February 19 - 20, 2006 - Mysore
Sunday, February 19 - Day 1
We arrived in Mysore in the morning after an overnight train trip from Chennai. Mysore is the second-largest city in the Indian state of Karnataka. Until 1947, Mysore was the capital of the Kingdom of Mysore and was ruled by the Wodeyar dynasty, except for a 40-year period in the 18th century. The Wodeyars were patrons of art and culture and contributed significantly to the cultural growth of the city, which led to Mysore being called the Cultural Capital of Karnataka.
According to Hindu mythology, the area around Mysore was known as Mahishūru or Mahishapuram and was ruled by a demon, Mahishasura. The demon was killed by the Goddess Chamundeshwari, whose temple is situated atop Chamundi Hills.
The video below gives you an idea of what the Mysore train station is like. Warning: The video is 5 minutes long. Don't feel like you need to watch the entire video.
According to Hindu mythology, the area around Mysore was known as Mahishūru or Mahishapuram and was ruled by a demon, Mahishasura. The demon was killed by the Goddess Chamundeshwari, whose temple is situated atop Chamundi Hills.
The video below gives you an idea of what the Mysore train station is like. Warning: The video is 5 minutes long. Don't feel like you need to watch the entire video.
At the train station, we got into taxis which took us to our hotel, The Viceroy, described as such on its website: “Adding style and dignity to the garden city of Mysore, The Viceroy provides the rare alternative of a value-for-money, superior class service Hotel, combined with the unique tradition of south Indian hospitality and amenities of International standards. Centrally located, only a block away from Mysore’s commercial establishments, tourist spots and plumb opposite the famous Mysore Palace.” It was a fine hotel, but certainly not “superior” by any stretch of the imagination. At the hotel, I had an “English Breakfast” of coffee, pineapple juice, toast with butter and orange marmalade, and a scrambled egg. After breakfast, I was able to get into my room for a quick shower. I am sharing with Debbie so that Susan can be by herself to continue mourning the passing of her cat, Natousha. The shower felt WONDERFUL after all night on the hot, sticky train. My hotel room, however, was stifling – no a/c at this hotel and with the hot weather, my room feels like an oven. Debbie and I got our dirty clothes together and brought them to the hotel reception to be washed. The clothes were sent to a laundry that uses a washing machine; no pounding on a rock by the river for these dirty duds!
Then it was off to Mysore Palace, which was right "plumb opposite" our hotel. Unfortunately, just one entrance to the palace was open, and it happened to be on the backside of the palace, so we had a 15-minute walk. The palace complex was huge with a gorgeous main palace, nine temples and numerous other buildings – most likely administrative offices or workers’ quarters. The palace was home to the Wodeyar royal family. However, the India government decided that the palace was too special for only the royal family to enjoy, so the authorities required the royal family to open the palace and its grounds to the general public and forced the family into only one section of the palace.
(Click on the images below to view.)
Then it was off to Mysore Palace, which was right "plumb opposite" our hotel. Unfortunately, just one entrance to the palace was open, and it happened to be on the backside of the palace, so we had a 15-minute walk. The palace complex was huge with a gorgeous main palace, nine temples and numerous other buildings – most likely administrative offices or workers’ quarters. The palace was home to the Wodeyar royal family. However, the India government decided that the palace was too special for only the royal family to enjoy, so the authorities required the royal family to open the palace and its grounds to the general public and forced the family into only one section of the palace.
(Click on the images below to view.)
Built in Indo-Saracenic style with domes, turrets, arches and colonnades, the palace is often compared with Buckingham Palace in England because of its grandeur. It was designed by Henry Irwin, the British consultant architect of Madras state. The palace was built by the 24th Wodeyar Raja in 1912 on the site of the former wooden palace that was gutted in the year 1897. Since the removal of the royal family, the palace has been converted into a museum, which treasures the souvenirs, paintings, jewelry, royal costumes and other items which were once possessed by the Wodeyars.
The palace was truly stunning – probably the most impressive place I have ever seen. The stained glass windows and domes, the carved wooden doors and trim, mosaic tiled floors, columns and chandeliers were beautiful. Unfortunately, photography inside the palace was prohibited, so I was not able to take any pictures of the gorgeous interior.
