Vitthala Temple Courtyard, Hampi
I have been to Hampi twice - in 2000 and 2008, before I was bitten, respectively, by the travel and the photography bug. The two trips could not have been more different. Not knowing what to expect, on my first visit I was introduced to the evocative ruins of the erstwhile Vijayanagara kingdom, perpetually lighting a spark in me that led to the second, for which I came prepared with a long list of things I had to see. It led to a mad dash through rocks and ruins under a blazing April sun.
Since then, I have been to other places in the world. At first, at a hurried, frantic, fast pace. But eventually, I learned to travel slow. Few flights, fewer hotels, two or three cities in a trip, experiencing more of a place than more places…
That is when I am not on a photography trip. The sole purpose of a photography trip is to come home with beautiful photos. Relaxation and fun is not on the agenda. In fact, my chances of returning with “keepers” is extremely bleak if by the end of the trip, I am not sleep deprived, fatigued and cranky.
This third trip to Hampi was decidedly a photography trip right from the beginning.
Chitradurgh Fort
Hidimbeshwar Temple, Chitradurgh
The Chitradurgh fort is on the road to Hampi from Bangalore, just past the mid-point. It was the first planned stop of the trip for a sunset .
True to its name, this well-maintained 16th century fort is picturesque. It straddles seven adjoining hills with massive fortification walls that look capable of keeping an attack at bay even today. The climb to the top of the fort is non-strenuous and pleasant. The cobbled walkway snakes through concentric ramparts - built with immaculately placed stones that required no mortar, passing through massive gateways, fascinating for a tourist but tricked-out deathtraps for invading forces.
The sun had started to dip behind a mountain by the time I reached the grand plaza. From here the road forked, one half going down to the administrative buildings of olden times – mint, treasury and tax collector’s office while the other climbed up through a last row of fortification, to what looked like the religious center. The highest spot in the fort had been given to the temples. I counted over a half a dozen of them, beautiful relics of an era gone by. The entire fort has been built in harmony with the natural surrounding, meshed around the natural boulders and curves; so much so that the temple at the very top backed right into a perfectly symmetrical dome-shaped rock. So perfect that the ancient artisans simply added a capstone to it!
The Religious Center, Chitradurgh
I sat on the cool, ancient steps of the temple dedicated to the mythical female giant, Hidimba, from the Indian epic, Mahabharat, and felt a natural positive energy surge inside me as the sun vanished behind the blue mountain, leaving behind a dash of orange.
Sunset at Chitradurgh, on the way to Hampi
By the time I reached Hampi, it was well past midnight. I was planning to head out by 4:30am, so there was no point trying to sleep.
Instead, I spread out my photography gear on the hotel bed. I charged both the batteries, formatted the memory cards after backing them up. Air-blew the innards of my D300S, wiped down the lenses and returned the settings of the camera settings to default (ISO-200, EV-0, WB-A.)
Then I waited for the sun to rise.
Raghunatha Temple, Malayavanta Hill
Saturday 4:00am. I drank sweet steaming tea from a two-inch paper-cup, at a dimly lit shack by the roadside in Hospet. The muezzin’s chant from a nearby mosque reverberated through the empty streets. A train hooted tersely as it pulled into the station. That roused the dogs who woke up barking. The train hooted again, crunching to a halt. People pouring into Hampi. Time to go!
Sunrise at Malayavanta Hill, Hampi
Malayavanta hill is not really on the visitors map. Surprising, since the hill can be summited entirely by car.
On the way, we passed a modern crime scene. A gang of local rogues, under the influence of alcohol, demolished a 500 year old tower hoping to find hidden treasure. Crime #1. The Archeological Society of India, under mounting pressure form the public hastily restored it it. #2. The tower looked too fresh, too recently cut. An ugly eye sore.
We parked by the Raghunatha Temple. The temple was awake. Chants of “Raghupati raghava” filled the pre-dawn. Pushing through a narrow gap between the temple wall and a natural rock formation, I followed an ancient trail that left the temple behind and below. I ducked through empty door frames with carved lintels, passing through heaps of rocks that were once walls and columns. At the top of the hill, sat a serene dilapidated stone pavilion next to a mammoth rock that stood on the edge of the hill , delicately balanced over the beautiful temple below.
The horizon was hidden under a thick band of cloud. The chirping birds announced the sun before I actually saw it.
Sunrise at Raghunatha Temple, Malayavanta Hill, Hampi
As the sun climbed up in the sky, I descended down the stone steps. The brahmins continued to chant in a rhythmic, unhurried pace, rocking back and forth, in harmony with the surrounding, yet oblivious of it. I was impressed when when I was told that the chanting has been going on for six continuous years, a group of eight brahmins taking turns singing!
At the back of the temple compound wall, I noticed an ascetic going through the morning ablution routine. He meticulously washed his hands and feet, then passed a wet hand over his aged but glowing face. His long white hair were tied in thick matted dreads. A matching white beard and moustache flowed luxuriantly down his chest. He seemed wrapped in an invisible bubble of holiness.
Hesitating, lest my words breaks his celestial concentration; but unabashed lest I miss a good photo, I stood before him and made the universal sign of me wanting to take his photo. The wise old eyes glinted like a kids. His craggy face broke into a toothy grin.
Then he posed like there was no tomorrow.
