Saturday, December 4, 2010

Dusshehra in Mysore

When you have information, the most important thing to consider is how you are going to preserve and disseminate it. People in-charge of conducting the Dusshehra at Mysore seem to be totally oblivious to this fact. Stalls were put up at almost all key spots of Tourist visits yet the act of obtaining any information was a non-starter for even the localites. I had deputed a Mysorean friend of mine to get hold of the tickets for the Torch Light Show on the Viajaydashamee day. The online ticketing said that the hard copy of the online tickets needed to be redeemed for the actual paper tickets. But there was no hint on the ticket as to when, where and how this redemption can be done. He was made to run from pillar to post yet he couldn't get any concrete information. This caused a heartache before we left for Mysore on the Dusshehra day as there were no usable tickets even after we paid the money in advance. Very poor beginning to a day supposed to bring in cheerfulness.

The taxi arrived in time and the driver was well aware of Mysore. We were prepared for a day of hectic fun and frolic. My mother and wife were not very supportive of the idea of jostling through the crowd and try and enjoy the Dusshehra. But I told them to look forward to the Torch Light show which would be a good compensation for any other disappointments and fatigue. Early morning blues apart, our preparations were spot on. Except the umbrella or any warm clothing, we had everything for comfort. Leaving around 8 am meant that the traffic was negotiable. Very soon we hit the NICE road and sped off.

There was an accident somewhere near Wonderla. The Lord of Death had come to accompany one of the mortals back to the Eternal abode. We did not have the courage to step down and see the corpse on our own. The witnesses told us that a biker had been hit by a speeding lorry. The age old method of booking a ticket out of the Earth. But our mood was hit more by the timing, on the Dusshehra day. GOD must have accepted the departed soul. Nobody should die such meaningless death. Somehow, we pushed the scene out of our minds and motored along.

Our next halt was at the famous Bidadi Idli shop. The driver had made special recommendation and it was a new experience for me to despite having visited Mysore 5-6 times. The crowd was huge and the shop was mere a hut with few tables laid outside. The cleaning was done behind the hut, there were 6-7 waiters who must be approached to get any hold of the fare. Mr. Driver was a regular customer it seems. With his influence and some man-management skills, we got not only the hot Idlis but also the seats to enjoy them. Really, they were true to their reputation and our inhibitions came a cropper. Typical modern Indians, you see. Anything done with a Western method into it is the only thing to go with, Indians are way behind, should be shunned. ALAS!

The traffic was very smooth and, though we were not cruising at any Hollywood-promoted speed, Mysore was right up there in good time. And guess what how did we confirm this? No, not the milestones. The hoard of motor cars waiting at the entrance to the city was simply too big to manoeuvre. We wasted 45 odd minutes just to reach the first circle in the city. Weather also played against us. Sun was blazing all of a sudden. We had no problem in getting the directions as the driver was a Mysore veteran. We went straight to Bannimantap and collected the actual tickets to the Torch Light show against the e-Tickets. As I stated at the beginning, laying our hands on these tickets was the most monumental task that we had envisioned for ourselves. Thanks GOD, it was over and I need not write any expletives that I would have used if we didn't get the tickets.

For obvious reasons, a lot of traffic restrictions were in place. We wanted to do some shopping on the Urs road, the commercial heartthrob of the city of Mysore, but was denied entry. That also meant we had no chance of getting anywhere near the Palace. Other tourist attractions in the ambit of the Palace were inaccessible as well. Utterly disappointed not to have got a view of the palace, we settled into the eatery “Vishnu Bhavan” right opposite the Bus Station. The speciality of the day were the Davangere Banne Dosas. And we were upto the task. Altogether, we ate 5 of them and finished the Lunch with great coffee. The service was poor and it took us 15 minutes just to pay the bill. Quite frustrating to see I-Don't-Bother attitude. God bless them with some courtesy.

St.Philomena's church was one place with no rush and easy access. I didn't visit it before so it was the next stop. The twin spires of the building are 175 ft. high. The nave can seat up to 800 people and contains stained glass windows depicting scenes from the birth of the Christ and other biblical legends. The underground clearing had a statue of Mother Mary. The walls were made of black stones engraved with names of the donors and going by the numbers it seemed they were more than 3,000 of them. We took pictures outside the chapel against the statue of Infant Jesus. The floor was burning under the sun and we had to rush back to our footwear. Outside, there were vendors with religious theme paintings on wood. Their sheen was very attractive but the prices were exorbitant owing to Dusshehra crowd. We couldn't somehow fall into the lure of buying them. Fruit juices came handy to recover from the heat.

