It has been quite some time since I have attended a flower show at Lal Bagh. The reasons are many. Of late, one reason has been the ban on DSLRs. My DSLR was one reason for frequenting Lal Bagh and Cubbon Park. The ban broke my heart.
My last visit was in January 2020 which as you know was just before the pandemic created havoc. DSLRs were not banned then but my camera started acting up and I hardly got a single good picture. I had returned home disappointed.
Thanks to a last minute decision, I decided to attend this show. Of course, I had to program my mind to the fact that I can take pictures only with my smartphone.
I have not had a full-time job ever since I lost my last one in September 2020. As I barely step out these days, I end up wearing a few select dresses all the time. This time though, I thought of wearing something outside of this selection. I literally plunged headlong into my cupboard and pulled out an old grey kurta and red salwar. Although the outfit was old, I didn’t mind wearing it because whenever I have worn that outfit, things have looked up for me albeit temporarily.
So after ages, I headed to a flower show in an outfit which I was wearing after ages in the hope that after ages I will have a good day. Shades of grey have not really been shades of grey for me (literally speaking). Grey is one of my lucky colours.
I pulled up my socks and tied my shoelaces of my grey sneakers (😁) and raced out of the gates of my home. It was noon and 14 August! Not a good time and date to visit the flower show as I was pretty sure the place would be very crowded because of the extended weekend.
The bus stop was a stone’s throw away. I was just about to cross the road when a bus screeched to a halt. I waved out to the driver gesturing him to wait. Luckily, he did. The grey dress effect!
I got off at Indiranagar and took the metro trains. It wasn’t long before I reached Lal Bagh. On entering Lal Bagh, as expected, I noticed huge crowds. I felt someone was calling me from behind. I turned my head to look back. It was a young couple with a child. “Are you alone?,” asked the lady. I shook my head in surprise as if to tell them “yes”, “Come with us, we have a free pass for four,” said the man. I walked in past the security guards at the gate along with the couple and the kid. “Have a good day, ma’am”, said the lady. I thanked them and continued walking briskly. Lucky me, I didn’t have to buy a ticket. It saved me 70 bucks. The grey dress effect!
I was not sure which gate I had entered through. There were endless food stalls and hawkers all over. In fact, there were more food stalls than colour green. It looked like the flower show has become way too commercialized. The aromas of different foods made me feel hungry too. It was lunch time. But I had to get done with the flower show first.
When I approached the Glass House, I was in for a shock. There was a sea of humanity in front of me. For a moment, I thought of not entering the Glass House. I didn’t want to get trampled. But then, I had come all the way only to see the flowers. I pushed myself to go in.
There were three queues outside the Glass House and they were not moving fast. It was after 15 minutes that I entered the Glass House or to be more precise I was pushed inside. I almost lost my balance in the process. It helped that I was standing in the queue bordering the flower beds. The grey dress effect again 😁!
Taking pictures turned out to be difficult. I kept losing my focus because I kept getting jostled. There were flower beds and flower beds and more flower beds.
This year’s Independence day show was dedicated to Kengal Hanumanthaiah, former Chief Minister of Karnataka and the man behind the construction of the Vidhana Soudha, Bangalore’s famous landmark. A lot of information and pictures of Kengal Hanumanthaiah adorned the walls of the venue and also on the approach roads to the venue. Have a look at some of the pictures:
This time around, the organisers had arranged the flowers in such a way that taking close-ups would not have been possible. I doubt having my DSLR would have helped. Also, there were way too many selfie enthusiasts, many of them middle-aged.
The special attraction this time was a floral replica of the Vidhana Soudha. Needless to say, the creation was nothing short of spectacular. I took a picture of this colourful re-creation of the Garden City’s most famous landmarks from various angles.
Also among the attractions was a floral replica of the Satyagraha Soudha which stands tall at Shivapura in Mandya District. Those travelling to Mysore from Bangalore and vice-versa cannot miss this striking edifice.
I would have spent approximately close to an hour inside The Glass House. I went around the premises to make sure I had taken as many pictures as I could.
Very soon, I started feeling hungry. I headed to the food stalls and started combing every nook and corner to check out what I wanted to eat. I settled on Mirchi Bajjis. I settled down on one of the stone seats and started devouring the Bajjis . They were so crispy and tasted good. I loved them. As I crumpled the paper plate, and was contemplated whether to eat more, I spotted the magnanimous couple who let me in with their free pass. They waved to me, and I waved back. The child was on the man’s shoulders finishing off an ice-cream. There was ice-cream all over the little girl’s face. I then headed to the same stall and ordered a large papad with a multitude of masalas strewn all over it. These papads are a regular at most melas. Crunchy and spicy, the papads are a fun eat. I finished off the last bit of papad and licked off all remnants off the masalas from off my lips, threw the crumpled paper plate into a bin and decided to go home.
