The Oval Maiden was bright green, lush and empty. Around the edge, men were walking in pairs and there was the smell of human shit. The buildings on the other side of the road were hugely grand, looking like churches, law courts or an elaborate Victorian railway station. At the end of the road, past a small market, was a children's park with a modern statue on a paved area between the swings. It had a label saying it represented Gandhi's spinning wheel. Walking back, boys were playing cricket in the street leading up to the Horniman Circle. I stopped to watch, then walked to the gardens in the centre of the Circle but it felt sad and empty of plants and beggers were sleeping on the pathways. At the Gate of India, a little girl ask me if I wanted a henna stamp on my arm for 10 rupees.
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