We wrapped up the program at Mysore on July 27 starting with a Saturday morning reflection session. We also spent some time brainstorming ideas for our powerpoint for an upcoming presentation back at Srushti Degree College in Bangalore. After lunch, we bid goodbye to the Srushti peeps as they head back to Bangalore. Three of us spent the afternoon finishing up our laundry since we will be leaving the next day. We got occupied and head out a little late towards the place Raja’s been staying which is a short walk away. We took a trip up to Chanmundi Hills and visited the temple whereby we got to do silly things like thinking about how we would survive if x happened at this current location while we were standing in line.

Our last night at Mysore was spent with Raja’s lovely airbnb host who invited us all to have dinner at their place. Just chicken biriyani became doritos with a brinjol dip, light salad with a citrus dressing, Iranian samosa following by the main course – chicken biriyani. The food was amazing and it was interesting witnessing adults talk and having a good time. Towards the end, the three of us were the oldies having to excuse ourselves so we can head back home and sleep.

The line of the night that is stucked with us till now was definitely: “Tell me… or I’ll die out of curiosity!” A lady who was the friend of the host had such a lively character. I really liked her: her energy, the things she said and how she presented herself. From that brief moment together, it seems like she is straightforward, carefree and definitely one who shared our guilt of over-eating.

While Kanako and I are off traveling around other places of India, Rosie should be back in Boston (though we haven’t heard back from her :3). We were constantly reminded of this line when we think of all the things that will be left unknown and how we might never know the answers to them…

We’ll never know the price of art the group of professional amateur art connoiseurs talked about. We’ll never know the meaning of Raja’s yolk joke. We’ll never know how one of the peacock at Mysore Zoo got out its cage. Disclaimer: No animal was harmed. No One was in distressed.

Maybe one day if one of us become a professional amateur art connoiseur. Maybe one day if we could all see Raja live at his stand up comedy. Maybe Mysore Zoo had a trust and honor system with the animals that they get a day off being out of their cage on a rotational basis.

Who knows?

In the early morning of Saturday, July 6th, we explored the sidestreets and storefronts of our neighborhood, Vivi Mohalla, Mysore. The sun had risen but the sky was slightly overcast. The atmosphere was a lot quieter than the bustling city life we’d come from, a mere three hours away in Bangalore. Nevertheless, people mostly man were out chanting at passerbyers, eager to sell their products: bananas, coffee, coconuts, mangoes, chains of different colored flowers etc. Others sped past in school uniforms, dress shirts and loafers on mopeds, honking at us to move when we had mistaken the right side of the road for the wrong one. Many of the shops were still closed; the neighborhood had yet to hear the grind of metal doors unfolding upwards with a crank of a lever. We marvelled at the architecture and the colorful greens, oranges, blues, yellows, and purplish walls of apartment buildings. Some women sat cross-legged outside their front gates, scrubbing children’s clothes and then slapping the wet fabrics out on the pavement, pressing out remaining wrinkles.

Nearing the outskirts of the neighborhood where a large crop of land stood bare and overgrown behind a clay fence, we noticed a group of three cows grazing on a pile of hay. Their droppings on the public roads had indicated their travel even before we saw them but we still stood to take a picture. Leanne and I were a little ahead of Kanako and as we turned to look elsewhere, one cow had separated itself from the other two and proceeded to nudge her backside. With a jolt, Kanako felt herself being pushed forward, an awkward kind of shove that elicited both a shriek of surprise and terror. She quickly crossed the road away from the cow while I turned around and snapped a picture. Here was our first official contact with a cow needless to say we were freaked out.

Over the next few days, cows frequented crossing our paths. When we walk back from yoga class around 7:30 am, Monday to Friday, we see cows eating from the garbage bin. With ropes around their necks, signaling the property rights of the owner, the cows help the shorter animals forage for the best produce. Using their height, their narrow faces fit inside the opening holes of the bin as they pull bags of split banana peels and leftover meals from the depths of the smelly refuge. We hold our breath while pregnant stray dogs rummage through the overturned containers of scraps left behind by their black and white peers.

It’s possibly true that cows in India have more freedoms than some people. Cows are sacred beasts. Many roam between busy lanes of traffic with cars and auto rickshaws, cutting swiftly and braking at the last moment to avoid hitting them. They move around in outdoor market spaces too. On one ocassion, we had sat down for a bite to eat at a street food station, hoping to get an egg paratha (egg roll made with dosa) when a dark black cow with horns approached the stall. His eyes were brown and stared longingly at the main cook with the scent of fried food flavoring the air. The cook paused for a moment to toss the cow a giant adli. The cow chewed still salvating, thankful.

