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.