We had braved the morning queue to got ourselves Kachoris and Samosas at a snack shop with a tea stall. To those of you who haven’t been to Mathura or Vrindavan, it’s an extremely congested city with narrow roads where not many people like to follow the rules. I’ve been visiting since several years to meet some of my extended family members who live there. After the first few trips, I had stopped stepping out of their home to avoid the noise and clutter. But this time was different because I was on a special journey to explore this part
Doors of India. A journey unlike any other. A journey I could never imagine being a part of. A journey that changed the way I’ll look at doors, history and camera 😉 Doors had always fascinated me. The older, the better. But often, it was the architecture and colors, sometimes the history and life around it. Never did I try to find a story behind them. “Why open something when it looks perfect as closed?” I used to think. Or was it the hesitation to intrude into lives behind it? A mix of both, probably.
Amidst traffic congestion, honking of Auto-rickshaws, vendor calls of “Madam”, traditional havelis co-existing with old chai-samosa stalls alongside quirky coffee-shops of Udaipur hotels, impatient bikers making their way through mirror studded dupattas hanging on both sides of shops and all the sounds turning into noise, I fell in love with the streets of Udaipur. It was my second trip to the city, for a new beginning. I was getting out of a few comfort zones yet again.