On January 1, 2009 we got off to an early start, made our way back down the mountain to Chickmagalur, had an authentic greasy dosa at a local hole in the wall, and dropped Anil off at the bus station so he could head back to Bangalore. He writes/draws a daily cartoon in one of Bangalore’s papers, TheMirror, and couldn’t take the next week off to sight see with us. The rest of us headed further north to Hampi, the ancient Hindu empire that flourished between the 6th and 14th centuries. Champaka described Hampi as a mystical place with massive stone temples amidst huge rock formations. UNESCO apparently agrees and designated it a World Heritage Site. After 8 hours in the car, I was ready to be amazed. We pulled up to our hotel in dusty, hectic Hospet, the closest commercial hub to Hampi and offering more accommodations, and I was pleasantly surprised. The hotel was grand. We had officially arrived in tourist land. Doormen and bag handlers bearing cold fruit drinks greeted us. We checked in, were escorted through a courtyard wrapped by two semi-circular 4-story banks of rooms and landscaped with a “D”esigned fountain made of black granite. Up the glass the elevator we went to our “over the top” rooms (in my dad’s words).
Because we had just finished an 8-hour drive, we didn’t want to get back in the car (which we would have had to do to see anything), so we treated ourselves to an early meal at the hip rooftop restaurant/bar called Waves. They weren’t joking either-- everything at the place had a wave motif, which we found a bit amusing since we were in the land of rocks. We sampled lots of South Indian breads and “gravy” dishes (any saucy dish is classified as a gravy) and watched the sky turn pink. By now I had gotten used to eating most of my meals with roti, naan, paratha (a softer and usually stuffed type of naan) as the utensil to grab whatever vegetable dish we were eating. One of my favorites is Lady Fingers (okra) prepared in a spicy gravy. We liked Waves so much and the wait staff was so eager to have us return to our choice of table, that we came back later for drinks and snacks.
The next morning we arranged for a guide and set off to spend the day exploring the ruins. As we approached large, golden brown rock outcroppings began to appear between the fields and palm trees. We were warned that it would be very hot, but when we met our guide, Manju, there was a cool breeze blowing. We started at the temple of Ganesha --the elephant god. A huge stone Ganesha (at least two-stories in height) sat in the middle of the open air structure, held up with finely carved columns. Now, please forgive my ignorance when it comes to Hindu practices and the detailed tales of the thousands of gods and their associations. We were beginning to get a better sense from Champaka, but the day with Manju was my first in depth lesson. He explained that every god has somebody (usually an animal or combination of human/animal) to watch over him. Ganesha's is the mouse! I was delighted to hear that the elephant and mouse friendship goes way back!
[Continued from part 1: just a taster...]
From there we climbed on to a massive slab of gently rounded rock. At the top, we could see at least 10 more temples of the same size of the one honoring Ganesha situated across the boulders. Each one had ornately carved columns reminding me of my architectural history days when we had to learn each element of the Greek and Roman structures. Here, in addition to understanding the various architectural forms that represent Hindu architecture in the 6th Century, we were learning about all of the Hindu gods that were honored in each of the shrines. Luckily, three main gods got most of the attention so we only had to learn who they were, which symbols were used to represent them (and still are used today), which animal (or human-animals) watches over each god, and how each temple related to the others around it. The entire Hampi complex is spread out over 26 kilometers, so this was just the tip of the iceberg! And, it was getting hotter.
Luckily we had two full days here and didn’t have to try to squeeze it all in one day. Per my norm, I tuned in and out during the explanations, which Manju seemed to repeat at regular intervals, and snapped away at carving after carving. Each one depicted something different, from floral designs, gods, animal gods, goddesses, and animals. Most of the shrines we visited were for Shiva, who is protected by Nandi, the bull. So in the center of all temples dedicated to him, a statue of Nandi (in various states of disrepair and glory) sat staring into the doorway of the innermost shrine where the stone idol of Shiva once stood (very few of the temples had the idol of the god itself remaining). After awhile, this patiently waiting bull reminded me of dogs everywhere staring at the front door waiting for their owners to come home.
