Romancing the Stone

Visiting Hampi left me with an agenda. For what remains after a trip to those ghostly ruins, the sole artery in the form of the Hampi Bazaar feeding off their modern fame is a nod to the north – even as Vijayanagar casts a spell, the Chalukyan legacy is a gentle tug. Badami-Aihole-Pattadakkal has been a whisper this year and a half, to-do, not too soon, someday. When the whisper became an urge is hard to tell but it stems from my leaving Bangalore in a short while. One weekend we make it happen.

Badami has monkeys. In good numbers. They are a lot to reckon with, always on the prowl for a lapse on the part of the tourist and seemingly everywhere, including the railway station and hotel balconies. They seem the true inheritors of the place and play good hosts upon our arrival by the Bijapur Express. My uncle points at one doing a trapeze walk over a high beam. An hour later at the entrance to the cave temples, they are rendered touristy by busloads of people. They are easier to ignore now and we head for the caves.

Straightaway a relief of Nataraja leaves me clicking and staring in disbelief. As we take in more, the stark beauty of the reliefs in the shrine to Shiva (first cave) contrasts with the ornate iconography in the caves housing Vishnu (second and third caves). The relief of Vamana with feet raised to dwarf the earth and the heavens is insouciance to the beatitude of a Vishnu relief rendered with girth and gait. Varaha and Narasimha feature, as they will quite regularly in a tour of this trinity. We don’t know it yet but the reliefs are a sign of what awaits at Aihole and Pattadakkal. The fourth cave is a Jain shrine with Parshvanath (23rd Tirthankara). I notice that the reliefs of Mahavira (24th) are brought out by depicting the meditative sage in all sizes and stacked symmetrically around a central, much larger icon.

On our way to the Bhoothanatha temple, fatigue from a mild temperature and a slight pull in the thigh are taking their toll on me as is the harsh Deccan sun. I recall a line from Outlook Traveler – Badami can vary between hot, very hot and extremely hot. So with some issues resolved and some tucked aside, I find walking through the alleys of Badami a pleasure. I guess it is what lends character to these two tours – Hampi and Badami. You’re better off on foot and though it isn’t quite backpacking and hiking, it comes close. The exertion lends value to every treasure. Having walked that much, one is inclined to attend keenly to the sights at hand. The pleasures-pains of walking apart, the serendipity of a protected monument popping up between two dwellings is something that fascinates us.

The Bhoothanatha temple has an enviable setting with the greenish moss of the Agastyatheertha surrounded by the cragged hills of Badami. A couple of herons stand expectant and their scouting for catch proves elusive to capture on camera. It is this setting that we drink out of in the evening when we come back after a meal and a nap. The twilight and ensuing nightfall transform the scene and soon the heat is a memory. Soon I trail off on parallels between Ashoka and the Chalukyas – both achieved lasting fame through their response to war and bloodshed. The Mauryan made Buddhism what it is today and the Chalukyas took to temple building.

We hire a cab the next morning. The first stop is Mahakoota. Of note here are a group of temples clustered together in one complex flanked on three sides by a forest that lends it an unhurried air. This is a welcome change from the hustle of Badami’s main road. Climbing up to the roof of an adjoining hall, a strange sight …. a shikara and what I think is a vimana (later at Pattadakkal it is clear that what we now know as the South Indian vimana or gopuram was yet to evolve when the temples at Mahakoota were built) one after the other. One belonging to the Sangameshwara temple and the latter to the Mahakooteshwara (Lord of the Mountain Crest), they form an odd couple. Little else is odd about Mahakoota. The quiet and the environs make it worthwhile. The big draw however, is the temple pond. Thankfully, the complex is just about big enough with more than a corner or passageway for respite, hidden from plain view.

