I'm from Jaipur in India, so I'm spoilt for choice with beautiful buildings, but the one I'd like to talk about isn't the famous palace that's on every postcard. It's an old library in the walled part of the city, built about a hundred and fifty years ago as a public reading hall.
It stands on a corner of a busy bazaar street, which makes it even more striking, because you turn away from the traffic and suddenly there's this calm pink sandstone building in front of you. It has two storeys, a row of carved stone balconies along the front, and small domes on each corner. The windows have delicate stone lattice screens, the kind we call jaali, so the light that comes through makes patterns on the floor. Inside, there's a high ceiling painted with faded flowers and long wooden tables where people still sit and read newspapers.
Why do I find it beautiful? Partly it's the craftsmanship. Every bit of stone was carved by hand, and when you look closely, no two balconies are exactly the same. But it's also the feeling of the place. In a city that's become so noisy and crowded, it's a kind of refuge. My father used to take me there on Sunday mornings when I was little, and I'd sit next to him while he read the paper.
The building isn't in perfect condition. Some of the paint is peeling and part of the roof was repaired badly with concrete. But I think that slightly worn look actually adds to its charm. It shows the building has been used and loved for generations.