BAPU SATHYANARAYANA writes: Travelling down memory lane in Mysore can be an expensive proposition; there is such a wealth of nuggets that pop up in the windscreen of the mind at every twist and turn.
Unlike now, the music concerts were not held in several halls across the City. There was just one major concert hall, Bidarkrishnappa Ramamandira, and it was where the cultural action was. But the lack of halls did not in any way handicap connoisseurs.
Concerts used to be held in the open near the Aralikatte in Chamarajapuram or in advocate Puttu Rao‘s house.
These open-air concerts had a unique flavour and ambience all their own. People would leisurely amble around and sit on the ground, or on the compound and culverts, savouring divine music from the cream of the cultural ream from cities and towns, near and far.
The open sky, the twinkling stars, the swaying trees, the cool breeze and above all the homely surroundings made it a unique setting.
Like the Tour de France, music came home; we didn’t have to go it.
We used to live on Weaver’s Lane, now called Ram Iyer road in Krishnamurthypuram. The house was situated in front of the present Raghavendra Swamy Mutt. There was a huge open ground with a big drain running across its eastern border.
Our house used to serve as the cricket pavilion and teams from Bangalore used to come and play with local boys.
The open ground was called Oval Grounds. It was the venue for kho-kho, football, chinni dandu. On any evening one could see all games being played in different parts of the ground. Whenever somebody completed 25 runs we used to shout quarter-century “up”; similarly half-a-century “up” on completion of fifty.
Exhortations to the bowlers was dime a dozen from catch-ball haako or pinda uruliso!
Back in those days, the electricity authorities used to switch off all the lights across the city for about a second or so exactly at 9 pm. I don’t know when the practice was started or why. At least it served to make us aware of the time.
Night time was the most precarious time for us, young boys. We used to be mortally afraid of the police catching us cycling without light during nights. Despite our trying to dodge them, we would hear an whistle emerging from nowhere, invariably from the conservancy road.
Every cycle was expected to have a dynamo by a contraption pressed against the running wheel which would produce direct current, lighting the bulb. In the absence of it, we would carry a torch or a lighted candle firmly struck in sand in a paper pouch and precariously held in one hand while steering with the other.
My other memory is of children in virtually every house where we stayed staging dramas, mostly historical, at home.
A makeshift stage would be erected in the hall (or drawing room as they are called now), usually the biggest in the house, with an apology for the screen made up of sarees or bedsheets hanging from the string put across tied to the nails in the wall.
Neighbours used to be invited and it was such a delight to see everyone enjoying the fare. It was an age of simplicity, and the contrast is stark as we see modern-day children with their video games and computers and play stations.
And still finding it difficult to while away their time without getting bored.
churumuri 
My favorite Mysore Cricket story is from my uncles who used to play for NIE in the Mid/Late fifties (same batch as E.A.S Prasanna).
There was apparently a friendly rivalry between NIE and Maharajas college with each college having its own cheering section. One of the main cheerleaders for the Maharaja College group was Rangadorai (Rangadorai uncle to all of us. Was later to become Superindendant of Police).
So the NIE guys are fielding and desparately need the wicket (dont remember the name of the batsman but apparently a Mysore legend). So they are appealing everytime the ball hits the pad (or any part of the batsman). So Rangadorai pipes out “Yenappa NIE avaru samaan mele biDha ball gella appeal madTharalla”…
so one of the NIE guys yells out from the middle “Maharaja college players ge mandi mele samaan idre navu yenri madodu?”
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Vijay, Good one!
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Vijay, really a good piece. The spontaneity of the cheering crowds at Mysore was simply superb. Want to share one of them – We (Banumaiah’s College) were on the verge of winning the Chamundi Zone (conducted for the entire Mysore University colleges) finals against Mahajana’s in 1995. Our captain, a left handed batsman, was finishing off with the typical left-hander’s grace. And a special cover drive from him made the entire crowd at Maharaja’s ground hear this piece from the Banumaiah’s cheering group – ‘Noddrappa nodi, iga naavu yedagai-alli hod-dhu match mugistheevi’.
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I studied in Mysore (NIE) and the powercut would happen at around 10pm – it was because, the load would shift from KEB (as it was called in those days) to Kerala’s power supply (Karnataka was borrowing power from Kerala due to shortage of power)
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‘Dubba Hakamma’ ………Namma hudgunnu koorsillva yensokke…Lo Hudgungae yemaarsi Dubba Haaktheera.
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Thanks Bapu Satyanarayana for mentioning advocate K. Puttu Rao’s home as a place for vintage concerts. Readers are invited to read some historical connections to Chowdiah at http://chowdaiahandparvati.blogspot.com/. Any feed back is appreciated.
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Vijay,
Just fantastic and really nostalgic particularly for those who have lived in Krishnamurhty puram, played in Ganesha Park and tasted Gandhi cake in Lingaiah’s shop. Thanks for helping us relive all this.
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Our Abid Ali was a ‘pinda uruLiso expertu’. He used to do that almost at will! No one knew how he did but we can remember esp. one dismissal that of Roy Fredericks in the West Indies that had him neck and crop in the first over of the match if my memory serves me right.
Mr.Bapu writes as if he has seen what went on in our house in Devaparthiva Road! Stage in the hall, drama.. bed sheets, sari….
AraLikatte sangeeta during Rama Navami time.. was a special event because we used to lend our huge old carpet for the audience to sit and listen under the pandal.
Who can forget Puttu Rao (Srikantaiah)’s house sangeetha? It was a real festival time with exams just finished. My father used to listen to it 150 metres away sitting in front of the house on a chair as we boys were among friends running here and there among the large gathering on the roads playing ‘kalla-police’! Often we were scolded by ardent listeners. But we cared little and went to another place! Came TV to Mysore in 1984, we could see the diminishing interest in this festival as the public stayed at home since 1985 watching B&W TV programmes from DD. The thinning of the audience was very pathetic and very noticeable. TV killed it from one angle.
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