Thursday 25 February 2016

Mysore, Somnathpur and Srirangapatnam: India's Deep South Part 2

A Unique Temple, the Story of Tipu Sultan and a 'Walking' Tour of Mysore

Why We Returned to Mysore

Karnataka
India

This was our second visit to Mysore, and there was a reason for that. In 2010 Thomas had driven us here from Coorg and that afternoon we had seen the Maharajah's Palace, Chamundi Hill and Devararja market as described, six years after the event, in yesterday’s post. In the evening we ate at a large and busy restaurant with a mixed Indian and Western clientele, usually a good sign. My butter chicken had seemed fine at the time but around three o'clock it woke me up with the information that I needed to vomit. The next twelve hours are best not discussed in detail.

I spent the day in the air-conditioned luxury of our hotel room, rising from my bed only (though frequently) to visit the bathroom. The consolation for being ill in India is that there is always cricket on the television, so I settled down to watch a one day international between Australia and the West Indies. I don't know how long before it had actually been played, but it kept me amused.

There was no reason why Lynne should miss out so she went out with Thomas and a local guide to visit Somnathpur and Srirangapatnam, arriving back mid-afternoon to tell me what a fascinating trip it had been - and has gone on about it ever since. Today was to be the day I caught up.

Yesterday we drove from Bengaluru to Mysuru (Mysore), today we are visiting locally

Mysore to Somnathpur

We set off at eight o'clock with Thomas and a different local guide. Our route first took us eastwards and across the Kaveri (or Cauvery) River. Rising in the Western Ghats and flowing southeast for 800km to the Bay of Bengal, the Kaveri drains most of Southern India.

River Kaveri, east of Mysore

The sugar cane harvest was still in full swing but Indian agriculture never pauses for breath and the cleared fields were already being prepared for the next crop….

Preparing the ground for the next crop, near Somnathpur

…in some places it was even being planted.

Planting the next crop, near Somnathpur

After an hour or so we reached the small village of Somnathpur.

Village India, near Somnathpur

Somnathpur and its Unique Hoysala Temple

From the 10th to the 14th century, before the Wadiyas ruled from Mysore, Karnataka was the fiefdom of the Hoysalas. Records say they were patrons of the arts and indefatigable temple builders, but they left little behind for their years of domination; only three fine examples of their distinctive temples survive. We have seen those at Bellur and Hallebid a hundred miles to the north, but they lack their roofs; the finest of all, the only complete Hoysala temple, the one I missed, was built in tiny Somnathpur in 1268.

Somnathpur Temple

The three conical towers each contain a shrine to one of three incarnations of Vishnu. They are built on a star-shaped foundation and each point of the multi-pointed stars is faithfully followed up through the decorations to the very top.

The points of the star go all the way up, Somnathapur Temple

The temple is covered with carvings, many of them signed by the master craftsmen that made them. The lower parts of the wall have five bands with elephants at the base holding everything up, then horsemen, curling serpents, scenes of warfare and two rows of mythical animals.

Lower sections of the wall, Somnathpur Temple

Above are gods and goddesses carved in sumptuous detail.

Shiva, Ganesh and Other Gods, Somnathpur Temple

The stars, detailed carvings and heavily decorated towers are the essence of the Hoysala style

There is little to see inside, though the roof, as in the other Hoysala temples, is supported by granite pillars decorated by turning - common enough with wood, but a difficult undertaking with stone using medieval equipment.

Inside the Somnathpur Temple

The details of many of the roof decorations are only revealed by flash photographs.

'Banana Flower' roof decoration, Somnathpur Temple

Each shrine has a ‘Holy of Holies’ (guides usually prefer the Latin, Sanctum Santorum) containing an image of the appropriate avatar of Vishnu.

Santum Sanctorum, Somnathpur Temple

From Somnathpur we headed back towards Srirangapatnam on the main Mysore-Bangalore road.

Somnathpur to Sirangapatnam. We went by car, but other transport is available

Producing Jaggery

En route we called in at a workshop making jaggery - unrefined sugar from the cane harvest. Walking in over the 'feather', the stripped off tips and outer leaves, we were surrounded by a rich vegetal smell not unlike silage but, perhaps ironically, not quite so sweet.

