Connoisseur King - Vijaya Dasami Special! I REMEMBER how, during our middle school days, I would venture out with my friends to the palace gates to catch a glimpse of the Maharaja so that I could salute him. He was always gracious enough to wave back. That was a time when Mysore was under the benevolent reign of Maharaja Nalwadi Krishnaraja Wadiyar (1902-40). His concern for the welfare of the people and his statesmanship drew praise, even from Mahatma Gandhi who called him "Raja rishi" (statesman-saint). Assisted by able Dewans, who were loyal administrators, he took the State forward in the fields of industry, commerce and education. After his passing away in 1940, his nephew, Jaya Chamaraja Wadiyar, ascended the throne of Mysore.
The coronation of the new ruler was celebrated joyously in every part of the State. Princes and other important functionaries came from all over the country to witness the event. The royal family sent truckloads of sugar to every mohalla in the city for distribution among the people.
I also remember how the nine-day Dasara festival fascinated us. It was a great time in Mysore, and relatives descended on us from all over to participate in the festive fare. With them, we went to the environs of the Palace, experienced the bustle on the exhibition grounds and made trips to Kannambadi and the Brindavan garden, which had come up just about then. We went to the famous zoo in Mysore and climbed up the thousand steps of the Chamundi Hill to reach the temple and to gaze at the 20-foot-high, beautifully carved granite statue of the Bull. We returned home after visiting the palace garage, which housed the several models of cars of the Maharaja. We also made a trip to Srirangapattana, the capital of Tipu Sultan.
On Vijayadasami, the last day of the festival, we deposited ourselves at vantage points to watch the procession of elephants, horses, camels, acrobats, clowns and courtiers, and the Maharaja himself on his way to the Bannimantap and back. We often found that the packed eats that we carried with us were not adequate and we came home tired and sleepy.
I cannot forget the spectacle of jamboosavari, the royal procession, which I regularly photographed in later years. The cavalcade of uniformed soldiers, caparisoned horses and elephants, dancers and floats fascinated me. There were brass bands, which had harmonised Indian and Western tunes. The colourfully attired palace guards and the Mysore Lancers marched in military precision, followed by the Camel Corps - with each animal swaying in step. There were folk dancers swirling past in riotous rhythm.
It was a sight for the gods to see the Maharaja who was seated in a golden howdah festooned with pearls atop a majestic tusker, which had cow elephants covering its flanks. The Maharaja looked conspicuous in his royal robes and gold-embroidered turban, on which was a diamond-studded brooch with a tassel of silken bristles which spread out into a fan, as he turned his head this side or that to receive the greetings of the people.
Clouds of rose petals cascaded on him from nowhere and descended on the golden howdah. The crowds on either side of the road, some twenty or thirty deep, rent the air with shouts of "victory" to the Maharaja, every time the mahout stopped the mount to receive garlands and bouquets offered by those waiting below the welcome arches. They placed the flowers on a silver platter fixed to a pole and carried by Siddiah, a palace attendant. At 7 feet 2 inches, Siddiah, the tallest man in town, wearing a blood-red long coat and a huge turban, drew everyone's attention as he walked beside the elephant to lift the plate close to the howdah, so that the Maharaja could take the garlands.
This picture got stamped on my mind year after year, during my student days. Ever since I started handling a camera, I never failed to photograph the Maharaja whenever there was an occasion worth the effort. I photographed him in the palace courtyard on many festival occasions, and on his birthday, when he rode a white caparisoned horse.
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