As we weave in and out of New Delhi’s traffic, all of life seems to be unfolding on the roadside: temple pundits picnic on roundabouts, barbers set up shop in the shade of banyan trees and monkeys brawl outside Radha Krishna temple. When architect Edwin Lutyens designed the road system for India’s capital in 1910 he added wide, graceful avenues; the ever-resourceful residents have responded by cramming more than 11 million vehicles onto them – and that doesn’t include the cows.
Kushboo Thakur, the determined 26-year-old tasked with ferrying me from the airport to my hotel in one piece, takes it all in her stride. The first woman in her family to have the opportunity to take on paid work, she is one of around 50 female drivers employed by Women With Wheels. This social enterprise not only provides its drivers with a steady livelihood but also offers freedom to female passengers. “Some Indian women still never leave the house at all apart from when they get married and move from their parents’ household to their in-laws,” she explains, fearlessly forcing her way across an intersection with eight lanes of traffic. “Many of those that do would never be allowed in a taxi with a male driver.”
I’m in northern India for the GX World Community Tourism Summit, followed by a week-long trip with G Adventures to explore the Golden Triangle, which includes imperial Delhi, Agra’s Taj Mahal and the pink hillforts of Jaipur. It’s the India we recognise from postcards with one key difference: I’ll be seeing it from the perspective of the women who work at the social enterprises supported by the Planaterra Foundation. G Adventures’ non-profit partner provides funding, training, product development and marketing support to projects such as Women With Wheels in order to bring marginalised communities into the ethical tourism supply chain. Not only does this ensure that locals are benefiting fairly from my holiday spend, it also allows me to experience India’s most celebrated sights through the human perspectives that bring them to life; transformative travel.
The MC Escher-like walls of the Chand Baori Stepwell in the city of Abhaneri in Rajasthan, India
AXP Photography
A man stands on the fortified embattlements of the Amber Palace in Rajasthan
Bhawani Shankar kumawat
Take Salaam Baalak, an NGO set up by filmmaker Mira Nair with profits from her 1988 film Salaam Bombay!, which provides education and housing for more than 11,000 homeless children every year. Those who’ve graduated are invited to assist in directing travellers on walking tours through Paharganj, an arterial system of alleyways characterised by viper’s nests of exposed cables and crowds of street food wallahs.
My guide, Kajal, first arrived at the charity aged six and, now 22, remains one of its most celebrated tour operators. Under her steady gaze, the neighbourhood reveals itself. “Those images of gods tacked to that wall are to discourage passersby using it as a toilet,” she says. “That’s the road where numerous girls I grew up with formerly worked as prostitutes. Many of them had run away after being sold into slavery by family members or landlords.” Her stories cause the sights I’ve been conditioned to notice through other foreigners on Instagram to take a back seat. Sure, it’s interesting to see entire families riding motorbikes and men balancing sacks of rice on their heads, but they do nothing to convey the raw and often terrifying circumstances that are a daily reality for the 100,000 young people surviving on the city’s streets.
After a long coach journey to Agra and a slightly painful 4am start, I find myself swooning at the Disney-princess prettiness of the Taj Mahal
In stark contrast, some attractions are so damn good-looking and celebrated that they don’t need any context. After a long coach journey to Agra and a slightly painful 4am start, I find myself swooning at the Disney-princess prettiness of the Taj Mahal. It’s sunrise and the Rajasthani marble walls emit a peachy glow. Someone demonstrates the acoustics of the inner chamber with a ‘hmmm’ as quiveringly clear as a bell. A woman weeps quietly beside the jewel-studded sarcophagi of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Although I know they’re actually empty and the real tombs are far more austere in keeping with Islamic tradition, it’s hard not to be seduced by the sheer melodrama.
No amount of regal romance can overshadow the significance of our next stop: Sheroes Hangout, the first cafe in the world staffed exclusively by female survivors of acid attacks. The cafe, which has a pay-what-you-feel model and is supported by the Chhanv Foundation, provides far more than a livelihood for the women who work there. Due to the horrific, painful nature of their injuries survivors are frequently shunned or hidden away by their families. In this cafe, their courage is celebrated and they are surrounded by a community of women who share their experiences.