Boiling up the cane sugar juices, near Somnathpur

The juices from the cane are boiled until only the solids remain and they are then sun-dried in moulds. Palm sugar produced this way (see The Road to Mandalay) is often eaten as it is - though it can be mixed with coconut or other flavourings - and has a rich smoky flavour. This raw cane sugar, known as jaggery, is less instantly appealing with a green vegetal taste neither of us liked. Jaggery is much used in the production of Indian sweets and it obviously pleased our local guide as he purchased several large slabs which looked like Sunlight Soap as it was sold in the 1950s (younger readers might find that last comparison baffling - never mind, it does not matter).

Jaggery, raw cane sugar

Srirangapatnam and Tipu Sultan, The Tiger of Mysore

The town of Srirangapatnam, some 40 minutes north of Somnathpur, is more of an outsize straggling village and now spreads beyond the island in the Cauvery where the Vijaynagars, who ruled the area to the north, built a fort in 1454. The Wadiyars took the fort in 1616 and moved their capital there from Mysore. In 1761 The Hindu Wadiyars were deposed by Haider Ali and for the next 38 years he and his son and successor Tipu Sultan transformed Mysore into a small but powerful Muslim state.

Daria Daulat Bagh (Tipu Sultans's Palace) and the Anglo-Mysore Wars

Our tour of Srirangapatnam actually began at Tipu Sultan’s mausoleum, but a more logical start to this story is at his palace Daria Daulat Bagh.

The palace is approached across a formal garden, a green sward dotted with bushes and trees - mango, mahogany (leafless at this time of year), araucaria and rain trees. The palace would look better without the tatty green shades – they were new when Lynne was here last – that protect the murals painted on the walls of the surrounding open walkway.

Daria Daulat Bagh, Tipu Sultan's Palace, Srirangapatnam

Haider Ali had fought and lost the first two Anglo-Mysore Wars giving the British East India Company control of much of southern India. Tipu Sultan’s ambition was to remove the British from India, or at least his bit of it, and the murals depict his efforts. The self-styled Tiger of Mysore was keen to promote his image and stripes feature prominently in his clothing and the uniform of his troops.

In 1789 he started the Third Anglo-Mysore War by invading the Kingdom of Travancore an ally of the East India Company. Lord Cornwallis, best known in America for his surrender at Yorktown, but by now military commander of India fought a four year campaign ranging over much of southern India. Eventually a defeated Tipu was forced to sign a treaty ending the war to the advantage of the British East India Company and the surrounding Indian states.

All this is shown in Tipu’s propaganda murals and, in more measured terms, in a wealth of other pictures, documents and artefacts. Sadly no photographs were allowed.

Srirangapatnam Fort, The End of the Anglo-Mysiore Wars and The Death of Tipu Sultan

In 1792 Tipu had another go. Mysore had long been an ally of the French and he expected French assistance. Napoleon, then a 23 year old Lieutenant Colonel, proved unavailable but his nemesis Arthur Wellesley, not yet the Duke of Wellington, was free and he soon cornered Tipu Sultan in the nearby Srirangapatnam fortress.

Srirangapatnam Fort

Wellington's forces found a way into the fort through the Watergate from the River Kaveri…

The Watergate, Srirangapatnam

… and after fierce fighting Tipu Sultan was killed less than 100m away - not the last leader to be brought down by problems at a Watergate. So the fourth and final Anglo-Mysore War ended and the Wadiyar Maharajas were restored as rulers, to the general satisfaction of the largely Hindu populace.

Where Tipu Sultan died, Srirangapatnam

The Gombaz - Mausoleum of Haider Ali and Tipu Sultan

The Tiger of Mysore was buried in the Gombaz, a mausoleum he had built for his father....

Gombaz, the mausoleum of Haider Ali ad Tipu Sultan, Sirrangpatnam

...and he lies beside him, beneath an appropriately tigerish covering.