As I walked past the stalls, I noticed a couple of men selling juices in large transparent containers. The containers looked unconventional and I kept staring at them. “Madam, why don’t you taste one of these and then decide whether you want to have a larger glass.” They had dangled the carrot before me. I could not resist. I learnt that the juice sellers were from a rural area adjoining Bangalore and had just started this business. I picked up a mini-cup of jamun juice. Because of the drought in Bangalore, August which is one of the wettest months in the city felt very sultry. The little cup of juice felt like manna from heaven for my parched throat which had become very dry because of the weather, the long walk in the garden and the spicy foods. I also samples a cup of another of the juices and decided on a glass of jamun juice. After finishing off the glass, I decided to have another glass. One simply wasn’t enough. I finished off the other glass too with consummate ease. Wow! I was having a good time. The grey kurta effect!
I hummed a song as I walked towards the Double Road gate. A quick trip to the nursery en route didn’t help me get that one good picture that would make my day.
It wasn’t too long before I was out of Lal Bagh. I raced to the Double Road bus terminus and jumped into a bus that had just halted. A few minutes later, I alighted at Richmond circle. Another few minutes later, I was on my way home thus ending a fruitful trip to one of my favourite green spaces.
Until I visited Masjid-E-Khadria in Benson Town, I never thought women were allowed in mosques. It all started with an invite that I saw on Facebook asking people from all faiths to visit the mosque regarded as one of the most beautiful mosques in the garden city. What is more, it was a free event. I thought why not attend this event. I have no idea what a mosque look’s like inside.
After a lot of thought, I decided to go and “see beyond the walls”. In fact, I made up my mind at the last minute and in the process lost a lot of time that I could have otherwise utilised to reach the mosque at the said time. “Would it be okay if I reached the venue by 4.30pm,” I asked one of the organisers. “Yes madam! Don’t worry we will be starting only around 4.30,” he replied.
I had boarded the auto around 3.30pm which I must say was a tad late. There were way too many signals en route which left me wondering whether I should have embarked on this trip. I finally arrived at the destination at around 4.40pm.
As I entered the premises of the mosque, a couple of ladies from the Muslim community came running towards me. “Welcome, welcome,” said one of them. She directed me to a register where I was asked to fill in some essential details. When I looked around, I saw a lot of female volunteers all of whom smiled and waved at me. They made me feel very important.
Soon, a young volunteer came running to me and introduced herself. After exchanging pleasantries, she ushered me inside. Sanah, the volunteer, is a college student and a Bangalore resident.
“There are so many women here,” I said to Sanah, “I never knew women were allowed inside mosques,” I added. She smiled and replied, “Women are allowed in some mosques but not all. While it is compulsory that men offer their prayers in a mosque the same is not the case with women. We have the option to offer our prayers at our home.”
She showed me to the shoe stand where I had to remove my footwear. “Will you have some tea,” she asked. “Yes,” I replied. Two cookies and a date were served as accompaniments with the tea.
We were soon inside the prayer hall, which was extremely spacious. A section of people was on their knees. It was the evening prayer session.
I was mesmerised by the enormity of the praying space which was illuminated by pretty lights, the kind that I had never seen before. The entire prayer hall was carpeted and spick and span. Large windows let in enough light from all sides. The pillars were all decorated with geometric designs. At some places on the ceiling, there was Arabic or Urdu script.
“How old is this mosque, and can you tell me something about the architecture?”I asked Sanah. “I will not be able to help you with the details of the architecture. You will have to Google it,” she said.
The ambience of the prayer hall for some reason reminded me of The Arabian Nights. It was a land totally unfamiliar to me. The space was enchanting and mystical.
The prayer hall
The mosque was also hosting a science exhibition. Large charts celebrating the achievements of Islamic scientists, inventors, astronomers and physicians were all over the place. A lot of effort seemed to have gone into the curation of the exhibits.
Also on display were surgical instruments of yore and some mechanical exhibits like compasses and various instruments:
I breezed past the exhibits as I did not have much time to spend. Sanah led me to the first floor which had another prayer hall. As we took the stairs I clicked pictures of a couple of large and beautiful windows and chandeliers. Have a look:
The prayer room on the first floor had lesser occupants and offered more photo opportunities:
I left Masjid-E-Khadriya on a happy note but not before some more clicks, this time pictures of the facade.
The auto ride to the mosque from my home was arduous. Not wanting a repeat journey of that sort, I decided to walk to Wheeler Road to have a chaat at Shankar Bhel House. Shankar Bhel House was a favourite haunt of mine when I worked at an office on Wheeler Road. I must say my three-year stint at this office was the best part of my career. Travelling to this office was like travelling from one home to another. From lunchroom banter to covering events and interviewing celebrities I just loved my job here. The company was like a start-up and the salary was peanuts but I learnt so much on the job and picked up confidence thanks to some of my very talented colleagues and bosses. I miss my three years here. If it weren’t for the recession I would have stuck on. Sob sob!
