Karnataka, India- Color, chaos and contrasts

A motorbike pushed its way through the traffic. Another followed, then another. Some had the whole family on board. A man carried two goats under each arm on another. A small car decided to follow the motorbikes, forming an 8th lane where there was space for two. The pretty face of a Bollywood actress smiled down from a billboard, urging us to drink Coca Cola. Kids sold cheap plastic toys whilst the light was red and a cow blocked the road when it turned to green, to be met by a chorus of hoots and horns. We sped off, into the chaos, our windows open, the car soon filled with fumes and warm tropical sunshine.

Oh India. So known. So foreign. I’ve visited since I was a baby; I have a thousand memories of hot, sweaty days filled with color and chaos. Nights in strange airports in smoggy cities. Playing ‘how many people are wearing the color orange, or purple’ with my grandpa while waiting in the car, as women wearing technicolored saris walked past, their hair braided with jasmine. Battling crowded markets with my grandma. And more recently, finishing high school in India, where just getting to and from school each day was an adventure.

This is the first time I’ve been back since then. We’re on our way home from the airport and as usual India’s welcome is just slightly full-on. No one seems to be paying any attention to the advice on the road signs ‘lane discipline give you longer life’. This is also our first time travelling here on our own, to spend three weeks with our grandparents. After almost missing our flight in Delhi and intense jet lag, I’m glad we are speeding off to our home from home.

Hot sunshine. I open one eye, taking in the pool lined by swaying palm trees, the neatly mowed grass. The roads are wide so kids can play safely, there are tennis courts. You could be anywhere. Sydney? Malibu? Na, Bangalore. My grandparents live in one of the many gated communities in this sprawling city; a little utopia seperated from the outside world by large gates. Its often easy to forget where you are. Until you smell someone cooking spicy masala at 9am. Or as a motorbike delivery from Biryani World whizzes by. Or when I was relaxing in the shade and epic Hindi music blared out from a gardner’s phone. Then there are the parakeets and myna birds that greet each sunrise, the call of a Mosque and the prayers from a temple, the frangipani flowers in every garden. Or the caw of crows as evening approaches while fruit bats glide past on velvet wings.

They all remind you where you are.

Beyond the walls, Bangalore is expanding all directions. Its growing so fast its roads can’t keep up. Going a couple of kilometers can take all day, especially if a water tanker is blocking the way. Driving in general is not for the faint hearted. I think we’ve invented more swear words to describe other road users here than there are people in India.

Days are easily spent on holiday here. Phoenix Mall is our go to AC hit and as Western as anything you’d find in Europe. In between the mall and our house are tents filled with families- the men covered in cement from working on construction sites while cows and buffalos browse piles of rubbish lethargically. Sometimes the contrasts can be brutal, even after all this time.

This visit, we decided to take a train trip to Mysore, two hours away from Bangalore. Grandpa, being a railway veteran organised tickets. We carried our bags to the platform, straight into the crush of humanity coming the opposite way. A million people, going many places. We waited for the Shatabdi super fast Express. Despite the loudspeaker lady keenly emphasising super fast, the train arrived late. Bangalore flashed by as we passed passengers in their second class trains, with nothing but grilled bars on the windows and stiff looking seats. We at least had comfy seats but the AC seemed to have packed up. Still, the world beyond the window kept me entertained as I munched on a chapati. Life spilled on to the tracks; women did the washing, kids waved, stray dogs lounged in the shade. Urban life eventually gave way to countryside: verdant groves of coconuts where the living seemed slower, simpler. Oxen still ploughed the field, a woman wielding a machete dragged a palm leaf home.

Mysore revealed itself as Bangalore’s pretty, calmer cousin. The streets were traffic free, the pace of life seemed less frenzied. We stayed in The Red lotus suites, where our room was huge and clean. I stood on the balcony and watched a cow try to steal coconuts from a vendor, as a man pushed a cart of ruby-red tomatoes past. It reminded me so much of Coimbatore; I was taken back to that apartment all those years ago, where I would watch the goings-on below from the balcony. There were even flame of the forest trees, their burnt-orange leaves falling gently to the dry ground as heavy trucks laden with logs lumbered by, taking me back to the present. We visited Mysore Palace the same day, which was crowded- the people watching was more interesting than the actual building (as is so often the case in India).