It’s been two and a half weeks since we have been in Mysore. We’ve settled into a pretty set schedule that starts with waking up at 5:30AM and winding down to sleep at around 10PM every day. In between yoga, class and meetings, being at the village and sleeping, we have had break times to relax and reflect indivudually either by taking a nap, finishing up errands such as laundry and cleaning and eating meals. I’ve been enjoying all of my meals so far, even though they are all vegetarian. But, my favourite has to be rice with rasam and the chicken kebab from the street stalls. While the foods are all tasty, I’m feeling a bit bored with it. Maybe it’s the taste? Maybe it’s the texture? We were determined to eat something else tonight. Kanako and I were craving something like noodles and soup. Rosie was craving French cuisines such as fresh baked bread and pastries. I’m a little hesitant about trying the Chinese restaurants here since the food reviews and images did not look extremely appealing. I was trying to find some Tibeten restaurants. Rosie was wanting some Thai food. We eventually decided to go to this place called Nanking which had both Chinese and Thai food.

We left the village at 6pm and arrrived home around 6:35pm. We changed and used the OLA app to call an auto rickshaw. The driver was fairly close to us so we didn’t have to wait for long. 8387 was his autorickshaw number plate. We hopped on it. During the car ride, I mentioned about how I’m really scared of number threes and Rosie immediately piggy back and said “Yea, because someone else is always going be left out.” Exactly! I told them at least for now, I’ve been enjoying the trip and group dynamics we have. I hope they feel the same. India’s traffic is a form of intellectual artwork. They are so skillful in gauging the distance with one another. The best part is their communication with one another through different sets of honking cues. I haven’t really fully grasped what they all mean yet, but one thing I know for sure, they are communicating with one another.

We got to the place, and it was a little dark and it looked empty. It did kinda look sketchy. Fingerscrossed! Here we go! We sat down, and they gave us a menu. We looked through it and decided that we would order a Deep Fried Thai Chicken (8pcs), Steamed Chicked Momo (6pcs), Egg Noodle Hong Kong Style, and Tibeten Thukpa. We were the only customers at the restaurant so it was really empty. Even then, the restaurant had about 9 people standing around. As we were waiting, we were watching Kabaddi on TV. This was when I found out that when the kids were telling me it was a national game in India, it’s actually a national game as in a national sports tournament. I always thought it was like a game that was played by children nationally in India. The game was really fascinating to watch; it was the men’s team and they were all really quick in their attack and retreat. We waited for quite some time and it was weird having people just standing around us. The kitchen was a little busy because they also do food delivery. We saw two people who wore a Zomato t-shirt coming in to pick up the food that was ready to be delivered.

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The first dish that came was the Deep Fried Thai Chicken. It was just fried chicken topped with some freshly chopped red onions. The chicken came with a dipping sauce, which was ketchup. I love fried chicken (with all of my heart)! It was just so nice to bite into some crunchy fried meat after such a long time. Then the steamed momo came. When we were having dosa, a couple days ago at home, it was fluffy and cakey and it reminded me of dumpling skin. The momo was just amazing. Real dumplings with meat in it! It also had a chilli dipping sauce, which gave it a little kick. I haven’t had any authentic momos before so I don’t really know what is the ideal texture of momo skin. But, this was slightly thicker and it still tasted good. Then the thukpa and egg noodles came. I thought Hong Kong Style was a starchy egg soup base, but it came out to be a stir-fry noodle. When I took a bite, it was actually good! I cannot tell you how happy I was eating a simple egg fried noodle with vegetables. Kanako tried the thukpa first and felt good drinking the soup. She said it didn’t taste like the thukpa she had before, but it is still good. I went on a try and – soup and noodles! Soup and noodles!

Slurping some hot broth down the throat was something I’ve been craving for some time now, and I guess, we’ve found a place for that. It was around 8:15PM when we finished eating, and we decided to head back home. The auto rickshaw guy came and it was the same guy. What are the odds?! I do believe in meant to be(s). I don’t really know what this all means, but I do know that we had a good dinner together, enjoying each other’s company and we got home safely.

8387 and one full cycle.