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| Quarry Sunset |
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| Bedrock/Hampi |
Bandipur was the furthest south I was going
to venture in my trip, doubling back on myself I headed to Hampi, one of the
most unique places I’ve ever been. This was down to a combination of the prehistoric
boulders, scattered like a packet of dropped Malteesers and the mystical Hindu
temples, powerful relics to the ancient kingdom that prospered here at one time.
It was an Indiana Jones temple robbing set in the Flintstone’s hometown of
Bedrock.
The bus left me on one side of the river
but the hostels were based on the other. With no bridges and the ferry not running
for another couple hours there was nothing for it but to settle down and watch
the locals go about their daily routine. Even though it was just turned 7am the
river was already bustling with people. Women congregated in groups of four or
five to wash their clothes. Boys would then be handed the long saris and with
one deft flick they would expertly unfurl the couple metres of silk to dry in
the sunshine over already hot rocks. Younger kids ran backwards and forwards
splashing each other and shrieking in delight. Men meandered through brushing
their teeth and staring at the group of backpackers waiting to make the
crossing with as much interest as we gazed back at them. We were sat on steps
worn smooth by time, running the length of the riverbank almost as if they were
designed for the very purpose of providing a good view to an attentive audience
of the river below. A group of chattering kids came running up, exploding with
delight to tell us that the elephant was coming for his morning bath. Sure
enough over their heads and elephant and his rider were making a ponderous and
careful descent down the stone steps, before joining the kids in the river who
splashed all the harder.
That cool down was needed as by lunch the
temperature had risen to a more than mild 43oC, confining most of the day to
the hammock. At around 5pm that evening I headed out to the quarry lake, 3km
from Hampi. It wasn’t a tough hike but there was enough heat left in the day to
make it a sweaty one. Along the way though we came across what could be best
described as a semi abandoned warzone. The residents in Hampi (like a lot of
the poorer people across India) had never secured proper buildings permits
before they had built their houses. This was common practice and after twenty
to thirty years of living there they may have assumed themselves to be safe
enough. But starting in 2012 the government had started to demolish houses, hostels
and restaurants in an attempt to clear out the people and preserve Hampi as a
historic site. The latest round of demolition had happened a few weeks before
we got there. With no place to go many families had simply remained in the
ruins of their houses. All that was left was the haunting image of kids sitting
amongst the rubble.
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| Paddle Turtle Boats bottom left |
In an attempt to stop the notoriously poor
swimming locals from swimming at the lake, “Beware of Crocodiles,” signs had
been daubed over the rocks. Knowing this was merely a myth was some
consolation, even still any movement in the water was met with a sharp turn of
the head just to be sure. Paranoia levels only started to recede when out of
that soapy blue water and up on the rocks to watch the sun sat in a majestic
array of ruby reds, golden oranges and hallucinogenic greeny yellows.
Up early to beat the heat the next day I
spent the morning flitting from temple to temple, with a few royal buildings
thrown in for good measure. I must have visited at least fifteen different
temples with many more that I had missed out on. The first two beside the
riverbank were home to a troop of monkeys who snatched everything from dropped
bananas to a beggar’s change bowl.
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| Vimanas |
Most temples followed a similar style; made
up of a vimana or pyramid looking roof towering overhead with every nook and
cranny stuffed with a religious idol, grey stonewalls that reached up twenty
foot high in places encircled a flagstone courtyard and intricately carved
pillars held up the roofs that were then lined with their own statues and
carvings. If it wasn’t a benevolent god looking peaceful, it was a fictitious
beast snarling down, every inch of stone was worked masterfully to assault the
eyes with detail.
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| Musical Pillars |
Some even had musical stone pillars that chimed when rapped.
Others held underground water wells and secret doors. It was hard to imagine
there could be any deity in the entire Hindu pantheon that didn’t have a shrine
or altar dedicated to them there. As well as the temples there were also the
royal stables (though being India they housed elephants not horses), bathhouses
for queens, palaces for the men, bazars and guard towers. The work of the
craftsmen was faultless and on a mammoth scale.
Afterwards I ignored the rickshaws and cut
back to the water crossing along a path that winded over the huge slabs of rock
and past a few lesser temples and shrines. This was an adventure all in itself as
I negotiated the Jurassic Park landscape. That evening it was up to the monkey
temple, 580 steps hewn into the rock face, to watch a sunset lost in the clouds
but still offering incredible panoramic views over the valley below. Looking
down at the temples I had visited earlier in the day I couldn’t help but think
how amazing this scene must have been half a millennia ago when the area was at
its peak.
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| Whats happening in hampi |
After Hampi was my first of two 24 hour journeys in
the space of two days. This took me through Pune, changing buses at 4.30am, and
on to Aurangabad, which would serve as a transit hub for the Ellora and Ajanta
Caves. Buddhist, Hindu and Jain worshippers had hewn these from the rock face and
they contained altars, shrines and temples, some of which were two or three
stories high. Others had ribbed ceilings to echo sound and many supported by
huge pillars more akin to something out of a Tolkien novel. The earliest of the
caves at Ajanta dated back over two thousand years and were still in pristine
condition. The most impressive was the freestanding Kailasa Temple at Ellora,
which would have been about the size of a regular church. The masons had
chiselled it top down from the mountainside, so in theory it was one massive
block of stone and then they carved out the inside to form the temple.
Astounding work even before you take into account the fact that it was created
with only a hammer and a chisel. From Aurangabad it was another 24 hours then
through Ahmedabad in Gujarat onto the hot deserts of Rajasthan
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| Ajanta Caves |
Whilst waiting for my food on my last day
in Hampi, a scene unfolded that perfectly encapsulated India for me in one go. Farmers were burning
the fields in a very un-eco friendly way of getting ready for next years crops.
Whoever was supposed to be watching it hadn’t been doing the most diligent of
jobs and the fire spread until a coconut tree erupted in flame. Panicked locals
run for a hose whilst others form a bucket chain. The tree is too high and the
pressure in the hose too low so that they can’t reach the fronds on top, which
are burning like a candle. Even more panicked they start to move all the
scooters and motorbikes away in case any falling flaming debris would set them
off. The most panicked of all however is the owner of the music store right
beside the burning tree, frantic over his thatched palm roof and an inventory
of instrumental kindling.
With the spectators standing about watching and a
reluctance of motorists to dare pass the fire, a roadblock forms in the street.
A farmer with a hay truck is stuck there until a cow comes up behind him truck
and starts eating his hay straight from the trailer. Desperate to get away he starts
to blast his horn and tries to edge through the crowd, obviously reluctant to
watch the cow eat all of his work. The
cow however runs after him, and another cow in the fire field chases after the
first cow, neither of which have noticed the fire. They both run right into the
middle of it and their frightened moos now drown out the car horn. The cow on
the road runs off but the other one is trapped in the corner of the field by the
fire and the barbwire fence. Milling about and shouting in fear, barbeque beef
is on the menu until it shoulders through the fence, splintering a sign and scatters
the crowd of assembled watchers. Meanwhile a man has shimmied his way up an
adjacent tree like a monkey, grasping the hose and clinging on he puts the fire
out from above. By the time I got back to the restaurant my dhosa and paneer
butter masala were out on the table (and probably the best bit of the whole
ordeal).
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