It was 1 PM and we found out that the best place to view the procession would be the termination point i.e. the road leading to the Bannimantap. We had no other plans so we got down at the Bannimantap gate and told the driver where to find us in the evening for the return journey. It was a wide road in front of us. One side was the huge open-air auditorium, called Bannimantap. The other was a mix of commercial and residential buildings. Not many shops were open but some which did provided food and beverages and were doing brisk business. Unfortunately, there was no seating arrangement on either side. Some space, similar to footpaths, were earmarked on either side to allow people some clearing which they can use in whatever way they wanted. Some of the early birds had bedsheets laid neatly across some part of these spaces and they had their own supplies of food and water. It didn't take us long to realize that without such makeshift arrangements, we were handicapped and had no chance of finding seats.

Sometimes truth is too hard to swallow. :) My mother was in bad mood now that we had a good prospect of standing through the afternoon. Nowhere to hide for me. All arguments and anecdotes proved futile. The temper of my better-half was not much different either. Tough nuts to crack both of them. Taking clue from others around us, I started looking for Newspapers as they would serve as bedsheets in such a scenario. It wasn't a easy job. I could locate 1 photocopy shop after 20 minutes of search and was able to woo the owner to give me the old newspapers under the pretext of reading them to kill boredom till the procession starts. She was apprehensive but handed over some old papers. Quickly, we found two slabs of granites and spread the papers on top of them to ready our balcony for the day.

Right in-front of us was a ice-cream vendor; on the left, there was a Chat waalah. These mobile shops were attracting a lot of people. We, at least myself, got some good pass-time watching the kids reluctance to settle for less, adults worrying about their pockets as well as the delay in the procession. The crowd had started to build up and by 2 PM, all the side space for seating had been occupied. Young blokes fancied tree tops as some points of vantage. Lot of security personnel and people were walking up and down the road. Slowly, the weather was also relenting and excitement about a good-spent afternoon was fresh on everybody's face.

Tea was elusive amidst all the festive gathering. We ate apples, Churmura, guavas and some dishes that we had packed from home. Slowly, people started to find seating arrangements near us. There was a local family who were present in three generations. The grandma was accorded a plastic chair such that she and I were almost facing each other. Next to her were two kids, a boy and a girl, who were eagerly describing and commenting on any activity down the road. Yes, most of them were speculations and child-fantasies but they did talk about some of the traditions associated to the Dusshehra in Mysore which made a good learning. Another family parked their car 3 ft. away from us and comforted themselves in the rear section of the car. They were also commenting on their own and telling us about not to entertain people who tried to cross the barricades through some openings behind our slab seats.

Headcount kept rising but the talk of the town was nowhere to be seen. Another hour passed in anticipation. Any movement down the road was greeted by false Hurray by more desperate among the crowd. Cloud cover was also beginning to take threatening proportions. We had no chance of surviving the showers. So, the danger of getting seriously wet added to the agony of eternal wait. Women folks were busy handling kids while the men gossiped about the procession. In all, the atmosphere was one of hope and longing to fulfill the task at hand. Enthusiasm is one medicine, which when combined with some pragmatism, often leads to sustainable results. The same was the case here. Nerve-wracking wait was a real teaser but happiness surrounding the place subdued it.

It was 4 PM by my watch and still no signs of the procession. The Rain God was there though and light showers started coming down. People in and around Mysore are cognizant to the fact that it can rain anytime and 9 out of 10 times, it will be a passing shower. And due to low humidity, things dry out quickly. So, locals stay put wherever they were. We also tried to brave the showers but when the intensity increased, my mother gave up. She had absolutely no intention of watching the procession in wet clothes. We ran for shelter and got into a nearby eatery, Sukha Sagar. Rain continued for another 20 minutes at least. Our place of interest was lost and there was no point in going back and fighting for it. My father always says, "Crowd has its own rules. Better be careful."

Tea, Rava Idlis and Bondas were pressed into service to cater to overcome some of the disappointment and anger. The procession did finally arrive at 16:45 and all of a sudden the air was vibrating with loud cheers, drumbeats and other instruments played by the participant troupes in the procession. People occupied all spots of significance and were eager to topple each other to reach as close to the drama as possible. That meant that we had no chance of watching the procession from the safe environs of the eatery. Human sea was too huge to surmount. Yet, some action had to be taken.

My mother is a woman of steel. And I got a live demonstration of that in what followed next. She took hold of both of us and jostled through the crowd and carved some space for all 3 of us right in front of the Bannimantap entrance where the procession ends. No doubt, we were on our heels, literally, but were able to view at least 80% of what was being paraded. This in itself was a great triumph of Will over Dilemma. Yes, our eyesight was constantly blurred by the heads and shoulders of people surrounding us ,so that we were like a lost Pacific Island, but we had no qualms. This position of vantage was unthinkable of just a short while ago. Hail Mothers of the World!