As we continued down the hill, two huge shikaras (AKA gopuras, AKA tiered tower gateway) came closer into view. They were part of the complex’s largest shrine (also to Shiva) and look like a cross between a wedding cake and a behive—this one is 56 meters high and each level gets slightly shorter than the one below it so it appears muc taller. This one was carved with women in provocative poses, some overtly sexual. The temple inside was a must see for all the tourists and pilgrims. It required an entrance fee and because it is a living shrine, everyone must remove their shoes. We entered through the large opening at the base of the shikara and into a colonnaded courtyard. The first thing you notice is there’s an excited crowd of people just to the right partially blocking the entry. The second thing you notice is there’s a very large, speckled elephant donned with a majestic hat and sash standing in the corner, surrounded by the excited crowd waiting to be blessed. The elephant receives coins and bananas in its trunk from the visitors and in exchange touches the top of their heads with its trunk. Various guides encouraged me to be blessed, but I declined. It seemed forced. If an elephant’s gonna bless me, it’ll be in my dreams, not with one foot tethered by a chain. The third thing you notice is the impressive temple at the center of the courtyard directly inline with the entrance—this one has columns in the shape of rearing animals which define the worship hall.
Apparently the monkeys had claimed this temple as their own. They walked in a procession across the lintels, scampered up the ornately carved door frames, almost always with a tiny one in the lead creating a game out of it. The pilgrims stood in line to enter the shrine, while the pale-footed tourists milled about snapping shots of the carvings on every surface. In the middle of it, a woman stretched herself out on temple floor (the plinth for those of you who want to be specific) from head to toe to pay homage to Shiva.
Back outside, the ancient colonnade of the original market remains and is filled in with new stalls and storefronts welling a mix of handicrafts, clothing and cheap touristy gadgets. It was getting so hot that I decided to have my first fresh coconut. The juice was hardly sweet at all, but it cooled me down enough to get back in the car and drive on to the next monument. This one was an enormous monolithic carving of one of Vishnu’s 10 incarnations—the man-lion called Narasimha. Staring at this mammoth piece of carved stone amidst flocks of Indian school children, western tourists, and Hindu families made me wonder how long it took its creators to carve back in the 6th Century. They certainly had their pick of choice rocks to work with, but the size and detail of these carvings is phenomenal. All this sight seeing gets you tired. So to get out of the sun, we went back to the market and stopped for lunch in a little open-air restaurant that offered an unbelievable assortment of types of food, including South Indian (no surprise), Chinese (typical for about half the places we’d been), Italian, Israeli, American and Tibetan! I chose the momos (the Tibetan/Bhutanese equivalent to the potsticker), which had been one of my favorite meals back in
It’s almost overwhelming to write about all of the temples, monuments, bathing pools that we saw that day. There were so many, some a bit more refined, some more dilapidated, but I noticed that each of them had a particular group of animals that had claimed it as their home. At the Zenana enclosure (women’s quarters) home to the delicate Lotus Palace and ridiculously formal elephant stables, a community of tiny, grey chipmunks had taken over. The whole time we were there, they squeaked and squeezed in and out of the tiny crevices throughout the enclosure’s stone walls. At the Vittala temple, dedicated to Vishnu and protected by the half man/half eagle god, Garuda, pigeons had informally made it their home, which you might think is a species unworthy of such grandeur, but they’re not common in places we visited, and were less obtrusive than the monkeys and chipmunks. This temple was my favorite. Instead of thick solid columns, each massive support was carved away to form as many as 12 thin columns. If you tap on the granite, each column plays a slightly different musical note. The guards aren’t supposed to tap on them due to erosion, but they put on a short performance anyway. It’s said that in the temple as whole, 56 notes can be played. In front of the main structure sat a granite chariot led by a pair of granite elephants. The stone wheels were once able to spin in place, but they were cemented for preservation’s sake.
We continued on looking at carving after carving until just before sunset—which is a big deal here given the opportunity for glorious views—so we rushed over to every guide’s hill for sunset viewing and joined the herds of westward facing tourists and monkeys scattered across the boulders. This became our goal every evening—to climb a hill and watch the brilliant red ball disappear into the hazy horizon.
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