I'm beginning to see the light

The Devaraj market in downtown Mysore is government run. I don't know what that might mean in terms of the tourist trap factor, the merchants and patrons all seem very local. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just wanted to see what there was to see. The God King (deva-raj) did not disappoint. I came upon scented oils and figured I might as well pick them up for making the lotion I use at the end of yoga class. The young shopkeep, Maqbool, kept taking the glass tops off the bottles and waving the stoppers in my direction, blowing the scent into my face. Ick, but still I was charmed. As I was wrapping up my purchase a man comes along with what looked like a lump of brown sugar in a paper bag. "Take, take," he says. "My father," Maqbool tells me. "We're celebrating because my cousin just graduated in engineering." He points to a grinning kid in the shop next door (which sold tiffins and spoons and other stainless steel bits and bobs). "Now he must wait for a job," he adds. I wanted to refuse the disgusting-looking snack, but they so just wanted to share their happiness. "Just a little," I say, taking a pinch. "MysorePak," dad says. As desserts go, this thing was frakkin' AWESOME. "More please?"