I always got odd looks from people when I said I wanted to visit India for the colour, but it really was what drew me there.
Hinduism with all its colour and stories, and India, not only for my girly love of bling shopping but of course the magenta saris, red turbans and bright yellow mangoes. The Indian rainbow , I thought, must be amazing.
Delhi airport was my first taste of Indian chaos and panic, but as I calmed and looked around me and saw my first glimpse of those vibrant colours I had come seeking. The dreary blacks, greys and browns of Melbourne faded as girls in their embroided green Salwar Kameez hurled bursting bags off the carousel, whilst the older ladies were showered with welcoming pink rose petals and orange flower wreaths. Jaipur’s walled pink city took my breath away. Apparently an important king visiting many years ago had a soft spot for pink, so they painted the whole city, which now has faded to a no less impressive an ochre orange. The snake charmers in their saffron orange robes blend right in, while the bright green and yellow tuk tuks whiz past and jump right out. Of course, everyone wants to know about the Taj. It glistened like the brightest white you could possibly imagine when you are in a country that seems coated in dust. Sat against the bright blue sky of the early hours of the day, it’s a white that may always stay with me as the brightest colour in the rainbow of India.