One day I went down to The Maharaja Palace in Mysore. I had seen it from outside during one of my first days, now it was time to walk through the rooms, feel the atmosphere of old times. When I came there I was not allowed to bring my camera, my third eye. "How can I then remember?" I said to myself. Of course I could remember, of course I could "shoot photos". Vinay waited outside, looking after my camera, while I walked through the palace with open eyes, open mind, a moleskin and a pen:
I am inside the Maharaja Palace, while Vinay is waiting outside with my camera. As a matter of fact I find it quite okay that I am not allowed to bring my camera, then I use my eyes better. I am inside the octogon, marble floors in tourquise, orange, blue, green, brown and maroon, an eightpointed star in the middle, peacocks and mandalas. Fantastic pillars painted in tourquise, an amazing candelabre, glass mosaics up in the dome, with among other things eight dominating peacocks in blue, tourquise, green, brown and yellow.
Fantastic to walk barefeet on the marble mosaic floor. Historical murials along the walls.
Massive, dark wooden doors, 16 rose panels in each door, I can't stop my fingers to cherish the wood and the fantastic carvings along the frames. The tourquise pillars give an illusion of somewhere under the sea. Is this Atlantis?
I am in the room of the throne, the roof is made of the most fantastic wooden panels. Between the two throne chairs there is a painting of a maharaja riding a camel. The frame is made by ivories, huge! There must be four of them put together. The painting is standing on a teak chest decorated with carved elephants.
Up and down marbled stairs, windows made of coloured stained glass, remarcable plasters decorate the roof. I am on the first floor, marble floor, flagstones, tourquise is again the dominant colour, paintings in the arcs of women with eight arms, with four arms, maharajas, the most remarcable, intricat wooden panels and frames.Open arcs out to the courtyard. Tribunes. Seven candelabres hanging down from the roof. This must be the most fantastic I have ever seen. Room after room. Now I am in a kind of ballroom where the tourquise pillars have got golden painings. Quite another effect. More candelabres, even more beautiful. Peacock after peacock on the roof. A gallery in gold up under the roof. The windows along the gallery is painted in purple and tourquise, with golden frames with birds, feathers and flowers. Golden angels, or are they birds with human faces?
Again and again people come to look over my shoulder, wondering what this strange white lady is doing with a notebook and a pen. A guard is coming and my heart makes an extra jump, "Am I not allowed to write in here?" "Where are you from?" he asks, and wants to show me around. "Look at these ivory door knobs, ivory is the most expensive wood there is! Have you seen this massive silver door?" After a while he asks about the money in Norway and then he wants me to give him some. I just smile and shake my head: "Sorry, I don't have any Norwegian money here, but thanks for the guiding."
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The writing is translated from my travel notebook where I write in Norwegian. Oh my gosh, it is so difficult to translate. When I write in English, when I speak in English I also think in English. Translation from Norwegian words is quite another thing. I even had to use my dictionary!