When I saw the menu chart at Shankar Bhel, I was spoilt for choice. I decided to try the Bombay Mix. Although Shankar Bhel House is a tiny eatery, the fare on offer is very yummy. And the service is quick. Despite the crowd, I managed to take a picture of the grub although not a good one. It tasted great!
After the tantalising plate of Chaat, I walked on hoping to board an auto from the same auto stand in Cox Town where I boarded autos 12 years back only to discover that the situation is not the same as it was back then and boarding an auto is next to impossible at that place. My heart was in my mouth and I kept wondering whether I would have to spend my whole night on that road. I had to wait for an hour and a half. It was well past 10pm when I finally got an auto driver to agree to take me home.
I thus ended my Saturday, the 5th November, on a sweet and sour note.
A visit to the annual Dastkar Fair has become a ritual for yours truly. I have been attending the fair for years. This year, there were two fairs, one right at the beginning of the year (in February) and the other was held in the first week of September. Every year, the fair is held in August or September. I keep wondering why. It rains heavily during this time of the year. And most of my visits to the fair have ended on a wet note. I have had to come back home completely drenched. Luckily, I have always managed to save my camera from the rains. The February edition of this year’s Dastkar fair may have been held to compensate for last year’s loss. Owing to the pandemic, the fair was not held last year.
There are many reasons why I love Dastkar. I love soaking in the riot of colours. It has an uplifting effect. The fair is a photographer’s delight. It is one of the few opportunities that a shutterbug like me gets to go click click click. Of course, at times, you might have to ask permission to take pictures especially at the stalls that display paintings. A third reason is that the handicrafts fiesta is a shopper’s delight. Although, some of the handicrafts that are on display are quite expensive they are worth buying for the sheer efforts that have gone into their making. Most of the ware on sale here are the works of master craftsmen. They are simply beautiful. A fourth reason for visiting this crafts’ extravaganza is because it takes me to a totally different world. The atmosphere is very Indian, very rural, very vibrant and very simple. For a change, I forget everything else and lose myself in the colourful milieu. Going to a Dastkar Fair is like entering dreamland.
The last three editions of this colour extravaganza have been held at the Jayamahal Palace Hotel, a beautiful snow-white edifice with sprawling expanses of green. The setting here is perfect for a handicraft fiesta.
When visiting the Dastkar Fair unless you exercise discretion while shopping you will end up going Dutch. In 2015, when I attended the fair with my friend Anushka and her friend, the three of us literally blew our salaries. And we realised that only at the billing counter! Funnily, Anushka was shopping using her husband’s debit card and she dreaded going back home. As for me, I had just got my salary.
Unlike in 2015, this year I was completely broke. Attending the fair with your purse literally empty is not really a good idea. But I decided to go for photography sake.
These colourful baskets would enliven any living space. It is important that you don’t allow them to bite dust. I cannot buy these as the furry brats at home will rip them apart.
With the Gowri Ganesha festival around the corner, I am sure the toy-seller would have made brisk business.
Those are flutes. Which one do you want?
I have quite a few of these delicate bangles. But it has been long since I have flaunted them. Sigh! The last time I wore them, one of my colleagues loved them and asked me to get a dozen of these for her.
These pretty floral chains grabbed a lot of eyeballs.
And those are fridge magnets.
This ‘Krishna milking a cow’ painting would look lovely on any work station.
And that is another of the lovely paintings on display. Wonder what is the story behind it?
Which one of these bottles would you want?
That is a Pattachitra with a contemporary theme. So beautifully done!
This shop selling educational products was a big draw with children.
More bottles! I love the one in the centre.
Some more stunning stuff with intricate work.
Want to pick up a kettle?
I would never miss this 🙂
Sarees in so many colours!
Such lovely dupattas!
Some more lovelies!
I mad a pit-stop at the food court. The taste of the samosa chaat that I had at the February edition of Dastkar still lingered in my mouth. I was lucky! I spotted the same vendor from whom I had bought the plate of samosa chaat the last time. I wasted no time in ordering a plate of the chaat and when I got the plate I forgot to click a picture. The chaat lived up to its reputation. After going nom nom nom on the plate of samosa chaat, I was wondering if should go for another. I finally decided not to go for another plate cash strapped as I was. Instead, I washed down the samosa chaat with a pot of Kulhad chai. It tasted good!
I continued clicking pictures. The stall selling kites was there like at every edition.
Some more lovely sarees this time with exquisite prints:
Some more exquisite prints! Don’t miss those cute li’l birds and beautiful cows.
