I didn’t think I would write https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mysore about this. It felt too ordinary at the time, but the longer I sit with it, the more I realize this is where something quietly shifted, even if we didn’t notice it. So, welcome to “Those Extra Days In May : We Were Only Escaping Our Routine”.

Looking back, I realize how little we expected from that time. We framed it as a break, a reset, a simple escape from routine. We didn’t consider that even unremarkable days can carry weight long after they’re over.

To know the deets of long weekend archives in Toronto, click on Toronto Adventures : Memorial Long Weekend Blues – Wander, Feast & Thrive

We Were Only Escaping Our Routine : Those Extra Days In May

It was May 2017. We boarded the Shatabdi Express from Chennai, assuming the journey itself would take care of us. Since lunch was part of the route till Mysore, we didn’t carry anything extra. By the time the food arrived, we realized how little planning we had actually done. It wasn’t enough, but we ate it anyway, more out of acceptance than hunger.

The train left Chennai Central at six in the morning and reached Mysuru around one in the afternoon. Seven hours passed through familiar stops — Katpadi, Bengaluru — nothing remarkable, nothing forgotten. We checked into the hotel by 1:34 pm, rested for a while, and got ready to step out again, thinking the evening would hold something gentler.

We headed towards Brindavan Gardens, but the rain had already decided otherwise. By the time we reached, it was dark, wet, and uninviting. The gardens were there — expansive, structured, known for symmetry and sound — but none of it reached us that evening. We stood there briefly, aware that this visit would remain incomplete, and left without trying to fix it.

The next morning began with the Mysore Palace. Inside, everything slowed down. Silence felt enforced rather than requested. Shoes were left behind, voices lowered, movement became cautious. The palace unfolded room by room — the Durbar Hall, the wedding mantap, the private audience spaces — all heavy with detail and restraint. Gold, glass, murals, portraits. No photographs. Only memory, imperfect and already fading even while we were still there.

Traveled To Srirangapattana : We Were Only Escaping Our Routine

After lunch, we travelled to Srirangapattana. This was something we had wanted for a long time. The Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple stood older than our expectations, older than the effort it took to get there. Being inside felt grounding in a way that didn’t need explanation. We stayed quietly, aware of the weight of time, feeling fortunate without trying to name it too clearly.

From there, we visited Tipu Sultan’s Summer Palace. The structure carried history without asking us to engage deeply with it. Built centuries ago, completed over years of rule and resistance, it stood calm and preserved. We walked through, observed, and moved on, not lingering longer than necessary.

By evening, we returned to the hotel. The day had filled itself without urgency. The next morning, we packed and travelled back to Chennai. Nothing dramatic marked the end. It concluded the same way it began — quietly, leaving behind a memory that didn’t announce its importance at the time.

We cherished the trip deep within us, embracing it in the most profound silence. Nothing shouted for attention, nothing insisted on being relived. The days lingered in our memories, vibrant in their simplicity, stripped of embellishments and free from expectations. That, indeed, was everything we needed.