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The days in Hampi were spent unhurried, with little regard to time, but always yearning for the sunrise and sunset hours to stretch longer.
Matanga Parvata is one place that defines my Hampi, and I found myself climbing up the hill in the pre-dawn hours again and again. The initial ten minutes of the climb always felt mundane until I reached the other side, opening me up to the vistas of the meandering river and the boulder-strewn, mysteriously beautiful landscape which has no parallels anywhere. Once up the Matanga, it was a matter of finding comfortable seating and wait for the sun to unfold his morning drama.
It is a scene I can watch every morning and never have enough of. The silhouettes of the mountainous landscapes appear at a distance few minutes before the dawn, giving a glimpse of what to expect. Curves of Tungabhadra reflect the gentle light of the dawn, revealing herself among the rocks. Outlines of a few Mantapas located here and there among the boulders start showing up, which appear to be placed strategically to enhance nature’s own decorations. The sun eventually presents himself, tearing himself out of thick line of clouds enveloping the horizon. He looks like a crimson fireball dispatching soothing rays to illuminate the world and waking up its life forms. Plantains in the plains, boulderscapes, the flowing river, and gentle breeze with a mild chill are all soaked in the sun and work together to fill my heart.
Life kick starts as the sun walks up, and a few monkeys living on the hill start their wanderings. Some of them come close to us ‘tourists’ and look up with curiosity. One of them finds me harmless and gets closer to try its luck. I sit quiet, and encouraged by my acceptance, it tries pulling a string or two from my trousers and carefully examines my sandals. I stretch a hand of friendliness and the hand becomes another subject of curiosity, as it pulls my hand with its and looks carefully into it. It finally moves on after realizing that I have nothing really interesting to offer, but only just another ordinary boring human. Its herd is all activity at a Mantapa just below and there are a few tiny tots playing with their elderly and having small fights among each other, making beholders hearts to melt and bring out a smile.
In the meanwhile, sun is moving up, turning from crimson to white and changing the hues of the world along with his. It becomes warmer and feels just right in the morning breeze. We sit back and pass an hour or more until the sun is high and blazing. As we walk back, there is a flurry of activity in the world below. The bazaar is awake and people are walking from one place to other. Far in the river, coracles and boats are ferrying people from end to end. Just below the hill, many birds have started their day and among them are noisy colorful parakeets, a coucal that is hopping from place to place, bulbuls that sing melodiously and a few more unknown birds. ‘I shall come back the next day’, I tell myself and return to savour the same drama unfold all over once again.
Coracling in the evening sun
The evenings were spent sitting next to the river, watching it flow in a hurry below us in a shallow stretch and manifest itself unruffled and deep a little further. Rivers have always held me in a charm and it is all the more so in Hampi, drawing me into it to spend hours sitting beside her. And as I write this, was reminded of the magical sunset on the way back from the river one of these evenings – with boulders sticking out to the sky, silhouette of a lone tree in the crimson background, and then suddenly walking into a Kalyani with a Mantapa on the premise of Vithala, which was reflecting the riot of colors in the sky within itself.
The river flows by..
Boulders, river, and Anjanadri at a distance
Each day spent in Hampi was an experience complete and fulfilling leaving its memories to last forever and making me look forward to more of them.
Watching the sun go down at Hemakoota parvata
Continued at In Hampi, One evening..
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Having missed a planned trip to Hampi last year, I was keen to get there this winter.
I wanted to explore, laze, chill, just stay by the river, get up the boulders, just watch the world pass by and mutely watch the sun rising up the hills majestically and then make his way down the opposing hills in the late hours of the day. No tours, no sightseeing, no hopping from place to place, but just be.
More on Hampi on India Travel Blog.
* trip report
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I jumped in, when opportunity came by to do just that. And while I was there, made a plan to stretch a little further to Badami, Aihole and Pattadakal. And then while I was at these three places, managed to spend a quality half day at charming and calming Mahakoota – a quiet temple village.
River, boulders, evening sun, remains of the past and an idyllic today
We started on a Friday night on a ksrtc bus. Time and again I have said in this blog that journeys are something I enjoy the least about travel. Add to it the fact that I don’t manage to get much sleep in a moving vehicle, be it a bus, train or even airplane, doesn’t help much. We talked for a while and then made an attempt to sleep. The ‘attempt to sleep’ continued till early hours in the morning, until we were pretty close to Hospet. And then we suddenly found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam along with a huge pile of mining trucks. Early hours is when I somehow managed a bit of slumber, and besides that, all that traffic jam must have made me feel at home – just like Bangalore, it was! And just when I fell asleep, we were at Hospet and it was time to get down. If only the jam had lasted longer! Add to the sleepless night, my friend insisted that I slept well through the night, despite my saying otherwise. So lucky that I am, I have with me people who can do everything for me, and even decide for me if I have managed to catch shut-eye! That relieves from pondering the entire next day if I had managed to sleep well at all! And just in case someone I meet in the morning asks customarily if I had slept well the previous night, I can just point them to check with my friend – another job escaped from!
