My luck continued. There was a musician playing in a small alcove.
Just past the musician I passed through Lohapol (the iron gate) and saw the above handprints, commemorating the queens who committed suttee on the funeral pyre of their husband, Maharajah Man Singh.
You need to be part mountain goat to see Meherangarh. It’s so huge I couldn’t imagine seeing half of it in one visit. And I didn’t.
It was midmorning and getting hot. After I took this photo, the man smoking the hookah could no longer tolerate the blistering sun and left.
More music at the fort that day.
I was parched but not even tempted by the water woman who was selling glassfuls to passersby. Prem drank the local water once and suffered for it later.
Every fort has cannons and a fantastic view.
The lady selling puppets I imagine was going to get her plastic bottle filled by the water lady.
I went to a nearby cafe and had bottled water instead, plus I got a photo of my waiter pausing in the doorway, watching the tourists go by.
On my way out, I saw that the lone drummer had been joined by the rest of the band.