An interesting story on Growing with Mysuru to experience it

Being a local newspaper, I thought our readers would like this write-up on our city I received in my WhatsApp. Hence, publishing it here. Happy, nostalgic reading. – KBG, Editor-in-Chief

Mysore or Mysuru, cannot be experienced in holidays or weekends. Like a creeper growing and encircling the bark, you have to live, and grow with Mysore to experience it. You have to be with the ajjis who have seen you from the time you were soooo small, where the maid who works in your house is your family maid, your ajji had “recruited” her mother.

When you go on an evening walk, and the pujari of the Ram Mandir, stops and chats with you, and moves on saying there is a puja at 5 next morning, that’s Mysore for you.

When you walk a little ahead and the librarian says he has the latest copy of “Kasturi” or “Mayura”, that’s Mysore for you.

When the milkman sees you on a walk, and delivers an extra half litre without being asked, that’s  Mysore for you.

Mysore is when you board a bus at the bus stand and conductor-uncle gives you a ticket without asking. Mysore is when you collect little red ‘gulganji’ seeds on your way back home from Kukkarahalli Lake.

Mysore is when you come by the Tipu Express, and you find someone going in your direction to drop you off without hesitation.

Mysore is when elephants are marched in from the forests for Dasara.

Mysore is when you wait for your copy of “Star of Mysore.”

Mysore is when the English movies are only at Rajkamal. Or Sterling.

Mysore is when you look for your KEB uncle to book tickets at Woodlands.

Mysore is when there are student body elections in Sarada Vilas. Mysore is the eternal SJCE-NIE feud. Mysore is when Jayciana is in full swing.

Mysore is when you got your project report bound at Venkateshwara Binders in Saraswathipuram.

Mysore is having grape juice at RTO Circle.

Mysore is buying vegetables at Agrahara. Mysore is buying plantain leaves in Nanjumalige, savouring the aroma of the agarbathi factory behind.

Mysore is eating ice-creams at Phalaamrutha or Penguin. Mysore is eating dosa at GTR or Mylari Hotel. Mysore is having biriyani early in the morning, near St. Philos Church. Mysore is drinking sugarcane juice near Kukkarahalli Lake. Mysore is munching corn-on-the-cob in the Palace foreground. Mysore is masalpuri at Ballal Circle and Shetty churumuri.

Mysore is when I grew up in Mysore. My Mysore.

Mysore before GRS, before the under-bridge in front of Saraswathipuram Fire Brigade, before Infosys, before Ring Road. Those who grew up in that Mysore will relate to me more than those who came to Mysore, for a three-month stint in Infy. People who grew up in this tranquil will relate than those who think Mysore is a good place to invest or who think chilling out in Mysore is just CCD or Pizza Corner.

Oh, how they have misunderstood my precious home !

I am proud to be a Mysorean. I love my Mysore.