Next up is Pattadakkal. We are met with a surprise there. It is April 18th, designated as World Heritage Day and this is one of India’s 27 World Heritage Sites. There is nothing forthcoming from the authorities, apart from a waiver on the entrance fee. It hardly registers then for we find it hard to contain our glee. It’s down to business though when we begin to take in the treasures. The temples are a motley collection. If one can look beyond the smug dismissal that is ‘Aihole School, Badami Degree College and Pattadakkal University’, it is apparent that there are experiments here too. Likewise with the reliefs. Some clearly suggest early attempts and there are others that show refinement. How much of an induction it is for the uninitiated! How much can be gleaned only by glancing from one structure over to the next! The Chalukyan temples here revel in questioning established precepts of beauty – that it diminishes as one peers closer. The collective vision that is all the monuments at Pattadakkal is as stare-inducing as the tiniest engraving.

Aihole, in hindsight, should come first in an itinerary. Pattadakkal raises the bar so high that Aihole’s school credentials can only offer so much. Given that the Durga temple that greets you first up has the most in terms of sights, the rest can seem a chore. That it exists and must be acknowledged. A hotter afternoon than the previous isn’t helping either and I spend more time cooling off in empty temple verandahs. The museum here isn’t quite on par with the one in Badami but it helps me establish one thing. Photographs mention places in Aihole that we are yet to see after an hour or so in the main complex (Aihole, like Pattadakkal, has one sprawling complex dotted with temples and the museum). And this is the key to getting the most out of Aihole. If one can keep the spine up, the best of Aihole (Ravanaphadi Cave, Huchimalli Gudi, Meguti temple) lies outside the complex.

The trail to Meguti temple has the other two. While the Huchimalli Gudi looks impressive, we can’t go in as the gates are closed. Soon we come upon the Ravanaphadi cave. This constitutes the last of the gems on this trip and it is some way to sign off. Built out of a huge monolith, the cave temple houses reliefs that evoke awe. One features an eight-armed dancing Shiva with Parvati and Ganesh to the left, watched by Saptamatrikas. The other includes a Tantric figure leaping in ecstasy. Later, spent, I take a breather in the Meguti temple on top of a hill ascended by taking a 120 step staircase. We are done and my thoughts echo what my uncle has just told me, you can now leave Karnataka in peace.

Trip to Srirangapatna

Just a few things of use for anyone interested in journeying to Srirangapatna :

The Bangalore - Mysore Highway, NH-17, begins for all purposes at the tollgates marking the commencement of the Mysore NICE Road. We were in a (supposedly) point-to-point bus which nevertheless included stops at Maddur, Channapatna, Mandya and Srirangapatna - all of them for the Mysore fare. It took us 2.5 hours to reach Srirangapatna (which is ~15 kms before Mysore) by bus. This includes a 20-minute stop at Maddur if one is journeying from Bangalore to Srirangapatna or one at Mandya on the return. The tollgate-to-Bangalore-City-bus-stand (Majestic) time is nearly an hour and a bit if it's the peak hour and considerably lesser if its early morning or late night.

The road is dotted with eateries and food outlets. The Kamat Drive-In just after Channapatna is now common knowledge. There is a Barista Lavazza a kilometre or two before Channapatna, a McDonald's as part of a Bharat Petroleum bunk and a strew of Cafe Coffee Days. There are actually two in Bidadi (5 kms from Wonderla towards Mysore) but only one of them falls on the highway and is justapoxed with the Jungle Resorts restaurant. The other is inside the Innovative Film city. There is one 67 kms into the Mysore Road in Mudugere. There are two in Maddur, one opposite to the KSRTC Bus Stand and the other next to the IOC Petroleum Bunk in Gejjalegra.

Srirangapatna has two major restaurants around the tourist area (after the Kaveri bridge) - Hotel Vaibhav and Hotel Mayura. We didn't have a shot at what Mayura had to offer but taking the advice of an autowallah, we headed for Vaibhav and the gist of it is - you're better off not eating there. Mayura may be the safer bet with its omnipresence in Karnataka. Part of the town lies before the bridge too. Didn't pay much attention to this part of the town. There are two clusters of tourist spots in Srirangapatna.

The first cluster (to the right immediately after the bridge, on NH-17) includes the Ranganathaswamy Temple, the dungeons of Colonel Bailley and Thomas Inman, Jamia Masjid, Tipu Sultan's death place, Tipu Sultan's old palace, Gangadhareeshwara Temple, Watergate and an Obelisk commemorating Srirangapatna.