There were some lovely shawls too!
I completed my visit to the Dastkar fair by clicking some more pictures of the snow white beauty. This time I created a record of sorts by not buying anything. I only spent a wee bit on the samosa chaat and the chai.
So far, I have made two trips to Ooty. One was a fleeting trip that I made in 1994 for a job interview and another was a memorable one exactly a decade later.
The chilly climes of the “Queen of Hill Stations” beckoned again in the summer of 2019 and for reasons that I could hardly imagine in the wildest of my dreams, the annual UNESCO Go Heritage Run. I and my colleague-and-friend Renga (short for Rengalakshmi) dashed off to Ooty on a rainy May night. It was the last day of May and a Friday. I decided to go in spite of strong objections from my father. My father hates travel. He is an armchair traveller and is of the firm belief that the world is not a nice or rather safe place to travel. “You have been there before, why do you want to go again?”, he protested. Somehow, the travel bug got the better of me and I did not pay heed to his advice.
We had booked a sleeper bus to Ooty that night. The bus started at 11pm sharp. We were on the upper sleepers and in no time we fell fast asleep. It must have been around 6am when we woke up to our mobile alarms. We overheard from fellow travellers that we would be arriving in Ooty in roughly half an hour. Renga parted the curtains which opened to some lovely scenes. The sky looked stunning and in the foreground colourful cottages enlivened the view. In no time, we were at our destination. We were greeted with a view of a beautiful flower garden as we alighted from the bus.
We had booked a tent at Aventura Ooty, a campsite. This would be my first ever experience in a tent and a camp. “You better carry a mosquito-repellent cream”, warned my colleague as we shared our excitement with her that Friday when we booked a tent. Later, we would realise that was sage advice.
A quick breakfast of vada and dosa at a modest restaurant whose name I cannot recollect fuelled us up for the day. We had to confirm our arrival for the run and also make ourselves comfortable in our tent. In my excitement, I had forgotten that the registration had to be done at the campsite. I somehow had got things all wrong and told Renga that we had to first register at the Lawrence School, Lovedale, which would be the venue of the run. This was a huge blunder but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The autos at Ooty are bigger than their Bangalore counterparts. They are very roomy, have a spacious luggage cabinet and are a delight to travel on. We took an auto to Lawrence School. The ride turned out to be like a journey to paradise. The whole route was green with dense vegetation and wild flowers all around and an oh-so-cool breeze caressed our faces as we moved. It was as if a satin towel was gently massaging our skin. The air was filled with an aroma of fresh grass, leaves and wild flowers. The ride was long, the path was winding. For a change, I was cool, Renga was tense. I tried to take a picture of some wild flowers that had grown from a crevice in a rock. I requested the auto driver to stop for a few minutes but Renga protested, “You can take pictures later, not now, let us finish with the registration.” I had to listen to her and the auto continued up the winding path. It wasn’t long before we were at the gates of the iconic school. The guard stopped us and quizzed us about our identity. It was holiday time and they were wondering what we had come there for. We told them that we were participating in Sunday’s run and that we had come to register. It was then that we were told that registration had to be done at the campsite, Aventura Ooty. For good reason, Renga got annoyed with me. “Sujathaaaaa”, she said aloud and with hands on her hips. I responded with a sheepish grin. We were soon on our way to the campsite. Renga is a native Tamil speaker and it helped a great deal in conversing with the auto driver. Thanks to her, travelling around Ooty became that much easier.
After a picturesque journey we were at the campsite. We first registered for the next day’s race and collected our T-shirts and numbers. We had chosen to run the shortest among the runs, the 5km run. Just a year back we had run the TCS 10k in Bangalore and had chosen to run the 6km Majja Run that had turned out to be absolute fun. Though it was only a 6km run, we had huffed and puffed to the finish. Here, in Ooty, we were quite sure we would have to exert more because of the mountainous terrain. But we were up for the challenge. My daily morning/late evening brisk walks at the walking track a kilometre away from my home served as some sort of preparation for events like these. The daily walking ritual had served me in good stead at the TCS 10k too. And Renga would now and then hit the gym.
We were next given the number of our tent and asked to keep it zipped up when we ventured out and warned not to enter other’s tents. The gentlemen at the campsite spoke impeccable English. Their diction was flawless. I guess they were old students from one of the hill schools. We realised that we were one of the earliest to register because when we backpacked to the tent, ours was only the second to be occupied and the others were waiting to be occupied. The tent was tiny and both of us had to squeeze in. Now this was going to be quite an experience! The toilets at the site were the portable kind. There were around four of them. We left our backpacks and roamed around the area. The place was silent and now and then the silence was broken by the sound of an insect or was it a woodpecker? I couldn’t quite figure out. There were green tents and white tents. The white ones were larger and I think meant for four. The row of tents was soaked in the brilliant morning sunshine. I took a quick selfie with me and Renga and wasted no time in updating my Facebook status. In no time, I received many likes and wows.
