It was a Sunday morning. It was Vijayadashami, too. My cousin, a running enthusiast, and I headed for the Kukkarahalli Lake. The lake is just off the University of Mysore's PG campus, Manasagangotri. He was keen to run a few laps, and I to visit the place.
The course that curves round the lake has long been the choice of daily walkers, the most famous of whom must have been the Poet Laureate Kuvempu. I can only wonder if the lake was among his many sources of inspiration. It, nevertheless, must be a part of any map highlighting sites that had a place in Kuvempu's heart.
The lake continues to perpetuate its celebrity, at least among Mysoreans, by regularly flooding the newspapers: be it the appearance of crocodiles ashore, the migratory birds' giving their seasonal sojourn here a miss, or the stench that swathes portions of the lake, into which untreated sewage has been perennially pumped in.
Be that as it may, my priorities were different. I was hoping to catch the sun bedazzling the water on his ascent to the zenith. Also, since the disappearance of the sparrows, apart from crows that cry hoarse and ensure heads don't turn, and pigeons that are domesticated, yet don't have a collar, I have not spotted any other birds flitting or flying around. So, I thought I might amuse myself with a 'find', though a mention of bird-watching, even in its most embryonic form, as one of my hobbies would be ludicrous at best. The allure of feeling, and possibly shivering a bit, in the breeze that gathers a chill as it crosses the lake, too, was on my list; I had had brief encounters with the breeze when I had taken the road that is a few metres away from the lake and runs along a side of it.
Anyway, as my cousin set about on his run, I began my saunter. A few yards in, I came across a trio engaged in earnest discussion. Well, truth be told, one of them seemed stuck in a crosstalk. The topic was such; a discourse on how food is basically subsistence and, occasionally and incidentally, to be savoured. The bitter gourd was being promoted. I believe that the guys intended to be on a brisk walk, but their talk was causing them to slacken. Over the next few yards, Mr.Bitter-for-better denounced starchy food including the tubers: yam, beetroot, sweet potato, and finally potatoes. As I passed them, I couldn't help but think that the french fries would be a little less expensive if Mr.Bitter-for-better's kind were to rapidly rise in number.
On my way to the gate that opens to road leading to Kalamandira, and is across from the Ramaswamy walk, I could see withered flowers. The flower show had come and gone. The colourful blooms must have enjoyed the attention from the passers-by, though the bees might have favored the fragrant ones, unless the straining stingers, too, had shunned their sweets! I turned left before I got to the gate to continue my lap. The lake's bank, right behind the Kalamandira, has much more tree cover, and concomitantly one learns that the birds haven't abandoned the tweets entirely to the humans. At least, not yet. I got to see a couple of rickety, and mostly forsaken, boats as well.
The sun popped into view as I strolled further into a tract that was tree-less, and I saw a bunch ebulliently gazing East. I wanted to get closer to the water to watch it glisten, and going past the gazers, I overheard one more lecture: Sun, the source of vitamin D. When I neared the water, I could see an islet in the middle of the lake. Trees on the islet had a huge gaggle of birds - I had no clue as to their species - perched on them. For once, I really rued not having a camera with substantial optical zoom.
Walking further, I could see the gate that opens to the Manasagangotri. Again, I turned before reaching the gate to complete the circuit. Back at the starting point, after a well-spent forty odd minutes, I made to leave, but was drawn by the sight of the health-conscious taking swigs of juice, obtained by crushing a select combination of salubrious leaves and herbs. The cocktails had also been classified as per the conditions they were known to assuage.
On the way home, I wondered if it would be a viable idea to set up an enterprise that manufactures capsules having calculated amounts of the 'right' stuff. The valetudinarians could monitor their diet with much lesser diligence. All they'd have to do is swallow the prescribed combination of capsules. Taste would be out of the equation, too. Now, if you were in the mood for a lark, would the idea tempt you to be a VC?
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