The Taj Mahal
As they brew steaming masala chai, I watch a difficult-to-digest documentary detailing their stories. Nearly all were attacked by someone they knew, often in retaliation for romantic rejection; more than half were members of their own family. “Perpetrators believe that if you destroy the face, you destroy the person by robbing them of their confidence,” says Dolly Alok Shrivastava, who was 12 when a stranger randomly changed her life forever. A social media campaign (@stopacidattacks) also run by the foundation has led to free medical expenses for all survivors, introduced some controls on the sale of acid and far tougher sentencing. “I decided to fight my case in court not only for myself but for all the other girls,” Dolly adds. “My attacker only burnt my face – not my will to live.”
After buying a pair of earrings to support the project further, it’s back on the bus. Along the way, women in parrot-bright saris work the fields and children play in front of one-room houses fashioned from cow dung. A tiny girl stands on a ruddy rock against a blazing sunset. As we pass, she calmly gives our bus the middle finger.
India is at a fascinating moment in its evolution. Not only does it have the world’s youngest population, it’s also in the middle of a tech boom. According to the United Nations Development Programme’s (UNDP) Gender Inequality Index, the country is ranked 108th out of 193 countries, 14 places better than last year. Yet, clearly, there’s a long way to go: more than 200 acid attacks are reported annually, and an unacceptable 70% of women say they have faced harassment in the workplace.
Three drivers for the Pink City Rickshaw company, which employs 200 women
As we enter Jaipur at rush hour, there’s an accident. A motorcyclist with a bloodied forehead is surrounded by a vocal group, who’ve abandoned their cars with the engines still running. Monkeys pick daal bati off the road, and swine shuffle through the gutter like armoured tanks. In juxtaposition with this scene, palatial temples reach towards the gods at the top of the hills that cradle the city. The next day, the Amber Fort is fairytale India at its most intoxicating. Sunken rose gardens surround chambers adorned with murals of the Kama Sutra, painted with crushed precious stones. Stucco walkways, originally built to carry the queen in her wheelchair due to the weight of her jewellery, have now become the setting for Rajasthan’s wealthiest couples to stage their pre-wedding photoshoots. As I watch a gorgeous duo floating on silk, jewels and beads, G Adventures guide Raghu Rathore appears at my elbow. “Is it not strange that in India, it’s considered dangerous for a girl to have a conversation with a stranger and yet perfectly normal to marry one?” he asks. “Ah, this country is filled with paradoxes.”
This becomes even more evident on a walking tour around Amber, the honeycomb town that nestles at the foot of the fort. When the Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh II shifted the seat of his government to Jaipur in 1727, the once-grand town sighed and turned to the wall to dream of days gone by.
The streets are lined by faded, ostentatious mansions still populated by descendants of former retainers. Hereditary priests continue to perform rituals at the Jagat Shiromani temple overlooked by congregations of street dogs. Down a labyrinthine alley, an elderly couple napping in the shade summon enough energy to call ‘raga raga’ (‘love everywhere’) before surrendering to the heat once more.
Is it not strange that in India, it’s considered dangerous for a girl to speak to a stranger and yet perfectly normal to marry one?
Despite the languid atmosphere, I’m feeling rejuvenated by my conversation with 18-year-old Khushi, who is the first female tour guide at boutique travel agency, Le Tour de India. Although the symmetry of the Panna Meena ka Kund stepwell is mesmerising, I’m more impressed by this vivacious human who finds time to work, study economics and compete at a national level in both mountain and road bike events.
“The longest ride I’ve done is 150 kilometres in a day, but I’m training to cycle to Ladakh, which is around 700,” she says coolly, falling into pace beside the elephant that’s plodding between the cars. “My big brother is a decathlete, he’s my inspiration.” It’s pretty clear who’s mine.
Price from £799 pp excluding international flights including all accommodation and transportation; gadventures.com