A carrot farm adjacent to the campsite made for some nice clicks. Fresh carrots were being harvested. Later, we were back at our tents. Renga decided to take a power nap and I went to freshen up. We then went to the campsite office to order lunch. Renga ordered parathas for us via Swiggys. The food was good.
Post-lunch, we went on a recce of the place and I managed to get some green clicks. As the afternoon wore on, the tents started getting occupied.
As dusk enveloped the place, the lights went on illuminating the campsite. I wanted to have a quick nap. The tent was so tiny, half my legs were out. My windcheater doubled up as a blanket. Renga went on a stroll and on returning felt very amused seeing me sleeping with half my legs out. It reminded me so much of the wicked witch in ‘The Wizard of Oz’. My nap was very short; I had to wake up as it was Renga’s turn to grab a few winks of sleep. I just spread my legs out and reclined against the outer wall of the tent. Shortly, a man came up to me and asked me about the tent. He spoke in Tamil. I responded with a spattering of Tamil. A short while later, Renga woke up and asked me who I was speaking to. She was amazed at my knowledge of Tamil. She remarked, “Not bad Sujatha, you speak better Tamil than I speak Kannada.”
Renga had requested for a change of tents as she found the one we were in way too small. The organisers had obliged her. Someone came to show us into our new tent which turned out to be a wee bit bigger. After dumping our belongings in the new tent, we were off for dinner.
We ordered Fried Rice and in no time we were done. We next went and sat next to a campfire. It was fun. Renga made some friends there. I just sat and listened to the banter. There were an equal number of men and women around the fire. I must say I thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings. The atmosphere was warm both literally and figuratively. It was around a quarter past eight when we left for the tent. Renga was ready to hit the sack but not me. The time was way too early for me. I decided to prance around the site on the grass which was by then covered with dew. So Renga went off to sleep and I walked up and down, down and up for one and a half hours. I decided to hit the sack around 10pm. I removed my shoes and decided to leave them outside the tent as they had become wet because of the dew.
Renga had by then figured out that there were two sleeping bags inside the tent and learnt how to use them. She was all cocooned inside one when I entered. She woke up on hearing me enter and told me how to use the sleeping bag.
We had been asked to report to the camp office at 5.45am. The bus would arrive at 6am and would ferry us to The Lawrence School at Lovedale for the run. I set the alarm for 4am much to Renga’s amusement. “Why do you want to wake up so early”, she asked me. She had set hers at 5.15am.
We then went off to sleep. I am a very light sleeper. Renga is a heavy sleeper. In no time, she was fast asleep. I was woken up around 1.45am by strange sounds outside the tent. I could hear a lot of people walking by and talking aloud in an alien language. I could feel people touching the tent and this made me very nervous. Renga was in deep slumber and sleeping like a baby. The noise went on for quite some time and died down much later. By then, I was completely awake. I sat up and began to wonder. Who were those people? Why were they talking so loudly? Why were they touching the tents? I again looked at Renga. She was fast asleep. I tried to grab some winks of sleep but was not able to. The alarm buzzed at 4am. I stopped it fast as I did not want to disturb Renga. I dashed off to the washroom area. All the washrooms were occupied save for one. And that one was clogged! I went back to the tent. It was quite some time before a washroom was free. I changed in to the running attire and pinned my number to the T-shirt and decided to warm up on the dew-laden grass. Much later, I could hear Renga’s alarm. In no time, she was up on her feet and all set to go to the campsite office. I told her to go ahead and that I would join her later.
At the camp office we were offered tea and biscuits. A few runners were already there at the office, both male and female. We learnt that there were many among them who had been participating in the run for years. It was only a few of us who took the bus. Many decided to use their own cars and two-wheelers.
I had strapped my mobile to my upper arm and Renga had hers in her pocket. The journey to Lawrence School was fascinating. The same ice cool breeze caressed our faces and the morning was drowned in the chirps of various species of birds and insects. I felt like I was in heaven. The feeling was ethereal. There was not a trace of pollution.
When we reached the gates of Lawrence School, we were instructed to join the warm-up sessions for the runs. Ours was the last race in the morning and was scheduled close to 7am. There were two runs before ours. A warm-up session was on at the school playground. I joined in. I later joined the warm-up session for the next run and then finally our run. The school playground was vast. There were a lot of facilities. The warm-up sessions were conducted by the school PT master. The sessions reminded me so much of our own PT sessions in school. It was like back to school. I could see there were a lot of participants from the school too and their parents were also there as fellow participants. There were many international students among the lot.
