Been there, seen it, loved it- Part I

The masala shop at the wholesale market in Ulsoor. Gunny bags laden with spices. Laid out in no particular. Mighty mustard, the turmeric. Feiry red, chilli powder. The darker brown of the garam masala. The lighter shade of the coriander . Salt. White and pure. Pepper. Strong black.
The first snowfall of the Canadian winter. Tiny , white flakes. Blanketing everything, as if taking over. Announcing winter's arrival. Falling on the ground. Collecting. Falling some more. Soft white snow. Clean, white snow. Rooftops, streets, cars, coats- all shrouded in the white.
The bangle market in Delhi. Surrounding Hanuman Mandir. Glass, metal, colour, pattern, shimmery, matte, orange, lime green, blue, more blue, then red. The buyers and the sellers. Thin wrists, fat wrists, dark wrists, fair wrists. The bangles being tried on. One by one and then by the dozens. . The choori wallis. Spirited women. With their incessant banter. Making their sales. Almost always, you'll spot a bride to be. Looking for her choora. The choori walli will give her a dozen bangles. Shagun hai. Not a sale. A gesture. A tradition.
The flower market in Amsterdam. A narrow street lined with flowers. A riot of color. Of roses and zerberas. And tulips. Oh, the tulips. The purples and the reds and the oranges and the pinks. Flower power in Amsterdam. No pun intended.
Gay pride parade in Toronto. Along six blocks of Church street. Blocked off for a party that lasts all day and most of the night. Drag queens. Nudity. Techno. Dancing. Partying. And then some more. Gays and Lesbians. Or not. The young. The old. The restless. The party makers. The bystanders The Toronto crowd. The tourists. Wild is the mood. Costumes. Feathers. Masks. Floats. Everything exaggerated. Nothing understated. A celebration. A party.