“The city of Bidjanagar
(Vijayanagar) is such that the pupil of the eye has never seen a place
like it, and the ear of intelligence has never been informed that there
existed anything to equal it in the world. It is built in such a manner
that seven citadels and the same number of walls enclose each other.
Around the first citadel are stones of the height of a man, one half of
which is sunk in the ground while the other half rises above it. These
are fixed one beside the other in such a manner that no horse or foot
soldier could boldly or with ease approach the citadel.”
– Abdur Razzaq, Ambassador (AD 1442-43) of Shah Rukh, Shah of Herat
“One
state, many worlds” – Karnataka tourism’s particularly unpretentious
tagline eloquently sums up the enthralling culmination of marvelously
affluent palaces, scenic natural landscapes, infinite thundering seas, painstakingly ornamented
shrines, peacefully serene fields and endless
fringes of bountiful coconut trees that defines the vast beautiful
state. It is therefore exceedingly surprising that the enviably endowed
state does little to promote the considerably immense treasure of
medieval monuments and mythological sacred sites that it possesses –
point in case, Hampi – the unequalled stronghold of the culturally
renowned Vijayanagar Empire (reign AD 1336-1646) that, like several
other hallowed sites and shrines puzzlingly scattered throughout the
subcontinent, has its ancient mythological roots in intricate Hindu
legends and mythical tales and is an incredible epitome of the
unbelievable evolution and seamless assimilation of implausibly
far-fetched folklores with emotionless history.
 |
| Hampi - Where meet history, mythology and nature |
Stepping
into the deliriously laidback village is certainly visually enchanting –
as if with the singular purpose of vexing mere mortals, nature has
studded the landscape in every direction with enormous
accumulations of substantially huge granite boulders heaped over each
other till they surmount considerable heights and intimidatingly dwarf
the entire settlement into a miniature dollhouse-like existence. And
then, perhaps to iterate their sculptural capabilities and
accomplishments, humans peppered the entire area with an infinity of
splendid shrines, towering gateways and rudimentary pavilions carved out
of the very granite boulders that reflect the golden brilliance of the
sun rays with such intensity that the whole seemingly insignificant
settlement appears aglitter.
The legends and obscure stories surrounding
the mysterious establishment and development of the relaxed village and
its environs as “Vijayanagar” (“City of Victory”), the outstanding
capital of the unsurpassed medieval empire, are many and often
historically implausible – the first and the most unbelievable of all
states that the formidable empire was established by mere shepherds – the brothers
Harihara and Bukka blessed to become mighty
kings by the celebrated reclusive sage Madhavacharya Vidyaranya who was
pleased with their steadfast devotion and unwavering financial support
to him in the form of food and basic necessities during the difficult
period of ascetic penances that he undertook in the neighboring forest
lands.
 |
| Complimenting nature |
Scholars
however argue that the brothers were either local chieftains or military
commanders or treasury officers in the service of Pratap Rudradeva I of
the Kakatiya Dynasty of Warangal (Andhra Pradesh) who was ruthlessly
defeated and contemptuously forced to surrender his entire treasury and
powerful army of well-trained elephants in AD 1310 by the fiercely
fanatical-iconoclast Muslim armies led by Malik Kafur, the ferociously
barbaric eunuch General of Sultan Alauddin Khilji (reign AD 1296-1316)
of Delhi Sultanate. Thereafter the brothers, along with Pratap
Rudradeva’s other generals, were unceremoniously carried to Delhi,
rudely ridiculed, unconsentingly converted to Islam under constant
threat of imminent death and given command of a few divisions of the
imperial army. Their puny armies were soon afterwards commanded to
assist Malik Kafur’s in the punitive siege and plunder of Dwarasamudra,
the majestic stronghold of Hoysala Veera Ballala III (ruled AD
1292-1343) (refer
Pixelated Memories - Hoysaleswara Temple complex, Halebidu). However, in the midst of the anticipated melee, they
escaped to the impenetrable forests and gradually drifted towards the
tiny village of Hampi where they reverted to Hinduism and imperceptibly
slowly built a tiny kingdom, ringed in by line upon line of massive,
majestic hills composed of colossal, delicately balanced boulders
perpetually threatening to topple over and roll through humanity and
habitation. The small kingdom would later flourish unchallenged into a grand
empire and all the Hindu forces of peninsular India would rally to its
unified command and vision in the face of dreaded barbaric onslaughts
viciously perpetrated by the Islamic Sultans of Delhi (especially the
visionary but ceaselessly pitiless Sultan Muhammad Juna Tughlaq (reign
AD 1325-51)).
Another theory states that they
were actually high-ranking ministers or feudatories of the unassumingly peaceful,
miniscule kingdom of Anegundi (located across Hampi on the other side
of the mighty river Tungabhadra), enslaved when Muhammad Tughlaq invaded
the region and explicitly forced the local chieftains to submit in AD
1323 – the Sultan however unequivocally instituted them as the fortified
province’s governors after they nominally converted to Islam. They
initially reigned supreme, although insignificantly so, for several years as
“Mahamandaleshvara” (“Great Lords”) from Anegundi under the distant
authority of Muhammad Tughlaq and the spiritual guidance of the learned
Madhavacharya Vidyaranya; but thirteen years later, as the memory of the
Sultan’s exceedingly fierce assault flickered and almost dwindled into
obscurity, the statesman-philosopher-author sage prudently advised them
to proclaim their independence from Delhi Sultanate and cement the
conception of their unopposed supremacy over the environs of Hampi and
its fertile surroundings by commissioning an administrative capital
surrounded by enormous fortifications on the site. It is unfeasibly also
suggested that the illustrious capital was originally christened as
“Vidyanagar” (“City of Learning”) after the eminent sage, however the
name was corrupted in contemporaneous historical records.
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| If there be heaven on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here! |
Soon
after its inception, the empire forged a unified alliance with the
gradually declining kingdoms of Dwarasamudra and Warangal to constitute an
unyielding bulwark against the Muslim Sultanate of north India, in so
doing phenomenally halting the inroads of Islamic plunder and
territorial occupation from proceeding to the south and catalyzing the
immediate military capitulation of all the remaining south Indian Hindu
kingdoms to its own unchallenged ascendant authority. Over the next 300
years, the magnificent empire would be governed by four different
dynasties – Sangama (reign AD 1336-1485), Saluva (reign AD 1485-1505),
Tuluva (reign AD 1491-1570) and Aravidu (reign AD 1542-1646), and
despite the sporadic incidents of violent tyranny, desertions by
provincial governors and renegade generals, political discontent among
rebellious nobility annoyed by antagonistic royalty, conniving
refractions and renegades in vassal states, cold-blooded regicide and
barbaric cruelties, it would literally become a synonym of Hindu
cultural and architectural prowess, even though its emperors would refer
to themselves with a composite Persian-Arabic title – “Hindu Raya
Suratrana” (“Sultans over Hindu Rayas”). It would ambitiously send
emissaries to China, levy tributes from Myanmar and Sri Lanka, and
become renowned for its luxurious palatial residences, painstakingly
irrigated and cultivated fields yielding plentiful produce even in the
most arid of topographies, strictly ordered administration and gigantic
armed forces comprising over a million strong infantry and several score
thousand cavalry. In a display of the empire’s secular and militaristic
orientation, Emperor Deva Raya II (reign AD 1422-46) would issue orders for
the engagement of over 2,000 exceedingly lethal Muslim archers, who would
train his force of 60,000 Hindu mounted archers, besides allotting them
vast residential annexes in the capital and commissioning numerous
handsome mosques for the exercise of their faith.
 |
Sculptural orgasm! - Vitthala temple
|
The
empire’s numerous colorful bazaars lined with extremely wide roads and
pavilions for the merchants to trade and reside in would became legendary for the assortments of fruits, meats, spices,
textiles, Arabian horses, jewels and dozens of curiosities on offer and
would be described thus –
“This
is the best provided city in the world, and is stocked with provisions
such as rice, wheat, grains, Indian-corn, and a certain amount of barley
and beans, moong, pulses, horse-gram, and many other seeds which grow
in this country which are the food of the people, and there is large
store of these and very cheap..
In
this city you will find men belonging to every nation and people,
because of the great trade which it has, and the many precious stones
there.. The streets and markets are full of laden oxen without count,
and in many streets you come upon so many of them that you have to wait
for them to pass, or else have to go by another way.. You will find all
sorts of rubies, and diamonds, and emeralds, and pearls, and
seed-pearls, and cloths, and every other sort of thing there is on earth
and that you may wish to buy. Then you have there every evening a fair
where they sell many common horses and nags, and also many citrons, and
limes, and oranges, and grapes, and every other kind of garden stuff,
and wood; you have all in this street.”
– Domingo Paes, Portuguese visitor to Vijayanagar (AD 1520-22)
At
its zenith, the empire’s vast realm would extend throughout peninsular
India between both shores covering the modern states of Karnataka,
Telangana, Seemandhra, Goa, Tamil Nadu, Kerala and minute portions of
Maharashtra. Hampi (Vijayanagar), its matchless capital, would be the
world’s second largest city and boast of 500,000 inhabitants at the
beginning of 16th century!
 |
Virupaksha temple - Dominating the skyline
|
Krishna
Devaraya (reign AD 1509-29), the greatest of its sovereigns who would
usher in a golden age of monumental architecture, victorious
territorial annexations and notable literature, would become a household
name throughout the country for several centuries to come so much so
that a satirical cartoon inspired by the hilarious
exploits of his quick-witted and sagacious court jester Tenali Raman (also otherwise known as Tenali
Ramakrishna), one of the eight
distinguished authorities on literature and poetry (“Ashtadiggaja”),
would air on national television in the first decade of 21st century!
(That is how I first heard of the comical Tenali Raman and Krishna
Devaraya, the magnanimous, far-sighted monarch who was an epitome of
physical strength and fearsome rage).
Eventually
however, the epochal empire hastened to its demise at the hands of
aggressive Muslim forces demographically very different from those that
it had been conceived to steadfastly oppose in the first place. In the
administrative vacuum created by the retreat of Delhi Sultanate, Deccan
India slowly disintegrated into five neighboring Muslim kingdoms of Adil
Shahi Bijapur, Nizam Shahi Ahmednagar, Qutb Shahi Golconda, Imad Shahi
Berar and Barid Shahi Bidar – suspicious and enraged at the political
intrigues of Aliya Rama Raya (reign AD 1542-65) who had been eagerly and
condescendingly stoking the embers of discontent and warfare between
them, the Islamic Sultans formed a formidable alliance in AD 1565 and
inflicted a decisively catastrophic setback to the forces of Vijayanagar
and heartlessly plundered Hampi of all its fabled treasures and
destroyed each of its awe-inspiring palace gardens and hallowed temples.
“This was not a defeat
merely, it was a cataclysm. All hope was gone. The myriad dwellers in
the city were left defenseless.. The enemy had come to destroy, and they
carried out their object relentlessly. They slaughtered the people
without mercy, broke down the temples and palaces; and wreaked such
savage vengeance on the abode of the kings, that, with the exception of a
few great stone-built temples and walls, nothing now remains but a heap
of ruins to mark the spot where once the stately buildings stood.
Nothing seemed to escape them. With fire and sword, with crowbars and
axes, they carried on day after day their work of destruction. Never
perhaps in the history of the world has such havoc been wrought, and
wrought so suddenly, on so splendid a city; teeming with a wealthy and
industrious population in the full plenitude of prosperity one day, and
on the next seized, pillaged, and reduced to ruins, amid scenes of
savage massacre and horrors beggaring description.”
– Robert Sewell, “A Forgotten Empire: Vijayanagar” (1900)
 |
| Vijayanagar - Masquerading tales of murder and devastation under a veneer of beautified monuments in a landscaped setting |
Vijayanagar,
“City of Victory”, the majestic Hindu stronghold devastatingly ruined
by Islamic forces, was abandoned in its entirety and relinquished to
relentless wilderness and ruinous desolation redolent of mass-scale
death and destruction. Its unequalled splendor would crumble into
nothingness and its long line of illustrious rulers who proudly fought
for south Indian and Hindu autonomy would disappear from the memory of
their own kingdom and would only be chronicled by contemporaneous
literary records and foundation stone tablets within erstwhile glorious
shrines and gigantic public works presently scattered around as uncared
for orphan ruins.
“Its
rulers, however, in their day swayed the destinies of an empire far
larger than Austria, and the city is declared by a succession of
European visitors in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries to have been
marvelous for size and prosperity – a city with which for richness and
magnificence no known western capital could compare. Its importance is
shown by the fact that almost all the struggles of the Portuguese on the
western coast were carried on for the purpose of securing its maritime
trade; and that when the empire fell in 1565, the prosperity of
Portuguese Goa fell with it never to rise again.”
– Robert Sewell
 |
Kudure Gombe Mantapa - Irrecoverable remnants of an obliterated past
|
At
the apex of its supreme glory, the picturesque city was the second
largest in the world – today its ruins compose the grandest of the lost
cities of Asia and are unreservedly considered an open air encyclopedia,
a vast interminable museum reminiscent of the empire’s unmatched
architectural and cultural grandeur and considerable financial
affluence.
But tiny Hampi is significantly older
relative to the glorious reign of Vijayanagar Empire, or the very
history of Hindu-Muslim religious and territorial conflict which
unambiguously contributed to its emergence as a medieval Hindu
stronghold. Its existence is said to be eons of eons ancient not only
compared to the numerous smaller south Indian kingdoms such as the
Chalukyas (reign AD 543-753 and 973-1189), Rashtrakutas (reign AD
753-982), Yadavas (reign AD 850-1334) and Hoysalas (reign AD 1026-1343)
which ruled it in quick succession through their feudatories prior to
the Vijayanagar Empire, but even when stacked against the peerless
ancient dominions of Emperor Ashoka (ruled BC 268-32) whose reign over
the vast territory can be surmised from the numerous rock edicts
commissioned by him in the vicinity to expound his messages of
harmonious religious coexistence, tenderness towards all forms of life
and respect for the government of the day and its administrative
endeavors. The tranquil settlement, almost untouched by the recklessly
avaricious forces of relentless urbanization and snobbish modernization,
finds mention in the most ancient of epics as a hallowed site whose
timeless antiquity and unmatched spiritual importance has long been
inconsiderately forgotten but which nonetheless remains indissolubly
linked to several prominent mythological events involving primeval
creatures and mythical anthropomorphic entities. Undeniably, it is
amongst
the finest examples of this country’s religious heritage where history,
mythology and legends merge in a fantastical fusion to generate fables
that invoke metaphysical entities and invincible deities to exist
alongside ephemeral emperors and fleeting histories.
 |
| Let us fly back in time, dear reader, to Hampi's mythical origins |
Legend
goes that the pristine hills surrounding the medieval settlement are
even older than human comprehension and were in existence when
impossibly influential deities, fiercely powerful demons and
captivatingly voluptuous celestial forest nymphs roamed the realms of
earth alongside the earliest of human beings, the immediate progeny of
the all-pervading Brahma, the Lord of life and origins. Ancient lore
associated with several fervently venerated shrines throughout the
country recall the ritualistic sacrificial worship (“yagna”)
commissioned by the mythological emperor Daksha in which his own angelic
daughter Sati (Shakti) and her husband Shiva, the Lord of death and
destruction and the foremost of primordial deities, were unwelcome.
