From the clock tower of Prag Mahal, the old walled city spreads flat toward Bhujia Hill, and past it the dry Kutch plain runs to the sky. Next door, the Aina Mahal flips the scale. Delft tiles, gilded frames and mirror after mirror fold a palace into glittering pieces.
Families walk around Hamirsar Lake in the evening, and Smritivan covers Bhujia Hill with trees planted for the earthquake's victims. Out on the highway, Ajrakhpur's printers press carved blocks into cloth. Winters are dry and mild, and short, uncertain rains follow long hot months. A Local Friend shares a favorite spot, maybe a quiet step by the lake, and the story behind it.
