By Dr. K. Javeed Nayeem, MD
We have two major water bodies, the Kukkarahalli Lake and the Karanji Tank in what can now justifiably be called the heart of our city. These lakes, once on the outskirts of the city, were created by our erstwhile Maharajas to raise the water table and feed the numerous wells that abounded in the city that lay in-between. Open wells were the only source of water for the inhabitants of the city before the KRS Dam was built, particularly with the failure of the nine-mile-long Dewan Poornaiah Canal that passed through the heart of the city. Why the canal failed to do what it was meant to do is not very clear. We still see many wells existing in the many old houses that have managed to exist this far despite the rapid makeover that our city is going through of late. It may be a little surprising to note that a few of them are still continuing to serve their owners, especially during the times when piped water supply gets disrupted. Another magnificent lake, the Doddakere, that once superbly reflected the image of our Palace was drained and dried up in the early forties to thwart the frequent flare-ups of Malaria that tormented the inhabitants of the city. Most old paintings of our Palace by the great masters from the yesteryears depict the royal edifice with this lake in the foreground. The photograph that I have included here is taken from the book ‘Mysore’ by Constance Parsons published in the thirties. The Stately gopuram-like gate that once regulated the outflow of water from this lake can still be seen standing in all its majesty in what is now called the ‘Gopuram Park’ at the Southern end of the sprawling lake bed that has now become the Doddakere football ground, the Dasara Exhibition Ground and the impromptu vegetable market, in that order. Until not very long ago, at its four corners, this very ornate water gate had beautifully sculpted, free hanging stone rings that I used to admire as a child and now miss as a middle-aged man, thanks to the vandalism of a generation that has separated these two periods of my life. Kukkarahalli and Karanji too are the two unimaginably beautiful spots where I have spent many moments in solitude, musing over the far-sightedness and good aesthetic sense of people from the past. Now when I pass by them it is never without a sense of regret over what fate has befallen them, thanks to the absence of these two very same qualities in people from the present!