The palace was truly stunning – probably the most impressive place I have ever seen. The stained glass windows and domes, the carved wooden doors and trim, mosaic tiled floors, columns and chandeliers were beautiful. Unfortunately, photography inside the palace was prohibited, so I was not able to take any pictures of the gorgeous interior.
Riding an Elephant
After spending a couple hours exploring the palace, Betty, Rick, Debbie and I decided we wanted to ride elephants, so we walked behind the palace to what looked like a small village within the palace walls. Here, we found that not only could one ride an elephant, but also a camel. Since we had our camel safari in the desert still to look forward to, we decided that we would just ride the elephants, and we did just that! Betty and Rick rode one elephant, and Debbie and I rode another. The one Debbie and I rode was HUGE! Her name was Chincherrie. Before I got on her, she blessed me with her trunk. My second elephant blessing in India. How cool! I then stroked Chincherrie’s trunk, and the hairs on it were very bristly. I climbed some wooden steps to a platform, which was level with Chincherrie’s back. On her back was a very large platform laden with blankets and surrounded by a rail. I mounted Chincherrie and sat facing sideways with my feet dangling over her side. The driver, called a "mahout," sat on Chincherrie’s head, right behind her large ears. When she walked, it was very lumbering and I was greatly jostled from side to side.
(Click on the images below to view.)
(Click on the images below to view.)
Back at the hotel, we had lunch. It was delicious – Indian-style vegetarian spring rolls and garlic roasted potatoes, which were the best potatoes I have ever tasted. Afterwards, my traveling companions visited another palace/temple complex, but I was in serious need of a nap since I didn’t sleep well on the train the night before, so I stayed behind and took a nice little snooze.
That evening, we returned to Mysore Palace to see it illuminated with 96,000 lights. This is a weekly event, always on Sunday. Little groups of people – mostly Indians – were sitting on the palace lawns or standing along the paths waiting for the light show to begin, which it did at precisely 7 p.m., with the spectators clapping and oohing and aawing. The palace and its grounds were absolutely stunning all lit up. I have never seen anything like it, and it was quite a treat. (By the way, I, for some reason, did not bring my camera to Mysore Palace this night, so all of the photos of the palace illuminated at night were taken by my traveling companion and good family friend, Debbie Herbert.)
(Click on the images below to view.)
That evening, we returned to Mysore Palace to see it illuminated with 96,000 lights. This is a weekly event, always on Sunday. Little groups of people – mostly Indians – were sitting on the palace lawns or standing along the paths waiting for the light show to begin, which it did at precisely 7 p.m., with the spectators clapping and oohing and aawing. The palace and its grounds were absolutely stunning all lit up. I have never seen anything like it, and it was quite a treat. (By the way, I, for some reason, did not bring my camera to Mysore Palace this night, so all of the photos of the palace illuminated at night were taken by my traveling companion and good family friend, Debbie Herbert.)
(Click on the images below to view.)
That night, we all went to dinner at the Park Lane Restaurant, obviously very popular among Westerners since a good deal of the clientele were white. The large, funky, semi-open air restaurant had a very tropical feel, with lush plants, water features, and even a waterfall. (I wish I had taken some photos of it because it was a really unique place.) We ordered a bunch of appetizers: mushroom balls, cheese fried in a batter and battered chilis. They were all good, especially the mushroom balls. For dinner, I had an extremely tasty barbeque chicken dish (no barbeque sauce, but cooked on the grill) and some delicious Indian French fries (in India, they are called “finger fries”). Then, I had a most yummy banana split. Dinner with the gang lasted three hours, so it was a good thing that I took that nap!
Back in my sweltering hotel room (remember, no a/c), Debbie and I went to bed, only to be awakened at 11:30 p.m. by the person delivering our clean laundry. Each piece of clothing was folded very neatly (and thinly, I might add), still slightly damp, separated by a sheet of newspaper. A quick inspection the next morning revealed that while the clothes were clean, they were also more than a little dingy, so I wondered whether they were really washed in a washing machine, at least the kind we use in America. I know they were not dried in a clothes dryer; they were most likely laid out on the ground to be air dried by the sun.
