Lights On!

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I positioned myself at the south gate of the Mysore Palace. It was a Sunday - illumination day - and at 7 pm the 3-storyed Palace would be bathed in light. It would be an awesome sight.

Already, a fair crowd had gathered at the car park area; tourists, passersby, taxi and bus drivers who had driven in their passengers in air-conditioned coaches. A few elders and women remained seated in the coaches while others ambled around; families with kids were surrounded by balloon sellers - “I want the heart-shaped one” someone said (it was Valentine’s Day, that Sunday) ; a group of foreigners were being hounded by urchins selling their wares at twice, thrice the normal price. A cucumber seller was doing brisk business knowing fully well that once the lights come on the crowds would vanish thereafter; a horse carriage owner was negotiating a deal with a foreigner couple for a ride around the Palace, who seem to have reluctantly agreed to his persistent haggling.

In their own way, all waited anxiously. Another 15 minutes to go.

What would it have been like; the pomp and pageantry of these royal processions - the Dassera procession in particular - parading through the streets of Mysore? I went back into time and let my imagination go.

The massive gates open, sound of bugles in synchronized tunes rent the air signaling that royalty is on the move; and as if on cue, hundreds of foot-soldiers in ceremonial livery march through the gate followed by The King and his confidants, seated on the Golden Howdah atop the Royal Elephant, and battalions of horse-mounted soldiers armed to the teeth making up the rear-guard. Outside, on the streets, the citizenry is in full attendance as they watch this omnipresent activity, take their bows symbolizing reverence to their King, their protector, their giver, and perhaps chanting ‘Hail thee King! Long live our King’.

Wow! That must have been some sight to watch.

Traditionally, the Dassera celebrations linger on for 10-long days culminating with the procession, the pièce de résistance. Off-late though, political highhandedness in the organization of the festivities may have ruffled some royal feathers and perhaps, diminished the charm a bit. However, the royal family - the Wodeyars (or Wadiyars as they spell it now), who ruled the Kingdom of Mysore between 1399 and 1947 - have the upper hand in these matters and their word stays. Despite the bickering and politicking, every October thousands and thousands congregate in Mysore from far and wide to witness this spectacular event in all its pristine glory.

Suddenly, ninety-seven thousand incandescent bulbs light up the dark night. The Palace is in full glow; ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ come from all around. Awe-struck, dozens of eyeballs pop-out, jaws drop and mouths open; the elders and the women scamper out of their coaches and walk briskly like never before to the gates to be up close. Cameras - digital, film, cell phone - go clickety-click, as people jostle for the best vantage point to shoot that memorable picture , and to go home and say, ‘been there, done that!’

I find a good spot at the gate and begin to shoot; zooming in and out from various angles. I wondered why the gates are kept closed. Would it not be a good idea if only they were opened so that the public could get a closer look and capture the dazzling effect? After all, its just 2 days in a week. That’s not asking for too much.

But then, lesser mortals such as us must remain on the outside and not question the diktat of the King, even if he is ‘The King of Good Times.’

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Photos

Mysore Palace by Night
Ninety-seven thousand incandescent bulbs light up the dark night