The next morning, the hotel owner took Maya and me up the nearby Chamundi Hills. There were over 1000 steps to climb so we started early, stars still twinkling as we left, to reach the top for sunrise. The chanting of the morning prayer played from the car’s radio, a cool breeze drifted through the open windows. We were joined by fitness fanatics racing up the stairs, singing sadhus in billowing white robes and devout women saying prayers and kneeling down on each step. At the top we watched the sun burn through the mist, pink spreading through the sky like a blush as Mysore city was revealed below. Temple chants filled the air. I’m not at all a religious person but being up there still felt like some kind of release. Later in the day, the grandparents joined us to visit an ashram- complete with an adorable Bonsai garden and parrot rehabilitation centre. India never fails to surprise you.

Our whirlwind stay in Mysore was over and it was back to Bangalore, back on the train.

Some of my favorite moments from the rest of the trip were the small ones. Learning sun salutations in yoga class. Attempting to make a dosai for grandpa’s dinner. Munching on a tiny banana (or five). Watching grandma cook exotic vegetables. Hurtling through the village roads in the back of an auto rickshaw, the driver channeling his inner Michael Schumacher, dodging flocks of goats. Looking out across at the maze of rooftops from my room on the top floor; a few years ago there was nothing but barren land, now there’s concrete as far as the horizon.

Mornings are my favourite time of day here. Grandma bustles about the kitchen, grandpa reads the newspaper and shares whatever Denis the menace has been up to lately. Ladies sweep outside with branch brooms, the milk man’s motorbike putters past. Tropical birds call and the sky turns from peach to bright blue.

I close my eyes, sitting cross-legged on the rattan swing, my favourite place in the house. Each time I visit, I experience something new, and yet for me, there is always some familiarity. Those potted plants are just like the ones grandma used to have when we were young, and we’d sell them in our make-believe store, along with a few stainless steal bowls and clothes pegs, whilst eating cookies filled with fluorescent pink filling. I snack on raisins, stored in a Kissan jam jar, once full of my favourite jam. Grandma dries the steel dishes in the sun, chasing it around the house, like I do. Grandpa has the TV on, the American crime drama providing a lullaby for his nap.

Whether I’m eight years old or almost 21, some things never change.

India is chaotic. It is so colourful it hurts the eyes. The poverty can be depressing, the contrasts brutal. But I know I’ll keep coming back because there’s still so much to explore. And because I guess I lost a little part of me here, all that time ago.

Practical stuff:

Getting here- Both Bangalore and Mysore have airports. Bangalore’s is bigger and is served by most major airlines. To experience an Indian rail adventure (that isn’t too extreme), take the train to Mysore which is only two hours away.

Accommodation- We stayed in the Red Lotus Suites which is self-catering. The rooms are absolutely huge though, we were beyond surprised. Its clean and the owner and staff in general are very friendly and helpful. Don’t expect to get much sleep though since its on a busy crossroad. And India doesn’t believe in sleeping either, as we know.

Things to do- In Mysore, make sure you visit the Chamundi Hills. I recommend climbing up, for the full experience, but otherwise you can drive up too for the views. Mysore Palace can get extremely crowded on public holidays and weekends (it is apparently India’s second most popular tourist attraction). We enjoyed our visit to the Ashram, it was quirky and a bit different. In Bangalore, Phoenix Mall has all the stores you are familiar with, plus some nice ones to get good gifts.

Getting around- Uber taxis are everywhere now in India, download the app to use. For a real experience, take an auto (not recommended on longer trips, they make for a wild ride). Either way, Indian roads are an experience in themselves!

Thanks to Maya for the beautiful photos. You can read more about our India adventures on her site, and check out some recipes too while you’re there!