Sati, though requested not to go by Lord Shiva but persuaded by an
unremitting love for her father and maternal family, nonetheless reached
her father’s abode only to be faced with an unrelenting onslaught of
merciless abuses and insults heaped upon her all-powerful husband, as an
anguished consequence of which she committed suicide by jumping into
the ceremonial fire. Dangerously enraged and unnervingly grief-struck,
Lord Shiva picked up Goddess Sati’s lifeless body in one arm and his
frightening trident in the other and began the frenzied “Tandava Nritya”
(“Dance of Universal Annihilation”). The entire world was on the brink
of irrevocable destruction when all the Gods and deities collectively
invoked Lord Vishnu, the Lord of life and preservation, who used his
“Sudarshana Chakra” (serrated spinning disc weapon) to cleave Sati’s
body into 51 parts since an infuriated Shiva had vowed not to stop his
terrible dance till Sati’s body existed. Each of the sacred spots where
these 51 hallowed parts fell came to be sanctified as an auspicious
“Shakti Peetha” (“Seat of Power”) where an intent worshiper would be
endowed with immeasurable intellectual and spiritual prowess.
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| Virupaksha temple - An assortment of primeval
deities, mythological creatures and mythical anthropomorphic entities |
Assuaged
of his emotional affliction, Lord Shiva retreated to Hemakuta Hill that
overlooks the immense spread of Hampi’s charmingly beautiful landscape,
instantaneously relapsed into cosmic meditation and became
superficially oblivious of the universe for an eternity. Ages later, the
demon lord Tarakasura, possessing immense physical and meditative
strength that was a result of extreme penances that he undertook to
impress Gods into granting him numerous boons that literally ensured his
near invincibility, worshipped Lord Brahma and entreated him to bind
his death by the condition that he be only killed by the biological
progeny of Lord Shiva. Propelled by his limitless arrogance and
emboldened by the belief that Lord Shiva would never emerge from his
primeval meditation, he challenged and vanquished the divine deities
from heavens who were left with no alternative except to rouse Lord
Shiva from his unperturbed meditation and delicately beseech him to
remarry for the beneficence of all mankind and divinity. The Shakti
Peetha in Assam, where fell Goddess Sati’s mutilated vagina
following the Daksha episode (refer
Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam)
and which had lapsed into
unbelievably widespread collective amnesia for several generations, was
rediscovered by Kama Deva, the Hindu God of lust and love-making, who
fired his potent love-arrows from there at Lord Shiva to retrieve him
from his profound meditative phase – thus awakened and exceedingly
enraged at being disturbed, Lord Shiva burned Kama Deva (also otherwise
known as Manmatha) to ashes with his contemplative third eye (however,
as is the case with almost all ancient Hindu lore, he would
of course later be recreated from nothingness and enthused with life
force by Goddess Kamakhya, the bestower of salvation and Tantric
boons). Acknowledging the imminent threat posed by the terrifying
demonic armies, Lord Shiva married Goddess Pampa who is traditionally
associated with the gently cascading river Tungabhadra.
 |
| A tinge of tenderness amidst all-pervading desolation - Eave brackets, Band Tower |
This
is where even mythology becomes perplexingly layered and perhaps
allegorical to such an extent that it loses its resonance and tender
sensitivity (especially when contrasted with Kalidasa’s immortal poem
“Kumarasambhava”!) – at such terrible cost had the powerful Gods
reclaimed Lord Shiva from his oblivious meditation so that he might
bring forth an invincible child, but when he began rapturously
copulating with Goddess Pampa/Parvati, the other deities despairingly
cried out pleading them to stop since his semen was so potent that it
had begun to singe the entire universe except Goddess Pampa/Parvati who
alone was supremely capable of withstanding its intolerable fury.
Relenting their passions, the divine couple ceased their lovemaking and
the Lord ejaculated his semen which was determinedly scooped up by Agni,
the Lord of fire and conflagrations, with the blameless intention of
harvesting it to create a child only to realize that even he is
powerless to carry it for long (this rendering has of course prompted
some to ridiculously postulate that the scriptures actually refer to a
homosexual union between Lord Shiva and Agni which the latter was unable
to continue!). Agni therefore deposited the semen discharge along the
tranquil river bed and the Goddess, herself indelibly associated with
the river, fertilized the sperms and nourished the foetus with the
obliging assistance of her six handmaidens (“Kritikas” – the consorts of
Soma Deva (Moon God) who are said to constitute the constellation
Pleiades) – thus was born a valorous six-headed son christened
Murugan/Kartikeya who from the very moment of his birth was
regarded as an epitome of intimidating fearlessness, supreme
intelligence, spiritual accomplishment and invincible formidability and
officially assumed command of the infinite divine armies at a very
tender age to triumphantly defeat the demon lord Tarakasura (this is in
accordance with south Indian folklore).
 |
| Commemorating divine love and intimacy - Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati/Pampa, Virupaksha temple |
North
Indian folklore however mentions Lord Shiva marrying Goddess Parvati,
the virtuous daughter of Lord Himalaya who is the anthropomorphic
personification of the expansive mountain range that crowns the land of
India. Also there is the confusion over whether it was Lord Shiva’s
semen or the sparks from his fiery third eye that were collected by Agni
Deva and secondly, was it Goddess Parvati/Pampa who, impelled by a
compassionate sense of motherhood, nurtured the young child or the
revered river Goddess Ganga. The nomenclature “Hampi” is the
anglicized version of “Pampe” which was derived from
“Pampa/Pampakshetra” as the area was traditionally referred to as.
Several
epochs later, as mentioned in the ancient epic Ramayana that
inspirationally enumerates the (technically reiterating) tale of Lord
Rama, the ideal king-statesman-warrior-son-husband and a supposed
incarnation of Lord Vishnu (the God of life and nourishment), the
considerably undulating, boulder-strewn site came to be associated with
Kishkinda, the stronghold of Lord Rama’s semi-human, semi-monkey followers belonging to the “Vanara” clan
(possibly a race of physically and/or intellectually less developed
indigenous tribal groups or aboriginal men characterized by very
prominent facial features and endowed with an enviable ability to dwell
in and leap between trees and caves). While traversing the entire
countryside to trace the whereabouts of Queen Sita, the dutiful wife of
Lord Rama who was abducted by Ravana, the ten-faced, twenty-armed
intellectual but diabolical monarch of Sri Lanka, it was in Hampi that
the strapping prince and his younger brother Lakshman met Hanuman, their
most ardent and bafflingly good-natured Vanara follower who was
purportedly capable of flying across continents, change his dimensions
from minute to colossal at will, tear apart immense mountains and carry
them around and defeat entire legions of demonic armies without the
slightest of efforts! The claustrophobic residential cave of Sugriva,
supreme lord of all Vanara forces, is also located in Hampi overlooking a
denuded cliff adjacent the river Tungabhadra.
 |
The descendants of Sugriva and Vali?
|
It
is therefore not surprising at all that the miniature village is a
massive playground for exceedingly nimble monkeys – lithe black-faced
grey langurs (Semnopithecus entellus) as well as querulous brown-faced
Rhesus macaques (Macaca mulatta) – who leap between trees and
roofs of houses, run amok across the streets unmindful of traffic and
shrieking pedestrians sprinting away from them, climb the mammoth
gateway towers of the majestic temples and occasionally also comically
tease the
local populations of frogs and calves just to liven things up! Nights in
Hampi are characterized by a deafening silence undoubtedly capable of
reducing anyone on their own (for instance yours truly) to bewildering
palpitation and are punctured only by the intermittent meows of the
ubiquitous felines and the heavy-footed hushed movement of hordes of
sacred (though mostly starved and cadaverous) cows, but during the day
one
can be assured of being repeatedly startled by the chatter of the
unusually numerous simians and their gasp-inducing raucous acrobatics
through the dense foliage and upon the palm frond-layered roofs of the
austerely simplistic shop-cum-houses and spartan guesthouses that line
the length of the village.
Despite its trifling
geographical span, Hampi’s spellbinding landscape is speckled with such
an unbelievably outlandish number of medieval shrines and residential
annexes that it is preposterous to even think of stepping into the
gorgeous village sans a well-defined map specifying the physical
divisions of the entire area and the key landmarks. Anticipating business
and shoving and shouting to get hired, local guides who also double as
auto rickshaw drivers distribute rudimentary maps free of cost at the
bus stop itself and clamor around the visitors. However, for a serious
sightseeing/documentation visit, it is advisable to be armed with a
highly detailed map, such as the one available here –
Hampi.in/map.
 |
| Beautiful relics from a golden age - Plasterwork patterns, Hemakuta Hill shrine |
Marking
the precipitous length of hill sides, protruding from the jutting edges
of great boulders, surmounting the pinnacles of lofty precipices and
even popping up in places that would seem inaccessible to anything but
monkeys and birds – hundreds of miniature shrines and rudimentary
simplistic pavilions, crafted from granite slabs and varying minutely by
degrees in terms of their spatial plan and dimensions, dot the entire
village and its surroundings environs. Majestically towering over the
entire settlement as if attempting to soar even higher than the
surrounding hills is the impressive 52 meter (160 feet) tall gateway
(“Rayagopuram”) of Virupaksha temple. For the sake of classification,
the entire locale is cursorily divided by archaeologists into three
sections – the populated zone around Virupaksha temple, the “sacred
center” and the “royal center” (subdivided further into “royal
residential center” and “royal ceremonial center”); apart from these,
three of the hills – Matunga, Hemakuta and Gandhamadana – comprising the
immediate natural defensive ring around the impregnable settlement too
are sprinkled with an astonishing quantity and diversity of shrines and
pavilions and one wonders that if these mere unexceptional remnants,
irreversibly ruined and decayed, are such an impeccable source of
astonishment and admiration to all beholders, how visually magnificent,
culturally advanced and architecturally dexterous would have been at its
apex the empire that fashioned these! One conservative estimate puts
the number of shrines and rudimentary pavilions (“mantapa”) supported on
granite pillars in and around Hampi at around 3,000, of which
approximately 1,500 are still existential in their entirety with little
or no damage suffered as a consequence of the Islamic invasions or
elements of nature. However, except for the noteworthy Virupaksha temple
universally acclaimed as a living monument, none of these shrines
presently house
sacred idols nor are they employed for worship.
 |
A million miniscule details and myriads of visual permutations
|
It
is said that Virupaksha temple was adoringly consecrated on the spot
where Goddess Parvati/Pampa and Lord Shiva were traditionally married in
the auspicious presence of the entire Hindu religious pantheon –
celestial deities, intimidating demon lords (“Danavas”), powerful
sorcerer mendicants, fiendish goblins, terrible ghouls (“Pisachas”),
serpent deities (“Nagas”), voluptuous damsels (“Apsaras”), divinely
gifted musician-dancer centaurs (“Gandharvas”) and mystical sages and
their similarly spiritual wives. The original, simplistic shrine,
conceived and constructed around 7th century AD, was manifolds enlarged
and beautified by Proluganti Tippa, an officer in the court of Deva Raya
II, and later was expanded furthermore to its present magnificent
proportions and endowed with its richly textured gateways by Krishna
Devaraya upon ascension to the throne. And although parts of the sacred
enclosure have been grotesquely painted and hideously embellished
several times in the name of restoration/conservation by the temple
authorities, the shrine still retains plentiful of its intended grandeur
and continues to evoke an unbridled sense of wide-eyed awe in every
visitor. I had intended to stay in Hampi for two days and considering
the proximity of Virupaksha temple to the overflowing settlement and the endless groups of locals and
tourists slithering their way in and out of the huge ten-tiered gateway,
I instantly decided that in order to have clear uncrowded photographs,
I’ll have to wake up very early the next morning and visit the temple
before any of the other tourists make their appearance. And despite
being bone-tired from the intense walking and trekking stretching across
several kilometers of the village and neighborhood hills, I did wake up
at 4.30 am the next morning and reach the temple at 5 (it was barely a
stone’s throw away from the modest guesthouse I was staying in – in
fact, the graceful apex of the temple’s massive gateway was visible
through my window and the powerful incandescent bulb surmounting its
crown appeared like a solitary beacon during the dark of the
disturbingly silent night and threw pointed shards of orange-yellow
light to illuminate my room).
 |
| Sacred symmetry |
In the absence of any other soul except the chattering monkeys, the pigeons flitting between the pillars
and the beggarly bearded man struggling to sell marijuana, standing
at the threshold of the hallowed enclosure delineating the temple’s
sprawling peripheries, one
unconsciously realizes the unequalled gravity of the shrine’s
stateliness – dedicated to Virupaksha, the benevolent aspect of Lord
Shiva (although literally the word translates to “He of the three eyes
and features dreadful to behold”), the central shrine is enclosed within
two huge rectangular courtyards
whose boundaries are composed of strikingly symmetrical colonnades proudly
displaying their delicately sculpted granite pillars flamboyantly
painted orange and red. The central shrine itself is so evocatively
spellbinding that one instinctively leaves the camera aside for several
moments and begins to visually drink in the unparalleled artworks, the
imaginatively conceived mythical creatures and the painstakingly
chiseled mesmerizing pillars – the staircases are flanked by
sharp-fanged, serpentine dragons and the two prominent front-facing
pillars ornamentally transform into life-size mythical “Yali” (entities
possessing the body of a lion and the tusks and trunk of an elephant)
leaping from the back of a roaring elephantine “Makara” (entities
possessing the body of a fish, the face and tusks of an elephant, the
limbs of a lion and the tail of a peacock) while both their physical
features mutate to depict intense conflagrations of exquisite
flourishes; the incredible magnitude of the innumerable exceptional
sculptures and line motifs employed in the construction of the
remarkable second line of pillars of the meticulously detailed shrine is
bewilderingly fantastic – momentarily, one forgets that the entire
outstanding edifice is constructed from granite, an extremely resilient
material tremendously difficult to carve and fashion into sculptural
filigrees and artworks. Immaculately framed by stately pillars, the
glorious shrine eventually crystallizes along its roof into an enviably
sophisticated painted fresco (“Ranga Mantapa”) portraying myriads of
mythological scenes and legends. But
the vivid blossoming of poetry does not merely cease in stones but
permeates even the minutest of crannies of the temple complex.
 |
| Convergence of history, mythology, architecture and sculptural and paintwork art - Ranga Mantapa, Virupaksha temple |
Its
brick and mortar superstructure flawlessly adorned with decorative
pilasters, statues of celestial guards and large alcoves inset with
captivating depictions of several deities, another excellently adorned
gateway built immediately besides the central shrine leads to a cluster
of over twenty dilapidated miniature shrines lining the sides of an
enormous stepped tank (conspicuously marked with hideous red and white
vertical lines) revered as Manmatha Honda that is believed to be a
natural depression that filled with the molten residues of the
surrounding hills and boulders when they were instantaneously seared by
the blazing intensity of Lord Shiva’s third eye while he furiously
scorched Kama Deva to cinder.