The theme of the procession was the local folk heroes dating from a period of Mughal rulers till the Independence. Each district and Government Corporations had a tableau of their own showcasing a hero and his/her deeds. The tableaus presenting the Raj Darbaars outnumbered the other representations. Pole dancers, folk musicians, body-painters and acrobats were there in full bloom. It was an illustration to be remembered not only because of the great craft-work but also due to its celebration of the State of Karnataka and its heroes.

By 6 PM, the procession drew to a close. My mother and wife were not very impressed. They had several expletives to offer which my readers will not have the luxury of listening to. What followed next was even worse. Suddenly, everybody started moving either up or down the road. Great commotion, absolutely mayhem for 30 minutes. In between, there were occasional scuffles which could have taken ugly proportions. People of all ages had wings and they seemed to be walking for their lives. We were marooned in the middle of all this as we couldn't muster the strength to push and shove through this unrelenting flow of people. At last, we lost hopes and took a dip in the human sea. We headed towards Bannimantap Gate 10 from where we had to enter the open-air auditorium. Hands-in-hands, souls-in-souls, we achieved the target.

15 minutes later we were seated on the last concrete row of our pavilion. Our bodies were aching like anything. More than the standing show that we watched, the struggle through the mad crowd to reach the current seat left us completely energy-sapped. Again, there was no food available and we had nothing of our own. Some chips, popcorn and biscuit vendors were serving the 200-odd people in each of the 10 stands. We grabbed whatever we could from them and got back to some level of comfort. The sky had cleared by then and the evening breeze was a little cold. The huge crowd that had just completed the strenuous task of watching the World Famous Mysore Dusshehra procession, beating the elements and all that, deposited itself into all sorts of seating space that the auditorium offered in to time whatsoever. Indian festivals at their best. :)

The evening began with a guard of honour to His Excellency, the Governor of Karnataka, Shree Hans Raj Bhardwaj, complete with 21 rounds of Tank shots. We felt like being sitting through some Independence Day function when the National Anthem, National Song and Karnataka state honour songs were played beautifully by a chorus formed out of local artistes. Such patriotic renditions touch the soul each time they are played. I just find myself on an elevated platform remembering that Mother India loves me so much. We couldn't have asked for a better opening to the show.

Next was the display of motorcycle stunts by the police and para-military forces. Amazing is just one of the several simple adjectives that I can use to describe what I saw there. Formations they had, the synergy they had, their liveliness to the occasion and passion to go for one stunt after the other without any kind of break was breathtaking. We captured many a moments but the permanent pictures that were carved in our minds will stay forever. These performers are often unseen to the Public eye as they undertake numerous behind-the-scene tasks and without their success almost all public events would fail. Kudos to them and all the warm wishes for the future.

Two giant screens were placed on the diagonally opposite ends of the ground. One of them happened to be right behind us. This came very handy when we wanted to concentrate on something at a distance and/or blocked in vision by the mobile set of people. Anytime a particular performance was done away from us, we immediately turned to the Big screen and the great camerawork ensured that we got the complete view. The motorbike extravaganza concluded with a superb unfurling of the Tricolor on the move. Spectacular to say the least.

African acrobats took over after the machines. They were as stretchable as a rubber band. They used different props to very good effect. The display of jumping through the fire ring in synchronized manner was a treat to the audience. Huge rounds of claps appreciated the troupe. Laser show was the star attraction and it started after the acrobats bid a farewell. The illustration of the lasers in a rhythmic river-waves like pattern was brilliant. Then another surprise was thrown. Chorus sang a local film song and the laser moved according to the beats, something very similar to the Visualization effects we see in a Media Player while it plays a song. The evening dew was frozen in between these laser movements and that was a mesmerizing experience. Delight was oozing out of my mother's and wife's faces and all their grudge and pain evaporated in thin air, albeit for an hour or two, I would say. :)

The final event of the programme was the Torch Light parade. Personnel from all wings of State Police force were involved. They were 100+ in number. One after the other, they formed criss-crossing patterns involving the PT drills. Not a single line was broken, not a single person collided with another and no torch was disturbed. An extraordinary, clinical performance. The best was kept to the last. All the artistes divided themselves into 3 rows. A band master gave instructions through the beats. The final beat of every round saw the people rearranging themselves in such a way that the torches formed the words like "Karnataka", "Jai Hind", "Swagatam" and many more. This was in the backdrop of pitch dark settings. The place was full of the glow and warmth of the torches and the hearts were occupied by this numbing orchestration. To say anything more would be a grave overuse of my literary skills.

We left the place at around 10 AM, took food at a restaurant just outside the city limits and braved a tyre puncture to reach home at 2:30 in the morning. We were into bed by 3 am but our mind and soul were left behind in the Bannimantap.

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