By Dr. K. Javeed Nayeem, MD
Yesterday evening as I was turning the pages of SOM to scan the headlines, I literally jumped out of my skin in excitement upon stumbling on the news that the Gun House Imperial Restaurant that used to once function from the Palace Gun House was soon going to throw its doors open once again to customers after a gap of thirty long years. I do not know what this bit of news is going to mean to other people but to me it perhaps is the beginning of the coming true of a long cherished dream and the end of a sense of anguish that had been gnawing at my heart strings ever since the hotel suddenly shut its doors without as much as a hint that it was going out of business.
My first memory of this once very beautiful landmark of our city is from the early sixties when I used to go there once a year in the company of Prof. M. Salar Masood, the younger brother of my maternal grandfather Alhaj M. Khaleelur Rahman. He was a Professor of Geography at Manasagangothri and it was he who usually took all the children of the large household on frequent excursions to the Palace, the Jagan Mohan Art Gallery, the Zoo, the Brindavan Gardens and Srirangapatna.
The large household that I am talking about was more of a hostel than a home as at any given time it used to have at least a dozen children of all shapes, sizes and ages! This was the result of my grandfather’s penchant for inviting all his relatives, especially those from the Malnad areas, to leave their children under his care here in Mysuru for their education. That is how I became an inmate of this warm and cozy nest of immeasurable happiness when I joined the Good Shepherd Convent School in the year 1960.
Our visits to the Palace Gun House used to be an annual affair to watch the ceremonial firing of the canons housed there to mark the beginning of the Dasara festivities. It used to be a very exciting moment with all of us expectantly staring with unblinking eyes at the red-turbaned guard on horseback at the Southern Gate of the Palace. Upon a cue from the Durbar Commandant that the Maharaja had arrived, he would raise the red flag which used to be the signal for the head of the battery to shout “Fire” at the top of his voice. That was when the gunners in green tunics and red turbans would start touching the firing holes of their loaded canons with smouldering wicks in a sequence. The almost blinding orange flash would be accompanied by a deafening boom followed by a thick cloud of acrid black smoke that I would find intoxicating!
The batch of seven cannons would be reloaded twice to complete the volley of the twenty-one shots that had to be fired for the occasion. And, this reloading had to be done only after thoroughly rinsing the barrels with cold water and brushing them dry once again. This precaution was most essential to ensure that there were no traces of smouldering gunpowder inside that could prematurely set off the powder charge the moment it was rammed down the barrel!
A team of City Armed Reserve (CAR) Police personnel conducting dry practice of cannon firing at the Mysore Palace
Somewhere down the years, for some inexplicable reason, these seven cannons along with their four accompanying ox-drawn powder carriages were shifted to the long verandah of the Palace where they now stand all through the year except when they are taken to the Bannimantap Grounds on Vijayadashami Day for the breathtaking Torchlight Parade that is undoubtedly the pride of our annual Dasara!
Now, it is not just for the annual firing of the cannons that the Palace Gun House had become dear to me. Long after the show had stopped there and well after I had grown up into a man from the school boy that I was, I found myself drawn to it for a completely different reason. Very soon after I joined the Mysore Medical College to do my MD in Medicine the Mysore royal family converted the place into a restaurant. Because of its unique ambience and the excellent food it served, most of our unit get-together and dinners used to take place there. Then, when I got married, soon after passing my MD, it also became the favourite dining-out place for me and my wife, especially on every Saturday evening!
Incidentally, on the days when my practice was unusually good, I would invariably take her to the Metropole Hotel, which was again in a building that was once a royal Guest House. These two places were the ones that served the best chilli chicken and egg fried rice, which accompanied by some chilled Torino and the timelessness of each others’ company was nothing but pure Nirvana for the two of us!
Gun House also had a live band where Sebastian Deniz, my favourite singer, used to perform with his fellow musicians on weekends. Fondly known to all as ‘Singing Seby,’ he knew all my favourite Jim Reeves and Frank Sinatra numbers so well that without the slightest need to be told he would start singing them the moment he would see us walking in! He had a voice that could make even unwilling hearts melt which was why perhaps we used to see so many boys taking their still undecided lady loves there for dinner!
Along with Seby’s voice the irresistible chilli chicken too perhaps played its part in breaking down any remaining traces of indecision and resistance to the proposals they made! So when the magical Gun House suddenly shut shop, it was sudden heartbreak for my wife and me and ever since then it has always been a bitter-sweet experience to drive past it. Sweetness from the warm recollection of the almost magical time we once had there and bitterness that it was the end of an era that was so dear to us! Hopefully, the clock is now all set to turn back and the good old days of our nostalgia are poised to come back once again!
e-mail: kjnmysore@rediffmail.com
This post was published on September 21, 2018 6:31 pm