Puttachi in the Mysore Park

We were in Mysore for the greater part of a month, and naturally, a park visit in the evenings was a must for Puttachi. The park visit is very important because it serves to dissipate the little terror's excess energy, which would otherwise be spent in destructive activity. Of course, it also helps that the activities in the park give her a better appetite and tires her out enough to go to bed early and stay in bed :D

There is a park very close to my grandparents' place, one that we used to go to when we were kids. Some of the monkey ladders that we used to play on still exist. Repaired, patched, mended, painted, but still there. A quarter of a century old at least. There are new ones too, and the park has been spruced up, but it still remains the same old park.

As usual, Puttachi made friends with everybody in a couple of days, and went around waving hi and bye like British Royalty. I even had to fend off paparazzi on her behalf. (Seriously. Young girls trying to get her snap on their mobile phones. Frightening.)

The first few days, Puttachi ran around (when excited to find open space after a period of confinement, she walks around like she is drunk, in a state of euphoria), she played on the slide, and she climbed monkey ladders with minimum help from me. Then I decided to introduce her to the wonders of sand, as the play area had loads of sand. In preparation, I had even brought to Mysore, her sand implements, which consisted of a couple of spades, a cup, a sand truck, and some moulds.

So, the next day, we set out with her sand set, and after her constitutional, I plonked her down on the sand and gave her the sand playthings. She was delighted. She explored the sand with her fingers, and then was content to just pick up sand with a spade, load it into the truck, and then empty the truck, and start all over again. [I hadn't let her play with sand until now mainly because she put everything, and just everything into her mouth. She still does it, but she is better now.]

As I sat watching her, I noticed that the colourful playthings had attracted many kids. They stood around and watched. Slowly, a couple of them started playing with those things that Puttachi was not using. I welcomed this, as I felt that Puttachi would like company. But kids of her age don't yet know how to play "with" other kids, but they just play "alongside" the others. Puttachi did not even seem to notice the other kids, she was in her own world.

The kids kept looking at me to see if I would prevent them from playing, and some kids even tried to butter me up by telling me that "Puttachi was the cutest kid in the world, can they play with the truck please?" Kids, I tell you - they know how to get things done. Since I obviously seemed to welcome them, they got more adventurous, other kids joined, until there was a lot of pushing and shoving and sand flying all over the place. Some of it landed in Puttachi's eye, and I gave the kids a warning. "She is a small kid, please be careful." They piped down for two minutes, before they were at it again. I just removed Puttachi from the vicinity, and she continued playing. But she took the truck with her, and the kids followed the truck. Soon they were snatching the playthings from Puttachi's hands. Puttachi, who until then, was totally oblivious to the others, now looked up and appealed to me. "Ask for it", I told her. "Taa, taa", she said politely to the boisterous crowd, but her voice was totally drowned in the cacophony. She looked pleadingly at me again. I told the boy who had snatched the toy from her to give it back to her. He did give it back without any fuss. Then she wanted the truck which was lost in the sand amidst the crowd of kids. She stood up unsteadily, walked right into the middle of the ring of kids, picked up the truck, and walked back to me, and resumed playing nonchalantly. The kids just stared, not knowing what to do. Just then, one of the boys shouted to another, "Oye!" Puttachi, of course, had to imitate that sound. But as it happened, she said a loud "Oye" just as another boy was trying to snatch a spade from her. Thinking that it was meant for him, he dropped the spade in alarm and backed off. It had me giggling helplessly. Puttachi had absolutely no idea what she had just done!

The next day, I didn't want this whole unruly episode to repeat itself, with sand in Puttachi's hair and eyes, and so I just took along one spade and one cup, enough for her to play on her own. Understandably, the crowd was much thinner than the previous day, though a couple of kids did try to take over the toys. But my little cousin V was with us that day, and he, fiercely protective of his beloved niece, established firm boundaries that stayed for the rest of our visits.

I still don't know how to handle a crowd of kids. I don't want to discourage them, because I don't want to give Puttachi the message that she shouldn't share her toys. At the same time, I don't want her to be overpowered by kids older than herself, so much that she doesn't get to do what she wants to. What do I do? My instinct tells me that things will just take care of themseleves, and that Puttachi will learn how to handle such situations by herself, and that I should just sit back and relax.