But this journey was much better than the one I made previously, on my way to Thadiyandamol. We had two front seats for this journey, just behind the roaring engine, and across the aisle to us sat the bus conductor. This conductor guy would interrupt our chatter once in a while asking us to be quiet, starting politely when he said that the first time, and his face making expressions of otherwise inexpressible pain during further interruptions, supported by a tone that kept getting more impolite each time. He had a point indeed about incessant chatter in the middle of the night, but what puzzled me is how he zeroed in on our 10 decibel blabber while being blissfully unaware of the 100dB holler from the ancient engine. My guess – his ears would have developed sophisticated filters over years of bus journeys, while at the same time developing extreme sensitivity to the slightest sound in 5 mile radius around him. I did hope that Philips or Sony get to hear about these ultra-advanced noise filters he has, and buy his ears for a big price for further research. The good thing – if they convinced him to sell of his ears – is that it would then help people in 5 mile radius around him to have their conversation undisturbed. Even better, he can give up his job with his new fortune and start travelling in the passenger seats, without feeling duty bound to bother anyone any more!
Digressions apart, we reached Hampi around 7.30am and checked into an exorbitantly priced guesthouse. Exorbitantly priced guesthouse because every place that did not charge exhorbitantly was already taken up by people who came before us. May be next time when I am here, I should consider arriving before the people who came before us. Then on, with all the logistics problems addressed, it was four pleasant and unhurried days spent in Hampi, oblivious to rest of the world, and oblivious to the dates, days and hours.
Continued at The Days in Hampi
Yet another visit to Thadi. I would never have enough of the place, and just before embarking on this trip I had already committed myself to another visit.
* Destination never mattered. We decided to rest somewhere halfway, found a place under shade and sat down, and were lying flat the next minute under the shade of the tree, with cool breeze adding to the mild winter weather. And we remained lying there long enough, till sun moved to stunt the shadow and brought in warmth, moving only slightly once a while to make way to a few more people who made their way up.
* Pitched the tent at the standard place, the highest point where there was water, and instead of moving on, comfily settled down for the harsh sun of the afternoon to move over.
* Unwillingly yielded to move on towards the peak, pretty late in the day, reluctantly leaving the comfort of the tent and the books we were reading; making it to the peak just in time for the golden sunset
Sun setting on Thandiyandamol peak
* sitting down at the peak, watching the hopelessly beautiful valley at one side and going ‘oooooh…’ and then after forgetting self for a few minutes, suddenly turning around to the other side, only to watch another hopelessly beautiful valley and go ‘ooooh…’ all over again…
* braving the cold wind on the top, overlooking the world below, dreaming of various things undescribable, feeling immensely happy. Finding a shelter from the wind – in a seat of comfort – watching the glory of the evening sun in silence.
* returning back to the tent, walking in darkness, guided only by the mild rays of the half moon. Watching flicker of fireflies in the dark forest. The feeling of a firefly landing on my shirt and walking up slowly, lighting up its path. The pleasure of letting it into my hands and watching it remain there for a few seconds before flying off. Pleasure in its purest form.
* Lying down on the rock in the night, watching the ‘moon and the stars and the sky’, wanting nothing else but just this, feeling infinite gratitude to mother nature for its creations.
* Waking up early in the morning only to see a foggy world, and to postpone ‘actual waking up’ again and again; finally dragging out of the tent after many postponements to see a ‘slightly’ clear weather.
* continually postponing the process of returning to the ‘world’ from 10.30 to 12.30 to 3.30, and finally 5.30pm, and finally walking down after a failed attempt to move it further to next morning!
* A random walk in the meadows that ended up in a nearby peak, experiencing force of the wind that made standing up difficult! Listening to the lone rhododendron tree braving the wind and roaring like a sea while at it. Wondering what the tree felt – was it jubilant to be standing alone at the top, kissed by the high winds, or did it curse the bird that dropped its seed in this high place?
…feeling overjoyed to face the force of the wind, until the wind won on us. And then to find escape from the wind to the warm sun at the other side of the hill, sitting protected and watching big trees and the tiny grass on the opposing hill sway sensuously. And to hear the magically beautiful words – “this is all that I really need”.
* Returning from the random walk for refueling, only to continue on the random walk, to discover a small waterfall. Finding a fallen tree next to a rock in front of the fall. Sitting on the tree, with the rock providing backrest, silently watching the water fall-by in the theater of nature, feeling blessed and blissful.
* Endless chatter all through supported by an equal share of blissful silence, on desires, on the wish to escape from the routine and mundane, on the wish to be free, on the wish to live by the moment, on the wish to see the world, on wishes themselves, on things wise and unwise, on simplicity, on synchronized minds, on books, on movies, on Betelgeus and Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent, on bikes and trains, and even on the chatterati’s topic of delight – the Bangalore traffic!
* watching a blackbird fly past as we walk, listening to the incessant chatter of parakeets on the top of the canopy, and the pleasing whistle of the drongos, watching sunbirds go ‘chee.. chee..’ oblivious to our presence, trying to judge how far is an invisible partridge by listening to its call, seeing colorful yellow browed bulbuls..
Thadi, never, ceases, to, fascinate!