The Ascent to Chamundi Hills

We began before Mysore even opened its eyes, the streets still wrapped in silence that feels almost sacred. The lamps were still glowing faintly, the air carried that cool, untouched freshness of early morning and the sky… it was just starting to blush with the gentlest shade of pink as if dawn itself was stretching awake.

As we started the slow, winding drive up to Chamundi Hills, something shifted. The noise of the world faded behind us and nature took over little by little. The road curved like a quiet invitation, the trees stood tall like sleepy guardians and the air – crisp, clean, almost sweet woke you up in the softest way possible. Not the jolt of an alarm but a wake-up call that feels like someone whispering, “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be”

With every turn, the city lights below dimmed not because they switched off, but because the hills were gently pulling us into their calm. And if you’ve ever watched a city transition from night to day, you’ll understand this feeling – that subtle pause in the universe. The in-between moment where the world hasn’t fully chosen whether it wants to sleep a little longer or begin again.

It’s almost as if the entire city takes one long, deep breath and without meaning to, you breathe with it.

🕉️ Chamundeshwari Temple(A Morning of Stillness)

By the time we reached the temple, the sun had finally risen high enough to crown the hills with light. The gopuram stood there in all its quiet majesty, wrapped in a soft, golden halo that made it look almost unreal like something carved out of morning sunlight itself. For a second, you just stand there trying to take in the way the temple glows against the sky, and you realize… this isn’t just a place of worship; it’s an experience waiting to unfold.

And the moment you step inside, something shifts within you. It’s instinctive, you automatically slow down. Not because anyone asks you to but because the space asks for it without speaking.

The rhythmic chants float through the air like a gentle pulse, steady and soothing. The scent of incense lingers softly, curling around the pillars and drifting into the corridors, carrying with it a sense of comfort, of familiarity, of something ancient. And then there’s the cool stone beneath your feet – grounding, calming, almost reminding you to stay present, to feel the moment instead of rushing through it.

Everything here moves at its own pace.

So you don’t really “walk” inside this temple, you flow. You move with the chants, with the fragrance, with the stillness that wraps itself around you.

And for those few minutes, time behaves differently.

It stretches… slows… gently pauses.

The world outside feels distant, almost forgotten, as if someone pressed a soft mute button on life.

It’s just you, the temple, the morning light and a quiet sense of peace you didn’t even know you were craving.

🌄 The View (Mysore, Wrapped in Gold)

If you ever visit, promise me something, don’t skip the viewpoint.

So many people rush through the temple and leave, but this… this is the part that stays with you long after the trip ends.

After visiting the Chamundeshwari Temple (one of the 18 Maha Shaktipeeths) where Maa Chamundi is worshipped as the fierce form of Durga who defeated Mahishasura, make your way to the viewpoint.

Entry is free and the temple darshan ticket usually costs around ₹30 for general and ₹100–₹300 for special darshan (varies slightly by day & crowd).

And trust me, it’s worth every step.

Because standing there, watching Mysore stretch out quietly below you is an experience words can only try to describe. The city looks almost shy in the early morning light – softened, slowed, wrapped in a gentle layer of gold. The rooftops shimmer faintly, the roads look like thin silver lines and tiny patches of mist hover above the trees. It feels like someone has pressed pause on the world just for you and here’s the magic, you don’t plan to breathe deeply but you do.

It just happens.

A long, instinctive breath that goes beyond your lungs settling somewhere deep inside where peace likes to hide.

It’s the kind of breath that makes you realize how heavy you’ve been feeling without acknowledging it and how light a single moment can make you.

Up there, the noise in your head dims, the to-do lists fade, the rush of life loses its urgency.

All that remains is this quiet reminder: This is why we travel.

To feel small in a beautiful way, to see a city from above and understand it differently, to let silence speak what words cannot and to stand still long enough to remember who we are under all the layers of routine.

If you let it, this viewpoint will give you more than a picture, it will give you a moment.

A real one.

One you’ll carry home with you long after the sun has climbed higher and the world has returned to its usual noise.

🧺 Devaraja Market

No visit to Mysore is complete without stepping into Devaraja Market and trust me, the moment you walk in, it feels like the whole city greets you with a burst of colour, fragrance and life. If Mysore had a heartbeat, it would sound exactly like this market.

Every corner felt alive, overflowing with energy and stories:

💐 Towering heaps of marigolds – bright orange and yellow, stacked so high you wonder how they never topple.

🍇 Fruit stalls glowing with freshness – guavas sliced on the spot, tiny hill bananas, ruby-red pomegranates, custard apples that look like nature’s artwork… all fresh from nearby farms.

🥬 Fresh fruits and vegetables, raw flowers and herbs – straight from local fields with zero cold storage. Their colours, their crispness, their fragrance… you can literally feel the farm in every basket.