In the meantime, let me leave you with a couple of images.


Puttachi playing by herself during one of the quieter moments.




Commander-in-chief of the Wooden Cavalry of Channapatna.


- Hotel Indradhanush, near Maddur, Bangalore-Mysore highway (on our way back to Bangalore).

What Puttachi is doing in Mysore

Watching the rain....




Exploring the garden....





Weeding her great-grandmother's garden....




....And getting her hands dirty :)

Bangalore to Mysore

Some of the high points of my hitherto mostly uneventful life are journeys from Bangalore to Mysore. They have always been special because Mysore means to me - holidays, lazing around, getting to meet grandparents and cousins and aunts, eating good food, and generally having fun.

And the journey to Mysore has always been sweet - the anticipation, the excitement....

My first memories of going to Mysore consist of getting up at unearthly hours to catch the 4 45 am bus from near our home, that went directly to Mysore, with a stop at the main bus stop. So my parents would pull us out of bed and drag us, half asleep, to catch this bus, telling me that I could sleep on the way (which I usually did). There was a corresponding bus (at a slightly more earthly hour) from Mysore back to Bangalore. These early buses ensured that we reached our destination very early, and had the whole day ahead of us. But the buses those days weren't as comfortable as they are now - but they would do - after all, it was a journey of just about 3 hours. I would sleep for the first half of the journey, and wake up when the bus stopped half-way at Maddur. I would then eat the sandwiches that my mother had packed, and then doze fitfully for the rest of the journey. My mother, usually travelling with two small kids and a fair amount of luggage, never got down from the bus during the ten minute stop. But when my father was travelling with us, he would get down to stretch his legs, and I would be paranoid that the bus would leave without him. I would be jittery and keep looking out of the window to keep him in my sight, and my pulse rate would come back to normal only when he got back onto the bus.

But the 4 45 bus service from near our house was discontinued, and then we would have to go all the way to Majestic to catch the bus. But since we anyway had to go to Majestic, we started going by train, because we enjoyed it more. Oh the excitement! Rushing in to the compartment and grabbing two window seats - one for my sister and one for me, better still if the window seats were west-facing (so that the sun wouldn't blind us as the journey progressed). Settling in, keeping the luggage away, removing our footwear and sitting on the seats, and looking out of the windows. Wait desperately for the train to start, and when it did, stare mesmerized at the huge city of Bangalore. Know that we have left Bangalore, at the stench of the city sewage canal. Watch the landscape unfold. The green paddy fields, the bushes and shrubs, and then the distinctive rocky landscape of Ramanagaram. Watch once again as the rocks fade away, giving rise to the same kind of hypnotic landscape, the sapota trees, the coconut trees, the toddy palms, the wild flowers, an occasional lake or stream, a hillock or two with a temple right on top, the stations, some small, some big, but all the same.

None of the stations held as much interest as that of the Maddur station, simply because of the vendors selling hot Maddur vades. How our stomachs would growl and mouths water at the tantalizing fragrance! But our mother would refuse to buy it for us, stating lack of hygiene as the reason. She would say that she would make it for us after we got to Mysore. We would just have to be content to dream about the hygienic Maddur Vades we would get at home, and do with watching our co-passengers gobble down the Maddur Vades and wiping their fingers on the oily paper. Once, just once, our mother astonished us by buying us Maddur vades at the station. We went mad with joy, and wolfed down the oily vades with glee.

But what she did buy for us regularly were the roasted groundnuts, peddled by a toothless old man, mumbling, "Kallekaaaayi, kallekaaaayi." We would buy heaps of groundnuts, and crack each nut laboriously, to eat the delicious nuts within. We would then wrap up all the shells carefully in paper to dispose of later. A few years later, a young boy replaced the old man, and we were told that the old man had died and this boy was his grandson. We bought the groundnuts anyway.

