A day when two completely different people living in two different cities decided to bump into each other in another completely different city. One, flying the colours of Gujarat and the other carrying the winds of Haryana. When the two merged, a city was blown away.
Travelling to Jaipur was truly an in-the-moment. Each moment came and passed away, nothing lingered on. Whether it was those silly moments of missing a night train or the anxiousness of running around New Delhi past 11 at night. Sometimes Punjab, sometimes Haryana, sometimes Rajasthan, the roads and skies love me more deeply than the railways.
The first glimpses of Jaipur were of a city sleeping in sweet slumber. Calm yet flawless with its magnificent looking doors and windows, concealing a thousand stories to tell. Jaipur was like that naughty kid, which appears the sweetest when asleep.
I wish I could say that Jaipur was a food haven but sadly, it wasn’t. A shopping haven, maybe, from postcards to jhumkey and bangles and of course dupatte; definitely a city to improve ones’ bargaining skills! Jaipur was more like a City of Doors. Doors that have seen so much history. Doors that have let so many visitors walk through. Doors that have witnessed the high of times and the blood of wars, yet they remain still, full of grace. Doors that stand firm even today, welcoming the world to experience Rajasthan.
The auto was a little too rude. The rickshaw was a little too sweet. The roads a little too congested. Any building you look at would be a hotel. Not many trees around. The doors mostly locked, inside and outside. The stories exist, but not many people were keen on sharing. The Gulabi-ness slowly turning into a fading pink.
This is the nostalgia of a two day encounter with Jaipur.
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