Furnaces roar inside the glass units, and coils of molten color are wound, cut and carried off by the basketful. In homes nearby, each bangle is joined and finished by hand before it reaches the stacked shops of Gali Bohran. Then you step into the Digambar Jain temple, and the noise drops away beneath a giant granite Bahubali.
Beyond the bazaars, the old site of Chandwar sits on the Yamuna just outside town, where ravines break up the flat plain. Summers are scorching and dry, the monsoon arrives in July, and winter mornings turn cool and foggy. A Local Friend knows when the bangle lanes are worth an early start and when to linger over one more tray.
