Little India’s Festival Lanes – A kaleidoscope of jasmine, lamps, and laughter.

If colour had a sound, it would be Little India. The streets pulse with music and scent—incense, jasmine, cardamom, rain. Garlands drape from shopfronts; gold bangles flash under strings of fairy lights. You walk through Serangoon Road, where the air feels like celebration. Drums echo from a nearby temple; bells chime in counterpoint. Women in saris the shade of sunrise laugh together as they shop for sweets and silk. You stop at a flower stall. The vendor’s hands move quickly, weaving marigolds and roses into loops of fragrance. He smiles and places one in your hand—“For luck,” he says. As twilight deepens, the streets transform. Lamps and diyas flicker in rows; the colours turn molten. The hum of the city merges with chants and chatter. Every shop, every shrine, every doorway glows. You realize that Little India isn’t a quarter—it’s a heartbeat. Joy made visible, faith made fragrant.