Back in my sweltering hotel room (remember, no a/c), Debbie and I went to bed, only to be awakened at 11:30 p.m. by the person delivering our clean laundry. Each piece of clothing was folded very neatly (and thinly, I might add), still slightly damp, separated by a sheet of newspaper. A quick inspection the next morning revealed that while the clothes were clean, they were also more than a little dingy, so I wondered whether they were really washed in a washing machine, at least the kind we use in America. I know they were not dried in a clothes dryer; they were most likely laid out on the ground to be air dried by the sun.
Monday, February 20 - Day 2
I had a good night’s sleep – with the help of Motrin and Oxycontin – and woke up only once (a new record for me). I was awaken early this morning by the sound of the Muslim call to prayer, which is hauntingly beautiful. I am not of the Muslim religion. I am, in fact, Roman Catholic, but I do respect all religions. So, here is a little information on Islam’s call to prayer.
The adhan, or Islamic call to prayer, is an integral part of the Muslim faith. It’s the first thing recited in the ears of a newborn baby; it's often the first thing recited in a new home. And it rings out in mosques, Islamic schools, homes, and on the street in Muslim communities five times a day. The adhan is one of the most lyrical, inspiring prayers for Muslims. A hadith recounts that the prophet Mohammed and his companions one day were discussing how to gather everyone for prayer. Some suggested using a bell as Christians do, and others advised using a ram's horn, following an ancient Jewish practice. Then Umar, one of the prophet's companions, suggested having one person call others to prayer. Mohammed agreed, calling his ex-slave, Bilal. With Muslims praying five times a day, the Arabic text of the adhan is similar for all five recitations (with a slight difference in the adhan recited for the pre-dawn prayer, which adds the line "Prayer is better than sleep"). Its compelling sound is amplified by the skill of the person who recites it. The more melodius and clear the voice, the more powerful the adhan is.
The words are:
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of Allah.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of Allah.
Come to prayer. Come to prayer.
Come to Success. Come to Success.
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
There is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
Ash-hadu an la ilaha ill-Allah.
Ash-hadu an la ilaha ill-Allah.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammad-ar-Rasoolullah.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammad-ar-Rasoolullah.
Hayya 'alas-Salah. Hayya 'alas-Salah.
Hayya 'alal-falah. Hayya 'alal-falah.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
La ilaha ill-Allah.
Once up, I wanted to wash my hair, but the water was cold (actually, tepid), so I just showered. Another English breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant.
The adhan, or Islamic call to prayer, is an integral part of the Muslim faith. It’s the first thing recited in the ears of a newborn baby; it's often the first thing recited in a new home. And it rings out in mosques, Islamic schools, homes, and on the street in Muslim communities five times a day. The adhan is one of the most lyrical, inspiring prayers for Muslims. A hadith recounts that the prophet Mohammed and his companions one day were discussing how to gather everyone for prayer. Some suggested using a bell as Christians do, and others advised using a ram's horn, following an ancient Jewish practice. Then Umar, one of the prophet's companions, suggested having one person call others to prayer. Mohammed agreed, calling his ex-slave, Bilal. With Muslims praying five times a day, the Arabic text of the adhan is similar for all five recitations (with a slight difference in the adhan recited for the pre-dawn prayer, which adds the line "Prayer is better than sleep"). Its compelling sound is amplified by the skill of the person who recites it. The more melodius and clear the voice, the more powerful the adhan is.
The words are:
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of Allah.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Apostle of Allah.
Come to prayer. Come to prayer.
Come to Success. Come to Success.
Allah is Most Great. Allah is Most Great.
There is none worthy of being worshipped except Allah.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
Ash-hadu an la ilaha ill-Allah.
Ash-hadu an la ilaha ill-Allah.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammad-ar-Rasoolullah.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammad-ar-Rasoolullah.
Hayya 'alas-Salah. Hayya 'alas-Salah.
Hayya 'alal-falah. Hayya 'alal-falah.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
La ilaha ill-Allah.
Once up, I wanted to wash my hair, but the water was cold (actually, tepid), so I just showered. Another English breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant.
