In the Bazaars of Agra

Sneha Christall
2 min readFeb 8, 2023
Circa April, 2022

Round and round we go,

Through meandering alleys,

Each more similar than the next.

Unbothered by the rabble

Of hawkers, street dwellers and tourists

(Getting ripped off while thinking they snagged a good deal),

Our rickshaw driver pulls to a stop:

‘Have we arrived right where we started?’

There was no way of knowing for certain.

Back into the din we proceed,

The sun now scrutinizing us intently,

As shopkeepers, their clothes, bangles, spices, mirrors and

Flowers (for weddings/ funerals, as fate decides),

Clamor for our attention.

Far from the place we call home,

Our senses jolted by unfamiliarity,

Sights, sounds and smells collide,

Into one steady commotion.

Swallowed up whole, we realize —

Years of city-dwelling have rendered us

Tone-deaf to how

Life has the capacity to

Birth itself everyday.



Sneha Christall

Wanderer, memory collector. Writer for A Little Bit Better, Be Yourself, Change Becomes You, Hello, Love, Mindfully Speaking and On the Couch.