Dasara

Dasara, also known as Navaratri, is a nine day celebration of good over evil. In Hindu mythology, the story of Lord Rama triumphing over the demon Ravana is the basis of this holiday.

Last week, some of the ladies in our apartment complex decided to celebrate right here in our own back yard. There was to be food, music and dance. Helen was invited and participated each afternoon in the dance rehearsals. As a special treat, three women who are skilled in the art of applying henna to women’s hands were invited in on Thursday to henna the hands of all the dancers, including all the little girls. Helen has become acquainted with Nimi (above) and asked her how many times she’d had her hands henna-ed. “Only once; for my marriage,” was her reply, so now she was getting it done again and her nine year old daughter was having it done as well!

Friday was the big night. All the children were dressed up; the girls in glittery skirts and tops with hair jewelry and bracelets and the boys in their kurta pajamas.

The women were wearing special saris and gold jewelry with colored gemstones that matched the color of their saris. These saris originated in the state of Gujarat and the design on the sari is called bandhini. There are open squares that form random triangles or bigger squares. Helen borrowed a green and goldish brown bandhini sari, a petticoat with a drawstring to hold it up (which was tied quite tightly around the waist), and another woman gave me a few of her bracelets to wear. Her hands were too big to fit through most of the bracelets she had.

The first performers were a group of about 10 girls, ages 4-7, who did a little dance that was fun to watch. The next group of girls was about 8-12 years old and performed some classical Indian dance moves combined with some traditional dance. The third group was about 30 children, boys and girls, who danced to a well-known song. The women were the last to come. On a large slab of concrete in the play area, we danced with partners in a big circle at one end and the children did the same dance at the other end. Near the end of the dance the children came inside the circle of women, everyone clicking their sticks, and it ended with a big, “Hurrah!” Srimati (left) was my partner.

The women performed the traditional Indian dance using sticks, which is done only to celebrate Dasara. The dads and grandparents watching were so impressed that they asked for a repeat performance so everybody got to dance twice!

When it was all over, it was still early and nobody was ready to go home. The DJ put on some current Indian music. The first one was a song that had a video with Bollywood dancers and there were a couple of 10 year olds who knew all the moves by heart, so the rest of the kids followed along. Next came some American hip hop and rap and by the time the moms and a few of the dads were done dancing (the women danced with women and the men danced with other men), it was time to pack up and head back to the apartment. All in all it was a fun night.

The Sounds of Silence

This weekend’s outing was a search for silence. As we have shared in many of our blogs, noise pollution in our urban, high-rise lifestyle in Bangalore is overwhelming. The traffic noise that permeates our daily living is a non-stop assault of engine roar and honking horns. The evening is filled with the barking and howls of dogs engaged in continuous turf warfare. The many Hindu festivals bring out loudspeakers blaring melodious Hindi songs for which we have not yet acquired an ear.

What does silence sound like? Our two stops today provided a response in very different ways.

We drove to the western edge of sprawling Bangalore to visit the Nrityagram Dance Village. The dance village was established in 1990 by Protima Gauri. Gauri was a wild child and prominent model in the 1960’s. In her mid-twenties she was taken with the graceful style of dances rooted in the temple traditions of the northern Indian state of Orissa. Henceforth dedicated to dance, Gauri founded Nrityagram with a “dream of building a community of dancers in a forsaken place amidst nature; a place where nothing exists, except dance; a place where you breathe, eat, sleep, dream, talk, imagine - dance.”

Dreams do come true. Nrityagram is a soothing environment. Trees shade rough stone walkways that lead to a dance hall, outdoor yoga center, fruit and vegetable gardens and rustic cottages for resident students. The students follow a lifestyle based on the ancient gurukul tradition. Accordingly, they take care of their guru (teacher) by tending their gardens, cooking, cleaning and devotion to study. At the end of the dance lesson we observed, the students leaving reverently paused before the guru’s seat, folded hands as if in worship, bowed and departed.

We lunched at the open air restaurant with the sound of leaves swaying in a gentle breeze and the peaceful sounds of a small water fountain nearby. We found the first rhythms of the sounds of silence.

Reluctantly we departed for our next destination a short distance away, the Golden Palms Hotel and Spa. Golden Palms is the very upscale retreat for the Bollywood crowd. The grounds of this resort are covered with towering coconut trees, fountains of King Neptune and a swimming pool the size of a city block. At this spa resort, one does not get a massage; one indulges in spa therapy. Therapy packages include steam, sauna, swimming, Swedish massage, oriental foot reviver, Indian papaya & rose body glow, crystal salt scrub, Thai massage, Cleopatra milk bath, a meditation session and more. If ala carte decadence is your pleasure you can select from massages such as Palms Ayurveda, Aromatic Body Bliss, Balinese Massage, Holistic back, Face and Scalp and more.

Needless to say one’s pleasure is directly related to one’s wallet. But if one is seeking the sounds of silence, Golden Palms has its own beautiful rhythms, away from the cacophony of the nearby city.

