Travel for me has never been just a hobby or a checklist of places visited, it has always been something far more intimate. It is an emotion I carry in my bloodstream, a quiet pulse that wakes up every time I see a new road or smell the air of a new city. It’s a memory I keep weaving into time, thread by thread, moment by moment, each journey adding a new color to who I am.

And every time I try to understand where this love was born, my heart instinctively walks back to one person – my father.

Growing up, I watched him treat every trip, no matter how small with a sense of wonder. He didn’t just plan itineraries; he created stories. He didn’t just travel; he absorbed places – their people, their food, their silences. He would return home not with souvenirs, but with lessons: “Every place has something to teach you, if you walk with an open heart.”

I didn’t realize it then but those words planted themselves deep within me. His excitement, the way his eyes lit up when talking about mountains or rivers or old roads, slowly shaped the traveller inside me long before I picked up my first backpack. I grew up believing that travelling wasn’t an escape but a way to return to yourself. So when life eventually brought me to Pune, a city that welcomed me with its own gentle blend of chaos and charm, the wanderer in me stirred again. I wanted to explore, to understand, to breathe in the southern warmth of India – not in a rush, not as a tourist but as a seeker.

I knew I couldn’t cover the entire South in one go, but I wanted to begin somewhere. And that “somewhere” unfolded beautifully into a journey I will never forget: Pune → Kochi → Bangalore → Mysore.

What started as a simple plan turned into a discovery of places, of culture, of flavours and of myself. It was the beginning of a memory I will carry for life, a journey touched with nostalgia, warmth and the quiet blessing of the person who first taught me how to fall in love with the world.

✈️ Chapter 1: From Pune Skies to Bangalore Hustle

I know that unmistakable early-morning-flight feeling that strange cocktail of excitement, sleepiness and just a hint of “why-am-I-awake-at-this-hour?” humming under your skin.
The world feels different at 4 AM: quieter, softer, almost like time is stretching itself before the day begins.

There I was, dragging my half-awake self through Pune airport clutching my coffee as if my life depended on it and let me confess something to you – flights and I have a complicated relationship. Heights? No, thank you. Turbulence? Absolutely not. Every take-off still feels like a tiny spiritual moment where your soul leaves your body before the aircraft does.

But when your leaves are limited and your heart is determined to squeeze the most out of every destination, you tell yourself, “Breathe. Hold the armrest. Whisper a prayer no one hears. Let the universe handle the rest.”

And so I did.

Soon, Pune began shrinking beneath me, little patches of grey, green and memory fading under a rising sun. There’s something comforting about that view, isn’t it? Watching the world you know get smaller, it somehow makes your worries feel smaller too.

Landing in Bangalore, though?
That’s when the energy shifted completely.
The moment I stepped out of the airport, I was greeted by Bangalore’s signature welcome – warm air, honking cabs, a thousand people moving with a purpose and somehow a strange sense of familiarity.

It was bustling, chaotic, alive.
The kind of place where even the breeze feels like it has somewhere important to be.
And that’s when the excitement really kicked in because the real adventure, the part of the journey my soul was waiting for was just about to begin.

🚗 Chapter 2: Bangalore to Mysore – Where the Road Trip Magic Begins

If you’ve ever taken a long road trip, you know that subtle yet unforgettable shift when the noise starts to fade, the rhythm of life slows and the world outside your window begins unfolding like a quiet film. That is exactly how the Bangalore-to-Mysore journey felt.

The transition began the moment we left the city behind.
Bangalore’s familiar chaos slowly melted away: the honking softened, the traffic thinned and the skyline gave way to open stretches of sky that suddenly felt wider than anything we had seen all morning. The highway ahead didn’t feel like a route; it felt like an invitation. And almost immediately, the landscape began telling its own stories.

The drive unfolded in frames, coconut trees standing tall like green guardians, sunlight slipping gently through drifting clouds, pastel homes half-hidden behind lush banana plantations, tea stalls steaming with fresh chai, children racing their bicycles with the confidence of little champions, farmers tending to their fields with a sense of rhythm that felt almost poetic, the faint ring of a distant temple bell that somehow softened the entire landscape, and fruit sellers passionately promising that their guavas were the best in all of India..

