We reached Akshardham Mandir after dusk, when the pink sandstone was already washed in gold against a deep indigo sky. Flags trembled on the shikharas, and the courtyard’s polished stone threw the glow back as families climbed the steps. Bronze figures lined one side—a seated musician with a veena among them—and a stone elephant kept watch near a low garden bed. Krishna knelt on black granite, flute at his lips, his…
