The enduring allure of Hampi
The train slows down as if on cue, the coach attendant begins in a hoarse voice ‘Hospete banthu, Hospete banthu’ (Hospet has come). The boulder-strewn, hilly mining town comes in view.
A taxi is waiting for us under a flamboyant Gulmohar tree. Outside the window, the Tungabhadra flows by; the vegetation soon coalesces into boulders, fallen pillars, temple stones and dilapidated archways.
The car stops at a railway crossing, to let an ore-laden wagon train pass. The driver is dismissive. There are just two or three mines which are still running; the rest are all shut. I recall reading that the Vijayanagar Empire used to export iron ore.
Our guest house overlooks a large reservoir of water, created by the Tungabhadra which was dammed up sixty years ago. A resolute empire once flourished on its banks, protected and irrigated by it.
Nature and architecture
Beyond the remotest point, there are endless fields of paddy, sugarcane and jowar; coconut groves, banana plantations and mango orchards. We wonder if the United Fruit Company ever come here?
We visit Anegundi, on the northern banks of the river. This heritage town is more ancient than Hampi and is part of the world heritage site.
In the shade of a tamarind tree we speak to a young entrepreneur, Ravi, who rents out motorcycles. He tells us his business picks up with the onset of winter, when more tourists come in.
We cross the river on a theppa, a circular cane raft. From the embankment, the rising gopura of the Virupaksha Temple is visible.
Dark clouds float in on the back of a wind. The boatman wants to cross before it rains. We are in the middle of the river when we see the temple elephant being brought to the river for a ritual bath before the afternoon puja.
The excavation in Hampi by Archaeological Survey of India reveals more complex structures at different levels, some surprisingly well preserved.
The Mahanavami Dibba, the high platform atop a steep flight of granite steps, in the midst of the emperor’s dwellings, has a stern facade. The guide tells that the Emperor, in full regalia, sat on the raised platform and watched the Dasara celebrations.
The Shiva Temple is another stunning creation in stone, with exquisite proportions, compact and geometrical in a confined space. The straight lines, rectangles and the bareness of form render it a universal character.
At the Vijaya Vittala Temple complex, everything is tranquil. The temple tank, Pushkarni, is well preserved but the temple complex itself is undergoing repair. The symmetry of the buildings here is ethereal.
We drive back before it gets dark. In the distance, behind the dormant chimneys and fabrication plants of the Tungabhadra Steel Products Ltd., the sun has a crimson glow. The factory was set up to benefit from the abundance of iron ore in the area, it is shut now.
Early next morning, we reach the Virupaksha temple, where there is a crowd of devotees. Through a door, to the side of the sanctum sanctorum, the narrow village lane can be seen. Outside the temple are the ruins of a Vijayanagar-period market.
The beginning of Vijayanagar is shrouded in incertitude. There are traces of eclectic influences in its architecture.
Perhaps this was inevitable in a trading civilisation. Even after the empire was defeated, a sense of fragile continuity lingered.
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