It was India in its purest form unfiltered, alive and moving with a heartbeat of its own.

Inside the car, the atmosphere shifted in a completely different way.
The hum of the engine blended softly with the music, creating a calming silence only road trips can offer that encourages you to look inward, breathe a little deeper and let your thoughts stretch out as freely as the road ahead, conversations came and went gently, someone pointed out a beautiful view, someone shared an old story, someone laughed at something silly on the radio. And without realizing it, nostalgia quietly joined us for the ride.

By the time Mysore signboards began appearing, the truth hit me:
this wasn’t just a journey from one city to another; it was a shift into a different pace of life. The closer we came, the more the surroundings changed, the roads grew quieter, the air felt lighter and an unmistakable calmness settled around us, almost as if Mysore itself was welcoming us with a gentle whisper:
Slow down. You’re entering somewhere special.

Arriving in Mysore didn’t feel like reaching a destination.
It felt like stepping into a different era softer, regal, timeless.

If Bangalore was the lively intermission, Mysore was the heart of the story.
And everything that unfolded next made every single kilometer worth it.

🌄1. The Sholay Moment

Somewhere in the middle of the drive you know that stretch where the road suddenly becomes quieter, the trees look taller and the hills start forming soft, shadowy outlines on the horizon, something unexpected happened.

Our driver slowed down ever so slightly, leaned forward as if remembering an old story and said in the most casual tone ever,

“Yahan Sholay shoot hua tha.” and I swear, in that moment, the entire vibe in the car changed.

We all sat up straighter, music was forgotten, sleep evaporated.

It felt like someone had dropped a spark of magic right into our laps.

Because think about it “Sholay” isn’t just a movie. It’s the movie. A piece of India’s emotional heritage and here we were, unknowingly passing by the land that had given life to those unforgettable characters and scenes.

As we looked out, there it was: Ramadevara Betta, tall, rugged, completely unfazed by time.

It stood there with the same raw, untamed energy we’ve seen on screen our entire lives.

The rocks looked ancient and wise as if they had watched Jai and Veeru ride through dust clouds, heard Gabbar’s voice echo against their cliffs and witnessed Basanti sprinting across them with her unforgettable charm. You could almost imagine the camera crews, the lights, the heat, the chaos, all of it fading into silence but leaving behind a trace of cinematic history.

It was surreal in that quiet, windy moment to realize we were looking at a landscape that had shaped Indian cinema forever.

No signboards.

No loud announcements.

No tourist crowds.

Just a legendary piece of film history sitting quietly on the side of a highway as if waiting for curious travellers to notice it.

The breeze felt different there, heavier, almost like it was carrying stories. And for a brief second, it honestly felt like time paused. Like the past and the present merged into one single frame and we were standing inside it.

It’s moments like these that remind you: Travel isn’t always about where you’re going, sometimes it’s about what the journey unexpectedly gives you.

🍽️ 2. Breakfast at the Most “Infamous But Iconic” Restaurant

Soon after the Sholay excitement settled and we were back on the road, our stomachs collectively decided to remind us that emotions are great but breakfast is better.

And just like every good travel story, we had a local hero, our driver who grinned and said, “Idhar khana famous bhi hai, aur log aur bhi zyada.” (Here, the food is famous… but the people are even more so.)

He wasn’t exaggerating. The moment we stepped inside, we were greeted by beautiful chaos that only a truly iconic South Indian eatery can offer and you know the vibe: waiters darting around like they’ve memorized the entire floor plan, plates piled like mini skyscrapers, families sharing tables with strangers and a nonstop symphony of steel tumblers, sizzling pans and laughter and somewhere in the middle of all that, there was us wide-eyed, hungry and instantly in love.

The food? Oh, the food.

