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Travel writing. I enter the Indian marketplace, a bombardment of flavour culture and routine. As I enter the pungent flavour of spices travels through my nose and fills my brain, giving a tangy feeling that shoots through my spine.

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Introduction

Name: Aditya Raghunath Krishnan Candidate Number: 488 Centre Name: Dhirubhai Ambani International School Centre Number: IN405 Date: 18/10/09 Coursework Number: 3 (descriptive) 2nd draft STATEMENT OF INTENT: This is an excerpt from a travel book intended for westerners who are very much interested in knowing about true India and its varied culture. It is intended for audiences above the age of 30 and hence the language used in this piece of coursework is informal and soft. I enter the Indian marketplace, a bombardment of flavour culture and routine. As I enter the pungent flavour of spices travels through my nose and fills my brain, giving a tangy feeling that shoots through my spine. ...read more.

Middle

The carts are covered with a dirty cloth with stains made by a combination of things one could never imagine; they are used to remind customers that they are in India. It also proves as an illusion to the money hidden under the cloth, that a vender frequently counts and very innocently lies that he doesn't have the change. The carts contain a buffet of fruits and vegetables. They range from rotting, blood red tomatoes to bright green spinach leaves grown beside the railway track. Shapes vary from cubes and spheres to shapes that can only be imagined. Spices are sold separately in tons and tons, a resource too precious to the Indians that it cannot be compromised. ...read more.

Conclusion

Sweat dripped from his dirty skin onto a bunch of coriander that is picked up by one of the busy customers who is unaware of the salt solution on her garnish. I was engrossed in exploring the place as a man with heavy load on his head walks through me, like any other person on the road, his dark skin glistened as hundreds of kerosene lamps lit the market. A beggar attired in what looked like a thin cloth covered by mud and curly hair that is as thick and hard as a thorny bush comes to me with curled palms and asks for 2 cents! I look ahead, for me the market never ends. For the people, it is just another day in the market. Word count = 667 ...read more.

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