Parting on a saddening note though, the temple’s in-house elephant, which is
trained to bless patrons with its trunk in exchange for small sums of
money, seemed strangely, disconcertingly hyperactive even this early
morning – perennially chained to the colonnades near the entrance, it
spent the entire time I was in the complex swaying around in semicircles, hopping from one front
foot to another and steadfastly refusing to take cognizance of the
presence of noisily exclaiming visitors even when they headed too close
for comfort – perhaps a terrible, possibly unforeseen consequence of
being confined to such a small space with little or no company and/or
indulgences through most part of the day.
 |
| Religion-sanctioned cruelty and deprivation? |
Facing
the iconic Virupaksha temple is the broad, terribly ruined Hampi Bazaar
(10.6 meters wide and 732 meters long), a cluster of pavilions composed
of crude granite pillars that originally accommodated scores of
well-stocked shops and formed one of the major thoroughfares of the
grand capital. Impressive even in its ruined state, the bazaar literally
forces one to pause and wonder what an indelible riot of colors,
fragrances and sounds the scene would have been when rich curtains would
have been stretched between the individual shops and the crowd,
sprinkled here and there with Portuguese traders and mercenaries but
primarily comprising of the local population and merchants from several
countries professing to several faiths and conversing in several
languages, dealt here in spices, textiles, pearls, jewels, foods, fruits
(and surprisingly roses too!) amidst a raucous milling of gawking
pedestrians, swift horse-mounted riders and traders shepherding oxen and camels
bent with heavy sacks of grains and spices. And the regally-attired royal
family too would have frequently traversed through on lavishly adorned
elephants or chariots followed by a train of courteous servants and
famously decorated royal guards mounted on well-bred steeds!
“The
bazaars are extremely long and broad.. Roses are sold everywhere –
these people could not live without roses, and they look upon them as
quite as necessary as food.. Each class of men belonging to each
profession has shops contiguous the one to the other; the jewelers sell
publicly in the bazaars pearls, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds.”
– Abdur Razzaq
Without
any further diversions, reverting again to Day 1 of my Hampi sojourn –
following my early morning arrival at Hampi bus stand via the overnight
journey from Bangalore (KSRTC Non A/C Sleeper bus, Rs 650/person
inclusive of taxes), I immediately checked into a very down-to-earth
guesthouse (with large unadorned rooms and layers of dried palm fronds
lining the roof to keep the temperature from rising – certainly a
uniquely rural experience!) and proceeded to reserve an auto rickshaw
guide who would, for a princely 750 bucks over the course of next five
hours, show me around the aforementioned three geographical divisions
littered with hundreds of Vijayanagar-era monuments and shrines.
 |
Classical architecture - Kadlekalu Ganesha temple
|
The
“sacred center” is contiguous the bus stand and encompasses within its
ill-defined frontiers numerous religiously and iconographically
prominent and historically important temples besides scores of long
abandoned, highly dilapidated shrines, gateways and pavilions.
Dedicated
to the elephant-headed, pot-bellied God of auspiciousness, good
beginnings and knowledge, the interestingly christened Kadlekalu Ganesha
and Sasivekalu Ganesha (“groundnut Ganesha” and “mustard seed Ganesha”
respectively!) were so named because of the resemblance of the huge
monolithic sculptures to the grains referenced. The idols were carved
out of single pieces of boulder in situ and while the first is enshrined
within a very confined sanctum adjoining a large singularly
well-proportioned hall lined with surprisingly intricately carved
pillars, the second (which is visually more thrilling considering that
the swollen Ganesha idol is so conceived as to depict along its
posterior side the outline of Goddess Parvati’s voluptuous figure
rendered nearly inconspicuous on account of the plump Ganesha
affectionately sitting in her lap!) is simply enclosed within an
unostentatious pillared pavilion and was commissioned in AD 1506 by a
prosperous trader in memory of Emperor Narasimha Raya II (reign AD
1491-1505).
Slightly further exists the massive,
considerably well-preserved Krishna temple dedicated to the ostentatious
playboy-strategist-statesman-cow herder-warrior-philosopher who
supposedly lived some 5,000 years ago and is regarded as an incarnation
of Lord Vishnu. Flanked by fairly large and mesmerizingly adorned
subsidiary shrines, the central temple sits within a huge courtyard
accessible via a literally colossal granite gateway surmounted by an
exquisite brick and mortar superstructure that now merely survives in
miserably decayed fragments but is nonetheless testimony to the
incomparable skill of the craftsmen who had the sheer imagination and
tenacious dexterity to conceive and execute such sophisticated
embellishment of geometric line patterns and elaborate sculptural
artwork.
 |
| Flawless - The Krishna temple |
Commissioned
by Krishna Devaraya in AD 1513 to enshrine an idol of “Balakrishna”
(infant representation of Lord Krishna) that he had brought from
Udaygiri (Orissa) as a commemorative trophy following his victorious
incursion against the powerful armies of Suryavanshi Pratap Rudradeva
Gajapati (reign AD 1497-1540), the sovereign of Kalinga-Utkala (comprising
the whole of Orissa, Andhra Pradesh, Telangana and parts of
Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand and Orissa), the entire edifice and its
subsidiary mini-shrines are defined by a visually subdued and ethereally
graceful profusion of unbelievably delicate stone carvings, impossibly
fine stucco detailing and numerous (much dilapidated) multi-tiered
elongated “shikhars” (elongated domes) – unmovably awestruck at the very
threshold of the courtyard after observing the exceedingly skillfully
finished floral scrolls which convolute and twist into a sculptural
rococo depicting mischievously playful antics of Balakrishna inset
within rounded panels interspersed by the ten incarnations of Lord
Vishnu and a plethora of faintly noticeable vine creepers and subtly
tantalizing flourishes, one is tempted to believe that it is not granite
that one is touching and feeling for such flawlessly precise designs
cannot possibly be carved on such severely unmalleable stone! Not unlike
most shrines in the ancient capital however, the sanctums of the temple
and each of its sub-shrines are now bereft of their consecrated idols –
what was spared by the iconoclast Muslim armies has long since been
transferred to different museums ranged throughout the country to disseminate historical information about Hampi and
Vijayanagar Empire – which however does at times and to a seemingly insignificant but
occasionally heartfelt extent, seem to be at the cost of the voiceless local shrines
back here in the idyllic ruins.
 |
| An Emperor's tribute - Central shrine, Krishna temple |
In
1986, the extraordinary cluster of medieval monuments at Hampi was
accorded the enviable UNESCO World Heritage Site status. In 1999
however, it miserably sneaked its way to the list of World Heritage in
Danger because of unsatisfactory maintenance and pressing infringement
from nearby urbanization and commercial development. Since 2005, a
partnership forged by Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), World
Monuments Fund (WMF), National Culture Fund (NCF), Global Heritage Fund
(GHF), Jindal South West Foundation (JSW) and Hampi World Heritage Area
Management Authority (HWHAMA) has been painstakingly endeavoring to
conserve and restore these monuments through the employment of 3D laser
mapping, structural stabilization interventions, site planning
guidelines, horticultural landscaping and traditional brickwork
construction practices to recreate the damaged stucco panels and
sculptures and physically stabilize the gateways and the towers besides
constituting a more visually enhanced composition. Presently, the
gateway of Krishna temple and the sanctum of Vitthala temple (more on
that later) are ensconced within thick webs of cladding and scaffolding
and it is wholeheartedly hoped that, like a butterfly gently and
victoriously emerging from its cocoon, the monuments post-conservation
would once more be the topic of unreserved appreciation and
well-deserved accolades.
Across the road from the
temple exists its associated gargantuan bazaar where traders and
merchants would gather every Monday to deal in grains. Now relegated to
vegetation and weed-infested shrubbery, the entire area appears
strangely sanitized of all humanity – most tourists are content to click
a photo or two from the road level itself and seldom does anyone head
down the massive granite slabs that ostensibly function as immense,
uneven staircases. It’s a shame actually – concealed behind the bazaar,
camouflaged with all the rough-textured, unevenly-hewn granite columns
that constitute the latter is the temple’s associated sacred water tank
(“pushkarni”) – a pristine rectangular depression brimming with dark
green-colored water around which flutter monotonously faded-yellow
butterflies and stream lines upon lines of ants marching forever to seek
hunt and activity. Egrets and bitterns waddle in the corners or
settle down on the despondently ruined pyramidal roof surmounting the
heartbreakingly beautiful pavilion existential like a marooned island in
the center of the tank. Away from all mankind, away from the
ceaseless drone of unsettling noises and disturbances of tedious
everyday life, away from every single kind of pressure – sitting down in a corner of the bazaar opposite
the tank is explicably peaceful.
 |
| Tranquility! - Pushkarni, Krishna temple |
Impenetrably
surrounded by endless expanses of bountiful banana plantations (so
that’s why there is such an overwhelming abundance of simians here!) and
heralded by several more abandoned shrines and massive gateways that
encompass entire two-way roads between their ends, slightly further on
along a dirt track crisscrossed by brimming and gurgling water canals
exists a constellation of some of the most recognizable landmarks dotting
Hampi’s landscape and its imperial iconography. Glorious within its
cramped square shrine and celebrated for the intricacy of its
well-defined stone features and exquisite ornaments, essentially the first and
foremost to be physically witnessed and literary documented would be
the momentous Lakshmi Narasimha monolith commissioned by Krishna
Devaraya in AD 1528. Terribly fierce and unimaginably powerful, Lord
Narasimha, the perennially infuriated anthropomorphic semi-lion,
semi-human incarnation of Lord Vishnu, originated to protect devotees
from terrible demons and is here depicted with fearsome bulging round eyes and a
particularly vicious smile baring his exceedingly sharp fangs, regally
seated on the thick coils of the seven-hooded eternal primordial serpent
Sheshanaga (considered independently to be a physical manifestation, an
admirable brother and a faithful devotee of the former by several
legends) whose seven heads also form a protective canopy above the Lord
to shield him from the elements. The entire is envisaged within a
simplistic arch, a “makara torana”, emerging from the cavernous mouths
of small makaras on each side before eventually culminating into an apex
constituted by a “kirtimukha” (the ferociously wide fanged, lion-like
face of an all-consuming demon conceived and originated out of thin air
by Lord Shiva to destroy other, mightier demons) very nearly merging
with Sheshanaga’s hood. The sculpture’s four arms as well as the image
of Sri Lakshmi, the Goddess of wealth and prosperity and the consort of
Lord Vishnu, which sat on Lord Narasimha’s thigh and which now merely
survives as a mutilated fragment of a bejeweled arm still lovingly
encircling the Lord’s back, were brutally destroyed by the iconoclast
Muslim soldiers during the final ravaging of the city.
 |
| Fierce and yet spellbinding - The Lakshmi Narasimha monolith |
For
lack of better words to describe this shamefully gruesome facet of
Hampi’s immediate history, I plagiarize my own words from the article
about the unbelievably majestic Hoysaleswara temple in Hassan
district (refer
Pixelated Memories - Hoysaleswara Temple complex, Halebidu) –
“It
(the shrine) is at once a discovery of ancient Hindu imperial magnificence and
bourgeois grandeur and also of the cruelest of illusions that the
unrelenting passage of the sands of time could wreak on unsuspecting
humans – the illusion originating from hope, from belief, that even
though we might wither and die and decay, our mere creations, be they
sculptures carved in perennial stone or words in timeless literature,
will survive the ravages of time and the exploitation and imprudence of
fellow individuals.. Could not those soldiers, those seekers of worldly
plunder, timeless fame and religious redemption, sense the intricacy of
the stone jewels that I was looking at? Could they not visualize the
sweat and labor of the sculptors who meticulously and laboriously toiled
on crafting these? Could they not notice the enchanting textures, the
ethereal impressions imbibed in stone by those expert craftsmen hopeful
of being remembered through their hypnotizing creations, if not their
mortal names and meager origins? How could they have failed to be
mesmerized?”
The Badavilinga temple adjacent
is unusual – the massive granite monolithic Shivalinga (the universal,
terribly austere rounded-pillar representation of Lord Shiva) has been
conceived such that it is skirted by a narrow canal drawn from the
Tungabhadra river and consequentially a major portion of it is submerged
underwater throughout the year. The 3-meter tall Linga projects from an
equally oversized circular base (“Yoni peetha”) and is inscribed very
superficially with the pattern of the Lord’s three eyes. Local folklore
goes that the temple was constructed by an underprivileged peasant
woman, hence the nomenclature – “Badavi” translates to poor. The
superstitious also believe that if one could throw a coin so that it
stays on the Linga’s rounded pinnacle, the devotee’s heartfelt dream
would come true – the atheist in me considered that a waste of both time and
coins and moved on – I was in hypnotic mythological Hampi, what more
could I ask for?! “If dreams were made of stone, it would be Hampi", is
how they promote the place after all.
 |
| Unparalleled exquisiteness! - Subsidiary shrine, Krishna temple |
Endowed
with a large hall composed of ornately carved pillars, Chandikeshwara
temple is not unlike most other shrines and pavilions scattered
throughout the settlement’s landscape except for the case of its
mistaken identity – while its present nomenclature attests to its
association with Lord Shiva, the sculptures and stone embossments
gracing its pillars and sanctum are certainly concomitant to Lord Vishnu
and the life and times of his various incarnations and devotees.
Uddana
Veerabhadra aka Mudduviranna temple, still revered by locals and
painted and repainted and embellished enough times to lose its original
royal character and architectural texture, is dedicated to Lord
Veerbhadra, an aspect of Lord Shiva or technically the personification
of his indignant rage, that originated from his furious, all-incinerating
third eye (or his mouth or a lock of his hair – the various epics differ
on the minutest of details!) following the suicidal immolation of
Goddess Sati, with the resolute purpose of destroying the meritorious
proceeds of Daksha’s sacrifice in addition to those disdainful deities
who did not indulge him, the omnipotent, omnipresent primeval
universal force, their sincere offerings.
 |
| Correlating monuments - A representation of Lord Veerbhadra in Kadlekalu Ganesha temple |
The
lore of Veerbhadra’s origins, relatively little known, especially in
the north, is considerably remarkable, especially as described in the
unequaled epic Mahabharata (which does not however mention Goddess
Sati’s sacrifice, but barely skims the surface with the insults offered
to Lord Shiva by Daksha Prajapati) –
“Mahadeva
(Shiva) created from his mouth a terrible being, a living embodiment of
his wrath, whose very sight could make one's hair stand on its end. The
blazing flames that emanated from his body rendered him exceedingly
awful to behold. His arms were many in number and in each was a weapon
that struck the beholder with fear. In energy, strength, and form, that
being of immeasurable might and energy, and of immeasurable courage and
leonine prowess, resembled Mahadeva himself who had created him – he
came to be called by the name of Veerabhadra – that dispeller of the
Goddess's wrath. That mighty being then set out, desirous of destroying
the sacrifice of Daksha. He created from the pores of his body a large
number of spirit chiefs known by the name of Raumyas. Those fierce bands
of spirits, endued with terrible energy and prowess and resembling
Rudra himself on that account, rushed with the force of thunder to
Daksha’s sacrifice, impelled by the desire of destroying it. Possessed
of dreadful and gigantic forms, they numbered by hundreds and thousands
and filled the sky with their confused cries and shrieks so that the
noise filled the denizens of heaven with fear. The very mountains were
riven and the earth trembled. Whirlwinds began to blow, oceans rose in a
surge. The fires that were kindled refused to blaze up, the sun became
dimmed and the planets, the stars, the constellations and the moon no
longer shone – a universal darkness spread over earth and sky. In
consequence of Rudra's wrath, every one of those gigantic beings looked
like the all-destructive Yuga-fire. Agitating the celestial troops they
caused them to tremble with fear and fly away in all directions.”
 |
| Glitter glimmer - Inside Uddana Veerbhadra temple |
The
16-feet high four-armed image of wide-eyed mustached Veerbhadra,
wrapped in glittering tinsel, glimmering clothes and garlands of vibrant
orange marigolds and flawless white jasmine, is depicted as bearing a
sword, a shield, a bow and arrows. Continuing with the thread of the
legend – Lord Shiva, pacified following the devastation of Daksha’s
sacrifice and the annihilation of several deities and mythological
celestial beings, brought them each back to life but in his disgust
replaced the decapitated head of Daksha with that of a goat. Here, a
goat-headed tiny Daksha is depicted deferential and worshiping
Veerbhadra, an image also evident in several shrines and pillar
embossments across the length of Hampi, but seldom perceived considering
that in terms of physical appearance and ornamentation, Veerbhadra
conspicuously identifies with every other significant Hindu deity.