• Dosas so crisp and golden they cracked like delicate glass when you touched them
• Idlis so soft they felt like someone steamed actual clouds
• Coconut chutney fresh, cool and full of that earthy sweetness only the South can get right
• Filter coffee strong, aromatic and unapologetically bold that wakes up parts of your soul you didn’t know were sleeping

It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t Instagrammable, it didn’t have mood lighting or curated playlists but it felt real.

It felt like home even though we were miles away from ours and that’s the magic of places like this: they don’t try to impress you; they simply feed you with honesty, warmth and flavour.

I wish I remembered the name of the restaurant – truly, I do but maybe it’s okay that I don’t because sometimes the best travel memories aren’t pinned to locations.

They’re pinned to feelings to that first sip of hot coffee, to the smell of fresh dosa batter, to the noisy happiness around you, to the way your heart feels full even before your plate is. And this breakfast stop?

It reminded me exactly why I love traveling so much for moments that aren’t perfect but stay with you anyway.

But you know what truly stole my heart that morning?

The ghee upma.

Now, let me confess something – I am not an upma person.

Not even a little. Unless it’s loaded with vegetables to the point where the rava is just politely present, I usually avoid it altogether. So when the waiter placed a steaming plate of upma in front of us, glistening with ghee, I mentally prepared myself to take a polite bite and move on. But the moment I tasted it… I actually froze. It was exactly the way I make it for myself warm, comforting, packed with veggies and infused with just the right amount of ghee to make your soul feel hugged from the inside. Soft, flavourful, wholesome – not the bland, shortcut version you get in most restaurants but a bowlful of honesty and home.

It surprised me.

It delighted me.

It made me smile in that quiet, unexpected way food sometimes does like it remembers something about you that the world has forgotten and right there, in that noisy little restaurant filled with strangers, clattering plates and the smell of roasted ghee, I felt a tiny moment of home.

Isn’t it funny how travel does that?

You go looking for new places and sometimes, you end up finding familiar pieces of yourself instead. 💛

🥗 3. The Most Heartwarming Thali

Just when we thought the food chapter for the day was officially closed, our cab driver with that secretive smile only locals have said, “Ek jagah ka thali zaroor try karna chahiye”

And trust me, when a local recommends food with that level of confidence, you don’t argue. You just follow and thank heavens we did.

The vegetarian restaurant he took us to wasn’t fancy, wasn’t flashy and honestly, didn’t even look remarkable from the outside but the moment the thali arrived, it felt like Karnataka itself had pulled up a chair and said, “Eat. This is who we are.”

And what a beautiful introduction it was:

• Aromatic sambar – not watery, not overly spicy but that perfect balance of tang from the tamarind and warmth from the spices
• Crispy banana chips – that familiar crunch that reminds you of childhood TV-time snacks
• Rasam – thin, spicy, tangy and so comforting it felt like someone gently shaking your soul awake. And that was the moment I genuinely fell in love with it. Ever since, whenever I visit a South Indian restaurant, this is always my first order.
• Local vegetables that most metros don’t even know exist:
  • Heerekai (ridge gourd) cooked in coconut gravy
  • Southekayi (cucumber) in a mildly spiced curry
  • Avarekalu (hyacinth beans) – the superstar of Karnataka cuisine
  • Palya made with Mangalore cucumber (full of crunch and flavour)
  • Gorikayi (cluster beans) lightly sautéed
• Payasam – warm, silky, sweet in that slow, nostalgic way
• Buttery-soft rice that absorbed every flavour like a sponge of happiness

Every bite felt like a story, a story of local farms, generations of recipes, slow cooking and simple ingredients treated with love.

And as I was eating, I kept thinking, Why do big cities hide vegetables like these? Why don’t we get this freshness, this honesty, this simplicity on typical menus?

There’s something magical about southern flavour- the way coconut becomes a language, the way every dish has a purpose, a tradition, a memory.

By the time we finished the thali, I wasn’t just full, I was moved.

Something shifted inside me…a sense of gratitude, a quiet contentment, the joy of tasting a place through its flavours.

Because sometimes readers, travel isn’t about the famous landmarks.

