The stones are still here to speak,

in their mute language.

The broken columns,

the weather beaten gate;

crumbling walls now splashed with urine.

Stories of love once brooded,

in the heart of the Pink City.

The legend of the headless horseman,

and stories about wizards and witches.

Sound of footsteps taking us by surprise,

howlings and shriekings, 

laughter ringing through the walls.

But, this is all that remains now,

And only memories live. 

There's a magical allure to revisiting the past, especially when it's tied to our loved ones. In this trip to India, I had the incredible opportunity to step into my mom's nostalgic world by visiting her childhood home in the enchanting city of Jaipur.

This journey was not just about exploring a physical space but about unraveling the layers of my mom's memories and experiences. My mom's childhood home, Chandravat House, stood as a timeless testament to her roots. The intricate detailing of the architecture, the vibrant colors, and the distinct Rajasthani design elements that peaked through the now unoccupied and weather-beaten structure were a visual feast that spoke volumes.