From Delhi Streets to Taj Mahal Dreams: An Unforgettable Road Trip [Part 1]

The endless shopping sprees with my mum, my massi, and my fiancée, T, were starting to wear me down. Don’t get me wrong—I loved wandering through the markets, showering them with compliments as they tried on outfits. But being in India and only staying in Delhi? That was getting to me.
Our trip to Kashmir was canceled. Our plan to visit Kasauli fell apart because my mum just wasn’t "feeling it." So, I did what any desperate traveler would do—I guilt-tripped my entire family into taking me to the Taj Mahal. And just like that, we were off to Agra!

For the first time in over a year, I was actually excited to wake up at 6:30 a.m. We packed some spare clothes, I danced in the shower, and by 8 a.m., we had picked up T and hit the road. The journey to Agra was full of laughter—witty jokes, nostalgic stories from my parents’ past, and plenty of debate over whether I could ever survive driving on Indian roads (spoiler: I wouldn’t). At one point, we passed men standing by the motorway, selling toll gate tickets that promised fast-lane access. But while the rest of us were focused on that, T had her eyes locked on a sign that read: Burger King: 25 minutes. The excitement in the car was palpable—until T, ever the optimist, grinned and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it in two.”
We did not.

Once we made it to the service station, my dad—blissfully unaware of how funny he looked—used the urinal while still wearing my mum’s purse. That image alone is enough to make me giggle even now. Everyone else opted for Bikanervala, but I had my heart set on a burger and fries, so I made my way to Burger King. And it was there that I finally understood why TikTok was banned in India. As soon as I stepped out, I saw two guys recording a video. One of them was dramatically walking down the foot ramp in slow motion, Bollywood-hero style, while the other filmed him. Unfortunately for them, I accidentally walked right into their shot. Frustrated, the "star" turned to me and said, “Arey bhaiya, dekho hum recording kar rahe hai,” meaning “Bro, can’t you see we’re recording?”
I stopped, gave them a look, and with all the sarcasm I could muster, said, “Sorry, Salman Khan.”
They giggled, I walked off, and they continued their very important cinematic masterpiece. After we ate, I grabbed a coffee—a decision I would deeply regret in about ten hours. Meanwhile, T, ever the risk-taker, bought a chocolate-filled monstrosity from Domino’s: the infamous Choco Lava Cake. It looked absolutely horrifying. With our questionable food choices made, we hit the road once again.

The rest of the journey was filled with my family grilling T about our first meeting. After twenty minutes of teasing and relentless blushing, we both decided it was best to change the topic—mainly because every time we looked at each other, we just burst into laughter. From there, the road was smooth, and with less than a couple of hours to go, my excitement was getting the best of me. Seeing one of the Wonders of the World felt surreal, especially since just a few weeks ago, I had written my bucket list on my blog. This would be my first official checkmark. Then, just as I was lost in thought, my dad turned to me and asked, “Do you want to drive?”
Before I could even respond, my mum, T (who had yet to witness my driving skills), and my massi all spoke in perfect unison—“Naaaaaa.” For those unfamiliar, that means absolutely not.

We had finally made it to Agra.
Agra was… interesting. I spotted a little kid squished between his parents on a scooter, his tiny head topped with a Christmas-looking pointed hat, staring curiously in my direction. The streets were lined with religious statues, political monuments, and a general sense of history woven into everyday life. Compared to Delhi, it felt noticeably quieter—but given the heat, Ramadan, and the fact that it was a Monday, that made sense. Honestly, I didn’t mind. It was nice to be somewhere that wasn’t packed to the brim with people. I turned to T, eager to share my excitement, and she smiled back. But the rest of the group? They were deep in conversation about something I had absolutely no interest in. I tuned them out. I was just happy. Happy that I had made it to Agra. Happy that I was finally about to see a Wonder of the World.

My dad and I found a hotel nearby. Since we all wanted to change into more traditional clothing—because let’s be honest, prettier outfits make for prettier pictures in front of the Taj Mahal—we only needed the room to change. After some solid negotiation, we got the price down from 2000 INR to 1000. The ladies went up to change first, while my dad and I stayed downstairs, joking around with the hotel owner about… well, a lot.
Where we were from, what had brought us to Agra, and, of course, the age-old debate of how old I actually am. At 24, I apparently look older than my years, which means that in every new city I visit, I end up having the same conversation: No, I’m not 30. Yes, I’m sure.

T came downstairs, and to my surprise, she was wearing a beautiful white suit—the same colour and a similar design to the traditional Afghan clothes I had brought with me. We were matching! Completely unplanned, but somehow, that made it even more wholesome. My mum and massi were dressed up too, looking as elegant as ever. After about an hour, as we were getting ready to leave, the hotel owner smiled and congratulated us on our engagement. We thanked him, said our goodbyes, and headed off—finally, to the Taj Mahal.

We reached the car park and made our way to the buggies that would take us to the Taj. As we waited, the tour guide—sporting a pair of shades—randomly complimented my looks. That caught me off guard and made me giggle, because, well… that doesn’t happen often. The ride to the Taj didn’t take long, but what did take effort was dealing with the ridiculous foreigner pricing. My fiancée breezed through without a problem, my parents and massi too not because they had Indian IDs, but because they used their UK IDs. Honestly, the eagerness to take foreigners money but to not even check IDs properly. Me? Since I wasn’t an Indian citizen, nor did I apparently look it I had to pay 1,100 INR instead of 50. I tried using my language skills to convince them I was Indian but had just forgotten my ID. No luck. That’s just the world we live in, I guess. Still, that didn’t stop me from making my feelings very clear—I raised my voice just enough to make a point, exclaiming that charging foreigners that much more than locals was, most respectfully, absolutely stupid.

Finally, we were through the gates—but not without one last hassle. Security confiscated my gimbal stand for my DJI Osmo, and at that point, I was done arguing. I just wanted to see the Taj Mahal.
T and I walked together, and I used my Insta360 camera to capture a bird’s-eye view of us waving up at the lens—a small, sweet moment in the midst of all the chaos. After a short five-minute walk, that was it. We stepped through the final gate… and there it was.

The Taj Mahal.