Chamundi Hills
My fellow travelers and I took hired cars to Chamundi Hills, where we were going to walk up 1,000 steps (literally: a thousand steps!) to a Hindu temple. At the bottom of the hill were monkeys, hundreds of them! They were all over the place, and if you looked at one of them in the eye, it would become aggressive. Also at the bottom of the hill was a giant carving of Nandi the bull, the Hindu god Shiva’s transport. Nandi sat 15 feet high, 24 feet in width and was carved out of a single piece of rock, thus making it a monolith. A Hindu priest was preparing the morning offering to Nandi and decorating it for the day, and there were many pilgrims there for a blessing. All of my traveling companions, except me and Susan, received a flower and had a red tilak placed on their foreheads by the priest. The tilak symbolizes the third eye, or mind's eye, that is associated with many Hindu gods and the idea of meditation and spiritual enlightenment. In the past, tilaks were usually worn by gods, priests, ascetics, or worshippers, but is now a common practice for most Hindus. It can express which Hindu tradition one follows. It may be made with sandalwood paste, ashes, kumkum, sindhoor, clay, or other substances. The pastes are applied to the forehead and in some cases to the upper part of the head.
After observing the priest presenting the offering to Nandi and avoiding direct eye contact with the monkeys, we started the loooooonnnnng climb up the steps to Chamundeswari Temple located at the top of the 3,000 foot Chamundi Hill. Instead of taking the steps, groups of youngsters sometimes will trek through the jungle and thickets of the Chamundi Hill slopes to the top. In recent years, however, this has become less popular because of stories of leopards residing on the jungle slopes. Sometimes leopards have been sighted near the roads during late evenings leading to the top of the hill and have been photographed, providing a sense of additional thrill to people who seek adventure walking up the slopes. We, however, took the steps, which were built in 1659. Of course, I was the last one up!
When I at last climbed the 1,000th step, I was amazed to see a large village at the top of the hill as well as Chamundeshwari Temple. The temple was named after Chamundeshwari or Durga, the fierce form of Shakti, a tutelary deity held in reverence for centuries by Mysore Maharajas. The temple has a seven story tall gopura decorated with intricate carvings. The deity of the goddess is said to be made of gold and the temple doors of silver. Also at the temple were several images of Nandi the bull. I walked through the temple, which was a fraction of the size of Sri Meenakshi, and then took some photos outside.
(Click on the images below to view.)
(Click on the images below to view.)
Back in our cars, we drove quite a bit through the countryside, which was beautiful. The road, however, was atrocious! It was a new road, but the last monsoon season was so bad that the road was almost destroyed. The only mishap we had – which was due not to the roads but to driver error – was that our vehicle hit a goat which had run into the road. Thank goodness that the goat was not injured, or we might all have been attacked by the locals! After making sure the goat was alright, we continued on our way. We drove through mostly farmland – rice paddies, coconut plantations, banana plantations and sugarcane fields.
We made a stop at a sugarcane factory where raw sugarcane is turned into blocks of very strong “brown” sugar, which tasted a lot like molasses. The process is to take raw sugarcane stalks and crush them in a machine to get the juice out. The juice is then boiled in these huge disk-shaped vats. Once the juice has thickened, it is poured into wooden molds until it is dried into small blocks of brown sugar. The factory was all very low-tech and completely open to the outdoors on one side. I ate a piece of the raw sugarcane and was amazed at how much juice it contained. It was quite good; very sweet.
(Click on the images below to see view.)
We made a stop at a sugarcane factory where raw sugarcane is turned into blocks of very strong “brown” sugar, which tasted a lot like molasses. The process is to take raw sugarcane stalks and crush them in a machine to get the juice out. The juice is then boiled in these huge disk-shaped vats. Once the juice has thickened, it is poured into wooden molds until it is dried into small blocks of brown sugar. The factory was all very low-tech and completely open to the outdoors on one side. I ate a piece of the raw sugarcane and was amazed at how much juice it contained. It was quite good; very sweet.
(Click on the images below to see view.)