🌿 Aromatic South Indian spices – cardamom, black pepper, cinnamon, dry red chillies… each carrying the warmth of a traditional Karnataka kitchen.

🔮 Rangoli powders arranged like handmade rainbows on the floor, so perfectly symmetrical you almost don’t want to disturb them.

🧼 Mysuru sandal soaps stacked like tiny golden-brown treasures, each bar smelling like nostalgia and childhood memories.

🪔 Incense sticks & essential oils – jasmine, sandalwood, rose, vettiver… fragrances that wrap around you like a soft hug.

☕ Fresh coffee beans that unmistakable South Indian aroma pulling you in from metres away.

🌸 Flower garlands – jasmine, roses, marigolds threaded by hands that move faster than your eyes can follow.

Every few steps, someone smiled, someone called out, someone offered you a sample. It didn’t feel like a market, it felt like a sensory festival. Colours, Sounds, Fragrances, all swirling together in a kind of perfect chaos that somehow feels beautifully organised.

And then came the best part…

🍲 The Food Trail

Mysore doesn’t just feed you, it spoils you. The flavours are simple, honest, and made with the kind of love that feels homemade:

• Maddur Vada – crisp on the outside, soft inside with onions that add the perfect sweetness.

• Ragi Mudde – humble, earthy, comforting  that tells you stories of Karnataka homes.

• Mysore Pak – the showstopper. Melt-in-the-mouth, golden, buttery like a cloud made of ghee.

But Mysore didn’t stop there. We tried more local gems, each with its own charm:

🥞 Thatte Idli – large, soft and fluffy almost like eating a warm cloud.

🫓 Benne Dosa – Mysore’s pride, drenched in butter and crisped to perfection.

🍛 Bisibele Bath – a warm hug in the form of rice and lentils, rich with ghee and spices.

🥘 Vangi Bath – the fragrant brinjal rice that surprised me with its depth of flavours.

🍛 Puliyogare – tangy tamarind rice with crunchy peanuts, a temple-style favourite.

🥟 Kadubu – soft dumplings stuffed with coconut jaggery goodness.

☕ Filter Coffee – strong, frothy, aromatic that wakes not just your eyes but your heart.

Every bite felt like discovering something familiar yet new – flavours that comfort, flavours that surprise, flavours that tell you exactly why this city is known for its culinary soul.

By the end of the day, we weren’t just full, we were fulfilled because food in India isn’t just food, it’s culture, warmth and a quiet reminder that some of the best experiences are the simplest ones.

And just like that, our Day 2 came to an end – calm, comforting and filled with beautiful memories that stay with you long after the day is over. If you were right there with me, you’d feel it too… that quiet happiness settling in, almost like Mysuru whispering, “There’s more waiting for you tomorrow.”

And honestly? That’s exactly what made me fall asleep with a little smile, the excitement of waking up to Day 3 and seeing what new stories this beautiful city was ready to unfold for us. Stay with me… the journey only gets better from here.

🌺 Day 3: Lakes, Museums & Farewell Feasts

🌊 Karanji Lake & Zoo

We began our morning on the softest, quietest note that gently settles on you before the day even realizes it has begun.

Karanji Lake welcomed us like an old friend. The water lay still, shining like a sheet of polished glass, reflecting the sky so perfectly that for a moment, it felt as if the world had paused just to breathe. If you’ve ever craved a moment of uninterrupted calm, this is the place that doesn’t demand anything from you, it just lets you be.

As we walked along the pathway, birds called out from the treetops in different melodies, each one adding to nature’s own morning playlist. Butterflies fluttered around lazily, dipping between flowers as if painting the air with their colours. Even the breeze was gentle, carrying hints of water, earth and something sweet you can’t quite name.

It’s funny how some places remind you that silence isn’t the absence of sound, it’s a different kind of music.

Right next to the lake, the Mysore Zoo turned out to be such a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting much but it was incredibly clean, green and thoughtfully maintained. Wide walking paths, tall shady trees and open enclosures that made everything feel spacious and inviting. It didn’t feel rushed or crowded – just a slow, beautiful continuation of the peaceful morning we had started with.

If you’re someone who loves gentle beginnings, where nature sets the tone and time seems to slow down, this little pocket of Mysore will feel like a gift.

Right after the stillness of Karanji Lake, the zoo felt like stepping into a different kind of calm that was alive, breathing and quietly full of wonder.

I’ll be honest, most zoos feel hectic but Mysore Zoo? It felt almost like a nature walk with animals casually joining in. The first thing you notice is how green everything is, tall trees forming a natural canopy, leafy trails curving gently, sunlight filtering through in soft patches. It didn’t smell like a typical zoo; it smelled like a forest after rain.

