Through the haze of a cracking dream, a rhythmic, soppy thudding. Pre-dawn. Down on the ghats, which are cement steps that lead to nearby Lake Pichola, people are slapping wet clothes with wooden paddles to clean them.
Click here to hear these sounds.
An aural glimpse of the waking world; I return to slumber, then wake up, slowly, warm and comfortable in room 3 of the Jheel Guest House. Sunlight filters through the tree branches that caress two walls of windows.