Next we visited a silkworm factory. To make the raw silk, a moth lays these super tiny eggs into a round cup-shaped container. Then the eggs become larvae and each larva makes a cocoon. The cocoon consists of a semi-hard shell the shape of an egg, but the size of a peanut. The silk threads are like cotton on the outside of the cocoon shell. Thousands of cocoons are placed in really large wooden pans. Once they reach a certain stage, they are taken to another room where women separate the females from the males. Only the silk from the female is used; the male cocoons are thrown away.
(Click on the images below to view.)
(Click on the images below to view.)
For lunch we all stopped at the home of a local Muslim family. They were very gracious as they welcomed us to their home and showed us into their dining room. They did not eat with us, but served us and made sure we were in want of nothing. The male head of the household sat with us while we ate, but he did not eat anything. We had chicken and rice curry, eggplant in a sauce, and yogurt with onions and cilantro. For dessert we had the most incredibly delicious fruit custard and rice noodles with raisins.
Bollywood Movie
Back at the hotel I took a 2-hour nap. (I had a terrible dream about my son, Kevin, flying a plane and it crashing. Shiver.)
Afterwards we all went to a Bollywood movie: Rang de Basanti. Before I tell you about the movie, I must tell you about the movie theater. First of all, as expected, we were the only Westerners in the whole theater, but besides that, at least 95% of the patrons were male. Though the theater contained stadium seating, the interior was pretty stark: it seemed more like a sports arena than a movie theater. We sat about halfway up, but there was an wide aisle in front of our row, so people (men) were frequently walking in front of us. While the patrons were pretty quiet during the movie, they were definitely not as quiet as a theater in the U.S. When a part of the movie did get their attention, they became quite lively and loud, but they quieted down quickly. After the movie was over and we were leaving the theater, there was trash everywhere.
The movie, Rang de Basanti, was excellent! Even though the vast majority of it was in Hindu, I could follow along fairly well. The story was about a British documentary filmmaker who is determined to make a film on Indian freedom fighters based on diary entries by her now-deceased grandfather, a former officer of the British Indian Army. Upon arriving in India, she asks a group of five young men to act in her film. They agree, but after they begin filming, a friend of theirs is killed in a fighter aircraft crash, with government corruption appearing to be the root cause of the incident. This event radicalizes them from being carefree to passion-driven individuals who are determined to avenge his death. The film was controversial in India, and after watching it I could see why because of the message it portrayed. Since this movie was a drama, there was little dancing, which is so common in Bollywood movies. However, the music and singing were phenomenal! The cast was also really good, and Susan fell in love with one of the actors, though not for his acting ability but rather for his good looks. (Susan thought he looked like Jesus Christ.)
Afterwards we all went to a Bollywood movie: Rang de Basanti. Before I tell you about the movie, I must tell you about the movie theater. First of all, as expected, we were the only Westerners in the whole theater, but besides that, at least 95% of the patrons were male. Though the theater contained stadium seating, the interior was pretty stark: it seemed more like a sports arena than a movie theater. We sat about halfway up, but there was an wide aisle in front of our row, so people (men) were frequently walking in front of us. While the patrons were pretty quiet during the movie, they were definitely not as quiet as a theater in the U.S. When a part of the movie did get their attention, they became quite lively and loud, but they quieted down quickly. After the movie was over and we were leaving the theater, there was trash everywhere.
The movie, Rang de Basanti, was excellent! Even though the vast majority of it was in Hindu, I could follow along fairly well. The story was about a British documentary filmmaker who is determined to make a film on Indian freedom fighters based on diary entries by her now-deceased grandfather, a former officer of the British Indian Army. Upon arriving in India, she asks a group of five young men to act in her film. They agree, but after they begin filming, a friend of theirs is killed in a fighter aircraft crash, with government corruption appearing to be the root cause of the incident. This event radicalizes them from being carefree to passion-driven individuals who are determined to avenge his death. The film was controversial in India, and after watching it I could see why because of the message it portrayed. Since this movie was a drama, there was little dancing, which is so common in Bollywood movies. However, the music and singing were phenomenal! The cast was also really good, and Susan fell in love with one of the actors, though not for his acting ability but rather for his good looks. (Susan thought he looked like Jesus Christ.)
NEXT: MASINAGUDI, INDIA