When our run began around 7am, we were off to a steady start. Everything went fine till we were on the main school campus, but things took a turn when we reached the forest adjoining the school. The forest is part of the school campus too and I guess is only utilised for camps and runs. It is quite vast. I found the terrain rough and tough to negotiate. Very expectedly, I ran out of breath soon. So I began walking and oh yeah clicking pictures too. There were too many photo opportunities. I continued with the rest of the run walking briskly and breaking into a run now and then. It was arduous. And overnight rains had rendered most of the forest land wet and slushy. Very soon, my turquoise green Lee Cooper sneakers turned muddy brown and they started getting heavier because of the coating of slush. After some time, Renga caught up with me and we chatted even as we continued walking and running. And I continued clicking. In a matter of a few minutes I was off ahead of some of the runners. There was a vast expanse of hilly terrain en route and a vast patch of wet land. I could see a whole lot of runners in front of me. On many occasions, I thought of just stopping but I pushed myself. When I reached the main school campus I couldn’t believe I had finished the tough forest stretch. It took a few minutes more before I reached the school playground and was greeted with claps and cheers. I was overjoyed. I felt like one of the marathon runners taking part in the OIympics. I ran right in to the starting arena and was directed to a station to collect my medal and participation certificate. Breakfast was being served at the other end of the ground. I decided to wait for Renga. I headed to one of the food stations and helped myself to a bottle of water and biscuits. When Renga ran in she met with the same reception that I had met with a few minutes back. After she finished collecting her medal and certificate, we were off to have breakfast. The South Indian breakfast we were treated to, turned out to be wholesome and yummy. We were overjoyed. We talked about the race as we cleared our plate. It was a truly enriching experience.
En route the run, I had spotted lovely sunflowers in front of one of the school buildings. We quickly headed to the place to take pictures and a few clicks later headed to the parking lot to board our bus.
Soon, we were on our way back. On the way, I spotted the famous train that many tourists love to take a ride on. We were told that booking had to be made months in advance. On reaching the campsite, we were told to vacate our tents in an hour’s time. Renga was quick to pack. I took some time to refresh myself and pack my belongings. In the meantime, Renga made a pre-booking for lunch. On the way to the camp office which is downhill, I slipped and fell and ended up with bruised arms and shins. I had to spend some time cleaning and dressing my wounds. It was not yet noon; we had to board our bus to Bangalore only at 9pm. We had a lot of time on hand. We asked the organisers about possible places to visit. There were a lot of suggestions. Renga tried to book a cab but the cab operator changed his mind on learning that we needed the cab only for half a day. We had to opt for auto travel. The organisers arranged an auto for us. The driver suggested we visit Doddabetta, the highest peak in South India; the Karnataka Garden; Ooty Lake; and the Tea and Chocolate Factory. A short while later, lunch arrived. As we had breakfast only an hour ago, we decided to have lunch later. We boarded the auto with bag and baggage. The auto ride was a delight.
Our first stop was at the Karnataka Garden. The place was stunning! There were flowers all over and the landscaping was beautiful. A couple of British-looking edifices added to the beauty of the place. There weren’t too many people although it was a Sunday and that made our visit even more enchanting. Renga wanted to relax on one of the benches. I was off with my camera and went click click click. She asked me to hurry up because we had other places to visit before the day ended. The tight schedule left me with very little time to spend in the garden where I would have otherwise ended up spending at least 3 to 4 hours. There were a lot of spots to relax, read a book, picnic and play games. This was one of the places where one could finish a book in one sitting. It was a truly mesmerising experience. I did not feel like leaving the place. Sigh!
We were next off to Ooty Lake. The auto driver kept protesting, “Madam, you should have spent more time at Karnataka Garden”. He added that Ooty Lake pales in comparison to Karnataka Garden. We couldn’t help agreeing with him. The place was heaven-like.
Ooty Lake was bursting at the seams thanks to the burgeoning holiday crowds. Renga suggested we go boating. I readily agreed. It was only after seeing the serpentine queues in front of all the ticket counters that we realised that boating was not a good idea after all. We hastily retreated and asked the driver to take us to Doddabetta, the highest peak in the Nilgiris.
En route to Doddabetta, both I and Renga caught up with some sleep. The brilliant sunshine had by then disappeared as clouds took over the sky. The weather was the typical hill station kind and the chilly breeze was back.
When we reached Doddabetta, we found the place quite crowded. The area was highly commercialised and businesses of all kinds dotted the place. The sea of visitors and shops concealed all the green views around. We wove through the crowds and indulged in shopping for trinkets. By the end of the shopping spree, my knapsack was looking pregnant with all sorts of knick-knacks stuffed inside.
We boarded the auto after we were done with all the shopping, sight-seeing and photo-ops. We next stopped by at a tea estate where tourists were having a good time getting themselves photographed in traditional wear amidst the green background of the tea plantations. It was a very short stop.