The second cluster (to the left a little further on the NH-17) features the Dariya Daulat Bagh (Tipu Sultan's Summer palace), Gumbaz, Nimishamba Temple, Sangama, Abbe Dubois Church, and the Dodda Goysa Ghat.

Ideally a place to walk around in a leisured manner. Take in the topography and the sights. The heat permitting that is. If you're constrained for time, try to include the Ranganathaswamy Temple, Colonel Bailley's dungeon, the Jamia Masjid and the Obelisk in your itinerary from the first cluster; and from the second cluster - the Dariya Daulat Bagh, Gumbaz, Nimishamba Temple (if you're interested) and Sangama (where the two branches of the Kaveri meet).

For the historically inclined, allot sufficient time for the Dariya Daulat Bagh. It is full of priceless artifacts, priceless not merely in their fiscal value but in their invoking of a period as well. If there is more time on hand, head for Pandavapura and Karighatta. Karighatta has a temple dedicated to Lord Srinivasa situated atop a hill. Pandavapura is also famous for a temple but the Thonnur Lake here is generally overlooked. Called Moti Thalab by Tipu Sultan, sailing on this lake is a pleasurable activity. The lake forms numerous cascades along the way.

Zed

D'you think we'll make it?

"D'you think we'll make it?", Chandru queried. "Yeah, I think we will". That was more a self-assuring nod on my part. I had begun to envision the eight of us scrambling for seats in different compartments. Every passing minute served to escalate my thoughts of us boarding the train and the versions seemed to get more exciting, perhaps desperate is the word. "The cab's here", announced Bragy and I was lifted from my reverie. Urging Prithvi to hurry up, I walked to the cab to find that barring Sankar and Prithvi the rest were already there. Sankar, apparently had forgotten his out-station pass. That reminded me, did I .... yes ... in my right pocket. Eventually he came and as we were leaving, I kept hoping I hadn't left anything rudimentary behind. I'm told it's a universal norm to feel that way but in my case there is often a sense of heightened paranoia. Before we knew it, the Tata Sumo had reached Vasco-da-Gama railway station. As it often turns out, we had time. Having located an empty bay in an unreserved compartment, we had to consider another pressing need : breakfast.

Inspite of its status as a terminus on the South Western Railway (one of the 16 railway zones in India) connecting the rest of India to Goa, Vasco as it is referred to, falls short in terms of the facilities offered. Madgaon, part of the privatized Konkan Railway division and the more recent of the two major railway stations in Goa (Panaji, the capital city does not have a railway station) is better equipped to serve travellers. So this meant, we had to come out and try our luck at Hotel Pavithra at 7.30 AM. After a few anxious moments, we were given the food packets in a rather drab carton box. We were just in time, for our train, the 2848 Amaravathi Express bound for Howrah left Vasco within minutes. Our destination, Londa was just 3 hours away though. It was to be a scenic three-hour journey for this section of the SWR cut right through the Western Ghats and provided great views pretty much throughout the ride. The Dudhsagar Falls (literally The Sea of Milk) deserves special mention. Situated on the Mandovi river, at 10 kms from the Kulem Railway Station, it forms the highlight of the journey. Trains on this route pass 15 m from the tiered falls and has all and sundry queuing up for a view. It wasn't particularly spectacular on that day owing to this being the dry season. In monsoon however, it is transformed into one of the most powerful falls in India. Prithvi, as is his wont, chose to sleep through the ride in one of the upper berths, waking up only at the behest of others. Lugo indulged himself in taking snapshots of Papa napping.

We reached Londa in good spirits, albeit a little late. I must confess now that while I'm good at train timings, connections etc, I'm plain disinterested when it comes to road routes. It has always been that way and probably has its origins in the fact that for me, train travel was nausea-free early on. So it was with much skepticism that I spoke to a couple of autowallahs along with Bragy. The gist of the conversation was that we would be charged Rs 80 apiece for two auto-rickshaws to the bus station at Ramnagaram, a small town near Londa. This place had frequent buses to Dandeli. After a 5 km jaunt through battered roads (a portent of things to come, remember we were in Karnataka), we reached Ramnagaram. During the wait, we stocked ourselves with Polo mints. We needn't have worried about fresh air for the journey itself reinforced our positive feeling about the place we were visiting. Long winding roads lined with trees, minimal traffic and cloudy weather characterized the ride. The loud music playing yesteryear Kannada songs was the only detractor from an otherwise sublime experience. Eventually I dozed off only to be woken up by Sankar saying that our stop had arrived.