As we wandered deeper, the animals began to appear almost like characters in their own stories.

🦒 The giraffes were the first to steal my heart – tall, elegant and moving with a grace that didn’t match their height. One of them bent down slowly, looked at us with those big, curious eyes and for a second it felt like it was trying to say something.

🐅 The tigers were majestic. One was resting in the shade, tail flicking lazily while another paced with that powerful, quiet confidence only big cats have. Watching a tiger walk is like watching strength in slow motion.

🐘 The elephants were a scene of their own, gentle giants swaying and flapping their ears, throwing dust over their backs like a daily ritual. There was a baby elephant too, trying to imitate the older one and adorably failing.

🦜 The bird enclosures felt like stepping into a burst of colour. Parrots screeched playfully, hornbills hopped with their oversized beaks and peacocks strutted around as if they owned the place which, honestly, they probably do.

🦓 The zebras stood in perfect contrast, their stripes looking almost painted, while the deer moved around in small herds, heads popping up every time a leaf rustled.

🦁 And somewhere in the distance, we heard the low rumble of a lion, not a roar just a deep, echoing call that made the entire place feel wild for a moment.

What I loved the most was how unhurried everything felt. No pushing crowds, no loud voices, just families strolling, kids pointing excitedly and the soft rustle of leaves above. The zoo wasn’t just about seeing animals; it felt like watching them live a life that was almost peaceful.

If you ever visit Mysore, don’t rush through this place. Walk slowly, breathe deeply and let the animals set the pace. They have a way of reminding you that wonder doesn’t always come loudly, sometimes it arrives quietly, one pawstep at a time.

🖼️ Jaganmohan Palace Art Gallery

This gallery… honestly, it felt like stumbling upon a quiet treasure chest in the middle of the city.

You know those places you enter without expectations and then suddenly you’re standing still, blinking slowly, because something inside you shifts? That’s what the gallery did.

The moment I walked in, the cool air and the soft echo of footsteps set the tone. The halls weren’t crowded, which made it feel even more intimate like the art was whispering instead of speaking.

🖼️ Raja Ravi Varma’s masterpieces were the first to pull me in. His paintings aren’t just art; they’re stories, lush saris, expressive eyes, mythological scenes captured with such detail that you almost hear the anklets, feel the emotions. Stand long enough in front of one, and you’ll forget the world for a moment.

🎨 The old murals were another journey altogether. Faded, ancient, yet full of character. They carried the weight of time, the craftsmanship of hands long gone and that unmistakable Mysore touch – elegant, intricate, royal.

👑 The pieces depicting Mysore’s royal legacy felt like stepping into a palace without actually being in one. Gold-tinged borders, traditional motifs, portraits of kings and queens who ruled not just with power but with a sense of cultural pride. You don’t simply look at them, you absorb them.

Every corner of the gallery felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. Some sections were vibrant and full of life, others quiet and contemplative. And if you pause long enough, you’ll notice something beautiful: art has a way of reflecting you back to yourself.

It wasn’t just an art gallery; it was a space that made you think, feel and remember parts of yourself you didn’t know were waiting.

If you ever visit, slow down. Let the silence guide you. Let each painting pull you into its world. Because sometimes, the most spiritual moments aren’t found in temples, they’re found in the stillness between brushstrokes.

🍽️ Final Mysore Lunch

This gallery… honestly, it felt like stumbling upon a quiet treasure chest in the middle of the city that doesn’t shine loudly from the outside but the moment you step in, you know you’ve found something rare.

You know those places you enter without expectations, maybe even casually, and then suddenly you find yourself standing still, blinking slowly, because a painting or a colour or a story hits you in a place you didn’t expect?

That’s exactly what this gallery did.

The moment I walked in, the air changed – a cool hush, a soft echo of footsteps against high ceilings that gentle museum-lighting that makes everything feel softer and more thoughtful. And because it wasn’t crowded (thankfully!), it felt even more intimate. Almost like the art wasn’t performing for an audience, it was speaking directly to you, in low, quiet whispers.

🖼️ Raja Ravi Varma’s masterpieces were the first to stop me in my tracks. His works don’t just hang on walls, they breathe.

The folds of the sarees, the glint in the eyes, the mythological grace – every brushstroke carries emotion. You stand there long enough and you begin to hear things… the imagined rustle of silk, the faint jingle of anklets, the unspoken stories behind those regal expressions. It pulls you in so deeply that the world outside fades away.

🎨 Then came the older murals, each one a time capsule. Some colours had faded, some lines had softened but that only made them more powerful. They felt like history preserved in pigment, stories painted by hands that lived centuries ago, hands that knew devotion, discipline and unparalleled artistry. The Mysore influence was unmistakable: elegant, detailed, proud but never loud.