We walked down the mountain and almost boarded the auto when we noticed a few men going after something with a fluffy tail. It wasn’t a dog or cat. When I asked one of them what happened, he pointed to the tree top. I looked up to see a Malabar Giant Squirrel staring down. I had only seen these squirrels in photographs. This was a first-time opportunity. I was excited. The auto driver asked me to take a photo fast. With my 55mm lens, I couldn’t get a good capture. By then, my mobile battery had got almost drained so I had to remain content with the picture I took with my DSLR. A few clicks later, I checked my DSLR battery only to realise it was also dying.
Our next destination was the Ooty Tea and Chocolate Factory. Our auto driver went to great lengths speaking about the factory and its popularity as tea and chocolates were sold at factory rates at the place. He asked us to make the best use of our time there and not to waste the opportunity. However, he forgot to tell us about the holiday crowds. When we stepped in the factory was jam-packed with hardly any place to move. I and Renga managed to buy an assortment of teas, eucalyptus and almond oils, ointments and chocolates, not to forget an assortment of chocolates for some of our colleagues at office. In between, I managed to click some aerial views of Ooty before my battery got completely drained.
After almost an hour, we were done with our visit to the factory and decided to go to one more destination before boarding our bus at 9pm. It was almost 6.30pm. The driver suggested he will take us to a museum as going to the botanical garden was not a viable option. We would need more time and we were nearing dusk. Renga suddenly remembered she wanted to buy some fresh veggies from the market but she did not have a bag. Plastic is banned in Ooty and none of the vendors had bags. One of the ladies at the market was sweet enough to get one from her home.
It was almost 7pm when we were done at the vegetable market. We then remembered we had not eaten the parathas that we had ordered for lunch. We skipped going to the museum and instead decided to have the food at the railway station. The railway station at Ooty is a sleepy place. Very few trains ply through the station and at that hour, the station was wearing a deserted look. We asked around and got to know that there were no more trains till the next morning. So we headed to one of the benches and opened our pack of parathas. On opening it, Renga realised that it was not palatable. The food had got spoilt. We looked around to see if we could find some juice or coffee, there was no place serving them either. We decided not to eat anything and instead wait for the bus as we just had another hour and a half to go. We then did our calculations to find out how much each of us spent and clear out any dues. After that we chatted away till quarter to 9. We finally boarded the bus around 9pm and wasted no time in getting to our sleepers. The trip back home was definitely not as romantic as the trip to Ooty one reason being the bus. This one was not as comfortable as the one we took earlier. We reached Bangalore in the wee hours of the morning and greeted to very Ooty-like weather. With that we ended our short fleeting weekend trip.
This year’s Republic Day edition of the famous Lal Bagh Flower Show turned out to be a fitting floral tribute to the Father of the Nation on the occasion of his 150th Birth Anniversary celebrations.
Various replicas of Mahatma Gandhi including floral ones were there everywhere. There were a few of Gandhiji’s wife Kasturba as well.
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While a grand floral replica of the Sabarmati Ashram was the cynosure of attention, I must admit I was more smitten by Gandhi’s monkeys especially the ones outside the Glass House that looked like they were coated with strawberry ice-cream. These huge replicas of the simians were sponsored by an ice-cream company. However, the pink replicas were installed in a fenced space much to the disappointment of selfie-enthusiasts.
Another disappointment was the arrangement of flowers. I missed taking many good pictures like in the earlier versions of the show as the flowers weren’t close enough for me to take pictures, armed as I always am with an 18-55mm lens. Luckily, there were a lot of pictures at the many nurseries for me to go click click click.
An unexpected trip to Mangalore during the long Diwali weekend led me to discover the Tannirbhavi Beach whose existence I never knew of till recently.
I was staying at my uncle’s place at the heart of Mangalore city. When I had a Sunday evening all for myself, I thought of visiting the Panambur Beach. It was then that my cousin suggested to me, “Why Panambur? Tannirbhavi is closer!” As I had never heard of this beach, I thought for myself why not.
Around 4.30pm on a balmy Sunday evening, I set off to Tannirbhavi Beach. I had just started walking towards the main road when I heard the sound of an approaching auto. I flagged down the auto and asked the driver to take me to Tannirbhavi Beach. The driver gave me a quizzical look and asked me why I had come looking for an auto in the direction I was walking when I actually had to walk in the opposite direction. In a surprised tone, I told him that I thought I was on the right track. He went on to add that going all the way to Tannirbhavi would cost me 300 bucks. I said, “What!! I thought it was close by?” Before I could say more he suggested that I go by auto till Sultan Battery and board a ferry from there which is what most tourists do. This got me thinking. I had never travelled by a ferry. I had seen ferries only in Malayalam and in Bollywood movies set in a Bengali milieu. Would it be wise to travel in one when I had a time crunch as I had to board a bus back to Bangalore at 9pm? My folks had told me to finish my trip and be back by 7.30pm and it was almost 5pm! I contemplated going back home when the auto driver re-assured me, “Madam, there will be plenty of tourists going to Thannirbhavi. You will not face problems.” Encouraged by his words I agreed to his idea and told him to drop me at Sultan Battery.
