the infinite charms of motleyed india: a journey and many discoveries...

“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety”

- “Antony and Cleopatra” (W. Shakespeare)

India, with her infinite kaleidoscopic variety, is a land of myriad charms and beckons us to experience it in all its grandeur and sumptuosity. For long, I have been making these never-ending lists of places to visit… and high on my itinerary was a trip to Karnataka, which perhaps becomes an impeccable smaller model of India herself, in terms of the variety she offers..

So when the opportunity presented itself, I seized it with both hands and soon I found myself flying amidst bales and bales of cottony clouds, which tempted me, not just once, to step out of the plane and take them for mattresses to laze about. Well, of course, commonsense and my dad (sitting next to me) kept me tied to my seat. Soon the view changed to those of patches of land tinctured in subtly different shades, perhaps straight out a Nerolac shade card. We got off at the new Greenfield airport in Bangalore to meet my mamaji, who on the way, talked a great deal about his grandiose plans of showing us all the places, which were mainly either religious in nature , or, part and parcel of a typical metropolitan culture.

On the first day, I certainly didn’t want to be a nettlesome guest and decided to play along. He took us to the famous Tirupati shrine (in Andhra Pradesh), where I wondered for the “nth” time that how even “darsana” of the deity depended upon a person’s social standing or paying capacity. While we could manage it with in half an hour, I saw these long serpentine queues moving at a painfully slow pace, if , at all.

Day 2 was relaxed, with my mamaji making plans to visit yet more “mandirs” and malls and I knew it was time, I put my foot down and remind him that I would rather have an eclectic variety of things. He was clearly annoyed but was magnanimous enough to offer me a chauffer driven car and his wife as a winsome companion. With her, I explored the architecture of Bangalore stopping at places like Summer palace of the Wodeyars ( built to look like a smaller replica of Windsor castle in England), Vidhan Soudha, the seat of state legislature, built in what is often described as “neo-dravidian” style and High courts. I was amazed to see people talking in almost impeccable hindi and women sporting salwar kameez (when I had expected them to wear nothing but sarees). The ubiquitous gold jewellery minus any stone or enamel work also captured my attention but it was the love for good food, ranging from dosa , dal vada and gobi Manchurian on street food carts to the seven course meal, in the most opulent (read expensive) restaurants that made me explore Bangalore even more keenly.

The next day, we started for Mysore, where apart from the obvious places of interests like mysore palace, St. Philomena’s church, brindavan gardens and mysore zoo, the thing that most elated me was this rare opportunity of seeing paintings of Raja Ravi varma, exhibited in Jaganmohan palace. I moved mesmerized from the scenes depicting Sita, cringing away in fear as Ravana slices Jatayu , to the wild and untamed beauty of Kalidasa’s Sakuntala, before she met Dushyanta. Another memorable adventure (or, rather, misadventure) was the travails of trying to climb this mammoth Nandi bull statue on Chamundi hills. It is believed that if you whisper your fondest wish in his ear, he would take it to straight to lord Siva. See! The “sifarish” seems to work with Gods too, or so we mortals like to believe.

Eating “medu vada”, a delicacy of mysore in a small dilapidated shop with tea while the rains poured cats and dogs was yet another delight whose memory and almost lingering taste wouldn’t wash off for years to come.

Day 4 promised a good weather and I decided to stay in Bangalore itself and explore the state’s emporium for handicrafts and handloom. Under the brand name of “Cauvery crafts”, it offered me a gamut of objects to buy and covet (for many were clearly out of my range). I bought many papier-mache masks of kathakali dancers and a couple of silk sarees from there. A visit to Bannerghatta National park made me exclaim with joy as I beheld for the first time white tigers, who apparently were in the “mood for love” and definitely not very happy with our lack of discretion and audacious curiosity.

Traveling in and around Bangalore and often in the country side, I marveled at the abundance of small ponds filled with lotus and water lilies, which later made me appreciate Monet’s impressionist paintings all the more. Another thing that stuck me was the symmetry and colour of “mysore tiles”, varying in hue again with the subtletly present in colour “shade cards” alone, decking the roofs of so many homes. With the succulent verdant green background these red roofed homes were really inviting in their basic simplicity.

On the penultimate day, after my strong (read stubborn) insistence, my mamji finally allowed us to travel to see what I had been dreaming for days- the temple art and architecture of hoyasala dynasty, about whose splendour I had been reading for many many years in my history textbooks. These temples in Halebidu and Beluru , built in black schist stone, based on a stellate ground plan, filled with intricate sculptures and friezes were rapturously exquisite. Those yakshas and yakshinis, sensuous dancers, not to forget the menagerie of elephants, lions, horses almost came to life and I moved enthralled, admiring the hands that chiseled these and yet claimed no glory in terms of their authorship. On our way to these temples, we also stopped at Sravana Belagola, where these never-seem-to-be-ending stairs finally took us to this 57m tall monolithic stone statue of Bahubali, claimed to be the tallest in the world. Right opposite to this was Chandragiri hills, named after the famous mauryan king, Chandragupta. Its claimed that it was here, he after converting to Jainism, meditated and breathed his last.

My trip was coming to an end and I wanted to make peace with my much antagonized manaji. So as a reconciliatory gesture I proposed a short trip to Bangalore ISKCON temple, which had the desired effect and my deeply religious uncle was smiling once more, even sharing many jokes and anecdotes. I ended my tip with the most sincere and heartfelt apology for all my obduracy and the inconvenience I had caused them and also an equally earnest gratitude for their being such hospitable and gracious hosts and helping me take one step further in discovering my myriad faceted India.