Not
very far from here can be traced the land-submerged outline of Prasanna
Virupaksha temple (lit., “Delighted Virupaksha”) and its subsidiary
shrines, easily discernible against the vibrancy of brilliant green
grass around (and upon!) them – for some indiscernible reason this
unusual underground shrine, again dedicated to Lord Shiva and
chronologically dated to 14th-century, was built within a large
artificial depression. Consequentially, it was later partly buried by
eroded soil and even now remains flooded to some extent throughout the
year. Wide uneven stairs lead down to the level of the solid granite
gateway (said to have been a later addition) and from here again the
temple is still significantly lower. Inexplicably so, especially
considering that the shrine was regally patronized and Emperor Krishna
Devaraya had stipulated the revenue from several villages including the
rural settlement of Nagalapura (which he had established to impress his
favorite wife Nagala Devi), the numerous slender pillars supporting the
roof are very crudely sculpted and bear extremely unsophisticated divine
figurines.
 |
| Singular! - The Prasanna Virupkasha temple |
Streaks
of light filtering through between the pillars, rendering immaculate
reflections in the crystal clear water and creating patterns of
painfully harsh light and equally blinding shadows, tend to ensure an
unusually memorable visual composition. The gloomy and moist conditions
however are particularly conducive for the settlement of bats in the
nooks and crannies and the obscure darkness-shrouded sanctum.
Consequentially very few visitors step as far as the pillared hallway
and unfailingly rush out almost immediately if they ever do – hence therefore, clean
compositions, bonus for a punishingly compulsive photographer like me!
The severely austere shrine was very recently, and commendably so I must
add, restored and renovated, although I seriously have not the
slightest clue as to why ASI perpetually allows tufts of grass to take
root and colonize the roofs of most of the shrines and temples
(including this one). A scathing article published in Dailymail.co.uk
sarcastically refers to these as the “Hanging gardens of Hampi”! (Refer
Dailymail.co.uk - "Hanging gardens of Hampi! Grass grows on 473-year-old World Heritage site despite Rs 14.87 crore being spent on renovation"). I had
some very enlightening conversation with a couple of young ASI
conservation authorities from Bidar (north Karnataka) involved in the
sketching and planning the preservation and restoration of several
recently excavated, collapsed pavilions in the immediate vicinity of
Virupaksha temple and I must admit I totally overlooked asking
them about this – not that they would have known anyway considering they are
at break-neck speeds shuttled from one monumental destination to the
next all over south India as soon as one conservation project is
accomplished and another is initiated.
 |
| At least here grows no grass! - Northern gateway, Virupaksha temple |
From
here, the “royal center”, the devastated citadel of the empire, is
located a kilometer further along the numerous curves and bends of the
road as it slithers its way between banana plantations, the occasional
solitary abandoned shrine literally reeking of wild post-apocalypse,
post-humanity loneliness, and massive confused and tumbling mass of
rocky denuded hills composed of large boulders uncontrollably stacked
with little regard for rules of physics and geometry. Enroute, one can
repetitively observe the small square holes drilled equidistantly into granite boulders by Vijayanagar-era craftsmen-sculptors. Economical
beyond measure, they did not wander far and wide in search of diverse
construction materials but uncomplainingly utilized whatever was
plentifully available around them. Guided by an interesting, highly
practical technique, they would continuously pour water over wooden pegs
driven into these small holes pierced along the boulders’ sides and, as the water-soaked wood expanded, the
boulders would eventually unfailingly split into flat surfaces along
these closely-spaced serrations.
Occasionally, when clean sliced edges were not required, they would
gently but doggedly wedge the rocks apart along these perforations to
neatly break them in two. However, the use of granite had its drawbacks –
unlike chloritic schist (soapstone) or sandstone, it could not be
articulately chiseled and shaped into subtle filigree work or gorgeous,
minutely detailed sculptures. What the craftsmen therefore had to
sacrifice in terms of miniaturization and excessive ornamentation, they
compensated through the massiveness of
sculptures and clean delineation of features and functions.
 |
| Ruins of an empire - Remains of the Noblemen’s quarters |
The
thoroughly excavated and then forgotten Noblemen’s quarters and
Dannayaka/Danaik’s enclosure (derived from “Dandanayaka”
(Commander-in-Chief of the troops)), the area where the administrative
offices and extravagant residences of civil bureaucrats, provincial
governors and high-ranking military officers of the empire were located,
exist in an utterly dejected state of ruination, surviving merely as an
overabundance of fortifications and foundations of palatial residences,
unending rows of stables and staircases terminating in sudden limbo –
more often than not, it is these forgotten monuments, rarely tread by
visitors, ignored by conservation authorities and therefore untouched by
the garish application of plaster and paint that goes about in the name
of restoration in our country, that anomalously throb with a plethora
of tales regarding their long forgotten past and hold in their decrepit
bosoms multitudes of stories and lore regarding the city’s existence and
development and their own commissioning and construction. The honks of
vehicles and the perpetually incessant chatter of humanity is
perceptibly lost on the way to this virgin corner, modernity is left
behind; melodiously calling to their
companions, brilliant red birds and vividly colored butterflies flutter from
the brambles and massive serpentine segments of cyclopean walls constructed
from large greyish blocks of granite indifferently guard this patch of
wilderness. Occasionally, just occasionally, one might come across
another person who would be equally surprised on spotting another soul
in this distant patch of relentless wilderness and ever-reclaiming
vegetation. Sadly though, the only tales these residential annexes
recount is of dread and wretched destruction, of all-consuming fire and
cultural and architectural darkness – it is said that such was the
grandeur and opulence witnessed here that when the entire area was set
afire following the ravage and the plunder perpetrated by the exultant
armies of Islam, the opulent residences, impressively built of expensive
sweet-smelling sandalwood and sumptuously drenched with lavish
tapestries and curtains, ceaselessly continued to burn for several days!
But
the wilderness does hide a few eye-opening gems. A strong square
watchtower, resembling a bastion more than a soaring tower and for some
unknown reason referred to as “Muhammadan Watchtower”, possesses
well-executed low semicircular domes and projecting arched windows
(“jharokha”) supported on stoic stone brackets. From the shape of the
windows, the raised platforms in front of them and the particularly
massive nature of the stone brackets and the tower itself, there seems
little doubt that guns were mounted on these platforms and ammunition
was stored within the stronghold itself.
 |
| Solid - The Muhammadan watchtower |
The
tower leads further on to another case of mistaken identity – the so
called “Idgah” mosque – a large hall accessible via three arched
openings with two projecting flanks of wall on either side displaying
huge ornamental cusped arched alcoves. Even if one ignores the
characteristically Hindu carved stone moldings encapsulating the base of
the structure which depict voluptuous celestial dancers, numerous
meditating sages and valorous soldiers battling lions along with rows of
geometric and floral scroll bands (all of which would be unthinkable of
in a mosque considering Islamic injunction against any sort of
depiction of life and beings), an onlooker standing opposite the
structure faces north and not west (the direction of Mecca) like one
would have were it a mosque.
The octagonal, vertically
prominent “Band tower” watchtower nearby boasts of some of
the most exquisite exemplars of incised plaster craftsmanship – the
ornamental arches surrounding the windows ornately transfigure into a
sculptural rococo of meticulously detailed swans and elaborate
vegetative scrolls of floral flourishes supported upon decorative
pilasters while highly embellished medallions superfluously compete for
attention with rows of artistic curves although the place of honor
unquestionably belongs to the singularly gorgeous, highly eloquently
patterned brackets that support the slightly slanting eaves (“chajja”).
Certainly suggestive of an unbelievably enthralling amalgamation of
elegant Hindu artistic sensibilities and strikingly symmetrical Islamic
pattern motifs, this is undeniably one of the most articulate monuments
in all of Hampi.
 |
| A jewel in the wilderness - The Band tower |
A
short walk away, the small but highly ornate Hazara Ramaswami temple
(“Shrine of the one thousand depictions of Rama”, which we, for some
reason discernible only to my exceedingly talkative but very
knowledgeable and soft-spoken guide, covered later) can unmistakably be
endowed with the sobriquet “Ramayana verbalized in stone”!
“The
Hazara-Rama temple is a veritable picture-gallery and its walls and
pillars represent a highly artistic and magnificent attempt to capture
in stone the immortal legends of the Ramayana.”
– D. Devakunjari, “Hampi” (ASI, 1998)
Every
conceivable surface of the shrine is adorned with an unmentionably vast
collection of richly-carved reliefs describing the narrative of the
epic Ramayana, the tale of Lord Rama, the mythological ideal
king-statesman-warrior-son-husband and a supposed incarnation of Lord
Vishnu – moreover, such is the attention to the minutest of ornamental
details that the extraordinarily accomplished artists introduced in
their craft that one can be forgiven for believing that the patterns and
mythological lore are carved not in unyielding stone but malleable wax!
Indeed so enormous is the quantity and such exceedingly noteworthy is
the ornamental nature of the figures and embossments that even though
the temple was originally so christened considering its proximity to the
imperial palace’s courtyard (“Hajara”), it nonetheless came to be
referred thus as an allusion to the fantastically incredible number of
sculptures it depicts. Admirably contrasting against the uninterrupted
orange-brown monotony of quartzite, exquisitely carved and meticulously
polished heavy black stone pillars support the shrine’s sanctum,
presently empty and unused. The enchanting shrine is said to have been
commissioned by early Vijayanagar emperors and several later additions,
as determined from the epigraphical impressions and the transitional
features displayed by the temple and its subsidiary shrines, were
financed by Emperors Deva Raya I (reign AD 1406-22) and Krishna
Devaraya.
 |
| Ramayana in stone |
Nearby,
the multistoried painted and gilded palaces and royal residential
mansions extolled by contemporary historical writers were levelled in
their entirety by the Muslim aggressors. Derelict fortifications and
numerous watchtowers, impressive even as skeletons of their erstwhile
militaristic splendor, surround the remains of the judiciously spaced
foundations of several regal edifices – luxurious palaces, safeguarded
treasuries, thoroughly adorned Zenana quarters (residential annexes for
the royal ladies) – which would have exemplified the exalted
manifestations of grandiose Vijayanagar-era non-religious architecture.
One of the finest edifices in all of Hampi and ornamentally amongst the
most impressively conceived is the Lotus Mahal, also otherwise known as
“Chitragini Mahal”, the critically renowned and widely photographed
double-storied open pavilion constructed in quasi Indo-Islamic style of
architecture and profusely decorated with elaborate incised stucco
ornamentation climaxing into fairly realistic arching horse-shaped (or
probably Yali-shaped, considering that the beast’s face and limbs have
been shattered) brackets supporting the eaves (“chajja”), elegantly
sculpted floral medallions and widely-acclaimed bands of scrollwork
depicted emanating from the vicious jaws of a dragon and diligently
drenching the contours of the cusp arches. Each corner protrusion of the
staggered-square symmetric structure is surmounted by an unusual ornate
pyramidal stepped dome. It goes without saying that when the structure
retained its original artistic impressiveness – the plasterwork
decorations, painted sculptures and multihued friezes – it would have
been an imposing edifice both in terms of architectural brilliance and
artistic gaiety. The only blemish in the otherwise perfect monument –
judging from the way the clumsy staircase has been constructed
externally hugging the structure, it comically seems that the architect
had earnestly failed to acknowledge the necessity for the same and added
it later as an afterthought!
 |
Lotus Mahal - Postcard perfect (if I may say so!)
|
A
gateway built into the fortified walls leads to a rectangular enclosure
in a corner of which are situated the lofty and dignified royal
elephant stables – eleven huge, externally homogeneous, interconnected
halls crowned with ribbed domed roofs and much adorned with plasterwork
patterns and surface motifs. A square turret-like superstructure
surmounts the flat central chamber and on either side symmetrically
complementarily the domes have been constructed in uniquely different
architectural styles – plain semicircular, fluted plump and rounded
stepped pyramidal. On the inside, the stables are so massive that one
suspects they can easily accommodate two elephants, but then of course
these state animals too would have been pampered like royalty with
delectable food and jewel-studded gold ornaments. The inner surface of
each dome too is crafted with plasterwork in unique decorative features
and small human-sized openings connect the stables to one another so the
elephants’ retainers could enter and egress through each without
bothering to open the colossal wooden gates (since destroyed).
