Day 1 (13th February, 2016)


“What a wonderful place it would’ve been had we been the only people present here”, she said. I agreed. But, despite the tons of people- overcrowding the narrow lanes of the garden-who had turned up to experience the magical Mughal Gardens of Rashtrapati Bhavan, the experience was still extraordinary.
After multiple detours, what with the google maps being wrong most of the time, we reached the entry of the garden after a good 2 km walk and heavy legs.
From thereon, all that we experienced was pure bliss. The first compound welcomed its visitors with the best smells around the world. All I can say is that the space was as much fragrant as it was visually unappealing. I guess that’s how it hit the right chord- ‘dominance’ is the word.
The bonsais in the next compound were as unique as their names. The plants that had grown up to be as old as me and as old as my grandpa, the mini versions of big, heavy-trunked trees, trees that were adorned by nothing but a leaf or two:the varieties were never-ending.
Soon enough, we reached an area where patriotic songs were being played with water play as its backdrop. The wind sent momentary showers of water towards us, making everyone giggle, even as the patriotic songs sent a surge of pride and excitement rippling through the crowd.
The gardens facing the Rashtrapati Bhavan added an extra touch of royalty and exquisiteness to the facade, as it became a part of it. The tulips and the roses, the white dots and the purple ones gave us a royal experience.
As we moved further, we found ourselves in an open circular area:of flowers and sweet fragrances, of colours and exquisiteness, of extraordinary and criminal enchantment. The steps descended to a pond, each broad step adorned with a different variety of flowers, until, at the bottom, you see flowers floating on the water and your eyes freeze right where they are, for you have finally found the most beautiful sight around.
After procrastinating our departure for a while, we finally entered the spiritual garden, which had bare branches and dried trees, conveying the idea perfectly.
Long after exiting the gardens, I could still smell the flowers, still recall the sights of the flowers and most importantly, remember how they struck a chord with me.