The landscape, meanwhile, remained unchanged, until, of course, we reached the island town of Srirangapatna. We would pass the Kaveri river twice with a deafening clanging, and we would peep out to see how many of the rocks in the rocky river was visible, and exclaim at how much rain or how less of it had fallen that year.

When we had passed the Kaveri the second time, we would grow dizzy with excitement and impatience, because it meant that Mysore was just a stone's throw away. And sure enough, as the first clumps of homes and buildings came into view, we would start putting on our shoes and taking the luggage down, and start jummping up and down. As the train rolled into the station and stopped, we would jump out and rush to the auto stand to find the auto that would take us to Ajji-Tata's house. The superb culmination of a wonderful journey.

But we've hardly travelled by trains in the last five-six years. With roads getting broader and better, and the cars getting faster, we have been driving down to Mysore. But my excitement remains unabated. I love getting up in the cool of the morning, loading things into the car, and setting out on the smooth drive, punctuated only by a stop at Kamat Lokaruchi or some other popular highway restaurant for a mouthful of delicious breakfast, and some steaming coffee.

I guess the journey to Mysore, for me, will always be sweet.

The Mysore Zoo

We took Puttachi to the Mysore Zoo. My only intention was to show her the animals she loves, live. But what I had not bargained for was a barrage of memories bouncing out of the recesses of my mind, of my visits to the zoo as a child.

We would be terribly excited as we alighted from the auto in front of the gates, stone walls on either side. The tickets would be bought and checked by a very short man who was a fixture at the gates for as long as I remember. An old museum stood right at the gates. It contained stuffed animals, and relics of long dead zoo inhabitants. My mother never understood why I loved climbing up those creaking wooden stairs to stare at those stuffed animals when I could well be looking at live animals. But they had a kind of inexplicable charm. On the ground floor of this building were half a dozen mirrors that made you look fat, curved, tall, crooked, and turned you upside down. Preening oneself before these mirrors was a must-do too.

After this would begin the round of the zoo. Each animal would be observed and the board outside the enclosure, with information on the animals, and their names and scientific names would be read seriously.

The elephants and the big cats were the star attractions of course. Once a baby elephant was being taken around the zoo and we got to touch its prickly head and wet trunk and feed it bananas. The big cats had names - Rani, Prema, Vijay, and there were boards with their dates of birth written underneath their names. We would compare our ages with those of the lions and tigers and feel strangely connected to them. My grandparents would sometimes call us, when we were in Bangalore and tell us that Priya gave birth to twin cubs or Vikram died, and we would react as if they were family.

Each time a new animal came to the zoo, people would flock to see the new entrant. Thus we saw penguins, kangaroos (both of which are not there any longer), and zebras and giraffes. The last was the greatest attraction for me. I still remember the first time I saw the pair of giraffes. It was a heady feeling. But the giraffes haven't grown in number since that time. The female giraffe Honey has given birth to a dozen baby giraffes and refused to feed any of them - they have all died, as far as my knowledge goes.
Giraffe bending towards Puttachi, with Chamundi Betta in the background.

The other attractions of the zoo were a smelly, dingy aquarium, outside which you got a great view of Chamundi Betta. Then there was this humungous stone slide. It was quite some time before I summoned up the courage to slide down that slide, and when I did, I felt like the queen of the whole world. Near the slide was a maze made out of bushes which was really easy to navigate, but we felt incredibly proud nevertheless when we reached the centre. Near the slide were shops were we bought and slurped orange candy and continued on our way.

There was another attraction, years ago, in the form of Sally Walker, a zoologist and conservationist who started the Friends of Mysore Zoo. We saw her once, in a t-shirt, shorts, in the lions' cage. INSIDE the lion's cage. Peevee and I were hooked ever since. Sally Walker was our heroine. Other kids wanted to grow up and become teachers and train drivers, but I wanted to grow up and become Sally Walker. Sometimes she passed near our grandparents' home, and we used to stand outside in the evenings just waiting if we could spot her. I don't think we ever did, and I don't think I saw her again after that, but "Salivakar" (as I thought her name was spelt) remained a fascinating figure of our childhood.


