This garden isnt a ‘Mughal Garden’ I think. It doesn’t have a structure unlike the others. It’s a sprawling green thing, though very much a paradise.
To our surprise, there were hardly any people.
That’s a good thing for people like me who dislike crowds and more importantly, are sure and confident enough about their own senses and intuition and don’t seek the assurance and validation of others to approve of something. ‘Oh, there is no one here except us, something must be wrong with this place’, is not a comment you will hear from me.
There were roses and roses, in bunches. Such generosity! There were other flowers - not sure what their common name in English is, they are not as refined as daisies and bigger versions of crysanthemums. There were lone wooden benches, under the tree and under the sky. The gardens were very well maintained.
There was this pathway lined on one side with trees having long droopy branches laden with tiny shiny leaves that made a very pretty sight.
My father said this was just another garden and it seemed never ending, and looked just the same everywhere. So we made an about turn.
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