Notes from Hampi
Our trip to Hampi was planned at short notice — thankfully, tickets were still available on the overnight train to Hosapete, which would serve as base camp for our trips into Hampi and Anegundi. Our preparation consisted of blogs, YouTube videos, and on G.’s part, listening to podcasts featuring Anirudh Kanisetti. G. knew considerably more than I did, having wanted to see the glories of the Vijayanagara Empire for a very long time. I attributed my interest in Hampi to two reasons: I will go anywhere that has the vaguest connotation of historical importance (ask my friends who went searching for blue plaques in the UK with me), and a visit planned fifteen years ago with friends had come to naught because one of the mothers refused permission.
The hillock-strewn landscape of Hampi, dotted by temples and ruins, fields, and coconut groves, is a sight to behold. Chameleons sun themselves on boulders, changing colour and retreating at our approach. From where we look upon the ruins of the Achyutaraya Temple complex, which we stumbled upon while hunting for a rock with prehistoric paintings, it is not hard to imagine a kingdom that any emperor would have been proud of. It sprawls into the distance, watered by the Tungabhadra, nourished by temples that are sprinkled liberally across the land; according to some sources, the territory on the other side of the river corresponds to Kishkindha from the Ramayana.
Indeed, the Ramayana is in every rock and crevice of this territory: the names of Rama and Sita, Sugreeva, Shabari, Rishi Matanga, and Anjaneya are associated with caves or temples or hills that are on tourist and pilgrim trails. While several structures or stories predate the Vijayanagara Empire, Vyasatirtha, their rajaguru, is said to have played an important role in the expansion of Dwaita philosophy during this period, and contributed to the Haridasa movement.
On the banks of the Tungabhadra, where the river changes direction at the Chakratirtha, is the Yantrodharaka Hanuman Temple established by Vyasatirtha. This is one of 732 distinctive Hanuman images installed by him, and we were delighted to learn of this as regular visitors to one of these temples in Chennai. We had visited his resting place at Nava Vrindavana the previous day; a short boat ride from Anegundi, across the river from Hampi, Nava Vrindavana is the resting place of nine saints of the Madhva tradition. Interestingly, it is not too far from what is believed to be the tomb of Krishna Deva Raya, the most celebrated emperor of Vijayanagara.
That the Vijayanagara Empire patronised the arts is no surprise, given the architectural richness visible even in the remains of what they built around five hundred years ago. Literarature and music flourished; the magnificent compositions of Purandaradasa, Kanakadasa, and Annamacharya belong to this period. The Purandaradasa Mantapa on the banks of the Tungabhadra is a shrine to the composer, and hosts an annual festival to commemorate his work. This happened to be one of our favourite spots in Hampi: few visitors made their way here and we sat on the stone steps of the mantapa in solitude for the most part, sheltered from the sun by its cool walls. The river gurgled past us, swirling around the rocks in its path. The white-washed temple on Anjanadri Betta, believed to be the birthplace of Hanuman, glittered in the sunlight. We sang to ourselves, finding it hard to believe that we were where Purandaradasa had sung and composed, by the river that accompanied him.
His guru, Vyasatirtha, wrote several compositions. Krishna Nee Begane Baro is perhaps the most loved piece he composed, finding its way into many different forms and renditions. Here are two of my favourites:
As I listen to the string quartet version, I am fascinated by the various influences that were converging in Hampi during the Vijayanagara era: while the stones resonated with stories from the ancient Ramayana and were kept alive through temples and songs, the Empire was also playing host to travellers from Iran, Italy, Portugal, and other parts of the world. Islamic influences from Deccan sultanates were adopted into architecture. It is no wonder, then, that Hampi feels ancient and medieval at once. We felt privileged to be able to explore the city at our own pace, even as Badami, Aihole, and Pattadakal waited in the wings.
