On the highest peak of Puducherry in the direct glare of the gleaming sun, surrounded by meadows of extravagant grasses and flowers stood a palace created of decadent confection. Rich syrupy aroma twirled in floral flavour drifted towards me along in the subtle warm breeze, growing bolder each step I take. Lifting my head, my eyes could recognise the delicate cultural designs with swirls of white dessert dressed into the dark fondant all the way up the ancient walls, to the peaks of the pillars. I noticed many little orange men with ridiculous green wigs in uniform fanning the walls of this magnificent palace. The handle even had delicate specifics drawn into the fondant, warm as I turned it. The grand door made an intense note as I shoved it open, trying not to destroy the structure. ‘Who goes there’. Shrieked a rich exotic accent. Deciding to follow the sound led me through a beautifully carved grand foyer and into a large room. As expected there were still artistic designs up the walls, different colours of the confectionary danced into one another. Sitting on top of a grand throne with the most extravagant designs of them all. Sat the answer to the raucous I’d heard only a few seconds ago. A short, stout, tan man dressed in tinted silk almost engorged by his decorated feather turban. He spoke in his rich exotic accent again “Finally a visitor, are you impressed by my chocolate palace?”. As he asked his lips curled into a smile, pulling up his white moustache. His worn eyes gleamed, I could tell he didn’t get visitors often. I nodded still in awe. Clicking his short fingers, another short orange man with green hair paced out towards me with a chocolate tray with flakes of gold decorated inside. Placed on that tray, was a dozen rich confectionaries I decided to take one, biting into the fondant let out a gast of explosions and sweet pops in my mouth. The emperor lifted his white moustache again at my surprise to this treat he had presented me. Slithering off his throne the little turban man plodded up to me, his turban stopping at about two inches from my nose. ‘Follow me’ he whispered. For a man of his stature he was unusually fast tramping through the corridors painted in chocolate. This palace was a maze for children, the loud sickly scent was still present throughout my lungs. The small man’s feather tickled my nose again ‘Can you keep a secret?’.