Sometimes, it’s about a plate of food in a small local restaurant that leaves you feeling understood, nourished and unexpectedly at home 💛

🕌Chapter 3: Mysore(Where Culture Lives in Every Corner)

We reached Mysore by afternoon and honestly nothing, absolutely nothing prepared me for the gentle beauty and quiet royalty that wrapped itself around the city. You know how some places instantly make noise to announce themselves? Mysore isn’t one of them. It doesn’t demand your attention; it earns it. It whispers instead of shouting. It doesn’t overwhelm; it softly embraces you.

As we drove in, I felt as if the city was moving to its own rhythm – slow, graceful, almost meditative. Think of a classical Bharatanatyam dancer: every step controlled, every gesture intentional, every expression meaningful. That’s Mysore. There’s a certain elegance in the way it breathes of old-world charm that isn’t trying to prove anything yet leaves you feeling enriched just by being there.

And let me tell you, dear readers over the next three days, this city kept surprising me. Not with big spectacles or dramatic moments but with little things that stay with you much longer. Each day unfolded like its own painting, each stroke quiet but unforgettable.

Here’s how those next 3 days shaped themselves into memories I’ll carry for a long, long time:

🌟 Day 1: Palaces, Parks & The Poetry of Architecture

🏰 Mysore Palace – The very first sight of the Mysore Palace felt like stepping straight into a grand chapter of Indian history that you’ve only read about or imagined in childhood stories. If you visit in the late afternoon (around 3:30–4:30 PM), the palace glows in a way that almost feels cinematic. The soft golden sunlight settles on the domes giving the whole structure a quiet, regal halo.

Before you step inside, here’s something helpful I wish someone had told me:

The palace is open daily from 10:00 AM to 5:30 PM, and the entry fees are still beautifully reasonable.

• ₹120 for Indian adults
• ₹70 for children aged 10–18
• Free entry for children under 10
  (And yes, the prices already include GST.)

The moment you walk closer, you’ll notice how the architecture doesn’t just stand , it speaks. The arches, the carvings, the symmetry everything feels like a love letter to history and craftsmanship.

But it’s once you step inside that the palace truly comes alive. The stained-glass ceilings scatter colours across the marble floors almost like the palace is creating tiny rainbows just for those who notice. The carved pillars, each one more detailed than the last, feel like they were crafted with devotion, not just technique. And when you enter the Durbar Hall, there’s this strange stillness that makes you feel as though time has paused. You can almost hear the rustle of silk sarees, the echo of dignified footsteps, the soft hum of royal life that once filled these halls.

This place isn’t just another tourist spot, it’s an emotion – a gentle reminder of how artistic, layered and culturally rich India truly is and if you can plan your day well try to be around the palace at 7 PM on the days it’s illuminated. Watching thousands of lights sparkle across its entire façade is nothing short of magical. It’s free to watch, but the experience? Priceless.

That’s Mysore Palace for you.

Not just visited, felt.

A memory that stays long after you’ve walked away.

🌳 Brindavan Gardens – Evening in Mysore brought a gentle shift in mood as if the city exhaled and settled into a softer, dreamlike rhythm. By around 6:15–6:30 PM, we reached Brindavan Gardens and I promise you, it felt straight out of a movie scene.

The moment the sun dipped behind the horizon, the entire place began to glow. The sky was brushed with shades of coral and purple and the pathways lit up softly, guiding you deeper into the garden’s quiet charm. Children ran around chasing each other, couples walked slowly as if time belonged to them and families settled on benches enjoying the cool breeze floating over from the dam.

And just when the world felt perfectly still, the musical fountain show began – the real heart of Brindavan Gardens.

Water leapt, twirled and danced in perfect rhythm with the music. Blues, reds, pinks, golds – the fountains shimmered in every colour you can imagine. Watching it felt like witnessing a giant symphony of light and water come alive. It was peaceful, beautiful and unexpectedly emotional moment that makes you forget everything else and simply breathe.

Even if you’ve seen a hundred fountain shows, there’s something different here, something gentler, more nostalgic, more… Mysore.

