Mysore Feet

Mysore is home to 2 million people, small by Indian standards but still a hustling and bustling hive of people, traffic, cows and tuk tuks.  On arriving we pass the Maharaja’s Palace, churches, temples, markets and crowds of people. The colour, the noise, the traffic and the dust - it’s a bit of a shock to our system as our experience of India to date has been in the quiet countryside and one street towns.

The Bazaar - Mysore

As we near our hotel we pass a roundabout upon which a sign sets out all the rules of the road and the associated fines.  From sitting in the ‘ladies seat in Mysore City bus’ to ‘Misbehaviour with the police’ all misdemeanours have a price to pay.

The dearest fine is about £3.75

We visit the Devaraja Market, a famous and lively bazaar in search of Kumkum, the heaps of brightly coloured chalks used in painting and for bindi dots. A number of stalls sell the powders and as the stalls are grouped together they make for an eye watering display.

Kum Kum - Devaraja Market

The smell of incense and spice is everywhere.  The stalls selling incense sticks and essential oils are all looking for customers and offer demonstrations of how to hand roll joss sticks. We watch, we smell the aromas of the essential oils, many of which are used in more familiar perfumes, and as usual we succumb to the sales patter and buy some oils to try.

The vegetables section of the bazaar is equally dazzling with bright clean and wonderfully displayed fruit and veg begging to be bought.  One stall sells nothing but tomatoes with thousands on show for the buyer to choose. 

Tomato World - Any size any shape, any colour

At each stall the vendors are busy topping and tailing the produce, removing wilting leaves and generally ensuring the fruit and veg are displayed to their best. A cow wandered past us stopping to nibble at the discarded leaves on the floor.  No one took any notice and  we just carried on.

A cow grazes through the ginger roots

The flowers and garlands section was a sea of bright colours and heavy fragrances.  Petals and buds are used for making the garlands and the flower wholesalers are shouting loudly looking to beat their competitors to the sale. We stop to admire the skill of the old ladies who are sitting on the floor and who rapidly assemble long lengths of yellow, white and red garlands, tying individual buds and flowers on to lengths of thin twine.

Flower garlands all made on site by hand

The market is an assault on our senses and leaves us exhausted at the riot of colour, smell and noise.

Garland Makers - Devaraja Bazaar

Our next test is that of patience and we are tested to the max at the railway station.  We want to travel on the Indian Railway and need to sort out reservations and tickets.  Unfortunately, we are booking at a time of major celebrations (Pongal) and the world and his dog are travelling.  Those who haven’t already got their reservations are in front of us in the booking office.

The reservations area is confusing to us but we understand queuing.  We take our number (291) and wait our turn.  There are two counters and number 212 has just clicked over.  We wait then spot a separate counter for women with a small queue. I join and jostle with the others until my turn arrives only to be told that I need to have the train numbers for the journeys. I’m directed to the enquiry desk outside where I join another queue and pick up chits that I need to fill in to buy the tickets. Eventually I push and shove my way to speak to the one attendant on duty.  She takes my chits and announces that the first 2 trains I want are already over-booked in all classes but I can go on standby.  She writes down the numbers and I return to the original queue.  One of the locals has the cheek to tell me there’s a queue – don’t I know it! Eventually, I hand over the completed chits only to be told that the train numbers are in the wrong place.  As I start to copy the numbers from the top into the middle of the chit the person behind me pushes to get served.  I’m getting used to this and hold my ground, elbows at right angles whilst copying the numbers and shove my chits back through the small hatch to the man who  informs me that all my choices of train are now all fully booked.  Aaaaaaaaaargh!

I book standby tickets without a clue as to what this means or how it works, hand over about £20 and at this point the guy asks for our passports which I do not have. So he cannot confirm any thing and tells me to return with the correct documentation plus the receipts for the money I have paid the next day.  Shades of the Banderawela post office – it’s taken almost 3 hours  so far and we still ahven’t got a seat on any train.

