A city of myths and legends

The much-contested Bangalore Palace, complete with its towers and turrets, looks like a smaller version of London's Windsor Palace.

This family is cursed," declares our 70oldyearold guide as we scoot through the first of Bangalore Palace's many, once-glorious rooms. Legend has it that the family of the Maharaja of Mysore, who moved in 1884, can only produce an heir every other generation. True to form, Maharaja Srikanta Datta Narsimharaja Wadiyar, who is in residence somewhere behind the scenes, has no heirs and there is talk that if he doesn't adopt, his palace will be confiscated by the government.

In reality though, the royals have been fighting a 40yearlong legal battle with Karnataka state for ownership of the palace. The current Maharaja is refusing to budge, and is determined to polish the property up to its once-pristine glory.

Shouldering legends and disputes aside, we roam deeper into the palace and back in time to the British Raj. Though a bit decrepit in corners still untouched by renovation, the character of this Tudor-style building shines through. It was constructed as a smaller version of Windsor Castle in England and comes complete with battlements, towers and turrets. Inside we admire neoclassical Victorian and Edwardian furniture wreathed in a century's cob¬webs, and canvases by Raja Ravi Varma (18481906), considered one of India's greatest painters. Depicted are beauties of yore - some nude, others clad in traditional garb.

The walk up the grand staircase leading to the Durbar Hall, where kings held audience, can be a bit disconcerting  especially if you hap¬pen to catch the steely eye of the elephant head mounted above you. He was a rogue tusker, explains our guide, shot by one of the maharajas a good few years back.

Upstairs, in the afternoon light spilling through the imported stained-glass windows, we pause before sepia snapshots of a different era: a maharaja enjoys a drink with one of the British governors; champagne bubbles stream in flutes held by furmantled ladies. Sadly, visitors of the present day don't find it so easy to capture the palace interior on film. Though the entrance fee is only 200 rupees (Bt140), snap-happy tourists have to pay 500 rupees for every picture they take. As for the guide, thankfully, his fee is "up to you, ma'am".

After India's Windsor Castle, we decide to go in search of the Raj era's version of London's Crystal Palace. The Glass House at the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens is usually full of visitors to its flower and horticultural shows, but our luck was out. The gleaming glass-archway entrance is roped off, though the place looks majestic - a huge bubble of golden light  against the setting sun.

 The garden was commissioned by the 18thcentury ruler of Mysore, Haider Ali, then expanded by his son Tipu Sultan. We take to the paths that meander through a square kilo¬metre of lakes, colourful flowerbeds and rare trees. Halfway through the expedition one member starts grumbling about the heat so we head towards a huddle of cold-drink vendors. The excuse for a proper rest comes when a henna-tattoo artist nearby offers to paint me a tradition¬al design. For 30 rupees she pipes the thick brown dye like icing into an intricate pattern on the back of my hand, before warning me not flap my arms about until it dries. Otherwise the design comes out too light, she says a sure predictor of a disastrous love life.

Next day, the tattoo is looking worryingly faded but romance is still on the cards. Known as Bangalore's Taj Mahal, the Vidhana Soudha is a huge white wedding cake of a building and the first stop on our itinerary. Twelve-metre granite columns buttress the entrance to Karnataka's commanding local parliament, which was built in a mishmash of styles in 1950. Though said to be the largest legislative building on the subcontinent, it apparently isn't large enough to house all the state's lawmakers. A replica was built next door for the overspill and inaugurated in 2005.

An afternoon stomping around in the Vidhana Soudha's glare had us gasping for a happy-hour cocktail, and Bangalore didn't disappoint. The neon lights and back-to-back bars and restaurants on MG and Brigade roads show why the metropolis was nicknamed city of pubs.

Sadly, that tag was torn away by the lawmakers in the Vidhana Soudha, who locals now dub the Ministry of Righteousness. Thanks to them, drinkers are politely shown the door at 11.30pm on the dot.

But things weren't that bad. Supping superbly cheap drinks, we combined our bar hopping with bar¬gain hunting though the real deals are found on Commercial Street nearby.

Despite the fact that Bangalore is one of India's more modern cities, public transport can be quite a gamble. Yes, there are taxis, but most don't have meters, which makes it difficult to tell whether you're being taken for a ride in the wrong sense.

Those not brave enough to wrestle the hoards onboard the public buses at rush hour still have the option of the metered tuk tuks, an easier if less healthy choice. Traffic in Bangalore takes me back to Bangkok in the '90s - buses, cars and trucks sitting bumper to bumper in a com¬petition to see who can belch the blackest fumes. However, hope is in sight - the city will have a subway system by the end of 2011. Residents are holding their breath in anticipation  literally.

There are a few other culture shocks, too. India's love affair with redtape stretches to Bangalore, where supermarket shopping becomes a game of hunt-the-coupon-counter, and checking out at the airport involves an endless round of tagging, body scans and form-filling. Be sure you leave plenty of time if you want to make that plane.

Yet, despite the jam of traffic and redtape, the pollution and the odd buffalo or camel roaming the streets, Bangalore doesn't have the heart-wrenching poverty you see elsewhere in India. We didn't catch sight of any Slumdog Millionaires or their homes. Bangalore is, after all, the Silicon Valley of India as well as the world's outsourcing Mecca.

If you go…

Getting there: Air India codeshares with Thai Airways for daily flights to Bangalore  the cheapest option.

Where to stay: VSL Grand serviced apartments (www.VSLGrand.com) offers one-bed-room suites for 3,500 rupees (Bt2,550) and two-bed-room suites for 5,000 rupees per night.

What to bring: Mosquito repellent and a cardigan. Nights get chilly in the first three months of the year.

Where to eat: Good international restaurants abound, but don't miss the Retro for fish and chips and dazzling decor.