Mimosas

❝At twenty-seven degrees north latitude, It's been days since I stopped smelling that deep pink scent that used to pierce my mucous membranes when I first tried to breathe and cross that long courtyard of the Hemis monastery in Ladakh at a European pace. Today, here in Agra, a very different sensation paralyzes you when you set foot on the street, a cloying aroma of hypnotic mimosas.chhueemueee in Hindi, Do not touch me[So shy is this provocative plant] that you don't notice, which this stifling, humid heat must maliciously contribute to dosing, making it possible for you to orient yourself towards the Taj Mahal, cross the windmills at the entrance, walk barefoot (out of necessity) on the marble of the surrounding porticoes and esplanade, heated since the early hours of the morning, and finally reach the mausoleum drenched in sweat. Then you realize that, indeed, the city is teeming with these trees, very visible, above and behind you, and that it is urgent to be back at the hotel before you collapse from the heat.

With an undeniable charm within its dilapidated state, the Grand Imperial Hotel, the ground floor suites (I was assigned the one identified by the name Shivaji Maharaj)

The property still enjoys the charm of the old colonial hotel it was since its inauguration at the beginning of the 20th century, during the so-called British Raj, in the Rakabganj and Baluganj area, in the old British Cantonment established in Agra.

A mix of styles that gives that heritage style where the Victorian Edwardian air crosses with the Mughlai, built in red brick, with the same famous "biscuit bricks" of the buildings of Agra (actually coming from Lahore).

Then called Metrople Hotel, at a time when, along with the glamour of some of its guests, hotel establishments also displayed exclusive signs in Hindi and English of this kind: कुत्ते और हिन्दोस्तानी यौका अंदर आना मना है[, dogs and Indians not allowed,