At the very outset, let
me tell you that this post is not a ‘travelogue’. If you are planning a trip to
Hampi, this post will be of as much use to you as Rahul Gandhi is to the
Congress party. Now that I have linked this blog to current affairs and proved
how in the know I am, let’s get to the point.
This Holi weekend, I had
the extreme pleasure of visiting Hampi. Most trips are the result of careful
and meticulous planning for weeks, if not months, while some are of the
impromptu pack-your-bag-and-hum-jo-chalne-lage-chalne-lage-hai-ye-raaste
variety. Well, this trip was the fruit of me yelling ‘I WANT TO GO TO HAMPI’ repeatedly
in a Whatsapp group till my partner-in-only-the-wander-type-of-lust Nivedita suggested
that we make good of the Holi weekend and put an end to my tantrum.
I won’t bore you with
details of how to haggle with your auto wala or write a ’13 things you must do
in Hampi or you are a loser’ type of post. This is more of ‘to ye rahe Hampi ke mukhya samachar’, a list of things I remember from the trip. More
for myself than for anyone else (I’m really living up to my blog’s name)
1. I remember being borderline
terrified as the date for the trip came closer. You think it’s because we were
two girls going to a strange land on the day of one of the rowdiest festivals
in India? Pssshhhh! Such concerns are for mortals. What terrified me is the
thought of spending 3-odd days with just one other person, and of course my
social anxiety for company.
Put me in a group of
people or give me the protective veil of a chat window, and I can smother my anxiety
enough to come across as a decent conversationalist. But 3 whole days of one on one interaction
with another human? Gulp. Doesn’t matter
that the person in question is one of my best friends, I will still shudder at
the possibility. Turns out, my fears were mostly unfounded.
2. I remember not
believing that we’re actually going to Hampi even while packing my bags in a
zombie like state at 1 am on the day we were supposed to leave.
3. The random and free
flowing conversation with Nivedita in the otherwise silent sleeper bus, aided
of course by the lack of data connection on our phones. Tee Hee.
4. The first view of the
boulders in Hampi. If Kerala is God’s Own Country, Hampi has to be God’s Own
Lego Land. The way in which the HUGE boulders are arranged makes you marvel at
the Creator – nature, God, I don’t know. I would like to think that baby
Hanuman (who is supposed to have been born here) played with these boulders
throughout the land and refused to put his toys back like any other kid,
resulting in these incredible formations.
5. The absolute and
welcome relief I felt because of the change in scenery – from seeing glitzy
malls that were built in front of your eyes and will become ghosts of their
present selves in the next few years, to seeing the creations of nature that
have been around for centuries and have seen the rise and fall of dynasties.
6. The easy and generous
smiles of both the tourists and the locals. From the old, wrinkled woman who
needed no permission to smear us with colour accompanied by a genuine ‘Happy
Holi!’, to the pretty foreigner who smiled shyly while passing us on the road,
it was truly a Hampi, I mean happy place.
7. The local boys who
brought their fistfuls of colour to within 3 inches of my face before cocking
their heads and asking ‘OK?’ and applying the colour only when I nodded my
consent.
8. Doing the bhangra with
coloured (with Holi colours, not being racist) people from many continents,
including our own, in the middle of the street as a local band struck up a crazy
tempo.
9. Getting my forehead
smeared with the most stubborn gulaal by a grinning man. For all I know, I’m
still carrying his sindoor in my maang after so many days.
10. Not looking into the
mirror for three days (our room didn’t have one) and not caring what we looked
like, discovering our tanned faces only in selfies later.
11. Exclaiming ‘What the
Hell’ and ‘What the F*&k’ at least twice an hour while exploring the
temples and being inwardly thankful that there were no idols in most temples
to judge my profanity. The reason for the interjections? The sheer skill and
willpower that must have gone into making the Hampi structures.
If God was playing Lego
with the boulders, the kings’ favourite game must be Jenga, which they played
with huge blocks of stone placed perfectly over one another, making the most breathtaking
and enduring structures in the bargain. And
I, who can’t even carve an apple into proper slices in one attempt, have the
utmost regard for the long lost sculptors who made living art that has stood
the test of time. Hampi – The Most Epic Game of Jenga Ever Played.
