Shutters rattle down along the old bazaar lanes around midday, and for a few hot hours the loudest sound is a ceiling fan turning over a shop counter. Evening brings the tap of goldsmiths' tools in Soni Bazaar, the hiss of oil for fresh ganthiya and folk singers warming up for a dayro.
Beyond the bazaars, Gandhi's boyhood home keeps its courtyard quiet, and families walk the Race Course loop once the heat breaks. Summers are hot and dry, the monsoon arrives in June, and winters stay mild and sunny. A Local Friend opens a door you would not have knocked on, like a patola weaver's workshop where threads are dyed before they ever meet the loom.






