Mysore

American cities are sanatized to prevent exposure to the kind of foulness that is found in Indian cities, but I think this also has the side effect of insulating Americans from some lovliness. When you walk down a street in Mysore, within a few steps, you may smell fragrant jasmine blossoms, cow dung, sweet grass, or putrid garbage.

In Mumbai, we stood on the street at the center of vegetable and fruit vendors, their wares spread in baskets, as we waited for Jotiben and Nipaben to finish their shopping for that evening's dinner. The scent of the produce was intoxicating; a ripe earthiness saturated the air. I inhaled it deeply. I hadn't smelled anything like that since I was a kid, bent over in my Mom's vegetable garden, picking snap peas off of the vines for dinner.

Yet, when Amit noticed strawberries, we were reluctant to buy them because of the swarm of flies covering the green grapes set beside them. The flies could transmit something that could make us very sick with our compromised, foreign immune systems. Amit suggested the flies were not on top of the strawberries, and they might be okay. But Nipaben, inspecting them, nixed the idea of the strawberries; they were not ripe. We realized that had they been ripe, they would have been covered in flies.

Mysore is a city with some enchantment, most visibly in the form of the extravagant Maharajana palace set at its center. We will visit it today. But, yesterday, we ambled through Mysore's side streets and gulleys (an Indian term for alleys). We discovered the enchantments of everyday life.

The Indians tolerate a kind of disintergration of buildings. Layers of paint peel off to show an underside of concrete or brick. Paint may be applied directly over the ruptures. Colors of paint are unusual to me - dark, minty, greens, reds on the edge of pink, sunflower yellows - and familiar - the pastels of California, peaches & pinks, mint green. Color is used sparingly, often only on a door, or even the inside of a door, and is set off against grey stone, concrete, or dull brick. Several colors - maybe even, several different greens - may turn up in swatches on a single house.

Often, turning into a street, we would see a smooth, brown cow - or a spotted one, or a black & white one - serenely munching hay in a corner. She will be oblivious to the buzzing of flies about her ears or neck. Her tail will lull, swishing flies and other small insects away.

Temples covered in gaily-colored figures from Hindu myth are pervasive. Beckoned by a woman sitting with others on its door stoop, we stopped, removed our shoes, and entered. Led by a priest in white robes, we circled the interior, noticing statues of deities swabbed with the dust of red and yellow saffron. The temple smelled of sandlewood from incense offered to the deities. We made our own offering in the form of several, round rupees before we returned to the street.

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