India 4 – An Elephant Spectacle

Onwards to Mysore on the overnight train From Hospet…

Mysore. 6:30 am final terminal (this is a relief as we can’t quickly get off trains – we discovered this in Hospet on our way to Hampi! Little people laden down with rucksacks don’t move very fast.)

Our pre arranged taxi driver is waiting for us right at the door of our carriage. I am surprised by this (but delighted that we don’t have to walk far with all our luggage). How did I he find us? Durrrr …..we are the only foreigners on the train and we stand out like an eyesore..

As we start to walk to his car, a good looking, friendly, smiley face approaches me – “Fiona? I am Sayeed”.  I have to think a moment who is this man? AHHHH, it’s Mr Magic-us-some-seats-to-watch-the-parade guy. I am slightly stunned that he is at the train station – I am not sure whether to be suspicious – how did he find us? “I will send a tuk-tuk to your apartment, to collect you when you are ready – lets all have breakfast at this roof-top cafe, there’s a great view of the city, then we can go to the parade…300 rupees per person”. Sounds good, that’s £ 3 per person – a bargain to us but probably a hefty amount here in India… I like being bossed around. I am not sure I know who this guy is who is so willing to help us for such little money.  But hey, without this offer we don’t stand any chance of seeing an elephant or the parade for that matter, in a city heaving with Indian tourists from all over the country. There is an air of excitement. All the rickshaws are adorned with wreaths, even the buffaloes pulling the carts and the road side is lined with women selling garlands of marigolds.

Our taxi driver is a little put out by this “other” man and tells me not to trust people in Mysore -and that there’s is no point in going to the festival… ” too many people, you must not trust everyone you meet in India”. This immediately makes me like him a little less, but I am also on guard for this Mr Sayeed man too. Will he just rip us off….

The apartment is blissfully quiet, away from the hub, clean and just right for us – though the little kitchen has NOTHING in it (useless) – no crockery / pans / cutlery (what is the point if that?) Can I be bothered to kit it out for the few days we are here?

A knock on the door at 9.30 am and Javeed, a tuk-tuk driver (sent by Sayeed) arrives to take us to breakfast –  he actually ends up looking after us for our entire time spent here in Mysore.

The finale parade to end the 10-day long festival starts at 1 pm and will wend it’s way down the 2 km road – from the big Maharajah’s palace. Throngs of people line the streets and pavements, kids sitting on the edge of the road, children being plied with candy floss and ice teams perched on their father’s shoulders, sitting in trees, and on the tops of trucks to get an even better view. It’s a blaze of colour, with brightly clad women in their vibrant sparkly saris and bright gold ear studs, lots of joyful smiley faces, balloon sellers in abundance, and a cacophony of noise.  Even the wooden railings have brightly coloured ribbon wrapped around them.

Sayeed weaves us through the crowd to our seats – yes we actually have plastic chairs, on a raised level in front of his friend’s shop, sandwiched between a fruit stall and a samosa stall. Perfect – I won’t have to worry about feeding the children. We have a long wait, but we aren’t going anywhere as we are completely trapped by thousands of people in all directions. I dread the moment one of the children needs the loo.

The elephants finally make a show as they plod steadily down the road towards us – first we spot them in the binoculars, then  the crowd roars. I roar.  Followed quickly by dancers, in costumes of all descriptions, drummers, and floats, singing dancing. It’s fantasticly unprofessional and  unpracticed, but delightfully so. And all the more fabulous because of it. After about an hour and a half we’ve seen enough and are getting bored. The fabulous elephants in all their glory have passed and the floats are now merely marketing tools for the government to extol the virtues of the State of Karnataka. We have seen enough. Then the crowd go crazy for the final elephants carrying the Maharajah’s golden seat and the whole thing is over. Phew! The crowd disperse, after a mini rampage (which becomes frighteningly out of control). Fortunately we are on a raised level set back from the road, so are protected from this hideous scramble of people, and there are barely any policemen or even tactics to control a crowd of this size. We wait until the crowd subsides and tuk-tuk away to a quiet place for an Indian supper and a play at being elephants on the grass. Then when it’s dark we pop by to see the Maharajah’s palace in all it’s glory, lit up by millions upon millions of light bulbs. There’s’ still  excitement in the air . We treat the kids to some candy floss and Mark and I have a slice of water melon handed to us, chopped with salt and masala on a piece of newspaper. As there are no bins anywhere in sight we throw our paper and sticky candy sticks on the ground and wince slightly uncomfortably as we do so.

What a LUCKY day