At the market, I saw so many different items for sale. There were stalls lined with exotic, succulent fruits in all different colours and sizes: Mango, papaya, passion fruit- they had everything! Underneath a Brobdingnagian canopy lay piles and piles of vibrant, Indian silk that were all significantly hand-woven into masterpieces of art. In addition, there was part of the street cornered off for the cows to sleep and stay whilst their owners auction them away to other people. It was the only part of the street that looked a bit dilapidated.
Regrettably, the noise in the market was ear splitting. There were indignant car drivers blasting their horns at the car in front of them, young children screaming and bellowing like a herd of elephants and the continuous ranting of shop keepers. “Roll up, roll up, buy a banana for only ten rupees!” However, it would be all in Indian.
Luscious smells prickled the hairs in my nostrils as I strolled up and down the street. I could smell a putrid whiff coming from over where the cows were lay and felt a bit sorry for them. Why should they be kept in the same place every day? I adored the smell of Indian food wafting through the streets because if I had the choice of an infinite amount of money or a lifetime supply of curry, it would definitely be the curry option. Especially chicken jalfrezi!
Triumphantly, the jalfrezi tasted delectable. It was the best I had ever had and it only cost me 132 rupees (£1.50). It was sweet, sour, spicy and