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Sundays used to mean sleeping in and scrolling Instagram for hours. Here, they’ve become sacred.A typical Mysore Sunday for me? Oil massage in the morning (hello, abhyanga!), a long slow yoga practice, fresh coconut water on the terrace, and evenings making homemade face masks with ingredients from the farmers’ market.Self-care isn’t about fancy bath bombs […]

Before moving to Mysore, my mornings were… let’s just say, less than magical. Snooze buttons, cold coffee, hurried emails. But something about this city — its slow sunrise, the scent of fresh jasmine in the air — whispered for a softer start.Now, my mornings begin barefoot, with warm lemon water, soft stretches on my balcony,

Share a simple, minimalist skincare routine perfect for travelers, yoga students, and anyone living in a warm place like Mysore. Focus on a few multi-use products (like aloe vera, rose water, lightweight SPF) and the freedom that comes from simplifying your beauty rituals. Before moving to Mysore, my mornings were… let’s just say, less than

Introduce readers to secret little spots — a small temple, a quiet café, a flower vendor, a park — that you’ve discovered by living slowly here. Write it like a love letter to the city, encouraging readers to explore beyond the tourist map. Before moving to Mysore, my mornings were… let’s just say, less than

Paint a full-day diary-style entry of a typical slow day living in the Gokulam neighborhood: early morning practice, hanging out at a local café, wandering shops, journaling, afternoon strolls. Highlight the charm of doing “nothing special” — and how that’s where the real beauty lies. Before moving to Mysore, my mornings were… let’s just say,

There’s a secret rhythm to Mysore if you know where to listen: the clink of cups at Depth N Green, the lazy shuffle of sandals outside Malgudi Café, the soft chatter at Mystic’s.I’ve spent hours hopping from one coffee haven to another, notebook in one hand, cold brew in the other.These cafés aren’t just spots

Somewhere between my third-hand bicycle and my mat strapped like a backpack, I realized: yoga props are my love language. Blocks, straps, bolsters — they make practice feel more like a love letter to my body than a battlefield.Of course, cycling through Gokulam balancing a bolster bigger than me gets me more than a few

There was a time when my mornings felt like a race I didn’t remember signing up for.The alarm would blare, I’d stumble toward coffee, thumb through emails before my eyes could even focus — and somehow, the day would already feel lost before it even began.Back then, “morning rituals” sounded like something reserved for monks,

Before moving to Mysore, my mornings were… let’s just say, less than magical. Snooze buttons, cold coffee, hurried emails. But something about this city — its slow sunrise, the scent of fresh jasmine in the air — whispered for a softer start.Now, my mornings begin barefoot, with warm lemon water, soft stretches on my balcony,