2008 India: 08 Delhi - Where History Whispers and Time Moves On...

"Look at life through the windshield, not the rear view mirror..." - Byrd Baggett

(A painting of the Indian soldiers)

Day 08: 01 January 2009

Route: Agra - New Delhi.

At dawn, as the first light kissed the marble domes of the Taj, we bid farewell to Agra - a city where love lingers in every breath of mist. The road ahead led us to Delhi, India’s restless heart - where ancient empires sleep beneath modern rhythms, and every street tells a story. Leaving behind Agra’s quiet grace, we stepped into Delhi’s pulse - alive, layered, and unafraid of time.

(Driving in the thick mist, minimal visibility)

(The Baba Jai Gurudev Mandir, a temple)

(A brief stop at a R&R)

We reached Delhi by late morning. The city was already wide awake - a whirl of horns, colors, and motion. Because of the heavy traffic, we decided to skip Old Delhi, missing the Red Fort, Jama Masjid, and Qutub Minar. A small regret tugged at me; I imagined the echoes of Shah Jahan’s court, the grandeur of the fort, the prayers floating through Jama Masjid’s vast courtyards. But travel teaches acceptance - that we cannot hold everything, only what our hearts choose to keep.

Our first stop was the India Gate, standing proud at the center of the city. Beneath its grand arch lie the names of soldiers who gave their lives in distant wars. The eternal flame of the Amar Jawan Jyoti burned softly, a quiet reminder of sacrifice and resilience. Standing there, I felt a hush - not of sadness, but of gratitude.

(Traffic congestion around the India Gate)

(The India gate, from far)

Our next stop was at the Rashtrapati Bhawan, the official residence of the President of India. It is a mansion of 340-room main building that houses the president’s official residence, reception hall, guest rooms and offices, its spread over 130 hectare are that also includes the presidential  Mughal Garden.

(The Kartavya Path, a ceremonial avenue for parade)

(The Rashtrapati Bhavan, Official residence of the President)

(The avenue used for India's Republic Day Parade)

(The dome of the Rashtrapati Bhavan)

(Jaipur Column, the landmark entrance)

A short drive away stood the majestic Parliament House, circular and commanding, its colonnades glowing in the afternoon sun. It seemed to stand as both monument and mirror - reflecting the story of India’s democracy, where past and future meet beneath a single dome.

(The Parliament House gate)

(Display of canons along the fence)

(Outside the Parliament House)

Later, we visited Gandhi Smriti, the former Birla House where Mahatma Gandhi spent his last days. The place was serene - its gardens still, its rooms filled with quiet reverence. The marble footprints marking his final walk to the prayer ground felt profoundly moving. I walked that path slowly, imagining his final moments. His presence seemed to linger - gentle, forgiving, eternal.

(A bronze statue of Mahatma Gandhi)

(A quote attribute to M.K. Gandhi)

(The Martyr's Column)

(Return of a Prodigal Son - collage by Romare Bearden)

(The life history of M.K. Gandhi)

(A quote by M.K. Gandhi)

(See no evil, Hear no evil, Speak no evil)

(A model of a train engine)

(A gallery dedicated to art and memory)

(Mahatma Gandhi and wife)

(Gandhi's handwriting)

As the day faded, we had a simple dinner and waited at the airport for our midnight flight. From the window, Delhi shimmered in the distance - vast, complex, alive. The noise and chaos now felt comforting, almost musical, as if the city itself was saying goodbye.

👈2008 India: 07 Agra - Where Love Never Dies...

2008 India: 09 Epilogue – The Colours of India...👉