Chimp up a tree

When we took Puttachi to the zoo, I looked out for the familiar sights and sounds of the zoo. We were short of time, wanting to show Puttachi everything before she fell asleep, so we made it quick. The short man was gone, but the museum building was there, though we didn't visit it. I couldn't spot the slide at all, nor the maze. Perhaps we didn't go that way at all. There were no directions for us previously, we just went where we pleased. Now, they have boards pointing to the animals, and arrows telling us which path to take so that we can see all the animals. There are also new animal enclosures, and they have a huge aviary with a high net - one we can pass through and see the big birds from up close. There was another major difference. The old Mysore zoo in my memory was dry and hot, and I remember my walks to be very sweaty and tiring. But the zoo of today is very, very green. There was shade almost throughout the way, and that place where you could get a view of the Chamundi Betta? No view anymore... too much foliage to even see the horizon.


The tiger.

But many things remain the same. The giraffe was still as tall as ever, and Puttachi fell over backwards in excitement. The tigers drove her crazy, and she roared and growled near the tiger's enclosure until the tigers went into hiding, terrified. Ok, I am exaggerating, but you get the picture. The lions and the leopards drove her nuts, and the monkeys drove her wild with glee. And what about her favourite elephants? She was sleepy by the time we reached it, and she just stared at them for five minutes, eyes blank. I was kind of disappointed because I was looking forward to seeing her reaction. But five minutes later, something clicked in her brain, her eyes lit up, and with a whoop and a squeal, she danced and waved her hands with abandon, pointed at the pachyderms and said "Aate! Aate!" (For Aane - Elephant). Yes. Mission accomplished. After that, she fell asleep in S~'s arms.

I can foresee many more visits to the zoo in the coming years. But no, I am not complaining!


The elephants

A fuller life?

We are in Mysore.

Mysore always wraps me up in this delicious, pleasant, languorous feeling, and I can never have enough of the city. Memories of summer holidays from my childhood, without a care, without a thought, flit past my eyes. Basking in the affection of my grandparents and aunts, eating to my heart's content, sleeping, meeting with people, long walks to nowhere - Mysore for me encompasses this and much, much more.

On a drive yesterday through broad avenues lined with Gulmohar trees in full, flaming bloom, I looked around the city I love. The old, beautiful buildings - some derelict, some renovated - but all of them charming. Old market areas, the antiquity of which no number of modern signboards or posh new shops can hide. Chamundi Betta (Hill), which stands like a sentinel, ever present, like a comforting caretaker. Endless charm.

I have written about this before, but I can never get over how easy it is to get to places in Mysore. Everything is just a short distance away, and commuting is a cakewalk. I have been thinking - it is perhaps possible to live a fuller life in a small town than in a bigger town?

Let me try and analyze with the example of Bangalore and Mysore. In Bangalore, the distances are too great. The traffic makes it even more difficult to reach a destination. In Mysore, the city itself is smallish. The roads are unclogged (so far) and getting to a place doesn't take too much time. Doesn't that mean that in Bangalore, we tend to spend a longer time on the road than at the destination? At least if the commuting was pleasant, then it would have been okay. But it only results in headaches and high blood pressure.

After Puttachi was born, we have had to work everything around her schedules. As of now, she takes two naps in a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and the wakeful periods between the naps is about 2.5 hours. The only time she stays awake for a long period is in the evening - about 5.5 hours, before going to bed for the night. Thus, in Bangalore, we have to schedule all our outings and visits for the evening time. If we did schedule something in the morning, she will be sleepy and hungry by the time we reach the destination. But in Mysore, we can schedule outings in the mornings too without any problem.

On Friday, we took Puttachi to the zoo. Our agenda was clear. Show her the elephants, the big cats and the monkeys, and the giraffe, and get back before her nap time. The zoo would close at 5 30 pm, so it was best to go in the morning. Besides, morning is the time when the animals are active. So we waited for Puttachi to wake up in the morning, fed her something and whisked her away to the zoo. It took twenty minutes to get to the zoo, twenty minutes to get back, and we spent about an hour and a half at the zoo. It resulted in Puttachi's nap time being pushed a bit, but she saw everything that we wanted to show her and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Had it been in Bangalore, it would have been totally impossible to finish this whole programme in under three hours.