Tipu Sultan, the Tiger of Mysore, lies next to his father, Haider Ali and his mother

Nearby is the mosque of Mysore's last Muslim rulers.

The mosque at Haider Ali and Tipu Sultan's mausoleum, Srirangapatnam

We returned to Mysore in time for a light lunch of paneer and chicken kathis - basically wraps, but nicely spiced.

Raj's 'Walking' Tour of Mysore History

When the afternoon heat abated we descended to the lobby to meet Raj who would conduct a walking tour of Mysore history. In the event, the availability of Thomas and the car meant there was little walking.

Brahminy Kite

We paused for some orientation by a small wooded area where brahminy kites by the dozen were wheeling and diving. ‘Something of interest to them has been dumped there,’ Raj observed.

Brahminy Kite (and a crow), Mysore

An affable young man with excellent English and a ready wit, Raj was a native of Assam which is about as far away as you can get and still be in India. A graduate student at the local university, he hoped to continue his studies next year at UCL or Glasgow University. He had been accepted by both he said, but was put off UCL by the enormous cost of accommodation in London.

Wellington House

Our tour started at Wellington House, an unprepossessing building now serving as an art gallery. It was, he told us, the first two-storey building in Mysore and was once, as the name suggests, home to the Duke of Wellington.

Wellington House, Mysore

Rangacharlu Hall, Freemasons Hall and Maharaja Chamaraja Statue

A few blocks away, near the gate to the Maharaja's Palace is the Rangacharlu Memorial Hall. The photograph below was taken from out hotel room during my ‘unpleasant day’ in 2010 and is better than any I could take from the ground. A neo-classical pile it is named after CV Rangacharlu, the Maharajas’ Diwan (Prime Minister) from 1881-3. A gifted administrator he was also instrumental in the introduction of education for all, girls included - a revolutionary step at the time.

Rangacharlu Memorial Hall, Mysore

Several of the Maharajas were keen Freemasons and the old Freemasons’ Hall is the closest building to the palace entrance. A dispute with the Singer Corporation left the building vacant for many years, hence its state of decay. There is a brand new Freemasons’ Hall next door, its edge just appearing in the picture.

The old Freemasons Hall, Mysore

Opposite stands a statue of Maharaja Chamaraja X (ruled 1881-94). When the statue, sculpted from Rajasthan marble (the stuff the Taj Mahal was made from) by William Robert Colton in London, was unveiled the Maharani ordered that it be beheaded as it looked nothing like her late husband. A new head by Indian sculptor Ganaptrao K Mhatre was attached. Mhatre used local marble and Raj said that if you look closely you can see the body and head are different colours - we were not convinced.

Chamaraja X, New Statue Square, Mysore

We continued to the closed main entrance of the palace (the rear entrance is good enough for tourists and other every day occurrences). At night the palace is lit by several thousand old fashioned tungsten filament bulbs, once enough to cause awe and wonder though no longer particularly impressive. Each bulb, as Raj showed us on those surrounding the entrance, is stamped with the word Mysore Royal Palace. There used to be a problem with theft, so they changed the bulbs to screw fitting – Indian domestic bulbs are of bayonet type - and the theft problem was solved. What surprised me was that people were stealing the bulbs to use them.

Mysore University and the Jagan Mohan Palace

Back in the car we had a tour of the University Campus which has several fine old colonial buildings...

Colonial style building, Mysore University

...before heading for the Jagan Mohan Palace (the Maharaja’s palace is far from Mysore's only one). The original palace, largely invisible behind the flamboyant frontage, was built by Krishnaraja III in 1861. The frontage was added for the installation of Krishnaraja IV in 1902.

Jagan Mohan Palace, Mysore

In the courtyard, for no obvious reason, is a millstone once used for grinding rice which Lynne and Raj posed beside.

Lynne, Raj and a millstone, Jagan Mohan Palace, Mysore

St Philomena's Cathedral, Again

Our last call was at St Philomena's Cathedral, which we walked to yesterday. This time we were early enough to go inside. No photographs were allowed, but the interior would be familiar to anyone who has ever been inside a Catholic Church.

