India Shouts Color: Mysore Chromatic Walk

Sometimes it catches you off guard… This will to go. After the thrill of the first days parade, I wanted more. So, I walked… Chased the morning slumber away and turned left. And then another left, and straight up a street where I could hear the Muezzin from a mosque calling people to pray. Drawn by the mournful, circular cries, I followed it. The streets were as bustling as any other city in India so far, so I stopped on a corner, tasting the frantic. A fruit salesman, a stalky, firm man with Hena dyed hair calls me over and offers me Jasmin. Winks smiling and opens ins arms in an offering gesture. He couldn’t speak. At that moment I saw… I just followed his outreaching arms to the mangos, apples piled up in front of him… That’s when it hit me. Under these grey, threatening monsoon skies, there’s color. Not such an amazing conclusion, but that’s what came to me that precise moment. I don’t normally think of these things, romanticize color as an semi esoteric artefact. But right there and then all I saw was a palette of colors… For the first time it really hit me. The traveller celebrated colors of India… The ones I had heard about from guests back in Lisboa… India does shout at you… in colors. The ones I decided to chase…











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