Then there are these times where you can take spot decisions and just leave. We had a dinner to attend on Thursday night at about eight. On Thursday evening, at 5 30, we thought, ok, we have a couple of hours ahead of us before the dinner, so what shall we do today? My cousin K2 said, why not go to Chamundi Betta? And voila! We were dressed and out of the house by 6, we were on top of Chamundi Betta by 6 30. Since it was May 1st, and a holiday, we saw the magnificent sight of the lighted Mysore palace from atop Chamundi Betta, and after enjoying the breeze for a while, we were back at home by 7 30, just in time to reach the friend's home for dinner.

Contrast this with what would have happened in Bangalore. We would have had to leave at 5 30 for the dinner at 7 30. As for an impromptu visit to the hills (if any), it would have been laughable to say the least.

You might argue that Bangalore, being a larger city, has more places to go to, more ways to spend your time, more activities, etc., and that is true. But what about the effort needed to get to these places in the first place? In Mysore, the time and effort spent in getting to a place could have been utilized in some other way.

What do you think?

Lakes of Mysore - photographs - continued

The previous post had snaps from Kukkarahalli Kere. Here are snaps of Karanji Kere.



The main pathway at the entrance, leading to Karanji Kere.












Karanji Kere as seen from the watch-tower. And if you are wondering why the tree is white - those are bird droppings.











I find myself wishing that I were this duck - floating blissfully in the cool waters of Karanji Kere.











A butterfly in the butterfly park, Karanji Kere.

Lakes of Mysore - photographs.

We were in Mysore last weekend. I have already written about how cool I think Mysore is, and I don't need to reiterate that I had loads of fun.

This time, I went determined to visit all the three lakes in Mysore. Kukkarahalli kere, of course, being about a quarter of a kilometer from my grandparents' house, I visit every time I go. But I hadn't visited Lingambudhi kere and Karanji Kere.

So, I did it - visited all three lakes, and did a lot of leisurely walking and birdwatching. We saw pelicans, painted storks, cormorants, egrets, herons, moor hens, kingfishers, bee-eaters, woodpeckers, snake birds, ducks, teals, and many more birds that I cannot even name.

Kukkarahalli - I have already written about it here, was perfect as usual. Lingambudhi kere is good, still quite undeveloped... but has its own beauty. We witnessed a marvellous sunset here. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me that day. I had heard a lot about Karanji Kere, and I was not disappointed. They have developed the surroundings very well, and it is a treat to walk around the place. The view from the watch tower is great - you don't feel like coming back down. There is also a butterfly park, on a little island, which is lovely, well worth the long walk to the place.

I will not write any more, but will just leave you with these photographs.



Kukkarahalli kere, with Chamundi Betta in the background.












A pelican swimming meditatively in the waters, Kukkarahalli Kere.












A cormorant in the reeds, Kukkarahalli Kere.















Tranquility, Kukkarahalli Kere.











The rest in the next.

Birdwatching at Kukkarahalli Kere(Lake).

Had been to Mysore over the weekend. One place I visit each time, is Kukkarahalli lake, which is half a kilometer away from my grandparents' house. I have been going there for as long as I remember. Many happy hours have been spent walking on the bank, many fond memories are associated with it, and one particularly frightening childhood nightmare too. Anyway, Kukkarahalli Kere is a major part of my life.

Earlier, only one side of the lake, adjacent to the main road, was accessible for walking. Half of Mysore seemed to be there in the mornings and evenings. [The other half would be climbing Chamundi Betta(Hill)] Now they have built a walking track all around the lake. I do not know what the total distance round the lake is, but it is substantial.

This time around too, we set out in a huge group to walk round the lake. Since we were now going into the woods, on the path round the lake, there was a chance of seeing many hitherto unseen sights (read birds). My birdwatcher aunt brought along a pair of binoculars. The walk was absolutely delightful! I saw more birds in one hour, than I have seen in probably ten years.