That evening we still did not feel that our heads or bodies were quite in the same time zone so instead of dinner we went to the bar where Lynne had a large local gin with tonic, I had a beer (Kingfisher) and we worked our way through a plate of cashews and a bowl of spicy peanuts. It was not health food, but we enjoyed it.

Wednesday 24 February 2016

Bangalore to Mysore: India's Deep South Part 1

An Old Friendship Renewed and an Favourite City Revisited

To Bangalore (Bengaluru) and a Reunion with Thomas

Karnataka
India

The twenty hours of hard travelling required to reach Bangalore from Staffordshire (via Dubai) left us sleep deprived and more than usually slow on the uptake.

Having availed ourselves of the new e-visa scheme and finding a very small queue we imagined we would be quickly out of the airport. Wrong! Foreigners entering India are now photographed and fingerprinted, and the fingerprint machines do not work. Three pictures are required, left hand, right hand then both thumbs, but each had to be done four or five times with much wiping of greasy screens and greasy palms between attempts.

An hour later, after much trying, failing and trying again for us and those few ahead of us in the ever-lengthening queue, we finally received our all-important stamp and proceeded to customs to hand over our conscientiously completed forms so they could be filed and forgotten. Then we walked unchecked into the concourse. There was no one there to greet us. After walking its length peering left and right, our fuzzy minds slowly realised that there was no one greeting anyone and there must be a reason for that. Forsaking the air-conditioning we pushed through the doors into the heat outside and found greeters by the hundred. Some meeting families, others friends, business contacts or tour groups and right in the middle was Thomas waving at us.

Us with Thomas, Bangalore Airport

Thomas M. had been our driver on our second south India trip in 2010 (just pre-blog). Finding him a safe driver, a congenial travelling companion and an all-round good guy we had kept in touch ever since and ensured he would be driving us on this trip, too. He was accompanied by a man sent by the travel company to meet us, introduce us to our driver and do the translating. He was largely a spare part - we knew Thomas already and also knew that his largely self-taught English is better than that of most qualified 'English speaking guides', but he did take the photograph above.

Bengaluru - a Fleeting Visit

Bangalore, now officially called Bengaluru, is one of India's fastest growing and wealthiest cities, its success based on the information technology and aerospace industries. The road from the new airport (2008) is well maintained and lined with colourful blooms, neatly trimmed hedges and manicured grass.

Success and growth bring problems, notably with taffic and pollution. Our drive may have started on some of the most kempt roads in India but we soon encountered more variable driving conditions as Thomas fought his way along busy highways to and then round the outer ring road. We followed a series of toll roads, many of them raised on concrete stilts, their outer margins patrolled by swooping kites who looked large and determined enough to carry off, if not us, perhaps a small Maruti or definitely a motorcyclist, maybe two, one in each talon.

Round the Bangalore outer ring road

From Bangalore (Bengaluru) to Mysore (Mysuru)

We eventually made it past the city and into the flat land beyond, at first on a four lane dual carriageway then on an ordinary highway. This is sugar cane country and it was harvest time, workers in the fields slashing through the canes with their machetes. Dotted along the road were men with sugar crushing machines that quickly turn raw cane into a sweet yet surprisingly refreshing drink.

Cane Sugar Crusher (photo 2009 somewhere in Tamil Nadu)

Frequent piles of green ‘tender’ coconuts provided a different but equally refreshing drink. 'This year the coconuts of Karnatica are not good,' Thomas warned us, ‘and in Kerala they are all right by the coast, but there are very few inland.’ The trees have been affected by disease, and coconut milk and oil, without which Kerala’s distinctive cuisine cannot exist, have increased in price. 'People have had to use other oils for cooking, ' he added. 'Some say they do not like the taste.' He left it a bit vague as to exactly where he stood on this particular debate.

At lunch time we took a break in a branch of Coffee Day, a chain of bright, clean upmarket coffee shops we have used before (mainly in Lucknow) where a green tea and a chicken tikka sandwich proved some sort of restorative. We ate and chatted with Thomas about his family, one son now at university, the other well into his secondary education, and about changes in Kerala - the creeping prohibition of alcohol and the attendant corruption (while noting that Kerala is among the least corrupt states in India).