Dandeli town, like all other towns of its size and economic drive seemed to have its own pace. Located in the Uttara Kannada district of Karnataka, it wasn't what one would call a mountainous place with an average elevation of around 500 m. Yet, the presence of the River Kali has ensured that its importance has never waned over the centuries. A religious centre in early times, it was now gaining its reputation as a tourist hotspot. Contemplating the options, I made a phone call (cellular phones had not lost connectivity yet) to our contact, Mr Imam and we found ourselves eating at Hotel Santosh, a simple looking restaurant. The food itself only passed muster for me but some of the others found it good. Soon, Imam showed up. We had done the customary unearthing of basic facts from the web prior to the trip but this had only given me a general idea of the places we could visit in Dandeli. So after a brief session of talking and bargaining, it was arranged for us to check into our rooms and visit Syntheri Rock. After a seemingly long trip through uninhabited tracts, we reached our lodge. The premises enthralled me. That I suppose should do it for it would be pointless to try and describe the setting. I couldn't help thinking that this place would be something at night. Needless to say, we got carried away with the photo sessions in and around the lodge. It was only when a downpour threatened did we come to our senses and left for Syntheri Rock. This ride was perhaps the most unique of the trip. The foliage seemed to metamorphose with the pouring rain and made it all the more eye-catching. We were constantly on the lookout for wildlife of any sort; just a glimpse of a deer scurrying for cover would have been satisfying but then nature has its own whims and fancies.

In a while, the clouds ceased to pour and we reached Syntheri Rock. Apart from being a picturesque setting for a waterfall, one could tell the place had significance for geologists. There were displays of rock samples along the way down to the waterfall. Papa and Prithvi were busy with their Nokias that possessed 2 MegaPixel cameras. The camaraderie between Sankar and Pottu was a positive influence on the group. After exploring whatever the place had on offer for us, we decided to return. The return journey was comparatively uneventful and we reached our lodge before dark. Having instructed the caretaker of the lodge to prepare dinner for eight, we freshened up in our rooms. The torrential rain had severed connections with Dandeli town and there was no electricity. With nothing else to do, it was only a matter of time before someone suggested cards. During the various rounds of Donkey and Blackjack, we were doing everything we could to unsettle the peace of the surroundings by roaring every time someone lost. Pottu seemed to have the rub of the green going for him while I was just scraping through in each round.

At dinner, the hospitality of the caretaker overwhelmed us. This was possibly the quietest meal I had consumed in a long time. By now, the moon shone its presence on the land and what was previously pitch-dark was now beautiful to behold. Perhaps the thing that prevented total relaxation was the voice at the back of our minds that kept telling us that we had not made plans for the next day. To top it all, we couldn’t contact Imam because there was no connectivity and the land-lines were not functional. Just as we were on the verge of resignation, the caretaker informed us that the land-line was working. It was an Insert-Coin-Dial-Speak device and this was our last chance. All this was in pursuit of the primal reason we had come to Dandeli – White Water Rafting. Imam told us that by eight the next morning, he would tell us about the availability of a slot in the afternoon. This left us pondering on the morning schedule. The caretaker came to our rescue. He arranged for a jeep to take us to Dandeli Wildlife Sanctuary. Having thanked him profusely, we then called it a day. The eight of us were put up in thatched huts. I and Bragy volunteered to sleep on mattresses on the floor. When you have eight engineering lads with a propensity to sleep like a log when there is no agenda in the morning, it is important to have as many alarms as possible on different devices. Voicing this thought out, I then had three. The first one woke me up. It’s probably interesting to note that while I was getting ready, I did not hear a single alarm going off. The other four in my room had banked on Chandru who was in the next room to wake them up.