The drive to Sultan Battery turned out to be shorter than I imagined. And the auto driver was right. I saw a lot of holiday makers scattered all over the large expanse of land in front of me. As I alighted from the auto, I spotted a raised ramp with a staircase leading to the top of it. As soon as I paid off my auto fare, I raced to the ramp. The auto driver called out to me and told me that I had to board the ferry from the opposite end. I replied saying that I wanted to check out the ramp first and I would go board the ferry later.
It turned out that the ramp was a watch tower built by Tippu Sultan to look out for English invaders during his time. In all my eagerness to get on top of the tower, I forgot to take a picture of it. The only picture I took of the tower was that of its staircase. The top of the tower turned out be some sort of a lovers’ meeting point. There were so many of them. Not surprisingly, I got funny stares when I walked towards the parapet of the tower. A vast expanse of a water body which I later learnt is the Gurupura river greeted me as I stood near the wall. I went click click click. Embarassed as I was by the presence of numerous couples around me and not wanting to stay there any longer, I made a quick exit and raced down the stairs and walked in the direction of the ferry stand.
The Gurupura river as seen from the watch tower.
The flight of stairs of the watch tower.
At the ferry stand, I discovered that over there rules were a joke. People were stretching out their hands in all directions to get a ticket. Try as much as I could, I could not buy a ticket. People were pushing and shoving each other and I began to feel helpless and suffocated. It took me a good ten minutes before I finally got one. The ferry fare was just INR 5.
I joined a serpentine queue of people waiting to board the ferry. Luckily, people were following queue rules here. A ferry had just left the stand and made for a good click. I had to use my smartphone as I hardly had space to reach out for my camera. Another ferry arrived but I could not board it as I way behind in the queue.
It wasn’t long before I spotted a very large and ornate ferry slowly make its way to the ferry stand. Unlike the earlier one, this one was extremely spacious and the seats aesthetically placed. Thanks to its large size, at least a hundred people including me got into it. I grabbed a most comfortable seat on the border and unzipped my bag to take out my camera. As the beautiful vessel moved I managed to take some pictures including one of a small freight vessel. A lot of people were taking selfies and groupfies. The air was vibrant with excitement. There were a lot of children among the passengers.
A turn here and a turn there and we were at the Tannirbhavi Beach. After alighting, I joined the large brigade of tourists and holiday makers walking towards the beach. En route I noticed a church with a wide courtyard and stopped to take a picture.
In no time, the beautiful Tannirbhavi beach and the Arabian Sea were in front of me. The sun had not set. I felt so happy and kept taking pictures of sun-ny boy as he began setting. The beach was filled with visitors and the air was drowned in noises of all sorts. Children were running across, many were flying kites, a man was offering rides on a horse and the shore was dotted with stalls selling all sorts of foods, toys, and what not.
Unlike at Panambur Beach last year, this year at Tannirbhavi my picture of the sun setting turned out to be better thanks to less clouds. Here’s the best of the lot:
And unlike at Panambur Beach last year, when I had a Nokia 2300, this time I had a Google Pixel. I was all too excited to update my status on Facebook. Ha ha. This was one of the rare occasions I got to travel and I made the most of it offline and online.
As the evening wore on and the sun had completely set I looked at my watch and realised that I had to rush. As I paced up the beach I looked at all the food stalls. The one selling diced raw mangoes tossed in salt and chilli powder made me stop. I love raw mangoes and couldn’t help buying a cupful. The stuff was yummy with just the right proportion of ingredients and melted in my mouth. If it weren’t for the time crunch I would have had more of the stuff. The picture of the mangoes got more likes on Facebook than the sunset at the beach.
It was quite dark as I walked towards the ferry stand and yes there was a long queue. The same ferry on which I travelled to the beach arrived at the ferry stand and “yay” I was able to get in and grab the same seat that I sat on earlier.
A turn here and a turn there and I was at the same point that I first boarded the ferry. It was quite dark and I made a brief stop to glance at a chariot on a raised platform. I could not figure out what it was all about.
I walked to the auto stand only to realise that there wasn’t a single one in sight. I walked towards a lone bus only to get off as soon as I got in because it was headed for a different place.
I checked my phone to see if I could book a cab and to my relief I got one in no time. The journey to home was quick and all night in the bus to Bangalore memories of the beach and the mangoes lingered.
Potpourri 