Perpendicular
to the stables and some distance away from them is
another long rectangular building said to be the guards’ quarters
where resided the palace retinue of royal guards and the king’s favorite
charioteers and palanquin bearers. Surrounded by a lofty colonnade
whose
thick cubical pillars support amongst themselves gently rounded ogee
arches, this Gothic-looking monument too, like Lotus Mahal, is out of
bounds for ordinary visitors.
 |
| Enormity exemplified - The elephant stables |
Some
distance away, apart from mere ruins and foundations of only a few of
the minor edifices, significantly little survives of the lavishly
fabulous ceremonial enclosure where were concentrated the famed imperial
civil buildings. The most conspicuous edifice that instantaneously
dominates the
field of vision is the enormous terraced pyramidal stone pavilion called
the “Mahanavami Dibba” or “Dasara Dibba” that played a prominent part
in the historic nine-day celebration of Navaratri festival. Referred to
as “throne platform” in contemporaneous literary records, the
12-meters
tall three-tiered elevated podium, established soon after the
unprecedented
victory of Krishna Devaraya against the Orissa Gajapatis, was once
crowned by a substantially large, gorgeously painted and
decorated, several-storied wooden pillared superstructure from where
the emperor and the
royal family along with foreign dignitaries and ambassadors would
relish the religious festivities interspersed by standing performances
by jesters and dancers. Sadly however, no trace of this superstructure
pavilion has survived. In the intervening space surrounding the throne
platform were erected smaller decorated pavilions by eminent
military commanders and court officials from where they would enjoy the
extravagant spectacles along with their families and guests. The granite
superstructure of the elevated platform was concealed under a thick
encasement of dark-green chloritic schist (soapstone) boldly-carved
with elaborate friezes representing fierce battle scenes, retinues of
foreign ambassadors, rich caravans bringing forth supplies of camels and
Arabian horses, charging elephants, exotic and often mythical beasts
and contemporary socio-cultural life and occasions interspersed by
scroll bands of numerous perceptibly different geometric and floral
patterns and smaller inconsequential figurines and dancers. The
exceptional
physical scale and extraordinary artistic conception envisioned by the
superiorly talented artists is in equal terms a delightful composition
and heartfelt anguish for photographers – there simply is not enough
space around the tapering tiers to photograph for posterity enough of
these acclaimed sculptured panels! Standing on the uppermost
level of the soaring pavilion, one can observe the ruins of palaces and
audience chambers encircling it and endeavor to visualize what they
might have appeared as in their original glory when they still possessed
their handsomely painted and exquisitely plastered enclosing walls and
ornamental pavilions and the opulently bejeweled emperor walked these
steps along with his retinue of colorfully-attired ministers and
chainmail-outfitted soldiers.
 |
| Imposing! - The royal ceremonial platform |
Immediately
opposite Mahanavami Dibba are the remains of the emperor’s
hundred-pillared audience hall referred to as “Bhuvana Vijaya” and “The
House of Victory”. Merely extant as pillar stubs and remnants of
staircases, the grandiose audience hall was originally flanked on one
side by the Zenana quarters which are described by contemporary
chroniclers as possessing thirty five streets of single-story houses
where resided the queens’ handmaidens and personal servants. Adjoining
the other side of the audience hall was the paved courtyard where
jugglers, dancers, wrestlers and other such entertainers presented their
performances and the vassal chieftains, affluent nobles and foreign
dignitaries collected to publicly present their extravagant gifts and
pay the accumulated revenue.
“This king has a house in which he meets with the governors and his officers
in council upon the affairs of the realm. They come in very rich litters
on men's shoulders.. Many litters and many horsemen always stand at the
door of this palace, and the king keeps at all times nine hundred
elephants and more than twenty thousand horses, all of which are bought
with his own money.”
– Duarte Barbosa, Portuguese visitor to Vijayanagar (AD 1504-14)
Separating
the regal audience hall and the ornate granite foundations (27 meters X
18 meters X 1.5 meters) of the king’s (since annihilated) palace is an unusual,
trivially small underground chamber, composed entirely of
black-green soapstone, that has very constricted and gloomy staircases
leading to it and similar passages lining it. The exact nature and
purpose of this edifice is not known, however conjecture is that it
functioned as a personal shrine constructed thus so the emperor could
escape the scorching summer heat. I really do wonder how did (do?) the
resilient inhabitants of Hampi tolerate the overabundance of granite
around them – it literally does blindingly bedazzle one at times and the
mirages caused by the overheated surface air further compound the
issue! The shrine however is puzzlingly dated to the reign of
Chalukya Dynasty (AD 543-753 and 973-1189).
 |
| Perplexing lines and gorgeous symmetry! |
Past
the aforementioned private palace of the king is an extensive set of
flawless dark green diorite stone steps, said to have been prefabricated
and planned before being assembled here, culminating into a beautiful,
symmetrically perfect step-well reminiscent of the majestic wells of the
parched desert plains of Rajasthan-Gujarat. Nearby are the remains of a
large public bath and several decorative pavilions. The entire area is
lush with vibrant greenery. Brilliant yellow flowers speckled with
myriad shades of orange and red flutter against the wind while multi-hued
butterflies wantonly flit around mirroring the wayward movements of the
masses of fluffy grey-dappled white clouds overhead. Scattered against
the unending sheet of golden-brown and green are tiny bluish flowers
arising from and around tiny crevices in the stone foundations as if
nature has relentlessly determined not to let waste the magnificent
edifices commissioned by the Vijayanagar emperors but to employ them as
veritable flower vases as a testimony to its own relentlessness and
invincibility. In the background, past the enclosure’s peripheries
determined by a stretch of cyclopean fortifications and rows of
soaring coconut palms and massive trees with gnarled branches standing
sentinel-like, loom the pristine blue ancient hills, appearing straight
out of an immensely skilled painter’s canvas – untouched, virgin, the
dense vegetation shrouding their entire enormous being reverberating
with the furious chirping of a variety of birds. One wonders if once
upon a time, the entire parched and scorched settlement of Hampi, blindingly
glinting gold against the gradually-weakening autumnal sun, also
possessed thickly-wooded forests and luxuriously rich water-intensive
crop fields of sugarcane, roses, bananas and rice and appeared as lush
and inviting as this horticulturally landscaped and archaeologically
preserved zone.
“The
space which separates the first fortress from the second, and up to the
third fortress, is filled with cultivated fields and with houses and
gardens. In the space from the third to the seventh one meets a
numberless crowd of people, many shops, and a bazaar.. In this agreeable
locality, as well as in the king's palace, one sees numerous running
streams and canals formed of chiseled stone, polished and smooth.”
– Abdur Razzaq
 |
| Breathtaking! |
The
Vijayanagar kings of the Sangama Dynasty extensively exploited the
hydrological environment to its maximum to enable efficient irrigation
of expansive agricultural land inside the city. Furthermore, water was
directed to the urban areas for domestic use through an elaborate system
of water channels and numerous impressive tanks and stepped baths were also
constructed to ensure regular supply in blistering summers as well.
Indeed, dissecting the spread of the aforementioned greenery in the
royal core is the “Hiriya canal”, a raised, microscopically inclined
aqueduct that happens to be one of the most outstanding waterworks
employed by them in order to draw irrigation water from several wells in
order to render cultivable the valley encompassing the entire region
from the “sacred center” to the “royal center”.
Originally
existential as an attractive component of the royal residential
enclosure, the notable “Queen’s bath”, a large square structure with
unexceptionally plain exteriors and remarkably ornate interiors, is
presently housed within a manicured garden enclosure of its own and
therefore irretrievably separated geographically from the larger
heritage zone by unstructured undisguised modern intrusions such as a
small settlement and a major metaled road as a consequence of which
there is an undeniable element of being overboard in an undesirous way
so that the gorgeous monument is often missed by many tourists and
architecture and history enthusiasts. The 15 meters square and 1.8
meters deep bath encompassed within for the convenience of royal ladies
is surrounded by fragmentary remnants of decorated corridors liberally
wreathed with variegated stucco scroll bands, dexterously executed
elaborate rosettes, floral medallions, numerous geometric motifs and
tall projecting windows (“jharokha”) supported upon ornamental stone
brackets shaped like drooping trumpet flowers.
 |
| The Queen's bath - Reminiscent of playful royal frolics |
It
was afternoon now, the sun was immersed in a game of hide-and-seek with slightly drizzling purple-blue clouds and I had been
exploring the ruins (and dragging the poor consenting guide along as
well) for over four hours with nothing except a couple of cold drinks
and a few cigarettes to go on. I had rain-drenched and broken my poor
old camera on my last trip to Hassan (*a moment of silence* – it had
always proved to be faithful till its much-mourned sudden demise which
left me pathetically bereaved!), so this time I had its battery and
memory cards along with the ones that came with the new camera, however
scenic little Hampi boasts of such a dazzling assortment of strikingly
wild natural landscapes and unmistakably handsome monuments that even my
second battery was close to draining away entirely by now! Given the
abundant concentration of monuments, I realized that despite being
seriously sweaty and hungry it would undoubtedly be far better to walk
than to order the auto rickshaw to stop (and move out of the view) every
single occasion a mediocre shrine or a tiny pavilion caught my fancy.
Having informed the guide of the same, we proceeded towards the
Gandhamadana Hill (upon whose crest exists the aforementioned, ethereally
beautiful Vitthala temple), on the way very briefly halting at Ganagitti
Jinalaya and Talarigatta gateway.
 |
| Sculptural extravaganza! - At Hazara Rama temple |
Historical records establish that immediately following the establishment of the
Vijayanagar empire at Hampi, the followers of Jainism, who already
resided here and undertook physically punitive penances, were severely
persecuted by Hindus and it was only in AD 1368 that a strictly
maintained reconciliation was established between the two faiths by
Emperor Bukka Raya (reign AD 1356-77) and thereafter an undisturbed
peace prevailed which is lent irrefutable testimony by the considerable
number of Jain shrines scattered throughout the contours of Hampi’s
punishing physical landscape. Were it not for the tiny seated figure of a
long-eared Jain Tirthankara above the lintel superimposed with three successively
smaller umbrellas above his head and a yak-tail flywhisk on either
flank, it would have been nearly impossible to establish that the
Ganagitti temple is a Jain shrine – the severely austere rectangular
edifice, dedicated to Kunthunatha (the 17th Tirthankara of Jain faith)
and commissioned according to an inscription to the effect in AD 1386 by
Irugapa, the Commander-in-Chief of Emperor Harihara II (reign AD
1377-1404), possesses architectural features indistinguishable from the
more simplistic Hindu shrines dotting the picturesque village – an
inverted T-shaped structure supported by unadorned cubical pillars
realizing three identical shrines facing the central hall which is
preceded by an open pillared pavilion thereby effecting an almost
cruciform plan devoid of any sort of sculptural art form apart from the
miniature one previously described and the arched alcoves built into the
singular brick and mortar terraced superstructure over the pillared
pavilion hall. The sanctum too is empty, however what is even more
interesting than the unremitting sternness of the architecture is the
shrine’s nomenclature – “Ganagitti” literally translates to an
“oil-woman”, however why the handsomely somber temple was referred thus
has been lost in the relentlessly ceaseless sands of time which sooner
or later obliterate every act, edifice and memory.
 |
| Austerity - Ganagitti Jain temple |
Talarigatta
gateway formed a fragment of the fortified capital’s northeastern
defenses besides, as the name suggests, functioning as a toll gate on
the arterial highway that mapped the garrisoned citadel to the
riverfront and the old capital at Anegundi across. Uninformed of the
militaristic historicity of the site and the numerous gruesome battles
fought around it, one might naively argue that Hampi, endowed with
near-invincible natural strategic strength both by the wide and
torrential Tungabhadra and the impassable hill ranges that surround
it on all sides and whose denuded massive boulders offer little in way
of concealment, does not need human defense works. The first battle for
ultimate control over
Hampi-Anegundi, mythological nonetheless, is mentioned in the Ramayana as the family feud between the mighty Vanara warlord twins Vali and
Sugriva in which Sugriva was decisively defeated and contemptuously
banished from the simian kingdom. Flash forward to the medieval ages,
the fabulous amassed wealth and the unbelievable grandeur of Vijayanagar
Empire relentlessly attracted the Islamic armies which would often
navigate over the river through shallow fords to challenge the
gargantuan imperial armed forces, therefore necessitating the
construction of several lines of defenses and well-garrisoned outer
earthworks described by every fascinated contemporary chronicler.
“The
powerful Hindu Sultan possesses a numerous army and resides on a
mountain at Bichenegher (Vijayanagar). This vast city is surrounded by
three forts and intersected by a river, bordering on one side on a
dreadful jungle, and on the other on a deep gorge; a wonderful place and
to any purpose convenient. On one side it is quite inaccessible; a road
gives right through the town, and as the mountain rises high with a
ravine below, the town is impregnable.”
– Athanasius Nikitin, Russian traveler (AD 1468-74)
 |
Talarigatta gateway - Seamless fusion of form and functionality
|
Slightly
beyond Talarigatta gateway, the rock-strewn dusty path leading to the
amazingly well-preserved Vitthala temple does not permit admission to
vehicles except cycles and governmental battery-operated tourist buses
whose every act of locomotion humorously becomes engulfed in a cloud of
all-pervading orange-brown dust of their own rendition – it was at this
point that I bid goodbye to my baffled guide who, although
comprehensibly pleased, could not fathom why one would prefer to walk
all the way back afterwards when they can roam about in an auto
rickshaw.
Along the way one comes across a classical raised open pavilion
known as “Gejjala Parankusha Mantapa”, a small shrine lined with pillars
transformed to mounted horses and therefore christened “Kudure Gombe”
(“Toy horse”) mantapa and a few lesser, inconsequential pavilions
thickly engulfed by a sea of banana plantations where roamed about dogs
that (horrors of horrors!) instantaneously took a dislike to me and
began barking ferociously!
Sri Vijaya Vitthala temple,
dedicated to Lord Vitthala/Vithoba (fervently revered in the
Maratha-dominated regions of Maharashtra and northern Karnataka, but
rarely encountered outside), an aspect of Lord Krishna, the flamboyant
playboy-strategist-statesman-cow herder-warrior-philosopher incarnation
of Lord Vishnu, is heralded by the miserable remnants of a handsome
thoroughfare (945 meters X 396 meters) lined with huge colonnaded
marketplaces and an immensely pretty sacred water tank (“Lokpavani”).
Close by exists the so-called “Shiva temple”, which however is actually a
contemporary compact shrine consecrated to Brahma Vitthala, the deity’s
another form. The surprisingly sudden advent of twilight imparted a
reddish-orange glow to every edifice and the vast dusty plains that
are discontinuously shrouded with lush green grass where large stone
pillars and the forgotten remains of the fallen pavilions do not carpet
the ground. Shadows began to gradually lengthen, impressively
camouflaged chameleons swiftly dashed about the rough grey rocks and
staircases and the entire area resounded with the ear-splitting
boisterous cries of multi-hued birds returning home to their little ones
and the intermittent neighs of dozens of inferior-bred horses nuzzling
each other and sprinting around the colonnades and the water tank.
Somehow strangely, the continuously streaming crowds of humans simply
ceased to matter as the shrine and its various unbelievably magnificent
features lethargically became engulfed with traces of darkness.
“The
existence of the temple may be traced at least to the time of Devaraya
II (AD 1422-46). Though the general opinion is that the temple was
neither finished nor consecrated, epigraphic and literary evidences show
that it remained in worship at least till the time of the battle of
Rakhasi-Tangdi. The Vitthala temple portrays the high watermark of
perfection of the Vijayanagara style, and one may well say that there is
no other building which could stand comparison with its florid
magnificence.”
– D. Devakunjari
 |
| Flourishes, patterns and unbelievable sculptures - Inside the Vitthala temple |
The
remains of the exceedingly ruined superstructure of the temple
complex’s substantial gateway explodes into a pinkish-red conflagration
of richly textured sculptures illustrating numerous singularly unique,
artistically evocative and breathtakingly realistic representations of
powerful heavenly gatekeepers, anthropomorphic entities, ascetic saints
engrossed in millennial contemplation, exaggeratedly attired royalty and
voluptuous, finely proportioned celestial damsels crafted to erotic
perfection. It is no coincidence that here too is portrayed the famed
“Shikarika” (“Huntress”), previously photographed by me in her
extraordinarily vividly-detailed expression at the unsurpassably
graceful Chennakesava temple of Belur (refer
Pixelated Memories - Sri Chennakesava Temple), as symbolic of the
auspicious divinities associated with fertility and their inclusion in
the context of the philosophical understanding of existence.
