Amid the rocks and ruins of Hampi

Like human beings, gods fought among themselves, fought for their people and married and had their consorts. This necessarily increased the rituals of the temples and the number of ceremonial enclosures. Marriage as culmination of human love was something divine and, therefore, a matter of central concern for divine beings too. Thus, in the Vitthalaswami temple, as well as in the Hazara Rama temple, Amman shrine was built for the gods’ consort. Open-pillared Kalyana mandapa was built to receive the pair in an annual marriage ceremony, observes Arun Gaur

A few months ago celebrations were held at the temple of Virupaksha and the loftiest gopuram on the bank of the Tungbhadra was painted yellow. And now it is neither an antique monument nor a modern structure. At Kalpi, they have painted white the treasury on the Yamuna, where Rani Lakshmibai conferred with Tantya Toppe and Nana Sahib. At Orchha, they have painted some of the domes pink and built pink tourist lodges on the Betwa where the mediaeval cenotaphs of kings stand.

Mythological associations of the principal temple are quite clear. Pampa was the daughter of Brahma and Virupaksha — the lord of Pampa.

Before the temple is the famous bazar of Hampi. Just near it sit two monolithic giant Ganeshas — Sasivikallu, the mustard seed stone and Kadalikallu, the gram grain stone. Some distance away is the ferocious monolithic Narasing. Just above the bazar and rocks, I find a scattered group of painters from the Mysore Arts College. "Hoysala is good too. But the perspective that Hampi provides is something different." Every student makes his own assessment of colours and forms. Some see the rocks as dark some as light. A student makes the textures and configurations sharp. Others make the structure and rocks melt into each other.

In the river, granite rocks are smooth and convex like the backs of tortoises unlike the irregular granite rocks in the Betwa of Orchha that appear to be like crocodiles. If one follows the bank of the river one reaches the Vitthalaswami temple.

Like human beings, gods fought among themselves, fought for their people and married and had their consorts. This necessarily increased the rituals of the temples and the number of ceremonial enclosures. Marriage as culmination of human love was something divine and therefore a matter of central concern for divine beings too. Thus in the Vitthalaswami temple as well as in the Hazara Rama temple, Amman shrine was built for the god’s consort. Open-pillared Kalyana mandapa was built to receive the pair in an annual marriage ceremony.

Brick work is becoming bare in one gopuram. It is risky to stand under it. The elephant driven ratha, probably monolithic, is placed separately. Its wheels turn. Beyond the enclosure of the temple is Tungbhadra, green palm trees and serpentine white passage. On the top is perhaps a white Jaina establishment.

The construction of this temple, grand in conception and location, was perhaps started by Krishnadevaraya and the Hazara Rama was the King’s private temple, as is suggested by the high enclosure walls. Though critics have found certain deficiencies in the carving of figures in granite this grainy texture has given these figures a peculiar charm that also marks the images of the granite walls of Nilkantha temple of Kalinjar.

With an increase in the power of the king, the religious art and rituals also prospered and with it developed the power of the priest. When the irrigation tanks burst, the priest told the king that the deity wanted 60 human heads to be appeased, and it was done. So tell some travellers. Brahmins, thus, became powerful.

Pageants and processions passed before the platform throne on certain occasions. Soldiers sat on rocks. These pageants were well deserved and hard earned. For had not the kings of Vijyanagar empire, perhaps all alone in the entire south India kept the Muslim forces at bay right upto the Battle of Talikota (1565) when Ahmadnagar, Golkunda, and Bijapur combined their might against Vijyanagar led by Rama Raja, to destroy the Hindu empire?

While Rama Raja kept himself busy in doling out prizes from his velvet throne, from the enemy came cavalry and cannonade charges. The king’s bearers fled, hurling him down. The king of Vijyanagar empire was beheaded and speared. One lakh persons were massacred, Ferishta states, and the Malaprabha became red.

Ferishta talks about the cruelty perpetrated by the Hindus of Vijyanagar on Bijapur. The same charges were made against the Muslims by the Hindu historians. Nuniz’s account is coloured by his intense gratitude to the king while Paes’ is too dramatic and seems to betray a Portuguese complex.

But undoubtedly the ascension to the throne had not been an easy matter for any king during the reign of the three dynasties— the Sangama, the Saluva and the Narasinga (Taluva). Even Krishnadevaraya had to gouge out the eyes of Salvatinica who brought him up and gave him his kingdom.

When the defeat came in the Battle of Talikota, the destruction particularly with fire was carried out with such alacrity that there remained almost nothing of the gorgeous city of Vijyanagar. Seldom had ruin overtaken such splendid palaces, temples and art works so briskly. Many of them were made in wood and hence quickly turned to ashes. Today almost everything is gone, but even the little that remains is enough to suggest the glory that once was.

On the platform throne there are images of women hunting, music players and animals. Women wrestle and wielded swords. They fasted, poured milk over the nagakals— stones carved with cobras — soaked them in water and placed them under the trees of margosa and pipal. They also performed sati. Clad in yellow, holding a leafy branch of betel, singing loudly a woman would ride a horse to plunge into flames. She also carried a mirror and a comb to prune herself up before she met her husband in the other world.

One day I met Anna, a tourist from Berlin, cycling just above the bank of the Tungbhadra near the temple where Krishna reclines on the Sheshnag. She sets her cycle against the wall of the Achutya’s temple, then takes off her slippers and we climb the Martangam Parvatam. Big rocks have gaping crevices. We have to jump over them. I am tired. I rest. She goes ahead to find the way and calls me up.

All around is a rock-strewn country skirted by the river. This is the land of the Tungbhadra to go to Anegundi, one has to cross Tungbhadra by boat.

We have a final look at the passage where the king must have galloped among the rocks. And then, it is time to leave.