The pink city

After Gujarat, we headed to Jaipur—the pink city. Pink was my least favourite colour, but after the long clanking train journey, I forgave the city for being pink.

The walled city contained exquisite buildings. Its streets were filled with more camels that the usual cows, goats and oxen as well as cars, bikes and rickshaws that vied for the same space.

We passed outside Hawa Mahal in the heat and dust. The eighteenth-century palace was where women once peered down on to the street without being seen through any one of the hundreds of windows—a reminder of India’s past before British invasion. 

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