Unarguably
the most spellbinding edifice envisaged during the reign of Vijayanagar
Empire, the temple is undeniably an epitome of religious architecture
and sculptural art, accommodating within its superlative being hundreds
of perfectly-described sculptural portrayals of mythological deities,
anthropomorphic entities and mythical creatures besides well-chiseled
geometric and floral patterns bursting into an enviable rococo of wildly
ecstatic foliage, overhanging pinecones and a never ending profusion of
flowers and fruits.
 |
| Flamboyance! - Gateway, Vitthala temple |
Each composite pillars (“Aniyottikkal”) metamorphoses into a vividly-detailed
cubical pillar shaft enveloped along the entire span of 360 degrees by
the introduction of an infinite variety of slender decorative
columnettes, intricately fashioned celestial dancer-musicians, rearing
ferocious lions, Yali figurines (entities possessing the body of a lion and the
tusks and trunk of an elephant) and iconographic sculptural
portrayals of divine adventures and events as described by the numerous
epic scriptures, besides the widely renowned corner monolith composite
units 3.6 meters tall which encompass numerous solid cylindrical granite
“musical pillars” or “Sa-Re-Ga-Ma pillars” which when tapped can
resonate to four (Sa, Re, Ga, Ma) of the seven basic musical notes
and provide indisputable testimony to the unparalleled sculptural and
acoustical knowledge of medieval Hindu architect-craftsmen. The
musical pillars till date perplex scientists and engineers who
tenaciously continue to conduct resonance and material composition
studies in an attempt to understand how these were envisaged and
constructed so as to resonate at a certain frequency – a striving for
understanding rendered even more challenging considering that the
intricate knowledge prerequisite to determine the presence of
silica-rich granite stone and sculpting it has since been sadly lost and
so is the inherent musical ability and inclination to thread into an
aesthetic composition the sonorous notes from these marvelous pillars.
One would not be resorting to hyperbole in stating that the highly
ornate temple and its associated subsidiary shrines and freestanding
pavilions are amongst the most extraordinarily impressive edifices to be
built in the country and it is explicably impossible to condense into
mere words the unequalled prowess of the sculptors and the fantastical
magnitude of the innumerable spellbinding sculptures admirably employed
by them in the construction of the gigantic shrine.
 |
| Poetry in stone! - Tales from the eventful life of Lord Krishna, Vitthala temple |
Interestingly,
although most historians consistently maintain that the gorgeous shrine
was never completed and deified since it was continuously being
embroidered with sculptures and superfluous embellishments by a
succession of enthusiastic rulers, local lore points to a more alluring
tale, undoubtedly a sentimentally delectable product of the boundless
imagination of an excessively flattering poet – it is said that the
shrine was specially built for the famous image of Lord Vitthala at
Pandharpur (Sholapur district, Maharashtra) and the eminent deity,
assuming physical form, himself came to examine the progress of the
construction, but despite being impressed beyond measure he refused to
relocate saying that the shrine was too grand an abode for him and he
preferred his own humbler sacred home at Pandharpur! A portion of the
awe-inspiring (though probably structurally unstable) sanctum had
collapsed ages ago and some sections of it were being conserved now. The
ASI guard was extremely busy preventing people from walking in;
thankfully however, after many disagreements, he did allow me to peep in
from a corner for two entire minutes after I expressed my unavoidable
requirement for photographs.
Despite the exaggerated
ornamentation, the intriguing musical pillars and the presence of
identical visually-uplifting pillared pavilions flanking the
overwhelmingly impressive central shrine which undoubtedly betrays
unequalled charisma despite being irreversibly ruined and narrowly
confined within a miserably desolate heritage zone, the architecturally
extravagant temple cannot be considered the epicenter of Hampi’s
world-renowned attractions since that eminence unanimously belongs to
the sprawling, lesser ornamented Virupaksha temple, unquestionably a
celebrated living monument located in the heart of the settlement and
fervently revered by dedicated pilgrims travelling to it throughout the
year from far and wide. This interesting anomaly is, I believe,
universally witnessed in most cities of ceaseless antiquity and
excessive architectural and religious heritage – for instance, Delhi
where Humayun’s otherworldly magnificent, although lifeless, mausoleum
complex competes for renown and patronization with the multihued
Nizamuddin Dargah complex effervescent with an intermingling of myriads
of emotionless histories, mythical legends and enriching flavors (both
gastronomic and cultural!), or Calcutta where the grandly opulent
Victoria Memorial looks on to the ancient Kalighat drenched with the
blood of innumerable sacrifices since time immemorial to quench the
primordial Goddess’ relentless bloodlust.
 |
Granite turned malleable!
|
In
and about the temple are over a score inscriptions dated from AD 1513
to 1564 recording the substantial expansion and embellishment of the
shrine and endowment of the revenue of several villages for its
maintenance by Krishna Devaraya in AD 1513, the construction of the
outstanding gateway and the betrothal of expensive gifts by his two
queens Chinna Devi and Tirumala Devi, the numerous magnificent
structural additions commissioned by his step-brothers and successors
Achyuta Devaraya (reign AD 1529-42) and Sadasiva Raya (reign AD
1542-70), besides numerous grants and lavish gifts made by private
individuals and eminent military commanders and ministers. The
supremely exquisite pillared hall adjoining the sanctum was added in AD
1554. It is conjectured that originally the elegant temple and its
sub-shrines were gorgeously painted multihued with special brilliantly
vibrant highlights reserved for the more exemplar sculptures and
artistic features while the exteriors were drenched with a minute layer
of reflective golden-brown copper, perhaps like the repetitively
paint-smeared Virupaksha temple where gaudy blue and cream-white
plasterwork claddings enclose the fragile old sculptures and several
shades of white, red, yellow and orange are splattered over the grand
gateways and soaring flag towers. Affirming the presence of foreign
traders and dignitaries and honoring eminent ambassadors, one of the
flanking pavilions even depicts on its sculpted pillars representations
of mustached Portuguese horse traders with unsheathed curved swords and
well-dressed, top-hatted Persian merchant-travelers riding intricately
carved, ferocious rearing lion/Yali figures.
 |
| A procession of stone sentinels come to pay their tributes! |
Standing
opposite the central shrine and corroborating the legendarily unerring
dexterousness of the craftsmen, who saturated the settlement as well as a
numerous other south Indian cities with their delightfully inscribed,
ethereally beautiful raw stone monuments, is Karnataka tourism’s
renowned icon and Hampi’s architectural highlight – the intensely
sophisticated stone chariot that is so tastefully conceived, excellently
proportioned, finely crafted and imbibed with superb painstakingly
emblazoned flourishes that every onlooker is rendered unmovably
transfixed with wide-eyed deferential bewilderment and wondrous
admiration. The many layered edifice is indescribably evocative – one
might go even as far as terming it richly haunting – in that it
instantaneously becomes irretrievably burned on one’s retinas and arises
every single time one reminiscences the affable memories of the
romantic ruins. And that’s not the end of its ceaselessly astonishing
conception and embellishment – the joints between the various granite
panels are so exceedingly fine and skillfully concealed that it
justifiably appears monolithic! Furthermore, faithful pilgrims have
always believed that religious merit may be accrued by turning round the
chariot’s stone wheels which are independent of the chassis – the
government regrettably delayed its reasonable order to permanently
cement them and was propelled to action only following the wearing away
of the axles to an alarming degree. Undetected by most, the small
elephant statuettes depicted pulling the substantial chariot are
actually later additions and, if observed carefully, one can still
notice the fragmented rear legs and tails of the horses that were
formerly existential here.
 |
| Karnataka's most iconic monument - The Stone Chariot, Vitthala temple |
Like
all major temple complexes in Hampi, Vitthala temple too had a large
sprawling village – Vitthalpura – circumambulating it which supplied
it with the revenue and the everyday necessities like flowers and
vermillion for the idols of the deities, food and recreation for the
priests and sculptors/stone masons for additional constructions and
necessary repairs. The village is no longer in existence, not the
slightest trace of it survives except for the cursory mentions in
historical epigraphs and literary documents, which does make one pause
and wonder at this disturbing facet.
“It
is a curious fact that, although the temples, palaces and civil
buildings were built on such a lavish scale, the domestic dwellings and
private houses must have been of the poorest description as no trace of
them other than the ruined car streets survive. It is unlikely that the
Muhammadans would have troubled themselves about wrecking these when
there were so many more valuable buildings to destroy. In all
probability, the dwellings of the humbler classes were even more squalid
and ill-arranged than they are in any big city in India at the present
day. The glowing accounts of the "beautiful streets with very beautiful
houses with balconies and arcades" which the old chroniclers have
furnished us with, relate almost exclusively to the few car streets of
the larger temples. One would imagine that even these descriptions were
rather overdrawn judging from the style of the houses that still remain
in Hampi Bazaar, which is said to have been the finest street in the
city.”
– A.H. Longhurst, “Hampi ruins, Described and Illustrated” (1998)
 |
| A little corner in the lap of nature - The Brahma Vitthala temple, roughly flanking the erstwhile Vitthalapura settlement |
Surrounding
the Vijaya Vitthala temple, numerous ruins in various stages of decay
and disintegration do survive. The most conspicuous of course are the
numerous shrines protruding from almost every corner and claiming as
their own even the slightest of the plain patches along the undulating barren hill surface. A
few extremely plain open pavilions, derelict crumbling colonnades and
imposing double-storied gateways flanked by sentry posts too do pop-up
along the boulder-strewn hill ridges leading onwards to the peacefully
serene banks of the sluggishly meandering river Tungabhadra. The most
curious monument however is situated only a few dozen meters south-west
of the Vitthala temple – the "King's Balance" was employed on especially
auspicious occasions like coronations, marriages, lunar or solar
eclipses and important festivals and celebrations for the ceremonial
purpose of “Tulapurushadana” whereby, accompanied by the sanctified
chanting of the ancient Vedic scriptures, the immeasurably wealthy
emperor, regally attired and armor-clad, would be dutifully weighed
against his own weight in gold, jewels, pearls and grains of which
the former would then be conferred upon high-ranking Brahmins and the
officious priests of important temples and the latter would be
distributed amongst the distressed poor (which goes on to reveal that
the illustrious Vijayanagar Empire too was far from utopian and served
the avaricious interests of the pompous clergy over that of the
neglected underprivileged).
“He
who weighs against his own person in gold and distributes it among
Brahmins will extricate his forefathers from ten generations (past and
present) and from all misery.”
– Danasagara, 11th-century Hindu scriptural manual
The
balance consists of a large stone beam designed to appear like the
crown of a miniature temple gateway spanning two elegant granite pillars
and possessing along its underside carved stone rings where were
affixed the pair of scales for the purpose of the religious ceremony.
The brothers Krishna Devaraya and Achyuta Devaraya are historically
recorded in inscribed legends to have generously undertaken the ceremony
following their coronations and military victories, donating immense
sums of priceless jewels and pearls.
 |
| Relic from a forgotten past - The King's Balance |
From
here on begins the trek down the incredibly scenic Gandhamadana Hill, a
tiring journey over ridge paths that are interwoven with narrow tunnels
bored through between the boulders and grass-carpeted pathways skirting
the ravine only by a hair's breadth and commandingly overlooking the
majestic flow of Tungabhadra. The company of crumbling shrines and
abandoned pavilions is an unspoken but much appreciated constant, so is
the deafening racket raised by the roaring wind whistling between tree
tops and beautiful avian species of myriad hues swooping from shrubbery
to another. Excluding a few exceptions, the numberless shrines and
pavilions – Kodandarama temple, Yantroddharaka Anjaneya temple, Varaha
Perumal temple, Tirumangai Alvar temple, Rama Vitthala temple, Hastagiri
Ranganatha temple, Purandaradasa Mandapa and Narasimha temple amongst
others – simplistic in construction and ornamentation and ruinously
weathered by the inexorable ravages of time and nature, aren’t worth
pondering over and commenting. A congested pathway through the boulders
built by and christened after Kampabhupa, son of Emperor Harihara II
(reign AD 1377-1404), needs to be managed on the way – certainly a
terrifying experience considering that the cave-like cavity appears
extremely claustrophobic and one keeps imagining that even the slightest
of earthquake tremor will easily collapse the entire mountain on the
trapped visitor – plus there are the occasional frighteningly huge (half
a feet long at the least!) black centipedes also slithering around,
seemingly confused about which side of the handsome hill they actually
want to be!
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| Kampabhupa's pathway - Terrifyingly claustrophobic! |
The
green-tinged river, dreamily reflecting the listless movements of
featureless clouds overhead and the shapes and contours of the hill
boulders flanking it, sluggishly flows on in a perennial undertaking to
meet the sea and in the process renders its enormous flood plains
bountifully fertile. Occasionally and only momentarily, its waters might
be disturbed by the ripples enveloping the coracles (shallow round
boats fashioned from thin bamboo strips and then layered with treated
leather and coats of water-resistant tar) cheaply hired by tourists to
cross over to old untouched Anegundi on the other bank. Nirdesh Singh, a dear friend, mentor and an infinitely better writer
compared to me, has beautifully documented Anegundi's history and
monuments on his blog here –
Justrippingg.blogspot.in - Anegundi Fort and Origin of the Vijaynagara Empire. Twilight was
slowly beginning to gather its dark covers and distant rays of soothing
red-orange sunlight, fighting a losing battle, were beginning to
dissipate rendering the entire river front a breathtakingly multihued
picturesque landscape, the whole hillside appearing as if sprinkled down
and condensed like chunks of chocolate frosting – dark green stained
larger, smoother boulders underneath surmounted by thousands of immense
lighter brown irregularly shaped masses of rock, the entire framed by
the delineation introduced by the green (gradually turning blackish)
forest cover and the orange-red skyline. Against the brilliant
purple-blue sky overhead, a pair of sleek-tailed, light green parakeets
tinged with brilliantly vibrant reds, oranges and blues would
occasionally take flight across the wide river, quickly rolling, diving
and swooping acrobatically, singing paeans of inextinguishable love to
each other. A virgin patch of picture perfect magically blissful heaven
on earth! Standing on a boulder and seeing nature’s unequalled palette
unfold, one desires never to leave.
But back to the
jarring reality, the second camera battery too died just about then and
as a rapidly advancing twilight began to settle over the village and the
last of the tourists disappeared in their guesthouses or hopped on
buses back to nearby district of Hospet, I walked downhill and then
along the meandering pathway crisscrossing the valley between
Gandhamadana and Matanga hills intending to return the next morning to
explore Matanga Hill as well.
 |
| Twilights in Hampi can be terribly solemn |
As
previously mentioned, nights in Hampi are characteristically slow and
silent and therefore appear far, far longer than they actually are.