After a refreshing cup of tea, we boarded the jeep. We were asked to book tickets at the Kulgi Nature Camp. Photos of animal sightings were on prominent display in the booking room. The last time a tiger had been sighted was about three months back. It was two weeks for a panther and so on. The chances of spotting one of these elusive beasts were remote. At the very least there would be no anti-climax. So we set off into the wild with little hope and it’s better to sum up the entire journey by saying we saw a trio of deer, a pair of wild boars, elephant ‘tracks’, peacocks and a host of other birds. At one point we were asked to get down and walk. This apparently was the beginning of the long trek to Kavvala Caves. Autumn had wreaked havoc on the trees and leaves lay scattered along the paths. Common Langurs could be seen frolicking on trees at different spots. There was a group of middle-aged men who were doing their best to scare the only animals that did come into our auditory spans. Not to mention, our guide. At one point he actually pointed at a dark-plumaged bird and said “Crow”. That did it for us.

After a while, a valley came into view and the descent became more pronounced. And there she was, Kali. Despite the presence of a paper industry in Dandeli, the river seemed to possess a pristine beauty and was, to borrow a clichéd phrase, a window to the past. Soon we got to the 350-step segment we had been told about by the caretaker. It was steep in parts but easy on the whole because it was primarily descent. This then brought us to the temple for that is what we thought of it then having left the guide behind. It was basically a rock face with a dent huge enough to house a temple. I then looked around for a continuation of our path and found one which didn’t seem to go very far. So where were the caves? What kind of caves were they? How had our ancestors chanced upon such a place? Did sadhus meditate here? Juggling with definites and rhetorics, I contented myself to merely taking in the view and enjoying the quiet. Not for long. A distraction reminded of itself in the form of a camera. Not that there was actually a camera. We had left the 8 MegaPixel Olympus for there had been no time to charge the previous night. The power was never restored. We had to make do with the 2 MegaPixel cameras on the two Nokias – mind you, not far behind in terms of picture quality as I was to find out later. The urge to make an everlasting souvenir in the form of a photo is irresistible. To the modern tourist, visiting places goes in conjunction with taking photographs to the point that, the former is considered a pointless exercise without the latter. Recall the trips without cameras and something that instantly comes to mind is the refrain – ‘Wish we’d brought a camera’. The presence of a camera can help enliven moments of waiting, capture people in gimmicks, and I guess it works wonders when there are kids around. Keeping in mind the obvious benefits of having a camera around, it’s important not to let the camera dominate the tour, to be more precise, not to let taking snapshots become the objective of the tour. The touring experience comes foremost.

We were at the temple when our guide arrived with the group of elderly men, who were panting by now, from seemingly nowhere. He beckoned to us, saying we were next and ushered us to a 3-foot high entrance. There seemed to be no light coming from within. Taking a deep breath, we crouched and crawled our way in. My initial thoughts were that after a crawl for 10 metres or so we would approach a clearing and a structure more like a cavern would present itself. This was probably due to my visit to the colossal Borra Caves near Arakku Valley in eastern Andhra Pradesh not a year back. I was mistaken and how! Our guide calmly announced that this was going to be a 5-kilometre crawl. 5 kilometres! That’s army jawans stuff! No way it could be that long. As is the habit of the mind, one half searches for facts and occurrences supporting that assumption. Sure enough, I was reminded of the remarkably short time the group of middle-aged men had taken to come out. But there is always the other half of the mind that unearths another possibility totally unconnected with this one, but so as to render logic useless. What if the cave collapsed? Only the ends getting sealed would suffice. It turned out I wasn’t alone in thinking along such lines. Bragy later confessed to me that he had thought of exactly the same thing. Anyway, we were crawling along.