Thomas asked about changes we saw in the south since our last visit six years ago. It was difficult to say on such a short time, but I had noticed a sign beside the busy Express Way (by name if not speed) into Bangalore. 'Accidents do not happen' it read, 'they are caused.' Was the expression of such a strikingly un-Indian attitude a sign of real change or merely cosmetic?

Southern India

We eventually reached the city of Mysore - its name officially changed to Mysuru in November 2014 - and by mid-afternoon we were in a comfortable hotel room. As we had been up all night - albeit a night five and a half hours shorter than most – we were soon asleep.

Mysore - The Highlights of our (pre-blog) 2010 Visit

The Maharajah's Palace

We visited Mysore six years ago with Thomas and had returned for a specific reason (next post) but were not planning to revisit the city's major sights, so here is a very brief run through of what we saw last time. First on any tourist’s itinerary is inevitably the Maharajah's Palace. This Indo-Saracenic flight of fancy was designed by an Englishman, Henry Irwin, and was built in 1912 to replace an earlier palace that had burned down and which, itself, had been far from the first on this site. I offer here a picture of the outside only, cameras were not allowed inside.

Maharajah's Palace, Mysore
Mysore

What became the princely state of Mysore was ruled by the Wadiyar Maharajas from the 14th century until independence - with one significant 19th century interruption (next post, again). The current Maharajah still has an apartment within the palace, but in today's democratic India his is now only a courtesy title and with a freshly minted degree from MIT in Boston (Massachusetts not Lincolnshire!) he is hardly a medieval monarch.

Chamundi Hill

Chamundi Hill offers fine views over the city...

Mysore from Chamundi Hill

...but the official reason why all visitors come here is that this is where the goddess Chamundi (also called Durga) slew the demon Mahishasura, an event from which the city takes is name. The temple on the top is 12th century and beside the temple square there is a 40m high gopura.

My back and the temple gopura, Chamundi Hill, Mysore

Pilgrims who climb the hill’s 1000+ steps pass a five metre high Nandi carved from a single piece of black granite that has sat there since 1659. The idle, who go up and down by car, can also see him. Often adorned with bells and garlands, he is an object of worship in his own right and has his own priest.

Lynne and Nandi, Chamundi Hill, Mysore

Devaraja Market

Back down in the city is Devaraja market where you can buy garlands - you can't get far in India without someone bunging some flowers round your neck (see this post’s first picture), and they have to buy them somewhere....

Garlands of flowers, Devaraja Market, Mysore

...vegetables...

Vegetables, Devaraja Market, Mysore - You will never see a shinier aubergine

....including chillies. We asked the price of dried chillies and were told 100 rupees. We asked for 100 grams, an order that was treated with disdain for being so small, but 100g of dried chillies fills a sizeable bag. We also received 90 rupees change from our offered 100. Do people really buy dried chillies by the kilo?

Chillies, Devaraja Market, Mysore

Back in the Present - St Philomena's Cathedral

To return to today; we did a little more than merely sleep, we managed a stroll down the road to St Philomena's Cathedral whose twin 55m towers - apparently modelled on Cologne cathedral - were a landmark we could see from the hotel. Built in 1840 in neo-Gothic style it stands strangely but rather proudly in what feels like not quite the right place.

St Philomena's, Mysore

We did little else that evening. We headed up to the bar for some much needed rehydration and once that was done we had had more than enough for that day.

Wednesday 27 January 2016

Bridges

I like bridges, they bring people together.

They are also structures where engineering rubs shoulders with art. Roadways slung from mighty cables span the dizzying space above vast rivers, cantilevers stretch out their arms towards each other while cosy, domesticated hump-backs still exploit the strength and elegance of the arch, as they have since antiquity.

This post, then consists of pictures of bridges; a not entirely random collection from the archives, but all of them pre-date the blog and appear nowhere else among these pages.

For my own convenience photographs appear, in the order I or Lynne took them.