12. Making it a point to
touch and run my hand along every temple and structure I came across, in a
feeble attempt to absorb some of the stories that the stones have stood witness
to. We can only imagine the kind of stories that the stones would tell if they
could.
13. Climbing the steps of
the Hanuman temple, and then going further ahead on the cliff to watch the
sunset. At one point, I thought I wouldn't be able to navigate the formidable
stones (partly because of my infinite wisdom of wearing a maxi dress curtailing
my movements) and paused in the middle. Watching a mediocre view was good
enough, better than missing a step and bashing my head open on the cliff. But
then suddenly it wasn’t enough, and I continued walking till I reached the edge
of the cliff, just in time for the sun to disappear. And as I sat there alone
amidst total strangers looking at me strangely because I had the most
ridiculous grin on my face, I knew it was worth it.
14. Hearing and
understanding conversations of locals in Kannada, my mother’s tongue, the
language of my childhood.
15. Sitting in a lawn
beneath a tree after God knows how much time, staring unashamedly at people going about their
business. Rediscovering my favourite pastime – people watching.
16. The family of women
who plonked their toddler with us, then settled around us in a gaggle, and before
we could comprehend what was happening, clicked a picture with us thinking we
were foreigners. I don’t want to imagine their disappointment when someone with
a more racially discerning eye points out that they have a photo with a set of
desis, or the vehemence with which the photo will then be deleted.
17. The potential generosity
of a group of school children in another lawn, who again thought we were
foreigners and debated whether to offer us their food for us to ‘taste some of
their Indian food’, and then smiling shyly when I turned to look at them.
18. The caretaker aunty’s
whistle protesting noisily when I clambered into a heritage building that was
apparently non-clamberable. The look that she gave me later made me feel like I
was sheltering Dawood Ibrahim in my sling bag.
19. Lakshmi the temple
elephant. Regardless of how many elephant pictures you double tap on Instagram,
seeing a live elephant swaying in front of you is an unbeatable experience. Touching
the sheer power of her wrinkly trunk reminds you that there are bigger things
out there than your human ego, and that elephants are basically just too darned
cute for their own good.
On a completely unrelated
and mature note, if someone has a spare baby elephant (I know they’re called
calves) up for adoption, I’m willing to work three jobs to give it my family
name and raise it as my own.
20. The late night
*cough* illegal *cough* coracle ride across the river. We didn't reach in time
to catch the last boat to the other side, and what followed was a fun, adventurous
trip crouched in a small, wet coracle in utter darkness with 12 other people
(we later found out that it should accommodate only 6-9 people), which included
3 raucous boys singing songs in Russian.
If anyone from my family
is reading this, the above account is totally a figment of imagination, a sad
attempt of getting some adventure in an utterly boring trip. I swear.
21. Sitting with feet
dipped into the gurgling river, trying to believe that this is actually
happening, failing to do so, and then getting ridiculously happy to know that all
of it is real – the cool water, your relieved toes, the sun getting ready to
set, and the huge smile that creeps onto your face.
22. Dancing and jumping
in the rain and experiencing HAILSTONES in March on the day you’re scheduled to
leave. Running out as it starts raining might seem like a cheesy, wannabe, Yash
Chopra movie thing to do, but when it happens, you have no choice to be all
filmy and stretch your arms to catch the raindrops.
23. Learning how to navigate
a coracle on your own during a ride, doing it admirably well considering it’s
your first time, and then giving up when your biceps, or the fat that resides
in that general area, start wailing in protest.
24. NOT TOUCHING MY MUSIC
PLAYER FOR THE ENTIRE TRIP. This has to be the biggest phenomenon of the trip.
I had charged my music player and double checked the earphones before leaving,
in the hope that they would shield me during times when words failed me. They
came back untouched. There were conversations and there were silences, but no
gaps so huge that they had to be filled with music.
That’s quite enough
memories for a trip that lasted hardly three days, and Hampi has ensured that
there will be many more such memories in the future. Hampi, you weird place
you, you’re like the wise old woman who was a legendary beauty in her prime,
and now has all the wisdom of a life well lived, to be shared with anyone who comes
with an open mind.
Am I glad that I threw
that Whatsapp tantrum.