Due to the absolute lack of light, our guide would ask us to stay put, move a few paces ahead and then shine his torch for us to move forward. This went on for a while until our guide stopped and pointed at a large object. It was a Shivalinga with idols of his escort, Parvati and the siblings – Ganesh and Karthikeya. That answered my thoughts about sadhus meditating here. He also pointed at a place where water was dripping and said that another linga was forming there. The signs themselves were unmistakable. We crawled along until we came at a fork in the cave. Here, the guide completely stumped us by saying that while one route leads outside, the other leads to Gokarna. I knew Gokarna was a famous religious centre south of Karwar in Karnataka and about a 110 kilometres from Dandeli. It was also famous for its white sand beaches and resorts. The possibility that the ancients might have connected two such religious towns with geographical proximity did not strike me as being a fallacy. After all, it was geologically possible with the Western Ghats jutting right across and we could not really hope to understand the accomplishments of men in a time far removed from ours. It was thus that my initial feeling of anathema had begun to leave me and I was struck with a sense of awe. What left everyone skeptical was the guide telling us at another fork that one way led to Kasi (Varanasi). This was harder to digest yet I tried maintaining an open mind as did some of the others. Soon, we caught a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.

I came out all sweaty and paradoxically, refreshed. Before we could catch our breath though, our guide was to drop his last bombshell. The way back was the way we came. I had somewhat erroneously assumed that it would be a path that would take us further down and …. Well, that wasn’t to be. After a brief session of exclamations and intense debates as to the validity of the Gokarna-Kasi statements, we started. So this was the real trek. I can still recollect the 350 steps section. All of us paused from time to time to gather breath and in consideration for pleading thighs. We did manage to reach the top and sat there contemplating the journey ahead. It would be nothing like the steps at the very least. And indeed, apart from the physically satisfying jaunt, the only highlights were me and Lugo’s chancing upon a shorter but steeper path ahead and a phone call from Imam saying that we were booked for white-water rafting at two in the afternoon. Yippee. So we would be able to leave that night for college. The euphoric feeling filled my mind until we reached the lodge. The caretaker had prepared breakfast for us. Having wolfed it down, I went down to the fields with the Prithvi and Papa. At the distance, we could hear frenzied screaming by young men and it dawned on me that this was the day of Holi. They were probably doing their ritual with cows. We strolled around for a while and then returned to freshen up for the afternoon.

After our lunch, Imam sent a car to pick us up. We were then taken to a place called the Kali Adventure Camp. This was the rendezvous for rafters. A call to Imam told us that we had to get ready by 3.00 PM. I had to borrow a pair of floaters – in my case, a rather ditzy pair of blue footwear. We were all geared up in a matter of minutes and were taken to the rafting site in another vehicle. This was it – the primal reason we had come to Dandeli for. Rafting virgins, our beating hearts contrasted with the serene waters of the Kali. The expectancy and thrill of rafting had gotten to the crowd numbering 50 plus. Buoyancy was a double entendre one couldn’t possibly jettison. We were asked to choose our equipment – the paddles, life-jackets and the helmets. Life-jackets came in different sizes and I chose an XL. An appropriately tight-fitting helmet, a relatively new looking paddle and that was it.

Our raft guide came along presently and we made our way to the river bank. I and Bragy took the vanguard positions of the boat. I made a bit of a splash as I was sitting. Papa and Sankar were behind us and behind them were Chandru and Pottu. Lugo and Prithvi were at the rear end of the boat and the two raft guides were the rearguards. We drifted off and forced a slight cheer in lieu of the act. It was now time for instructions. The gist of it was that we could be thrown off the rubber dinghy but there were guidelines to avoid that and guidelines in case of that too. So with the rigmarole of ‘forwards’ and ‘backwards’ instructions by our raft guide, we set off. The weather was of the kind you dream of all your life if you happen to be born in the tropics. Soon, we approached the first rapids section. Rapids were to be countered by abandoning seated postures and ducking down. The first one passed like a blur and before we knew it, the boat got stuck amidst floating plants. The ignominy of it was that ours was the only boat to do so. A goof-up to begin with, I thought. With the help of another boat we got free.

