I’m not really sure that I can describe in words the early-morning traffic as we try to get out of Delhi. The first few miles of our journey seem to take forever. We’re assailed by vehicles from all sides, pushing and jostling for position, seemingly without anything resembling rules. Whether people are following some sort of code or not, however, the whole thing does seem to work. There might be some very close calls, but there isn’t anything more serious than grazing contacts. I’m not so keen on the incessant cacophony of blaring horns, but I can see that they serve a purpose.

Our medium-sized Toyota MPV is pretty crowded. We have Sunil driving and our main guide for the bulk of the trip, JP, leading us along. There are six seats, but this means we are using five of them and the sixth is folded to give us just enough room for our luggage. It’s comfortable enough, but a tight squeeze for a long journey.

Once we finally break out of the city and onto the motorway, the experience becomes much easier. Here we can cruise along at 120km/h for most of the time, only being interrupted by the regular toll gates and a brief stop to stretch our legs and have a quick drink. The hazy overcast persists, just enough to moderate the temperature a little and make the car very comfortable with the air conditioning turned on. Sunil still has to be watchful and wary, however, as lane discipline is pretty much non-existent, as is the appropriate use of the mirror.

Delhi to Agra is about 200km, but it ends up taking us about four hours to reach our destination. Our little home-stay hotel is just a few metres from one of the entrances to the Taj Mahal complex and that last couple of kilometres to get to it is total chaos. The sheer volume of people, tuk-tuks, cars, busses, motorbikes and scooters, is practically overwhelming and it’s every-man-for-himself. There are police on duty, but to say that they are ineffective would be a heroic understatement. Turning off the main road into our little side street is like turning off a blaring stereo. Well, it would be if it were not for the blaring stereo.

Check-in is straightforward and quick, allowing us to be shown to our rooms. Chris and myself are on the third floor, our rooms opening out onto an open patio roof. Off to one side is a staircase leading up onto the very roof of the house where, between other taller buildings we get our first view of the marble dome of the Taj Mahal. With much more still to see and do, our plans change to accommodate our schedule and the road conditions. This means our afternoon is going to be a busy one with a visit to Agra Fort and then on to the Taj Mahal in plenty of time for the sunset.

It is at times like this that I wish my ability to walk and stand was what it once was. Ten kilos have certainly taken their toll in the last few years, but it is the sciatica that is the real bane of my life. There’s nothing worse for me than walking up hill and, to see the inside of the Agra Fort, this is a necessary requirement.

So, despite the best efforts of our knowledgeable and helpful guide, my enjoyment of the place was thwarted by being in pain by the time we made it to the gardens and the inner audience area. Still, my friends were understanding and content to leave me sitting on a step to take photos while they went off to see the inside of some of the buildings.

I’ve intimated often enough that I just don’t really do culture, but it has to be accepted that this is a spectacular place built on a scale that the west at that time simply couldn’t contemplate. The walls go on for kilometres and once the two moats were filled with crocodiles and tigers. The offset gates and sharp corners defend against war elephants and the great sandstone ramparts have that sense of permanence and impregnability that only comes from tens of thousands of tons of rock.

Without any chance for a break, it’s on to the Taj Mahal and the main cultural event of the trip. Security is tight, with a quick search essential before we are allowed to enter. Armed with our little tokens, we make our way through the gate-line and through the magnificent architecture of the outer courtyard to the main gate. The glory of the view of the mausoleum is somewhat lessened by the teeming crowds, but nothing can truly distract from the full impact of that amazing white marble.

I’m well-known for my difficulties in dealing with crowds and this is one of those places where I spend the whole time on the border of being triggered. I spend a little time sitting right in the middle of the vast courtyard, on a marble bench overlooking one of the reflecting pools, watching as people take endless selfies and posed images with the Taj behind them without any desire to do the same for myself.

I take the decision to keep my distance from the actual monument, sensing that the crowding there is even worse than it already is slightly further back. My friends go on without me, leaving me to my own devices. When JP returns, he suggests I sit off to one side on a convenient bench where I can take the odd photo and just enjoy a little bit of quiet space. It’s an opportunity to observe, rather than having to participate. It ends up being a good spot for a little bird-watching.

Only as we make our way back to the main gate do we plunge back into the crowds to get right up to the railing and manage a few shots with the Taj Mahal reflected in the long pool. It’s a classic shot, spoiled little by the now thinning crowd and enhanced by the first hint of pink and orange as the sun sets. At least it’s my own permanent reminder of a visit to this remarkable building.

We sensibly take the electric bus back down from the exit, having to walk only about a hundred metres or so to be right back at the gate to our accommodation. There’s no escape from the noise of the streets, but there’s a cold beer and some good food, followed by a comfortable bed after a hot shower.