Turning Our Back on History

This unfinished carving on a rock in Hampi harks back to a lost eraThese were the granite rocks that fashioned the city — the temples, ...

THERE are two manifestations of nature in Hampi in northern Karnataka that make it an unforgettable city. One, the huge, powerful boulders that dwarf men are poised awkwardly against the sky. In great abundance they lie piled up, craggy hills forming a stone army. The other is the meandering Tungabhadra river that runs through Hampi. On its southern banks is an important pilgrimage site for Shaivaites, the place where the river goddess Pampa has resided since the seventh century. For the devotees, the rocky hills and the river are the metaphors for Shiva’s Himalayan abode and the sacred Ganga.

When the Sangama kings started to build the city of Hampi around 1336 the value of the area as a pilgrimage was an importance consideration. The twin metaphors of the boulders and the river acquired further dimensions as both nourished the Vijayanagara civilisation in their own ways.

This unfinished carving on a rock in Hampi harks back to a lost era

These were the granite rocks that fashioned the city — the temples, palaces, tanks and the magnificent monolithic gods. It was on these rocks that the artisans communicated their genius through the architecture, the carving of gods, chariots, pillars, sati and hero stones, patterns and designs of man, animal and nature. The same lofty granite became aqueducts, channels, tanks, baths and fountains that drew in the Tungabhadra waters, filling the city with the sound and sight of water, and the greenness of agricultural fields. Communal rainwater collection tanks and wells brought in more water for the city.

A large stone lingam, for example, floats on water. This small temple represented the union of Shiva and Shakti on primordial waters.

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Hampi was ruthlessly destroyed in the 16th century, yet another example of hatred and mindless destruction. The city was silenced and the water system destroyed. For those who lived in Hampi the stone hills and the river was their cultural landscape, filling them with awe and beauty, providing them with nourishment, resources, creativity and occupation, inspiring in them their religion. For us today the river, hills and the ruined city are no less important cultural landscapes.

But a city is meaningless without its landscape and the landscape loses its identity if all its associations and functions are to be taken away. They are to each other what the mighty Sphinx is to the vast desert or what Vraj is to the Brindavan area where it describes the entire interaction between nature, the built heritage, the language, religion and art.

Today the river at Hampi flows sluggishly in parts, especially near Anegondi where it is turning green and garbage continues to float. A huge, ugly bridge invades the landscape at Talarighat. Some temples and sati stones had to be removed to accommodate it. Profiteers are already chiselling the boulders where they can, selling it for rubble. More will happen if the value of a cultural landscape is not fully understood or implemented.

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