Soon, we were stroking merrily away and the next few kilometres were absolute heaven. It’s when you realize that all those fears had been unfounded and all it takes is common sense and a little bit of obedience to stay aboard. As time progressed, I thought we were doing a lot better than many other groups probably because all of us knew each other on our dinghy. You could tell there were two, sometimes even three groups in other rafts. Presently, we got around to splashing water on each other and when the occasion demanded, on other boats. The water itself surpassed all my expectations. The purity and freshness were getting addictive, so much so that I decided to stop splashing water after a while. It was probably better to get splashed upon. After a while, we saw a charred tree and the guide told us that it had been struck by lightning. That made for a strange sight – almost like an anomaly amidst picture-perfect conditions. Very few rapids followed thereafter and after a while, we got a tad disappointed at their frequency. Our 16 kilometre stretch was drawing to an end and a profound sense of disappointment set in. That’s it? That can’t be the promised 16 kilometres, right? It was. Yet, with a deep sense of gratitude at having had an experience worth savouring, we paddled towards the shore. Some of the guys had last minute ideas like a short floating session with the life-jackets on. This was quickly ruled out by the guide saying that the undercurrents were too strong. Coming out of the water dripping wet, all I could think of was how well things had fallen into place. This was a trip made with very little prior planning to speak of. It was more an exercise in the sort of hope the young find easy to invest in. The inevitability of some sort of availability, that there’s a place for everyone on the planet. From the moment we had landed in Dandeli, there were so many things that could have gone wrong, yet they didn’t. It was a lesson in planning and management but I let that take up my mind later. Not now. Now, was the time to be grateful, not to wonder how the pieces came together to form the jigsaw, but to admire the jigsaw that had become our Dandeli experience.

2-day sojourn at Hampi

Much has been said in print and other media about Hampi. Such adulation over a period of time can sound the death-knell for most places. Not Hampi. Actually, it gets you thinking if it might be the other extreme with Hampi. There's an aura of mystery that hangs about the place and uncloaking it might not be achieved no matter how many trips one makes. This is a paradox in itself for the sunshine, while not harsh (definitely not if done during the rainy season : June to Sep), still is something to reckon with. I find it hard to imagine Hampi at a pleasant 25 degrees or thereabouts. The sun (indicative of what's to come when one journeys into the Deccan) bares the place to the last detail for all to see, yet one isn't quite able to decipher what the place stands for. This definitely isn't the case with say, the Chennakeshava Temple at Somanathapur, one among the numerous Hoysala masterpieces. Situated further south (much further), it eluded the marauding hand and as such stands as another paean to Hoysala art.


That said, it might be a good idea to tour Hampi with a good guide-book in hand, not one filled with photographs but one that recounts the story of Hampi as it should be told. Else, the sheer scale of things at Hampi might result in one walking around dazed and dwarfed. We (my Uncle and I) acquired one towards the evening of the first day, but couldn't manage what I've recommended though. We could only read parts of it and I must say it definitely helped. The book in question is 'Hampi in Ruins' by A H Longhurst, an account of the various styles of monuments produced during the reign of the Vijayanagar empire. Like any well-researched work, it also considers the influences behind their evolution. Very understated, it is objective for the most part and rarely intrudes to comment. It is available in its entirety at http://www.ncra.tifr.res.in/~yogesh/hampihistory.html. The first section is worth a casual read for anyone, irrespective of whether they have plans to visit Hampi in near future or not. The author recommends Robert Sewell's 'A Forgotten Empire : Vijayanagar' as the seminal work on Hampi.


The presence of two hubs named 'Royal Centre' and 'Sacred Centre' inevitably leads to a bifurcation of tourists. 'Royal Centre', a sprawling area with numerous monuments among which 'Queen's Bath', 'Hazara Rama Temple', and 'Zenana Enclosure' (once a secluded area for the womenfolk of Vijayanagar) are the famous ones, is the more touristy of the two hubs. Offering a varied fare, it attracts throngs of people seeking to impose themselves on the place and this can mar one's impression of some of the monuments here. 'Queen's Bath' is probably the most overrated (and as a consequence the most photographed as well) monument at Hampi. If you want to have a quiet time of it, head for the other hub, 'Sacred Centre'.