We saw frisky herons, pure white cattle egrets and brilliantly hued Moor Hens in plenty. [ "Look look, Moor Hen!". "Where? I can see only one." ;) - (Mooru means "Three" in Kannada). PJ]. There were loads of chattering Mynas. There were bright yellow bee-eaters with pointed tails and pointed beaks, and a kingfisher with an insect in it's beak. [Kinginsecter?] There was a crow (wait, hear me out!) with an egg in it's mouth! An egg! Such a small, simple thing, and I had never seen it before! "How will the crow eat the egg?" I wondered. It had never crossed my mind. "Simple", said one cousin. "It takes a fork, breaks the egg into a pan, and cooks itself an omelette". PJ. But seriously, how?

We saw hundreds of painted storks(Who painted them?) in brilliant reds and pinks and whites. One painted stork repeatedly flew up and down with a straw in it's mouth, probably building a nest. There was one clump of trees in the middle of the lake, where these painted storks had made their home. Hundreds of them. On a nearby tree, perched right on top, was a Brahminy Kite, surveying it's kingdom. Far into the distance, we could discern a pelican swimming meditatively on the calm waters of the lake.

I am going to a Bird sanctuary, people say, and travel long distances to reach them. I have not seen more birds in one place in any bird sanctuary, and here I see them in Kukkarahalli Kere. Just half a km from home, right in the middle of the city. A world within another. A peaceful, pure, ecosystem amidst the hustle and bustle of the town.

I had a wonderful time. But I have one regret - I had not carried a camera with me. Well, next time. And it had better be soon. Before the corporates get fed up of Bangalore and discover the peace of Mysore and descend upon it in droves, and drive all the birds away.

Update: Anoop has some lovely snaps of Kukkarahalli kere - Check them out here.

Bangalore vs. Mysore

I am going to treat you to some numbers.

Taking into consideration the least expensive mode of transport every time, I am going to compare the costs of going to watch a movie in Bangalore, and going all the way to Mysore to watch the same movie.

(All costs in Rupees)

Going to watch a movie in Bangalore.

Location: Inox, Garuda Mall.
Bus fare from home to Garuda Mall: 10 + 10 = 20 [We have to change buses]
Ticket = 150
Bus fare from Garuda Mall to home: 10 + 10 = 20
TOTAL: Rs.190

Going to Mysore just to watch a movie.

Location: Sterling, Mysore.

Bus fare from home to Bangalore Railway Station = 10
Train fare between Bangalore and Mysore = 50
Bus fare from Mysore Railway Station to Sterling = 8
Movie ticket = 35 (Balcony)
Bus fare from Sterling to Mysore Railway Station = 8
Train fare from Mysore to Bangalore = 50
Bus fare from Bangalore Railway Station to home = 10.
TOTAL: Rs.171.

A difference of Rs.19, favourably tilted towards Mysore.

Now, considering the fact that I usually travel by autorickshaw within the city, and not in bus, and substituting auto fares for bus fares everywhere [Won't bother you with further calculations], the price comes up to
Bangalore - Rs. 350.
Mysore - Rs. 300

Now if you say that I will be saving time by watching the movie in Bangalore, let me tell you that it will take me a total of 6 hours to go up and down from Mysore by train, and it will take me 4 hours to go to Inox and come back, in peak hour traffic.

Next. A visit to a very upscale beauty parlour in Mysore, cost my sister, my aunt and me, the same amount that I would have shelled out only for myself, if I visited my next-door-not-very-sophisticated-parlour in Bangalore. And we finished the whole thing in 1 hour flat, including commuting.

If you want to go anywhere in Mysore, the auto fare won't be more than Rs.30. In fact they say, "Oh that shop is very very far away. Almost thirty bucks by auto!". For me in Bangalore, a place 30 bucks away is my backyard.

I can go on and on giving you examples, but it hurts me all the more to put it all in writing. So I will stop here. The only thing I can say, is that it is worth taking a Friday off and making a weekend trip to Mysore once in every three months, and finishing all your work and getting back. Other than the inexpensiveness and convenience, an added advantage is the huge amount of fun I have with my aunt and cousins, and the utmost pampering I get from my grandparents.

I rest my case.