Useful Info (for when you visit):

• Timings: 6:00 AM to 8:00 PM (daily)
• Ticket Price: ₹50 per adult, ₹30 per child (as of April 2024)
• Musical Fountain Show:
  • Weekdays: 6:30 PM to 7:30 PM
  • Weekends: 6:30 PM to 8:30 PM

If you want the full experience, reach by 6 PM, stroll a bit and then enjoy the show as the sky darkens – trust me, it feels magical.

🍛 Dinner(Mysore Thali Magic)

After soaking in that dreamy atmosphere, hunger struck again. And if you’ve been reading my journey so far, you already know: if I’m in Mysore, I’m hunting for a traditional local thali. Nothing else compares.

So around 8:00–8:30 PM, we walked into a modest little mess where the walls are plain, the tables are simple but the food… oh, the food feels like someone’s grandmother cooked it with love.

The Mysore-style vegetarian thali arrived like a warm hug:

• Piping hot chapatis that were soft enough to tear with just fingertips
• Palya made using local ingredients, sometimes avarekalu (hyacinth beans), sometimes stir-fried goru kai (cluster beans), sometimes cabbage with coconut, each tasting like comfort
• Sambar rich with local spices, full of aroma
• Rasam – tangy, spicy, soulful
• Kosambari – that refreshing lentil-cucumber mix with a hint of lime
• Curd rice, soft and soothing, the perfect end to a long day
• And a small serving of payasam, sweet, warm, and heart–melting

It wasn’t expensive, around ₹200–₹250 per person but it felt priceless.

Simple food. Honest flavors. Pure comfort.

As I wiped the last bit of sambar from my plate, I remember thinking:

This is why we travel, isn’t it. Not always for the grand palaces or the famous gardens but for moments like these warm meals, soft conversations and the feeling of belonging somewhere you’ve never been before. Those are the memories that stay.

Mysore was supposed to be just another stop on my itinerary, a simple checkmark, a place you visit because everyone says you should. One more postcard city on a long travel list I was slowly crossing off. But the moment I stepped into Mysore, something shifted. It stopped being a destination and became an experience.

A gentle reminder of why I travel at all because travel at least for me has never truly been about counting places, capturing photos or bragging rights. It has always been about something quieter, something softer that feeling of being connected.

Connected to new places, new cultures, new flavours but also connected to yourself in ways you didn’t expect and Mysore did exactly that for me. In its soft morning light, in the way the city moves calmly, in the way history breathes through its palaces and streets, I found a version of myself I had forgotten.

A version that still loves wonder, still gets excited like a child, still believes the world is full of magic, waiting patiently to be discovered.

This entire route from the familiar Pune skies I once lived under to the warm, coconut-scented Kochi breeze, from the buzzing Bangalore highways to the regal, gentle heart of Mysore gave me far more than I had imagined.

It gave me stories that still linger. Stories of roads, food, people and little moments that stitched themselves into memory.

It gave me the warmth of strangers, drivers who shared tales of films shot on the hills, restaurant servers who insisted we try “just one more item,” locals who smiled simply because warmth here comes naturally.

It gave me flavours I still crave, soft dosas that cracked perfectly, creamy payasam that tasted like festival comfort,

fresh sambar bursting with local spices and of course, that Mysore Pak that didn’t just melt in my mouth…it melted straight into my heart.

But most of all, this journey gave me gratitude.

Gratitude for my father, the man who unknowingly planted this wanderlust in me. Watching him pack bags with excitement, seeing him explore new places with shiny eyes, hearing him talk about journeys with such joy that’s where it all started.

Every trip I take now feels like a quiet tribute to him to the freedom he carried, the curiosity he lived with and the world he opened for me and gratitude for the world for always surprising me, always comforting me, always teaching me something new every time I choose to step outside my routine and say yes to a journey.

And here’s the best part?

The journey doesn’t stop here.

Day 1 was just the beginning.

So stay with me, because Day 2 in Mysore brought even more culture, colours, history and moments that deserve their own chapter.

Trust me, you don’t want to miss what Mysore revealed next.