Mysore is a bustling city in the state of Karnataka, south west India. I arrived here after a 4 day road trip to some random place in India with a hot guy I bought an ankle bracelet from. The first thing I did after checking into my surprisingly nice hotel was grab my camera and wonder about the huge market taking photos of all the beautiful sights.
Mysore was a thriving city and the market was overflowing with fruit, vegetables, incense… there were vibrant colors and utter chaos everywhere I turned. I loved it and wanted to take photos of EVERYTHING!
I was so hungry after all my aimless wondering about the place that I shacked up in a cafe and gorged myself on fried veg rice, butter naan, salad, fruit and grape juice. Here I got chatting to a couple from Brighton, a place I know very well in the UK and we went to see Mysore Palace together at night with all the lights on. It was enchanting and reminded me of a fairy castle. Unfortunately I got a bit lost on my way back to the hotel due to having to dodge so many large cows.
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Day Two In Mysore
The next day I took a rickshaw to Chamundi Hill which is about 13km east of Mysore. I visited temples and then my rickshaw driver who kindly waited for me at the temples took me to a silk emporium and a sandalwood factory. It was actually really interesting and I enjoyed myself.
Later that day I was wondering around Mysore by myself again, just taking in the sights. It wasn’t a very touristy part of the city and I did notice that the people weren’t quite as friendly as they had been in other more touristy areas. I was enjoying exploring so much though that I didn’t pay much attention to the bad vibes or think too much of it.
Then I Got Beat Up 🙁
As I was walking down a very busy road, people were everywhere as it was the middle of the day, an Indian man who I think had been following me walked towards me and as he passed me stuck his arm straight out and kind of whacked my chest. It didn’t hurt but it was weird and it annoyed me. I ignored him and kept walking but then realized I needed to turn back and head the way I came. He was standing on the corner at this point and as I was walking towards him I was getting more and more angry thinking about what he just did.
This is where I totally screw up and everything that happens now is completely my own fault. As I passed him I gave him my middle finger and yelled in his face that if he touched me again I’d break his f**king neck. As a 5’3 (ok ok 5’2) skinny-minnie I have had to work on my anger issues for my own self-preservation. Within seconds he’d yanked my face towards his for a kiss, I pushed him away and then he pulled me to the ground by my hair. I was punching and clawing at his face at this point (and I was also kind of confused like why am I on the ground right now) but he would not loosen his tight grip on my hair (both fists wrapped up in it right up to my scalp what can ya do?) and he would not get off me… he was like a rabid dog. A huge crowd of about 40 locals gathered around and although they did get him off me eventually it felt like it took them way too long to do so. But why should they help me at all?
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What really shocked me
What really shocked me is what happened next. So I get up off the floor and dust myself off. The crazy guy has disappeared into the crowd and everyone’s going about their business again. There’s a whole line of rickshaws 2 feet away from me which is handy. I jump in the closest one. In India rickshaw drivers practically beg you to get in so they can take you somewhere and make some money. There are rickshaws everywhere, you never need to wait for a rickshaw. I’m so mad at this point (and shaken up) and I want to go to a police station and make this f**ker pay. I also realize while sitting in the rickshaw waiting to leave that he must have bitten me because I have his teeth marks (a full set) imprinted in my left wrist, he was about 1 layer of skin away from drawing blood.
Anyway, after a few minutes I realize that there’s no rickshaw driver, or maybe he got out at some point and I jump into the next one but that rickshaw drivers not there either. This is weird. Then it dawns on me that they all witnessed the scuffle and didn’t want to take me. In a line of about 7 rickshaws in the middle of the day there wasn’t one driver about.
I eventually got to the police station. They played at trying to look like they were taking me seriously and we drove around for a while trying to find him. I’d forgotten what he looked like at that point anyway and just wanted to leave. Turns out he was a local drunk, everybody knew him and although I doubt he was particularly respected it’s understandable where their loyalty lies.
See You Later Mysore (or maybe not)!
I was so disgusted with what I’d just experienced, all of which was entirely my own fault, that I didn’t want to spend another second in Mysore. I checked out of my hotel that night and got an overnight bus towards Hampi. It was a long, cold and bumpy 10 hour journey, not only did my butt get beat in Mysore it was now getting beat on a crappy overnight bus. I guess this was my karma for being a total d*ckhead. Sigh.
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