You Only Live Once

Today is our one year anniversary of being in Bangalore. To celebrate, we had Sunday brunch at the Oberoi, one of Bangalore’s upscale five-star hotels. Our lifestyle in Bangalore is comfortable, but far from extravagant. In the year we have been in Bangalore, we have had Sunday brunch twice at the Leela Palace, left, another upscale five-star hotel near our apartment. Twice a month we may venture out with expat friends for a dinner at a hotel or restaurant. Typically we eat at home.

Today we opted to follow some sage advice from the Hollywood actress of yesteryear, Mae West. “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

The Oberoi is a regal hotel with an equally regal ambience. The tall imposing doorman sporting a proper set of mutton chop whiskers and dressed in the style of the English raja days greeted us with a smart “Good afternoon,” as the clear glass door opened to the lobby.

Once inside, the chaos we have come to call the normal din of our lives disappeared. Although the Oberoi is located in downtown Bangalore on noisy M.G. Road, behind the compound walls we were in a pampered, cloistered environment. All is first class with a particular eye on the expat community.

Sunday brunch for us today was served in Le Jardin Restaurant. Our seating was outside, on an elegant porch where the green and yellow table runners matched the fabric on the seats. We could hear the gentle sound of water running into the pool right beside us. The bamboo stands nearby swayed to the rhythm of the gentle breezes. All was in bloom in the gardens of the Oberoi. Waiters in crisp white jackets efficiently poured, whisked away used dishes, and replaced silverware.

Our brunch was a combination of western cuisine and westernized Indian cuisine. The mutton biryani was gently spiced, as were the lentils. Naan, the tandoor-baked bread of India, was of the highest quality. Other choices included green pepper slices wrapped with beef strips, lamb shank in a creamy garlic sauce, stuffed zucchini, and fish and chicken prepared in several combinations, all with delicious, delicately seasoned sauces. The seasoned stirred-fried vegetables of broccoli, mushrooms and carrots could have been a meal in itself. The dessert selection of fruit tarts, cakes, crème Brule and many artistically decorated chocolate desserts was a delight to the eye as well as the palate.

This entire epicurean enchantment was enjoyed with never-empty glasses of sparkling Indian Brut. Two cappuccinos ended our stay. Mae would have been pleased.

As an aside, last December, Helen and other members of the Overseas Women’s Club (OWC) were invited to the Oberoi for the annual spicing of the holiday fruit that would be baked into holiday fruitcake. Attended by chefs in their tall white hats, the women of the OWC gleefully plunged their plastic-gloved hands into mounds of fruit to mix an array of spices and liquors copiously applied by the chef staff. The Oberoi is an enchanting place!

Historical Bookends

We visited two historic sites in Bangalore today; Tippu Sultan’s Palace and Bangalore Palace. Built in very different times by very different people, the two palaces are today more like distant bookends holding the long and varied history of Bangalore between them.

Tippu’s Palace was originally enclosed by a mud fortress built by Chikka Devaraja Wodeyar in the 17th century. Construction of the actual palace was started in 1781 by Tippu’s infamous father Hyder Ali. Known as the Lion-Hearted Prince of Mysore by his Muslim followers, Hyder Ali was a perennial foe of the British. British power was steadily growing in the1700’s and conflict with local nawabs and nizams was common.

The death of Hyder Ali in 1782 brought no relief to the British. The throne of the lion-hearted prince passed to his son, the Tiger of Mysore. The new sultan’s declaration that “I would rather live two days as a tiger than two hundred years as a sheep” fittingly captured this new monarch’s temperament. Among his possessions was an organ in the shape of a tiger mauling a prostrate British soldier. Tippu was killed by the British in the Fourth Anglo – Mysore war 1799 in the capital city of Seringapatam (Srirangapatna).

Much of the Tippu Sultan’s wooden palace has disappeared in time. The eastern portion crumbled during the third Anglo - Mysore war. The remaining carved wooden columns create an airy courtyard. The upper story has balconies where the sultan would sit and hold court. Small hallways at the ends of the building give entrance way to small chamber rooms. Most unfortunately, years of graffiti mar the once beautifully decorated walls of the upper chamber rooms. The gardens on two sides of the palace are well maintained.

The repercussions of the British victory in the Anglo – Mysore wars continued. With the death of Tippu Sultan in 1799, the British installed the five-year old Prince Krishnaraja Wodeyar III on the throne of his ancestors. Aside from the time ruled by Haider Ali and Tippu, the Wodeyars had ruled the kingdom of Mysore since the fall of theVijayanagar Empire in 1565.

Bangalore Palace was built by Chamaraja Wodeyar, the Maharaja of Mysore in 1887. Unlike Tippu Sultan’s architectural nod to Islamic architecture of Northern India, the Bangalore Palace is architecturally styled upon the English Windsor Castle. The Palace flaunts turreted parapets, battlements, towers and arches.

Our 45 minute tour was enough to catch a glimpse of former glory. A large, mounted elephant head hung over the staircase leading upstairs. The ballroom retained its elegance as did several other rooms. Mostly the palace was in ruinous shape. As we left we could only imagine the aura in former days, of the palace with lush grounds surrounding an ornate palace with the denizen of Mysore royalty mingling with the British raja class. Rarely, we are sure, was there mention of their long vanquished nemesis, Tippu Sultan.