Following an entire day of running about exploring and trekking, as soon
as I sat down at a roadside eatery near the guesthouse with a cigarette
and coffee, I realized my joints were aching terribly and a groggy
tiredness had begun to manifest itself slowly as well – nothing one
could not sleep off in a couple of hours. Three hours later, 10 pm by
the dot, following a two-hour nap and a very late delectably good north
Indian meal (delicious and aromatic garlic naan and wok-stirred kadai
chicken consisting tender well-roasted chunks of chicken dunked in
mouthwatering gravy) at “Bamboo House”, a dimly lit rooftop restaurant
with cushions and bolsters strewn about a large dining area open to cold
breeze on all four sides except for a few light curtains fluttering
about, when I ventured back on the streets, recharged camera in hand, to
click the faintly bluish glow attributed to the colossal tower of
Virupaksha temple by the many incandescent tube lights illuminating the
area around it, I could not spot a single soul on the streets except for
a few restaurant and souvenir shop owners/caretakers sitting idly by or
gossiping, a couple of tourists streaming in for a good night’s sleep
and of course, the beggarly bearded (and now incredibly stoned) man
still struggling to sell marijuana outside Virupaksha temple (“Hey!
Which country, man? Want some marijuana? I have – very good quality.” (It
did actually turn out to be of pretty decent quality when I shared some
the next day with another tourist.)). Two-faced Hampi is unquestionably a
spooky ghost town when the tourists disappear, a fact also resonated by
my frustrated guide perturbed about the lack of avenues for livelihood
in the off-season.
 |
| Beacon in the dark |
The
temple nonetheless does look relatively more impressive late at night,
towering over the sleepy settlement like an immense beacon distantly
glowing blue-black, however there is a limit to how many angles and
compositions one can click it from, especially if one is the only person
roaming around the streets and the deafening silence and the abnormal
solitariness, broken only by the high-pitched orchestra enthusiastically
conducted by hundreds of frogs and grasshoppers, is actually strangely
unsettling. Three quarters of an hour later, after much roaming about
with only a few discreetly soundless and suspiciously identical cats (or
maybe there was just one idiotically roaming around in circles!) and
wide-eyed bovines for company, I was obliged to call it an early night
and ended up spending a couple of hours consulting maps and engrossed in
a book I purchased at Virupaksha Bazaar (“Hampi: World Heritage Area”
by Dr. C.S. Vasudevan and Melukote Muralidhar – barring few grammatical
mistakes and dull repetitions, a seamless and quick read possessing an immensity of details and
some stunning photographs clicked from unique perspectives). I fell asleep chuckling at myself
for missing the obvious allusion to “Breaking Bad” by the numerous
mouthwatering restaurants and cafes in this holy town which, in keeping
with the local religious tradition of avoiding non-vegetarian fare,
refrain from serving chicken but instead have “pollos” on their menus!
As
already described, I was up and about pretty early the next morning to
comprehensively explore and photograph the ancient Virupaksha temple.
Following a quick south Indian breakfast thereafter (at Sagar
Restaurant, a small, incredibly cheap street-side shack managed by
several old and very thoughtful ladies) and check-out from the
guesthouse I had lodged in, I headed back up the inclined,
extraordinarily featureless plain rock sheet that is the hallowed
Hemakuta Hill whose lower slopes, where are located the aforementioned
classically constructed and vernacularly christened Kadlekalu Ganesha
and Sasivekalu Ganesha temples, have already been incorporated within
the “sacred center”.
 |
| "Let me adjust this crown" - Another ordinary day at Sasivekalu Ganesha temple |
Commanding a majestic panorama of the entire settlement,
including the entire vast expansiveness of Virupaksha temple and its
enormous pyramidal tower projecting perpendicularly straight from the
bedrock underneath, a
trek along the sheer granite cliff skirting around Kadlekalu Ganesha
temple leads one to a cluster of thirty-three
unsophisticated pre-Vijayanagar temples (predominantly dedicated to Lord
Shiva and his immediate family, dearest followers and mightiest
manifestations) chronologically dated to 9th-14th centuries and
compositely classified as “Hemakuta Group of Temples”. Ranging from
exceptionally simplistic, almost rudimentary, pavilions and massive
buttressed gateways to unadorned comparatively larger shrines (these too
displaying considerable spatial, architectural and artistic diversity,
right from the floorplan (single cell (“ekakuta”), double identical
(“dwikuta”) or triple-cell cross-shape (“trikuta”)) to the presence of
associated adjoining pillared hallways and whitewashed surface
plasterwork disposition), these neat little shrines dot the entire
sacred hill surface and present several hundred possibilities in terms
of composition and perspective to a photographer. Moreover, trekking the
steeply inclined hillside and juggernauting one’s way from one revered
structure to the next is definitely adventurous, especially with the
swift fingers of relentless wind coursing through one’s hair and clothes
– though a point of restraint, in certain sections the rugged surface
is considerably slippery as a consequence of the slow seepage of
rainwater accumulated in the numerous deep surface undulations and one
can never be too cautious while navigating these!
 |
| Against a rugged backdrop - A rudimentary shrine and a buttressed gateway, Hemakuta Hill |
While
the rudimentary pavilions are simply a delight to observe and
photograph juxtaposed against the background of boulder-composed hill
outcrops or other edifices nearby, the place of honor belongs to the
conspicuously out-of-place triple-celled shrines surmounted by minimally
ornamented pyramidal stepped roofs (“Kadamba Nagara shikhara”) that
were inspired by and christened after the singularly unique style of
architecture popularized by the ancient royal Kadamba Dynasty (reign AD
345-525) which is categorically regarded as the first indigenous
sovereign state to rule a major portion of Karnataka (and therefore be
incontestably considered the imperial precursor of Vijayanagar Empire). A
commemorative inscription engraved on one of these triple-celled
edifices notes that its construction was commissioned by Vira
Kampiladeva, son of Mummadi Singeya Nayaka, the courageous warlord of
the state of Kampili who fiercely resisted the barbaric Muslim
onslaught. A spooky small little temple dedicated to Sri Prasanna
Anjaneya (or Lord Hanuman – the noblest and wisest of Vanara commanders,
allegedly capable of flying across continents, changing his dimensions
from minute to colossal, tearing apart immense mountains and defeating
entire legions of demonic armies and contemptuously hurling them around
with his tail – as he is referred to in south India, an etymology derived
from his mother Anjani who is said to have lived in a small undisturbed
cave in mystical Anegundi), graced by a vibrantly painted embossed image
of his, is still venerated fairly regularly and its decrepitly
crumbling walls and diminutive pyramidal roof are therefore coated with
layers of whitewash little by little peeling away to reveal the
haphazard layers of stone underneath. In the vicinity are numerous small
votive Shivalinga commissioned by enthusiastic devotees. A miserably
ruined shrine nearby slowly being overtaken by dense foliage still
retains fairly well-preserved remnants of painted plasterwork
depictions of charging adorned elephants and bearded devotees venerating
a Shivalinga, compelling one to wondrously consider if each of the
edifice here too was once such gracefully painted and ornamented.
 |
| Singular solitude - Kadamba-style shrines, Hemakuta Hill |
“Know ye this in the way that this example of mine shows:
There
was a Chandala (untouchable) of the Sopaka caste, well known as
Matanga, who abandoned sensual desires and reached the highest fame,
such as was very difficult to obtain, and many Kshatriyas and Brahmins
clamored to serve him. He having mounted the vehicle of gods entered
their flawless citadel and forever and ever after lived with them in
their world. His low birth did not prevent him from being reborn in the
realm of the universal god.
On
the other hand, there are Brahmins, born in the family of preceptors,
friends of the hymns of the Vedas, but continually caught in sinful
deeds, who are to be blamed in this world, and blistering hell awaits
them afterwards. Their elevated birth does not save them from hell nor
from blame.
Therefore,
know this: not by birth does one become an outcast, not by birth does
one become a Brahmin, by deeds one becomes an outcast and by deeds one
becomes a Brahmin.”
– The Buddha, (Sutta Nipata, section Vasalasutta)
Majestically rising like
an enormous dormant beast, Matanga Hill at the other end of the strikingly symmetrical
Hampi Bazaar immediately opposite the extensive
Virupaksha temple complex derives its name from Sage Matanga whose extraordinary
story is recounted in the Ramayana and Mahabharata, the two most
fanatically venerated Hindu epics, and is also immortalized in the
extraordinarily wise parables of the Buddha. Regarding Sage Matanga, the
severe ascetic, it is documented that for several hundred years he
immersed himself in fierce spiritual austerities and physical penances
and only reluctantly relented when Indra Deva, the supreme sovereign
over all celestial deities, blessed him with unparalleled
fame for several millennia to come and the powers of flight and
shapeshifting.
 |
| Guarding its domains! |
Dreadfully
furious as a consequence of the sacred sweet-smelling atmosphere of his
peaceful dwelling being fouled when unanticipatedly fell in it the
putrefying, blood-dripping mountainous carcass of Dundubhi, an armored
amphibious buffalo-demon that Vali, lord of the Vanara forces, had
derisively flung after the deadly, year-long battle between them, Sage
Matanga irrevocably cursed the powerful king that his head would
spontaneously explode into a hundred little pieces even if he mistakenly
tread near the ascetic’s consecrated hermitage and the impenetrable
forest encircling it. It was therefore in the dense woods around the
moderately-proportioned Matanga Hill that Sugriva, Vali’s vanquished
identical twin, sheltered while fleeing from his brother’s insufferable
rage and met the exiled princes Rama and Lakshmana devastated by and
seeking to rectify the abduction of Queen Sita.
Proximately gracing the base of the hill have been constructed
several spacious double-storied pavilions, one of which houses a
massive, crudely-sculpted monolithic crouching Nandi, the bull mount of
Lord Shiva and a patron of spirituality and religious dedication,
referred to as “Yeduru Basavanna” which roughly translates to “Lord Bull
seated in the opposite direction” (i.e., opposite Virupaksha temple).
Against the interesting backdrop of a heap of enormous boulders, another
pavilion nearby functions as the village police station – an occupation
several other monuments in the country can also attest to! (Refer
Pixelated memories - Adham Khan’s Tomb and
Pixelated memories - Sabz Burj, both located in Delhi). Directly behind the Nandi pavilion rises a roughly constructed wide medieval staircase, thoroughly populated with
yellow-tinged chameleons and carved through the
moderately inclined rock face, that leads past several inconsequential
shrines, lesser pavilions and childish rock sculptures to a clearing flanked and rendered
inaccessible on every side by rugged boulders and dense vegetation.
 |
| Discovery! - Achyutaraya temple |
Standing
here at this high altitude, surrounded only by thorny bushes, wildly
twirling faded yellow and glistening black butterflies and clever
chameleons dexterously camouflaged amongst the similarly-hued boulders,
one gazes down at the enormous expanse of the artistically noteworthy
Achyutaraya temple enclosed within two gigantically-proportioned
concentric rectangular colonnades sentinel-like attending the handsome
temple in the middle of lush forgotten wilderness long since abandoned
by humanity and relegated to a realm of contemptuous ignorance and
wretched desolation. Distressed by the sudden unwarranted intrusion,
startled birds, rather firework flashes of red, black, gold and green
accompanied by shrill warning cries, suddenly shoot out of the
innumerable crevices and dense bushes, and having noticed the intruder
hopping from boulder to stone in their midst, the reconnoitering
chameleons, slyly smiling to themselves like only a agreeably satisfied
reptile could smile, quickly scurry off to inform their friends and
relatives.
Dedicated to the Tiruvengalanatha aspect of Lord Vishnu and
commissioned in AD 1534 by Hiriya Tirumalaraya Wodeyar, a
“Mahamandaleshvara” or provincial governor serving under Emperor Achyuta
Devaraya (reign AD 1529-42) after whom it was flatteringly christened,
the impressive shrine is an exemplar, sadly considerably less
appreciated compared to its other well-known neighbors, of
Vijayanagar-era architecture and refined artistic sensibilities,
possessing a fantastical array of meticulously ornamented sculptures and
dexterously executed wall motifs involving mythological
anthropomorphic deities, mythical entities and an immense assortment of
geometric and religious symbolism. That the notable shrine possesses
some of the most comprehensively detailed, thoroughly ornamented
sculptures carved in sheer granite is self-evident, as is the
comprehension of its being subjected to a punishing step-motherly
treatment by archaeological departments and conservation authorities,
perhaps as a consequence of the unbelievably insignificant number of
visitors and tourists ever trekking to this forlorn corner of the
erstwhile vast capital. Archaeological institutes and tourists –
everyone avoids the hill as if realistically terrified of being
afflicted by the very curse that the sage pronounced on the invincible
monkey king! Sadly of course, curse or no curse, nothing prevents thick tufts of wild
grass from sprouting through the gaping crevices of the ruined gateways.
 |
A pity that the architects and craftsmen are not remembered - Gateway, Achyutaraya temple
|
The
magnificent temple too is surrounded by an enormous bazaar –
“Achyutarayapete” (“Achyuta Raya’s marketplace”), also otherwise known
as “Soolai Bazaar” (“Courtesan’s street”) since here resided the
prominent prostitutes and dancing girls patronized by the powerful and
affluent – like the other bazaars associated with temple complexes, the
commercial establishments and pleasure pavilions here too probably
belonged to the temple authorities and in all estimation the amount of
rent they must have collected every year must have been considerably
significant.
Horrifically, it was at this point that
for some inexplicable reason the camera's batteries went off as
soon as I gingerly switched it on and consequentially I was obliged
(very miserably!) to sit at the small Sagar Restaurant (previously mentioned) for slightly over two
hours to charge it enough to last the day. As per the original (much
glossed over) plans, I had hoped to hop on a coracle and explore across
the pretty river the ancient fortresses and revered temples of
historical Anegundi, but now that it already was 2.30 pm, I wasn’t
really confident if I’ll be able to locate and photograph all the
monuments on that forgotten side and be back in time to catch my
return bus at 7.30 that very evening. Therefore, I impulsively decided
to instead explore the perennially overlooked outskirt villages of
Kamalapuram and Kadirampuram (pronounced Kamalapura and Kadirapura),
which although originally enclosed within the defensive fortifications
of the capital and encapsulating within their peripheries important,
regally patronized temples and frontier militaristic outposts, have long
since been physically and administratively separated from the latter
(despite the immediate geometric proximity) which explains that the
monuments here are seldom visited by tourists and photographers and
cannot be regarded as being in the pink of health, in terms of
conservation and preservation – thoroughly surrounded by waist-high
grasslands (and even in many cases surmounted by thick tufts of green
grass too!), these are primarily used by locals to graze large herds of
goats and buffaloes, or to camp in with homemade coffee and snacks to
gossip and doze in.
 |
| Life - An incessant circle of endless creation and destruction |
Kamalapuram
is located barely 20-30 minutes away by local buses which can be
availed from Hampi bus stop, though in all earnestness, it takes longer
for the bus to fill up followed by the idiotic last minute decisions
that another bus would actually go on that route and the one you are
already sitting in will actually sojourn elsewhere. The primary
attraction of Kamalapuram, considerably well frequented and properly
maintained, is the low rectangular building of the tiny Archaeological
Museum which faces a large manicured garden and whose four galleries as
well as the adjoining garden display an assortment of sculptures and
archaeological discoveries, including blackened copper
plates engraved with regal inscriptions recording religious grants, rusted weaponry,
commemorative hero stones and valuable gold and copper coins, unearthed
in and around Hampi. However, its most appreciated highlights are the painstakingly constructed huge cartographic reproductions revealing in
minute detail the exact geographical location and physical features of
the numerous monumental edifices besides topographical information and
the major arterial roads and pathways crisscrossing Hampi and the
contiguous green villages. Interestingly, the small museum was initially
established by British archaeologists and civil officers in the
elephant stables and the antiques were later moved to this distant
location in 1972 – necessarily a welcome decision, notwithstanding the
unshakeable realization that these sculptures and archaeological finds
would have been visually better presented there, considering that it did
bring some tourists and archaeological officers to this far-away
settlement that till date remains entirely eclipsed by its renowned
neighbor and therefore almost undocumented.
 |
| Lilliputian Hampi, Kamalapuram Archaeological Museum |
The
modest place remains open for tourists throughout the week except
Fridays, and like all ticketed destinations in and around Hampi, it too
can be covered on the common ticket purchased for Vitthala
temple and the elephants' stables if visited on the same day. Photography is sadly
not permitted within the premises, a perplexing decision considering
that the beautiful artefacts and antiques are not being touched or
harmed in any way (even the National Museum at Delhi allows photography!
