My throat is dry and my face dusty, my thoughts reminded me of John Ruskin’s word-paintings. Colourful shades of purple, pink and red dominate people clad in robes. Footstep, a new scent; rich spice, soothing incense, choking petrol, urine stench alleyways. Each corner takes me from blistering sunlight to cold damp shade. Prayer flags line the rooftops, buildings shrouded by repetition of crafted wares everything is for sale. Beep beep din, rickshaw, car, motorbike and scooter horns drown out the sounds of touts shouting ‘Come look’, ‘You want information?’ The sun dips behind the mountains and dogs bark through the night at the moon. As it creeps back up again squawking crows and the wail of prayer songs ring in our ears.
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.