We were both a little nervous about visiting Mysore zoo as you are never sure what conditions you will find.  We’re pleasantly surprised to find the zoo clean and the animals looked well cared for. The highlight was at last seeing tigers. The tiger pen was big and grassy and a couple of the big cats lolled contentedly in the long grass almost invisible yet less than 25 feet away.  

What of the hunting, hunter bold?

A gorgeous white Bengal tigers sat regally almost posing for its photos.

Absolutely beautiful

One thing I hadn’t appreciated before visiting India was how many Indians themselves travel around on holiday.  The zoo is mobbed by parties of Indian holiday makers and large groups of excited school children all enjoying their day out.

The zoo was huge and amongst the other highlights were the giraffes, beautiful pink pelicans 

Pink Pelicans - could have been worse it could have been pink elephants!

and a whole variety of crocodiles who even as they lounged in the mud had an air of malice about them.

Don't get cocky - you'd make a nice set of luggage

We also witness the bravest mice on earth.  Cobras, described as fast and aggressive hunters by day and by night share their glass fronted pens with their food – a number of white mice who act as if they haven’t a care in the world.  We watch spellbound as a cobra slowly uncoils toward a couple of mice resting in a nook in the rocks – nearer and nearer the cobra gets, the mice oblivious to any danger until the snake is no more than inches away – it’s flicking tongue can touch their fur – the mice jump – the cobra surprisingly backs off and the mice live to fight another day – although I suspect their luck will have changed by now.

The Maharaja’s Palace is said to be amongst the grandest of Indian Palaces.  We start early and the palace lives up to expectations immaculate grounds, large and ornate temples and superb interiors.

The Maharaja's Palace - Mysore

No cameras are allowed inside the palace – you’re supposed to put them in a locker before entry but I had ours in my bag and the x-ray machine we pass through picks them up. I give my word to the attendant that we will not use them and he lets us in.

Rules are rules and I keep my word.  Obviously the rules are interpreted slightly differently by the huge number of Indian tourists who snap away with cameras and mobile phones, some of whom ask to pose with me for photos. John tries to charge 20 rupees a snap but no one takes him seriously and they snap away .

The palace was rebuilt at the turn of the last century after fire destroyed the original building.  Room after room oozes opulence with large murals and paintings of the Wodeyar Maharajas and their families.  The murals depict the Maharaja’s annual parade around Mysore with well turned out cavalry and foot-soldiers, elephants in their ceremonial garb and all manner of hangers-on including a division of the Maharaja’s bag-pipers complete with big hairy goat mascot. 

The picture frames are beautifully carved in stone or rose wood, and the trinkets and ornaments on display are exquisite, especially the collection of sandlewood boxes which contained petitions to the maharaja who ruled Mysore before independence.

On the second floor there’s an amazing court room which contains green and gold pillars which give the impression that the room stretches on into infinity – it doesn’t but our bare feet on the hard marble floors felt it might. Stained glass windows, silver engraved and ebony doors inlaid with ivory vie for our attention in possibly the best palace.  Sadly, as I haven’t a photo to show you’ll have to take my word.

On our last day in Mysore we poke around the bazaar area that surrounds the market. We investigate the noise of drumming which usually announces the opening of a shop or as we saw advertised the grand opening of an ATM machine.

We find a group of bare-chested dancers with drummers wandering up the road and bringing all traffic to a standstill as they perform their routine.  They are followed by what appear to be real whirling dervishes who have vicious swords and scary facial hair as they spin around pausing only whilst their followers attempt to erect a giant caber adorned with brass cymbals and bright silks.  

Whirling Dervishes in an off duty moment of non whirling

We haven’t got a clue what’s going on and many of the locals seem oblivious to the efforts being performed in front of them.  

We follow the little parade for a wee while as they carry on their routines in 33 degree heat before watching them move off drumming, dancing, spinning and cabering into the distance.

Mysore has been interesting and hot but we are ready now to move to the cooler climate of Ooty in the Nilgiri Hills.  We’ll  let you know how we get on in our next blog – and whether we can sort out the train tickets!