Refer
Pixelated Memories - National Museum, Delhi).
Existential in a considerably bad state of
preservation, its five-storied huge gateway especially so precariously
deteriorated and reclaimed by dense clumps of wild grass violently
swaying with the unrelentingly furious wind that it literally appears to
be perpetually susceptible to immediate grievous collapse particularly
against heavy rain and harsh weather, the majestic Pattabhirama temple
is located approximately two kilometers from the museum at the end of a
network of successively narrowing roads in the pleasantly tranquil heart
of the full flung Kamalapuram village with soothing green banana
plantations and fertile vast grasslands in the idyllic background where
slothfully graze hundreds of sheep and lean buffaloes with immensely
long curved horns. Ignominiously relegated to the realms of forgetful
ignorance and partial reclamation by all-pervading foliage, the grand
shrine appears straight out of a vintage photograph enthusiastically
clicked by a judicious explorer coming across a massive set of ruins
long since lost to mankind – there is an undeniable thrill of immediate
discovery, interminably enthused with the strangely delightful sensation
that previously very few have actually tread the ground that you are
treading, at least for the selfsame purpose, and as the landscape
gradually evolves from featureless suburban to vibrantly vegetated with multihued beautiful
butterflies and birds darting around quicker than one could photograph
them and
an infinite variety of plants and weeds carpeting the ground and rendering
the opaque shields of trees even more impenetrable, one feels like a disembodied spirit romping about peacefully in
the shadows without causing any commotion or disturbance and taking in
the myriad subliminal sights and remembrances that have not changed in
the slightest for over five hundred years.
 |
Pattabhirama temple - Lost to (almost) all humanity
|
Sadly
though, despite its vivid ornamentation and the pillared
hallways, the shrine does not really
hold a candle to Vitthala and Virupaksha temples in terms of surface
ornamentation and sculptural artworks, nor do its crumbling,
grass-ensconced features facilitate as many photography perspectives in
view of its physical immensity that very nearly renders the
multidimensional individual features, such as the ruinous multi-tiered
dome crowning the central shrine, incredibly distant and
inconsequential.
The temple’s
associated sacred water tank (“pushkarni”) is located in a secluded
corner of a nearby vast grove surrounded by impermeable banana
plantations and row upon row of tall coconut trees bent heavy with fruit
and swaying against the furious wind. The grassy plains around the
tank, dotted here and there with dark green weeds proudly flaunting
their electric blue and orange flowers, support scores of cadaverous
buffaloes (with massive curved horns!), absolutely oblivious to the
world around them and only very sporadically giving way to the sudden
temptation of taking a minute break from their continuous rumination of
greedy mouthfuls of grass to adoringly gaze with slothful,
indifferent eyes at the soothing violet-blue water in the cool
sensuousness of whose slimy green mud they would perhaps have loved to
wallow while reflecting upon the all-pervading contentedness of their
uneventful lives (or perhaps thinking too would be too strenuous for
these gentle, sleepy creatures who, from the looks of it, are not even
in the slightest bothered about the gluttonous survivalist crows pecking
on their backs or the slender egrets running around on their
spindly thin legs).
 |
| In the middle of nowhere - The Domed Gateway |
Nearby
looms the vertically prominent “Domed Gateway”, whose 18-meter high
lofty and ornate entrances were regarded as physical illustration of
how the divinely accomplished Hindu craftsmen-architects transformed
even the most mundane of utilitarian works into handsome
exemplifications of their skills. Functioning as one of the chief
entrances interrupting the formidable fortifications of the erstwhile
capital, the multi-tiered gateway crowned by a low dome, conspicuous in its majesty and spatial
dimensions, projects in this forgotten wilderness like a elegant relic
from the glorious golden past which has altogether been totally
obliterated by the inexplicable avariciousness of mankind and the
furiously all-consuming ravages of endless time and ever-ravenous
nature.
I could not help notice the exceedingly humble
locals continuously and sheepishly observing me from the corners of
their eyes as if a terrible wild animal was on loose amidst the
magnificent ruins and forested grasslands even though superficially they
pretended as if they could not care less for a nosy-goofy photographer
stranger straying in their timeless settlement. Pinpoints of
relentlessly sharp gaze prickling through one’s backside and even the
most inconspicuous of sudden movements sending hormone-induced alarm
triggers coursing through one’s spine – the realization of being
endlessly under observation is literally as described by authors-poets
for centuries. It was only later that I realized that there also was a
sartorial factor that set me out from them – the perennially kindhearted
people here are in reality so inconsolably poverty-stricken
that they cannot even afford proper footwear and most of the time roam
about, run and graze/herd their animals on the uneven, pebble and
glass-shards strewn coarse roads and clearings without any shoes or
slippers! And yet, considering every difficulty and injustice as the
most trifling of issues, they are always soft-spoken and generously
considerate of
their fellow human beings, even going so far to offer fellow travelers on buses money if the latter does not have loose change to
give to the conductor, and exemplify why ruinous Hampi, a resplendent
paradise for backpackers and history-enthusiasts strewn about with
impregnable fortifications, magnificent monuments and enormous boulders
and in its entirety an impeccable, gloriously eulogized visual
composition threading an abundant wealth of unsurpassed architecture,
outstanding art and picturesque landscapes with impressive tales of
valor and conquests, nonetheless remains a profoundly humbling
experience for every visitor.
 |
| Those horns! |
Requisite
to a tremendously progressive pragmatic society contributing to
continuous peaceful nation-building on the principles of socio-economic
and religious equality in the eyes of the judiciary, even while the Islamic
realms of north and central India were the quintessential enemies for the Vijayanagar empire, there
wasn’t any religious animosity towards Muslims per se who did
constitute a considerable segment of the fearsome military and the refined nobility. Nonetheless, very little tangential evidence survives
now in the physical form of religious edifices and inscriptions to
indicate the gradual percolation of Islam to southern India and the only
monuments tantamount to the said conclusion are the two adjacent mausoleums, not of
considerable architectural importance,
existential in the featureless plain heart of a large walled enclosure
thoroughly overgrown with waist-high weeds and impenetrable shrubbery
and encapsulating within its peripheries the remains of an extensive
Muhammadan cemetery in the contiguous laidback rural settlement of
Kadirampuram.
Nothing is known concerning the
histories of the personages interred in these cubical mausoleums,
however, gauging
from the physical proportions of the edifices, one might assume that they were eminent personalities. Faced with well-dressed
stone, both monuments, not unusual from the thousands of medieval
Islamic funerary structures that pepper the entire subcontinent, are
nonetheless handsome structures, prominently projecting through their
wild, weed-carpeted surroundings. Interestingly, the larger of the two,
externally projected as a double-storied structure through the visually
striking employment of narrow arched depressions, does not possess a
dome but instead is open to the frolics of the fluffy white clouds
against the vast sky spontaneously metamorphosing from one shade of blue
to another with every passing hour.
 |
| Kadirampuram's claim to fame |
It
was evening already and soon enough it would be time to return to
glittering glimmering Bangalore, the aggrandized metropolitan
agglomeration of shimmering glass and concrete that is the IT heart of
developing India. Overlooking the Hampi bus stand, upon a protuberant
projection jutting against the cliff face of Hemakuta Hill, now drenched
in utter impermeable darkness, I sat gazing at the gradual
transmutation of the crystal clear sky to threatening purple-black
accompanied by the soothing touch of slight drizzle. The magnificent
hills reverberated with the muted roars of distant thunder and spears of
lightning cleaved the enormous masses of thick, rain-bearing clouds
overhead. In the distance, a few incandescent bulbs twinkled upon the
summits of the majestic hills like fireflies threading their way in the
darkness while underneath, tiny beetle-like buses and autos scurried
about quickly, their headlights a flow of glowing amber lava against an
endless background of purple-black. The sheer granite hill face,
saturated now with several dozen old men and women who congregate here
every evening to share daily gossip of business, relations, disease and
deaths, and several dozen (by now subdued) monkeys acrobatically and gallantly
poised along the precipitous crags and summits and possibly discussing
the same topics, resounded with the continuous hum of chatter, rendered
ever more cheerful by the pleasant weather. Nonetheless, a guarded
suggestion of all-enveloping melancholy hung about the atmosphere – the
long weekend was rapidly drumming to its inevitable conclusion and the last of
the wide-eyed tourists were heading back home, soon enough the small
inconsequential village would be compelled to revert to another despised
phase of its ghost-town existence, numberless restaurants and
guesthouses would be rendered empty, the competitive guides patron-less.
Besides the monumental conservation, the government grandly envisages
to develop ancient Hampi into a world-class tourist destination through
inclusive development focused on geographical landscape restoration,
horticultural management, access for the differently-abled, visitors'
amenities and numerous social improvement plans aimed at benefiting the
resident communities. On the ground however, all this is yet to
materialize and there is little I could do for the beautiful World
Heritage Site, encompassed within its impregnable fortifications and so
enviously abounding with visually fulfilling scenery, highly embellished
mythological references, cultural vibrancy of a medieval capital and
delectable gastronomic haunts, except stating that very, very few
ancient monuments and heritage cities shall enthrall and impress me like
this hereafter. I do sincerely hope that I could do unflawed justice to its
vivid description.
“Whatever force outside me moves my hand and gives me strength to dream and understand,
Let me, by grace enlivened and by skill, enliven those who lived, and those who will.”
– Vikram Seth, Writer
 |
| Goodbye, old friend! |
Location: Hampi is located in the district of Bellary 372 kilometers from Bangalore. The nearest township is Hospet 13 kilometers away.
How to reach: Regular buses are available from Bangalore (Majestic/Kempegowda Bus stand) to Hampi every night. One way fare for KSRTC Non A/C Sleeper bus is Rs 650/person
inclusive of taxes. The frequency of buses plying between Bangalore-Hospet and vice-versa is more and one can avail those as well.
Time required to explore the settlement: 2 days
Charges/person inclusive of food, lodging and to-and-fro travel from Bangalore: Approx. Rs 4000 for a two-day, one-night stay (including the cost for hiring a guide for an entire day).
Accommodation: Spartan, simply furnished guesthouses are plentiful in Hampi. Most of these are located near the beautiful Virupaksha temple and can be booked for a day for 300-500 depending on the facilities available (room size, attached washrooms etc).
If however one intends to undertake a single-day whirlwind tour of the settlement, freestanding bath and toilet facilities (though not considerably hygienic) are also available near Virupaksha temple.
Entrance fees for the monuments: Nil for all, except Vitthala temple, elephants' stables and Kamalapuram Archaeological Museum for which entrance fees are respectively Rs 10 for domestic visitors and Rs 300 for foreigners. A single ticket suffices for all three if covered in a single day. All monuments are open everyday from sunrise to sunset everyday. The Archaeological Museum remains closed on Fridays.
Photography/video charges for the monuments: Nil for all, except Virupaksha temple where Rs 50 and Rs 500 are respectively charged for photography and video-cameras. Vitthala temple too charges Rs 25 for the use of a video-camera.
Note:
- It is advisable to carry sufficient drinking water throughout the stay at Hampi since the weather can get extremely punishing and cause dehydration. Comfortable footwear is also recommended since one has to walk considerably long distances across undulating topography to cover all the monuments.
- Virupaksha temple is still fervently revered by faithful pilgrims and footwear is not allowed within the central courtyard. The same can be deposited (for a miniscule sum of Rs 5/pair) at the makeshift counter inside the temple complex near the massive gateway. Occasionally, one might be ordered to leave their footwear outside the smaller shrines as well by wandering priests who might have taken temporary residence in them.
Relevant Links -
Other shrines across Karnataka embellished/expanded by the Vijayanagar sovereigns -
- Pixelated Memories - Bhoga Nandeeshwara Temple, Chikkaballapur, Bangalore
- Pixelated Memories - Sri Chamundeshwari Temple, Mysore
- Pixelated Memories - Sri Chennakesava Temple complex, Belur
- Pixelated Memories - Sri Ranganathaswamy temple, Seringapatnam, Mandya
Suggested reading -
- Bangaloremirror.com - Article "ASI on the brink of excavating more Hampi historical marvels" (dated Jan 3, 2015) by Chetan R
- Bangaloremirror.com - Article "ASI starts 3D laser scanning at Hampi's Vittala temple" (dated Dec 26, 2013) by Chetan R
- Cw.routledge.com - A History of India: Domingo Paes, Vijayanagara: "The best provided city of the world"
- Dailymail.co.uk - Article "Hanging gardens of Hampi! Grass grows on 473-year-old World Heritage site despite Rs 14.87 crore being spent on renovation" (dated Oct 4, 2013) by Vanu Dev
- Deccanherald.com - Article "Hampi's stone chariot set to gain new currency" (Dated July 16, 2015)
- Financialexpress.com - Article "Hampi is not history" (dated Nov 12, 2015) by Smita Joshi
- Hampi.in (A fascinating compilation of articles and maps regarding Hampi and its monuments)
- Iiacd.org - Interactive Plan of Hampi Virupaksha Temple ceiling paintings
- Justrippingg.blogspot.in - Anegundi Fort and Origin of the Vijaynagara Empire
- Ncra.tifr.res.in - A.H. Longhurst, "Hampi Ruins, Described and Illustrated"
- Przmm.blogspot.in - Birth of Karttikeya - The Slayer of Tarakasura
- Sacred-texts.com - The Mahabharata, Section CCLXXXIV
- Timesofindia.indiatimes.com - Article "Hampi, Machu Picchu may be twins!" (dated Aug 28, 2015)
- Vijayanagara.org - Conservation
- Vijayanagara.org - Virupaksha Temple
- Whc.unesco.org - Group of Monuments at Hampi
- Wikipedia.org - Ancient City of Vijayanagara
- Wikipedia.org - Daksha
- Wikipedia.org - Krishna Devaraya
- Wikipedia.org - Madhavacharya Vidyaranya
- Wikipedia.org - Tenali Rama
- Wikipedia.org - Vijayanagara Architecture
- Wikipedia.org - Vijayanagara Empire
- Wmf.org - Krishna Temple Complex, Hampi Archaeological Site
