History of Mysore Palace, rediscovered by Tourism

Last week I was in Hyderabad on some official work. Returning home, I found in the Hyderabad Airport, the displays of AP tourism about various places of tourist interest. One eye catcher was the historic Mysore Palace. Eye catcher, not because it was Mysore palace, not because it was historic, or not even because it was splendid. The AP tourism had made a path breaking discovery in the history of Mysore palace.

It belonged to Tipu Sultan !!! (See the photo)

This "historical monument" was silently catching the eyes of whoever cared to see - especially of tourists (many of whom would be foreign tourists who would return home with memories of India, of our ignorance, and of our audacity to exhibit our ignorance).

Here is the text of my email to the AP department of tourism:

Dear Sir,

Please see the attached photos of one of your displays at Hyderabad Airport taken on 25th April 2008. This is the picture of the world famous Mysore Palace. But shockingly enough, the caption reads "Tipu Sultan's Palace, Mysore"!!!

I had dropped a complaint in the airport complaint/suggession kiosk, but no response till now. For your information, here is a small piece of details about the said palace:

The construction of this palace was started in 1897 to replace the old palace which was destroyed due to fire.

The regent of Mysore at the time, Queen Kempananjammanni Vanivilasa Sannidhana, commissioned a British architect, Henry Irwin, to build yet another palace in its place. The construction was completed in 1912.

Not that the above piece of history may interest you, but this is just to insist that you please stand corrected and immediately remove or correct the display before many more visitors laugh at us.

The tourism department which is supposed to guide and enlighten the tourists about our rich cultural heritage, forgets (or ignores) the history of just 95 years, is a matter of shame, more so when it is displayed in such a bold manner in front of the whole world !!!

Regards,
Manjunatha.K.S

The email id of AP tourism is info@aptourism.in, if you want to send a mailer - just a small hope that it may open the eyes of those who are (ir)responsible, and warn them against blabbering just whatever comes to their mind about our national heritage.

PS: If you know a better email id, please share it with me.

In quest of a lost charm...

"These cargo ships come from & go to Iran" told my companion. We were standing on the Port Khalid side of the creek which separates the port area from the rest of Sharjah. It was an early evening. Desert cold had started, and it would be chill there after the dark. In the middle of the hectic working hours, we had sneaked out for a fifteen minutes break; to travel in an "abra" across the creek of Sharjah. This creek runs through Sharjah, through Dubai. Those lucky lot who can not afford a car or do not have time to wait for a local transport bus use this inland waterway for their daily travel.

"Abra" is a ferry boat which carries you from the Port side to the city side. It is a 5 minutes sail across the creek, and he charges you 1.5 Dirhams. The waters acquire a beautiful golden shimmer in the evening; a lot of sea-gulls fluttering around. The shores are abuzz with activity. You can see a lot of boats, yatches and cargo ships anchored along the shores. They carry all kind of food, clothings, and assorted stuff. Instead of crossing the creek, if you sail along the creek for about a mile, there is deep sea. It is a day's journey to Iran from here to Iran by the ship, they say.

If you cross the creek you reach the part of the Sharjah city, which is now called Old Sharjah. With its neat, quiet and narrow lanes, historical, cultural and religious museums, intriguing curio shops... stands silent, humble but vivid and lively; in comparison with the rest of the city that is called Sharjah with all its bafflingly gorgeous roads, sky scrapers,hippy shopping mals, KFCs, MacDonalds and the same old dumb stuff.

A weak attempt to search for the soul of the town that was; a local concience that is lost somewhere in the global uniformity; Straining the ear drums to catch strains of that old-time arabic music...

Well, I know I have ignored this small corner of mine for quite long. There are many things that try to come out of the bonds of my laziness. This is one such fortunate sketch.

Rest, a while later.