The Kaleidoscope

He had visited most tourist spots that India boasted of, including the pearl Mosque city of Agra (at its bewitching best on a moonlit night) he snapped copiously away at it. The scented night made deep lasting impressions in his memory. He visited Chandni Chowk with its myriad hued hawkers. The festive iridescence casting a spell in its native chaos…

Spell bound at the peddlers and their wares. He then inferred something. There would never be that merry gaiety and pomp contiguous with the rich, splendid culture that this

New world had offered him. Behind the garrulity and (seemingly) rude conduct of these

Simple hearted, almost bucolic mannered people, there lay a warmhearted concern and solicitude that no one in his “developed” continent could ever hope to match. He saw these curios, antiques and artifacts that were tremendously well-crafted and painstakingly wrought.

He saw sophistication in the city created by Le Corbusier called Chandigarh.

He saw the vast expanses of jade green jungles-well-foliaged and viridescent .He bravely

experimented with the local people consuming everything imaginable including an assortment of fruits, nuts, berries, sweets, roots…It was a rich, rare mixture of heritage and urbanism. It was the land of polyglots: speaking various dialects-both the colloquial

and the refined….capturing fantasies and leaving people intoxicated and devastated by the multifariousness…