Entry 11 - Past the Angel with the Flaming Sword

Entry Eleven 

 Past the Angel with the Flaming Sword

In the Book of Genesis, after the disobedience of Adam and Eve, they are banished from the Garden of Eden, and then God sets an angel with a flaming sword at the entrance (or is that the exit) to ensure they can’t return.  Brindavan Gardens, near Mysore, is perhaps not quite the Garden of Eden (and certainly there were far more than two people there), but it is a lovely little taste of  paradise in the midst of many things that seem far from Eden’s blissful state.  So last Friday, to mark three weeks in India and to get a break away from the activities and studies at the Institute, and to escape briefly the cityscape of Mysore, we took a little getaway to Brindavan Gardens for a little interlude in which we could relax and be refreshed by calming waters and greenery.

Brindavan Gardens: greenery, flowers and fountains

Brindavan Gardens is located just about twenty kilometres north of Mysore, not an onerous journey at all (about twenty to twenty-five minutes, given traffic, road conditions and the other things that affect driving in India).  The Gardens were built in the late 1920s under the supervision of the Mysore Diwan, or chief officer, Sir Mirza Ismail.  Given his Islamic background, it is not surprising to find a significant Mughal influence pervading the layout and design, although the British garden influences (like many other British influences that linger on here) are perhaps reminiscent of a bygone Edwardian era. 

We arrived in the late afternoon, having arranged a van and driver to take us and return us to Mysore.  After being dropped near the entrance, we walked through what was reminiscent of a fairground filled with booths selling everything from fruit, whole and cut, to Indian sweets, drinks, souvenirs of all manner including plush toys, and vendors selling postcards and parasols and pop.  The Indian culture is certainly more assertive than the gentle, polite Canadian culture, and many vendors refused to take no for an answer: “look at these pictures, very beautiful.”  I reminded the students not to look unless they were ready to buy; “looking is free”, the vendors insisted, pushing collections of postcards towards our hands, but to hold them is, in essence, to commit to buying, because once a postcard has been taken, the vendor will refuse to take it back, demanding only payment.  We got through unscathed, and paid our entry fee: 15 rupees a head, plus 50 rupees each for our cameras (lest we be caught without a ticket that permits pictures, and have to pay a 50 rupee fine – perhaps it is not so much about the money as the clear conscience).

The Gardens themselves are dominated by the high wall of the Krishnaraja Sagar Dam that stretches out over three kilometres, creating the Krishnarajasagara Lake from the Cauvery River.  Begun in 1924, the dam opened and began operation at the same time as the Gardens were completed and opened.  The lake behind the dam is one of the largest in India, although we did not see it, being at the base of a wall rising 125 feet from the Gardens.  The reservoir thus created provides water for irrigation in this region of Karnataka, as well as being the source of fresh water for the cities of both Mysore and Bangalore.  The water released by the dam into the Cauvery River first forms a small lagoon before flowing away in the river, which divides the Gardens into two sites.  In between, we saw many different forms of waterfowl, including egrets, herons, ducks and ibises, while overhead, eagles soared effortlessly on the thermal currents.

an egret fishing

As lovely as the Gardens were, there was a slighly decayed, run-down feel to them, as though they might never achieve the glory of their heyday, compared with what we might find in Canada.  I feel this way about a lot of things in India; it seems a lot of things that have been here for a long time need some money and attention to be restored to even a shadow of their former selves, and those that are new seem often to be incomplete, or unfinished.  I see stacks of bricks, stones, piles of dirt, marring the landscape; sidewalks are not really fully formed except in downtown Mysore; and I have already mentioned the garbage which fouls streets, ditches, and fields. Even in the Gardens, garbage abounded, paint was needed, attention demanded here and there. The beauty that is there, however, it is a credit to the dedicated workers who I saw toiling under hot sun with care and devotion to lawns, plants and fountains.

The Gardens are a familiar site to many Indians who have seen them as the backdrop for many Bollywood musicals and music videos, and while we were there hundreds and hundreds of people came through, many stopping for family pictures. After walking the 150 acres of Gardens, and admiring waterways, birds, flowers and shrubs, we sat by the lawn for a while to relax and enjoy the atmosphere.   The students,  especially those with reddish and blonde hair, must surely have felt like celebrities in this “getaway” evening as we sat and chatted by the lawn; every few minutes a member of an Indian family would be sent to speak to us (sometimes a child, perhaps because they are learning English in school, and the parents speak only Kannada), and permission for photographs with the girls would be requested.  So while I stood and watched, children would be placed in the circle of students, and mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts and grandparents would be grouped around them, and pictures would be taken.  I joked with some photographers that I should charge ten rupees a picture; surely that would have paid for dinner!

John and Hilary, with the Krishnaraja Sagar Dam behind us

Eventually it was time to head out to dinner reservations at the Royal Orchid hotel, which overlooks the whole Garden site; we made our way back to the entrance/exit to find our travel van, which was to take us up the hill to the hotel entrance.  We had arrived before the crowds, and when we arrived, our van was the only one parked in the little parking lot for private vans.  When we left, all parking lots were full, and we walked into the area we had come from, and there were forty or fifty vans there, all exactly like ours!  However, one advantage to being the only westerners there all day was that immediately the drivers of these vans, who were congregated at the entrance to the lot (and perhaps reading the look on our faces) all pointed and in limited English, told us “second van, second van” or “that one, that one.”

In no time we were on our way up the hill to the Royal Orchid, where we were greeted in style and escorted to the second floor balcony, the Elephant Bar, for a drink before dinner.  It was a combination of British neo-imperial decor and thorough and careful attention from the staff.  We ordered drinks, and then an all-too Indian side took over, as forty-five minutes later we were making our way to the restaurant while the last of the drinks was finally delivered to us.  The waiters were attentive, courteous, kind, but ever so slow.  I must note that I thoroughly enjoyed a gin and tonic with an Indian brand of gin, Blue Riband, which was excellent – again, in typically Indian fashion, it was sweet, so very sweet, despite being advertised as dry gin.  Rich in taste – juniper, with a touch of citrus and perhaps coriander in the background – it was full-bodied, almost heavy, and was almost liqueur-like in its quality.  I was tempted to drink it neat, as it certainly could have been enjoyed that way, but almost reluctantly I added a small measure of tonic water and contentedly sipped it until supper time. I may have to make a visit to the duty-free shop in Delhi before I leave!

Supper was a buffet of Indian foods, with both vegetarian and non-vegetarian options, and such careful and excellent service throughout.  It was a buffet, where servers stood ready to serve the diners; how civilized: “some of this please, just a little of that, thank you.”  About the middle of meal, there was suddenly a concern from some students that there was ice in the drinks, and unpeeled fruits and vegetables in the salads, but at a top-rated hotel with a regular tourist trade, I felt we need not worry.  It is a couple of days since, and we have all been fine.  And then, for dessert, ice cream, real honest-to-goodness, pistachio ice cream, and servers who asked, as they cheerfully put yet another scoop in the bowl, “you would like more?”

And all too soon, full of excellent food, feeling a little sleepy and very relaxed, having enjoyed the greenery, the fresh air and walk, the beautiful setting, it was time to head back to the hostel, now ready for a busy weekend and another week of study, learning and discovery.  Back out of the garden, and into where real life is lived.

looking over the gardens with the Royal Orchid Hotel in the background