer. The suitcases were overwhelmed with the love we encompassed for our extended family members. Moreover, my parents truly desired that my brother and I spend some time in Agra to witness the Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, during this trip.
On the Friday morning of the four-hour drive to the Taj Mahal, we all woke up at the first light of day. I straightened my wavy and black-as-night hair with the intention of looking my absolute best for the photos. When the driver arrived, we began settling into the car. My uncle, aunt, and energetic ten-year-old cousin rode in my uncle’s car; however, I was in a different car with my grandmother, parents, thirteen-year-old brother, fourteen-year-old cousin, and a driver that we ended up paying an extensive amount of money.
Everything was perfect until my dad’s phone rang. My uncle called since he realized that the Taj Mahal was closed on Fridays. The shock was like how frigidity in the air bites a person when they step outside in the winter. Disheartened, we decided that we should walk around in Vrindavan and view the ancient temples.
As soon as the two-hour-drive was over, the rain became fierce. Likewise, my uncle parked at one location, but a police officer instructed our driver to park in another location. Aspiring to mitigate the situation, we rode a rickshaw in my uncle’s direction. Unfortunately, the person operating the rickshaw accidentally dropped us in the opposite direction. Even though all the energy I spent on my hair had become a genuine waste of time and I was agitated, my grandmother’s positive spirit was extremely contagious.
We eventually reunited with my uncle after a while and took some pictures at the Prem Mandir (refers to the Temple of Love). Additionally, we devoured dal makhani and butter naan in a local restaurant for lunch. On the way home, my siblings and I determined that all the children should ride in one car and all the adults in another. I settled in the car with my brother, cousin, sisters, and uncle who is a child at heart. We each took a turn picking songs and played a game testing our geographic understanding. Honestly, I had a slightly more enlightening time in the car than in Vrindavan.
Once again, everything was perfect until my uncle exhibited another devastating observation. He noticed that the driver of the “adults’ car” attempted to take a shortcut, getting the car stuck on a divider between lanes. Villagers nearby gathered to provide assistance to get the car unstuck. It took about an hour, yet their kindness touched our hearts.
Even though things didn’t go as planned, the day was certainly an adventure, and I wouldn’t change any aspect of it since the memories will stay with me forever.