The 'Sacred Centre', has the imposing Virupaksha Temple as its centre, and is dotted with temples and monuments amidst huge boulders strewn across rocky terrain, forming a landscape that is alternatively surreal and fertile to look at. This, of course, is charted by the path of the Tungabhadra river. All this has led to Hampi acquiring the 'out of this world' tag. For starters, nothing here is even remotely small. Though there are sculptures that does remind one of Hoysala art, as far as size goes, it doesn't compare with the minute carvings that dominate a Hoysala temple. The Vijayanagari motto might well have been 'Think big, execute to perfection'. This is also borne out by accounts of the reign of Krishna Deva Raya, also the golden period and the zenith of the Vijayanagar empire. One can encounter a huge 'Kadelakalu Ganesha', a 'Sasivekalu Ganesha', a graphic rendition of 'Lakshmi Narasimha', the 'Badava Linga' and the huge 'Basavanna Nandi'.


While the intention of such scupltures is manifest in many ways, the true legacy of Hampi lies in not one but three temples - the Achyutarama Temple, the Vittala Temple and the Krishna Temple. If the Achyutaraya temple ruins are accessed via the hill at whose base the 'Basavanna Nandi' is situated, the effect is akin to literally stumbling upon a long-lost place. The 'Soolai Bazaar' links the Achyutaraya temple to the Vittala Temple, King's Balance etc on one side and an Anjaneya temple along with a Rama temple on the other, all along the banks of the Tungabhadra. Achyutaraya was also the name of Krishna Deva Raya's younger brother and succeeded him. Reading Longhurst's account, it appears that his manner of running an empire may have sowed the seeds for the destruction of Vijayanagara.


The Vittala temple is, without doubt, the highlight of Hampi. Albeit incomplete, it feels the most complete of the lot and features the stone chariot. The Krishna Temple features scenes from Krishnaleela on scuplture and is a must-see. It's best not to have a rigid agenda for any of these places, for one can never tell which place will capture one's fancy.


Before I end, here are a few tips of use for the budding traveller to Hampi.

• Stay at Hampi. This is in order to avoid travel times to Hospet (the nearest town, 16 kms away and connected by rail and road to Bangalore, the Hampi Express 6592 from Bangalore reaches Hospet at 07:45 and 6591 bound for Bangalore arrives at Hospet at 20:50). This can be done at the cute guesthouses that one may find to the right of the Virupaksha temple all the way upto the Tungabhadra. They offer neat rooms that take care of one's basic needs.
• Those who simply cannot do without the mobile phone may find Hampi a frustrating place as far as connectivity is concerned for there are very few places where one can find atleast minimum connectivity. One of these is a spot on the bank of the Tungabhadra. This can be reached by travelling to the West end of the Hampi Bazaar (the arterial road that features the Virupaksha temple at the West end and the Basavanna Nandi at the other) right upto the gopuram of the Virupaksha temple. Take a right before entering and follow the paved path with shops featuring curios, general stores, restaurants and the only guesthouses in Hampi. A few paces after the Suresh Guest House one can see the Tungabhadra come into view.
• Hiring a cycle requires good fitness levels and usually one finds only foreigners doing that. One the other hand a bike/taxi/auto-rickshaw isn't needed within the centres (Sacred and Royal). From 'Sacred' to 'Royal' it's a 3 km walk and here one may use an auto-rickshaw. We used the auto twice - Hospet to Hampi and back.
• The Sangameshwara restaurant on the Hampi Bazaar features the best food (comparatively speaking, Hampi offers pedestrian fare) and as such finds itself recommended to tourists in the 'Lonely Planet' travel guide series. All of them offer palatable Chapathi with Sabzi. It's best to stick to simple food items inspite of the menu featuring most of the items that one is likely to find in a city-based restaurant.
  It's useful to equip oneself with the following : a sun-hat (some of the shops on the Hampi Bazaar sell 'em. Try not to settle for a normal cap), sunglasses (if needed, might be a necessity in summer), provision for water (although you'll find people selling coconut water, mineral water etc at the at the likeliest and the oddest of places, it's always best to carry water - particularly if one is walking from Sacred to Royal centre or vice-versa), light clothing and all those items that apply for a jaunt under sunny conditions.

I can't imagine another place matching the profundity (alluded to in the prelude) of feelings that Hampi invoked in me. Probably Leh. Or any of the natural wonders of the world for that matter. Certainly not a heritage destination.


Hampi rules.