👑 The royal collection was another world entirely. Portraits of kings and queens, ornate frames, traditional motifs that echoed the splendour of Mysore’s palaces. It all felt so immersive. You don’t just look at royalty here, you feel the weight of heritage, the quiet authority, the grace that defined an era.

It’s like walking through corridors of a palace, without physically being in one.

Every corner of the gallery felt alive in its own way. Some rooms buzzed with colour and vibrancy while others invited you to slow down, breathe and simply be. And here’s the thing, if you let yourself pause long enough, you’ll notice something profound: art doesn’t just show you its world, it often mirrors something from yours.

This wasn’t just an art gallery visit.

It was a soft, unexpected moment of introspection that wraps around you gently and follows you long after you leave.

If you ever visit, promise me this: don’t rush.

Walk slowly. Let the silence settle. Let a painting stop you. Let a colour speak to you.

Because sometimes, the most spiritual moments aren’t found in temples or hilltops…

they’re found in the quiet conversation between you and a single brushstroke.

🌿 Leaving Mysuru: A Beautiful Farewell with A Sudden Twist

Every journey has a moment that sits quietly at the back of your mind, waiting to reveal itself much later. For us, that moment came right when we thought the Mysuru chapter was closing gently.

After days filled with temples, lakes, art galleries, food trails and that warm Mysuru calm, it was finally time to say goodbye.

You know that bittersweet feeling when you’re leaving a city that grew on you slowly? That’s exactly what was happening. Mysuru felt familiar by now – the soft mornings, the polite crowd, the old-world charm.

But the road ahead had its own story waiting.

🚘 Onwards to Ooty… or so we thought

Our next destination was Ooty, the Queen of Hills – misty roads, eucalyptus air, winding slopes, all of it.

We packed our bags, loaded everything into the car and started the journey with that typical road-trip excitement. The kind where you have a playlist ready, snacks within reach and conversation flowing freely.

But just as we neared the Karnataka–Tamil Nadu border, something felt… different.

Police presence.

Barricades.

Crowds gathered in patches.

A strange tension in the air.

At first, we thought it was regular checking and nothing unusual. But within minutes, we realised the situation was far bigger than that.

🔥 A Border Blocked, A Situation We Never Expected

Because of the river water dispute that year, protests had escalated to a point where no vehicle with a Karnataka number plate was allowed to cross into Tamil Nadu.

Nothing. Not even small family cars.

And the shocking part?

Locals on the Tamil Nadu side were throwing fire bottles at Karnataka vehicles attempting to pass. Hearing it was one thing. But witnessing it this closely? It shakes me that I can’t fully explain.

Our driver turned back, uneasy.

People around us were panicked, confused, angry, tired.

Families stranded with luggage.

Travellers arguing with police.

Kids crying.

Everyone stuck in a moment they didn’t sign up for.

👮 Waiting at the Border Police Booth

We ended up sitting at the border police booth, waiting – unsure, watching, absorbing everything.

It was surreal.

You don’t expect to experience something like this on a holiday.

You don’t expect to sit at a state border, watching protest fumes rise and hearing police discuss routes like it’s a warzone update.

And that’s when it really hit me:

As tourists we come, enjoy, take pictures and leave.

But the people who live here… they deal with the consequences every single day.

The inconvenience to common people was heartbreaking –

Daily workers unable to cross,

Farmers stranded,

Drivers losing income,

Families separated,

Travellers confused and scared.

You realise how fragile “normal” life actually is.

🚗 The Unexpected Switch

After almost an hour of uncertainty, a local officer told us:

“You can go… but only if you switch to a Tamil Nadu–registered car.”

It felt like a scene out of a film.

We unloaded all our luggage right there on the roadside and a local car was arranged – a vehicle we had never seen, a driver we had never met, in a place we didn’t fully understand.

But we trusted the process.

What else could we do?

It was either adapt or go back.

As we shifted our bags into the new car, a strange mix of relief and nervousness washed over us. The border behind us was roaring with tension; ahead was the silent forest road towards Ooty.

For the first time on this trip, adventure didn’t feel romantic – it felt real, raw, unpredictable.

🌫️ Moving Forward

Once we crossed into Tamil Nadu territory safely, the road softened again. Forest canopies opened up. The air cooled down. Silence returned.

But the experience stayed with us – a powerful reminder that travel isn’t always smooth and pretty.

Sometimes, it shows you the fractures, the emotions, the unrest, the reality behind the postcard.

And honestly?

That’s what makes journeys unforgettable – the parts you never planned, never expected but somehow, they shape the story.

Next stop: Ooty – with a little more gratitude, a little more awareness and a story we didn’t even know we were collecting.