Mysore is famous for two things: its palaces and sandalwood. Mysore Palace (pictured) is India’s second largest tourist attraction, after the Taj Mahal. It’s a relic from the era of the Maharajas, built at the turn of the 20th century, but the palace was actually built by a British architect Lord Henry Irwin.
“Miss, do you want to see how incense is made?” a small Indian boy asks as I amble through the perfumed streets of Mysore’s Devaraja Market.
Devaraja Market at dusk. This market captures the colourful soul of the city, dating back to more than 100 years in history.
The slightest indication of a nod and he skips off into the market’s labyrinthine passages. Inside the organised chaos enclosed in the 120-year-old bazaar, he leads me over lanes scattered with banana leaves, bought up in bulk to be used at weddings and feasts in place of plates; past baskets stuffed with cinnamon sticks, star anises and fragrant cardamom pods; and conical piles of coloured dye powder set out in earthenware dishes, until we arrive at a stall lined with intricate glass perfume bottles.
He sits down and scatters a powder onto the table, adding oil to mix it into a paste. I catch the waft of Mysore’s famous fragrance, sandalwood, a slow growing tree prized for its expensive oil.
He pulls out a bamboo stick and rolls the paste onto the rod, leaving a sticky strip of incense still in need of drying.
“Would you like some chai?” his older brother asks me, before he sends the boy off to on an errand to the stall nearby. “Are you looking for any oils, we have jasmine, lotus, patchouli” and begins decanting drops of intense perfumes across my wrist.
The colours of Devaraja Market – kumkum – dry, powdered dyes are sold to measure, often used for dying clothes, to make colourful mandalas with or simply to throw at each other during Holi.
“I’m looking for some sandalwood oil, do you know where I can get some?”
A cautious shadow passes over his face, and I feel like I just asked him if I wanted to buy drugs. He glances around, scanning for authoritative faces in the market as his brother comes back with a paper cup of chai, steaming with the smell of cardamom.
“I have some,” he whispers to me, “I’m not allowed to sell it. The government regulates the sale of the oil, they mark up the price, but I can sell you a small bottle.”
He pulls out a metal thermos from under the desk, twists open the cap and dabs a small drop onto an uncontaminated part of my arm. I take in a sniff – it’s the real thing.
“I’ll take a small bottle,” I say, “I’ll also take some jasmine and lotus.” He smiles and hands me a pad of sticky labels.
“Please can you write the names on here, ” he says, “I can’t read or write. Don’t write the sandalwood,” the last word is whispered.
“Your English is excellent,” I comment as I scribble the oil names, “where did you learn it?”
“Here in the market, I’ve been working here since I was 4 years old. I also speak French, German and Italian.”
Perfume bottles at the market. While the stall sold essential oils, bottles and incense, they did not actually sell any perfume, although you can leave equipped to make your own!
The market is a treasure trove, not only carrying vegetable produce, dyes, spices and scents, but you can also buy bangles and silks here.
I look at his brother, who is still smiling. He can’t be older than 12.
“My family works here, we’ve been working at the market for 100 years,” he says “we sell oil, incense and spices. Would you like to see my brother’s stall?”
I follow him through the maze again, seduced by the heady promise of precious oils, spices, incense and, more…
I’m concerned about the ethics of this piece. The sandalwood oil conflict is complex. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bengaluru/Demise-of-sandalwood/articleshow/12078008.cms
When we, as travelers, engage in forbidden purchases, we need to think about what we are doing. I know you meant no harm, but harm could have been done.
You make a valid point, and in hindsight I did question the issue once I left. When I bought the oil, I wasn’t aware of the situation when I asked about it, it was only when he told me he had to sell it under the table that I realised that was even the situation (it was the only thing my mother wanted from India, and I had to leave Mysore early in the morning so felt I had no other option). The way he made it out it just sounded like the government wanted the entire monopoly on it, putting smaller businesses out of business, but yes, it is something travellers should research before buying. It’s very easy for travellers to make a naive mistake like this. Thank you for raising the topic for discussion though, it is important to talk about this.
The situation with sandalwood only demonstrates the stupidity of government policy. It has condemned millions of farmers to poverty. I see nothing wrong in buying sandalwood oil.