Vitthala Temple
The Vitthala Temple Gopura, Hampi
Saturday 7:30am
The gopura of the Vitthala temple faces due east and only in the early morning light, can discern the twin colored façade. The gate was closed. The hand painted signboard promised an entry at 8:30am. But then, this Is India. Gentle persuasion almost always works here.
The Vijayanagara architecture, Hampi
The courtyard of Vitthala temple easily ranks amongst the best courtyards in the world. And today, I am here without another human being in sight. The sun had just climbed over the enclosure wall, and the stunning stone structures glimmered like McKenna’s gold mine.
The rectangular courtyard is lined with roofed colonnade and enclosed in a compound wall, like most south Indian temple complex. It has three gopuras – ornate entrance towers – on the east, north and south. The main shrine, in the center, is surrounded by several intricately carved temples and pavilions. This main shrine is an architectural wonder in itself. Carved out of a monolith, 56 column line the three sides of the patio and the central aisles inside. When struck with a thumb, the solid stone columns emanate perfect musical notes of different musical instruments, and hence the name – Musical Temple.
In front of the musical columns is a finely carved shrine of Garuda – the sacred eagle – rendered in the form of a chariot. Carved out of a monolith too, the artisans of the fifteenth century were so skilled that at one time, the wheels actually rotated on the axle.
Detail of the East Gopura of the Vitthala Temple, Hampi
By 9am, I was pooped. The sun had climbed high up in the sky and the heat was beating down on the streets like a giant steel hammer. I returned to Hospet, ate a quick brunch at an Udipi place and retired to my air-conditioned room to heal.
Royal Enclosure
Lotus Mahal, Hampi
Saturday, 5:00pm
As the sun started sinking towards the horizon, I found myself outside Lotus Mahal (or Kamal Mahal, as it is locally known.) Surrounded by a lush green lawn, the palace was shrouded in a warm orange glow. The two-storied structure has survived the historical sack of 1565 and the multi-plane arches of Lotus Mahal makes it one of the most photogenic buildings in Hampi
Bahamani style arches of Lotus Mahal, Hampi
Stepped Tank inside the Royal Enclosure in Hampi
Walking through the plinths of what remains of the royal enclosure, I came to one of my favorite places in Hampi. An ancient open channel cuts across the arid landscape, bringing with it water from the river Tungabhadra a few miles away. Next to one of the outlets, lies a water tank. The symmetrical geometric design of the steps is very unique. Nowhere else in Hampi will you see a pattern like it, as if this tank belonged to a different era and was made by a foreign hand.
The cool granite steps is a fantastic location to watch the sunset.
Matanga Hill
Sunday 4:00am
Behind the Jain temple, pushing through an unlocked gate, I found a tiny foot trail that snakes through thick undergrowth and brambles full of thorns. The foot trail soon connects with the main trail that starts at the end of the Hampi Bazaar, the one I had taken last time. The Matanga hill trail is short but treacherous. It climbs along the natural contours of the mountain with a strategically placed stone slab here or a nook carved in the bedrock there. At one particular spot, one edge of the trail hooks around a massive boulder, the other gently slopes towards a precipitous drop. Had it been windy or wet, I would require some keen pursuing (or the promise of a glorious sunset) to cross it.
And then there are the monkeys. Ramayan, the Indian literary epic has deep connections with Hampi. In the story, Ram, the exiled prince, is following the trail of his kidnapped bride, Sita. He arrives at the monkey kingdom of Kishkinda, where he wins the loyalty and support of Hanuman, the monkey leader. Hampi is supposedly the location of the mythical Kishkinda and even today, one see monkeys everywhere in Hampi and especially on Matanga hill. This morning, a gang of long-tailed langur had been tracking me all along. They noiselessly clambered the rocks over me and scampered along no more than 20-30 feet. “There is an ambush somewhere not too far.” I thought.
On top of the hill sits a quaint temple dedicated to Saint Matanga. The diminutive adobe-stone structure is plastered white and the smell of burned camphor and incense sticks lingers heavily amidst the ancient walls. I take the narrow staircase that winds up on top of the roof. In the predawn light, the view before me is sensational.
The ruined capital of the Vijayanagar empire is spread at my feet. Literally. The seven districts that comprised Hampi in the 15th century can be seen even today, easily discerned by the clustering of modern habitat. Millions of granite boulders, despite the intense climate and relentless time, stand tall and stoic, form a landscape that can easily be mistaken as Martian. In sharp contrast, flat bottomed valleys are covered with a tangle of dense foliage and plantations, getting their precious waters from the very water channels that once quenched the thirst of the Vijayanagara city during its golden days. River Tungabhadra meanders lazily a couple miles away, the low water level a grim reminder of the torrid summer it has been subjected to. Beautiful ruins dot the scene. Temples and towers and pavilions, as far as the eye can see.
The rocky Hampi terrain, shot at sunrise
The gang of monkeys is watching from the edge of the roof. Watching them warily from the corner of an eye, I munch on a spicy cucumber and mint sandwich, chasing it down with piping hot ginger tea. The sun peeps out. The sun rays touch the rocks, then penetrate crevices and nooks in the rock, teasing out a spectrum of colors – mustard, gold, ochre, saffron – that until five minutes ago, could only be imagined.
Sometime that morning, the fourth trip to Hampi took shape. A passage I had read in a book triggered it. It will be fun to follow the footsteps of men who came here many centuries ago…