The Pont Saint-Bénézet, Avignon August 1982


France
Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur

So I start way back in the days when I had a beard and our daughter was an infant. Siân grew up and is now the mother of our two lovely grandchildren, and the beard, well that had to go. It would be grey now, like the little that remains of the rest of my hair.

The Pont Saint-Bénézet, better known as the Pont d'Avignon

Bridges bring people together, I wrote, but not the Pont d'Avignon, not any more anyway. Built across the Rhône between 1177 and 1185 it was destroyed forty years later during the Albigensian Crusade. It was rebuilt - many times. 'The strength and elegance of arches,' I wrote, but arches are tricky things. The Rhône floods most years, and those floods often brought down an arch or two. It was abandoned in the 17th century and today only 3 of the original 22 arches survive.

The Crooked River High Bridge, Oregon, USA, April 1984


The Crooked River High Bridge

USA
Oregon

Driving north from San Francisco to Seattle in a cool wet August we detoured away from the coast in search of warmer weather. East of the Cascades and on the fringes of the Oregon High Desert we were crossing a featureless land of junipers and sagebrush when a sign warned us of the approaching Peter Skene Ogden Scenic Wayside.

It was difficult to imagine there would be anything scenic in this flat land, but suddenly and without warning (except for the sign) the land dropped away and we were amazed to find ourselves crossing the undoubtedly scenic Crooked River. We Old World Europeans had been duped by the New World, this is a young country geologically as well politically.

The wayside, now a 'State Scenic Viewpoint', is named for Peter Skene Ogden who arrived here in 1825 leading a Hudson Bay Company trapping party. The High Bridge was opened in 1926 and carried US97 when we 'discovered' it in 1983 and returned in 1984. A new bridge was built in 2001 and the High Bridge is now pedestrian only.

Bridge over the River Saar, Saarburg, Germany July 1991

The River Saar at Saarburg
Germany

This is hardly the most elegant of bridges, but it somehow makes the scene and is just high enough for the barge heading downstream towards the much larger Mosel. On the lower slopes of the hills the vineyards of the Saar are some of the most northerly and finest in Germany.

Bridge over the Debed, Alaverdi, Armenia July 2003

Armenia

The magnificent Haghpat Monastery in the hills above Alaverdi is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but that cannot stop Alaverdi being one of the most depressed and depressing towns we have ever visited. Once it was a copper smelting town in the industrial heartland of northern Armenia but when the Soviet Union collapsed so did the market for its copper. The 26,000 population halved between 1989 and 2011 and although industry can look grim, industrial dereliction always looks grimmer.

Industrial dereliction, Alaverdi

But turn around on this exact spot and face the other way....

Debed Bridge, Alaverdi

...and there is Alaverdi's delightful 12th century bridge across the River Debed.

Pont de Zaglia, Spelunca Gorge, Corsica July 2006


France
Corsica

There is no road along the Spelunca Gorge, but the river can be accessed from the coastal road between Ajaccio and Calvi. A kilometre or three along the pleasantly shady streamside track brings you to the Pont de Zaglia.

Pont de Zaglia, Spelunca Gorge

Corsica has been a French island since 1794 but in medieval times it had several, often competing rulers including Pisa, Aragon and most importantly Genoa. Dominant for 300 years from the late 13th century, the Genoese built coastal towers to warn of attacks from pirates and Barbary slavers, and roads and bridges to open up the rugged interior. A simple elegant arch never built to carry anything larger than a pack animal, the Pont de Zaglia is a lesson to the builders of Avignon. Even a slim, delicate arch, when you get it right, can withstand half a millennium of storms and floods.

oOoOo

There are plenty of bridges in other posts, many of them memorable. There is the tragic yet extraordinarily beautiful bridge at Mostar, there is the cutesy 'Japanese bridge' at Hoi An in Vietnam, the elegant modern bridge across the Guadiana between Spain and Portugal, and the bridges over the Rivers Irtysh and Yenisey on the Trans-Siberian railway, rivers so huge that in the heart of the world's largest continent their banks have cranes and quays like a seaport. And there is also the misnamed Bridge on the River Kwai which we visited in November 2015 and that, too, has a story to tell.