The Mute Guy

The first time I made my way to Hosahalli, I met an almost-mute guy by the bus stop at HD Kote Hand Post who wore what looked like a bus driver’s brown shirt. He wasn’t one, but he tried to be very helpful and gestured for me to relax and wait until the bus came. In fact he was almost too helpful; every time a bus came that wasn’t the right one he’d motion to me until I could explain again that it was the wrong one. He couldn’t speak, only mull a sound from his throat and use hand gestures. And smile. He smiled a lot. When the bus came he jumped on it and joked around with the bus driver & conductor while helping them with passengers.

I’ve seen him again each time I’ve traveled back from Mysore, always jumping on at a different bus stop and getting off someplace random. One Sunday I saw him at VTCL giving the early morning bus a check-up. I’ve surmised that he must either be a former bus driver or simply friends with all the KSRTC (Karnataka State Road Transportation Company) staff out in this area: he has mechanical know-how, knows everybody running the busses, understands the passenger system, and gets tips from the drivers for various favors. When I inquired, someone told me that he was married; I think he makes a meager living from hopping the bus routes like this. I always notice the warmth that naturally radiates from him with his charming smile (he is also quite short, which makes him look almost adorable). 

Leaving for Delhi

Silly deviations littered the road to the airport, unnoticed the first time I took the airport bus in the other direction. I casually presumed that they were metro lines under construction, but then realized that they are over-hang bridges that will speed up traffic once they’re done. At a cost of slowing it down now, I thought to myself – but they are probably a good addition, na?!

I was extremely happy to be back in Bangalore these past 2 days. It almost felt as if I had never left in the first place, hanging out with the office girl-trio at Legends of Rock (with Uma finally joining, taking Graham’s spot I guess haha). I did a cover of ‘One Step Closer’ again, but fumbled badly – probably because a slightly drunk guy next to me tried to sing along on the microphone, which distracted me from what I was doing. I also made friends with Blen, my 2-day PG roommate, who is extremely friendly and drove me at least 10KM to Cox Town on his motorbike barely half an hour after meeting each other. 

Blen

Being back near scattered parks, juice shops on every corner, the voices of endeared friends, and my favorited Sagar Fast Food nearby in my good-old Koramangala, all made me wish I could just drop my traveling plans and spend the last two weeks of my summer break in Bangalore with friends; perhaps an all-the-more appealing alternative since I will be traveling all on my own for the next two weeks. I am however a lot more mentally prepared to leave Bangalore this time around, because I saw the two-day visit in isolation as the brief visit it is. I can still feel part of the euphoria from booking my train tickets last weekend, and typing up a two-page long itinerary of plans. By the way, I capitulated and reduces my plan from 7 to 6 cities in 14 days, giving me an extra day in Jaipur (up from one-and-a-half). 

 New Delhi Airport

IndiGo provides pretty good service and we boarded the plane in good time. I was a little scared that I would be too late to check-in because of the bad traffic jam on the highway deviations, but the check-in line was non-existent. The only minor hold-up was in security where they took my small suitcase off to the side for inspection, and took out my packed Halwa (weirdly brown and deformed from being in my suitcase) that I bought in Kerala. The two security guards stared blankly at each other for an extended moment, and then the Halwa was put back in my suitcase when nobody had a clear answer. I had awkwardly realized that as a result of my small suitcase being changed from main baggage to hand luggage, a rigged kitchen knife was staring blankly at us all – about to be carried on-board an airplane. The guards didn’t give it a single look. An ironic lapse of security, considering the mesh of red tape that is an Indian airport (where the guards pointlessly stamp your tickets after passing through the metal detector).

Mysore Palace

After popping Ibuprofene throughout the day (which my friends can attest to being abnormal - I usually avoid medication like the plague), I felt much better yesterday afternoon and took a bus to downtown Mysore. I really wanted to see the Palace while I had the chance, especially since they only light it up once a week on Sunday nights.

I grabbed a quick Massala Puri on the way

Mysore is an old historic town, with settlements dating back to the 16th century, and was the capital of the Mysore Kingdom until 1947. It's rich culture and history has given rise to very beautiful architecture, which my camera loved to document as I walked around a bit. Sunday evenings at the palace have free entry, with gates opening at 6:30. I walked 2KM from the north to the south (official) entrance, which had a small bazaar outside of it and throngs of buzzing people. Mysore is definitely a big tourist destination - I hadn't been bugged by so many street hawkers since I came to India, and they all wanted to sell more or less the same things (most of it wooden toys, jewellery boxes or hand fans).

 As I walked back to the main gate, people had already started streaming inside the palace grounds. There were massive amounts of people inside! People of all ages, local and foreign tourists, families sitting on the grass and enjoying the beautiful twilight weather... I normally find people an ugly disturbance to scenic places, but the crowds were oddly peaceful to look at.

When they switched on the 9000 tiny lights that line the entire palace grounds, the crowd oooh-ed and applauded. I turned around, and was astounded by the main Palace building - beautiful simply does not describe it! I was so absorbed by the sight, for once I didn't even feel like taking photos of it (but that feeling quickly subsided - admitted, I'm a camera-whore).

As the evening grew darker, I went looking for a bus station to go back to the hostel in Hebbal in time for dinner. Turns out the western gate opens leads right towards the main local bus station, so lucky me. It's a slightly uncommon route, so there was a huge crowd of people that ran for the bus when it arrived with a lot of shoving and elbowing - I had to shout at a guy who got pissed at me because I blocked the way to allow others to exit the bus first. On the bus, my pants had an unfortunate encounter with a seat freshly wet by a baby, and I talked a bit with the guy who sat next to me (a retired army engineer who had just arrived in Mysore to take up a new job). I barely got out at the right stop, thanks to a random passenger who I think had spotted me earlier.

I loved the name of this kiosk so much I just had to photograph it.

Also, they make good mango milkshakes.