Category: Chapter 5

I had been looking forward to Hampi from the very start of my trip, despite knowing very little about it. However, the fact that it marked the location where Rama met Hanuman meant I knew it was going to be a wonderful experience, and I was not in any way disappointed.

The first thing that struck me as I leaned out of the train door approaching the station at Hampi was the fierce heat. Looking out, I observed all around me. The immense greenery of the fields, was matched only by the orange glow of the air, so bright was the sun.

It was probably the first time I felt as though I was now really in South India. Hindi was no longer spoken, and the signs were no longer in Hindi, so the little I had learned along the way was now useless. Having to rely on only my English, I left the train and made my way towards Hampi. I had arrived in the late afternoon, and with sunset not far away, I decided to spend my first day there just wondering around Hampi. I was immediately struck by its immense beauty. Mountains and boulders pervaded the landscape. The story goes that the Vanara Army, or the monkey army of Kishkinda, would throw these incredible rocks from the tops of the mountains to show off their strength.

Watching the sunset over the dried up river, and behind the mountains, I could not help but look forward to my days ahead.

 

 

My first morning in Hampi was probably my favourite to date. When deciding how to get around, the owner of the guest house where I was staying recommended that I hire a bicycle for the day, and at 100 rupees, I could not argue with it.

After crossing up the dried up river with my bike, scrambling across the rocks, which was not as easy as I would have liked, my first stop was Lake Pampa.

It was at this lake whose ‘soul enchanting excellences are famed throughout the world’, that Rāma and Lakshmana found the ashram of Shabari, another who refused her place in heaven, so she could meet Rama.

However, it was about 4 km from where I was staying, and I knew there was no way I would have enjoyed the day as much as I did if it were not for my bike. It removed my dependence on annoying rickshaw drivers, and enabled me to actually cover a reasonable distance. It had been years since I had ridden a bike, and the freedom it gave me was wonderful.

I met a Sadhu at the body of water marking Lake Pampa, and asked him where I should visit. He told me that there was a Durga Mandir I could see, briefly mentioning something about Vali, the language barrier again proving a problem. He told me I could visit Anjanaya Hill and Rishyamookh hill which were all on this side of the river. Again, appreciating that sometimes I did not need to make a plan before doing something, as things often turned out okay, I set off to see the other sites.

I went off in search of the Durga Mandir. I cycled, and cycled, and cycled without managing to find it, even though it was only meant to be 2km away. Not realising how far I had travelled, I stumbled across a small village and just enjoying the bike ride, I thought I would go and investigate, before turning around and heading back.

Everywhere I went I found traces of the Ramayana. Whether it was statues and temples, or simply Rama’s name written across the rocks of Hampi.

Cycling through I reached the end of the path that existed, and found myself at what seemed like an abandoned temple. It was beautiful and on the banks of the river, with a small photo of Hanuman placed at the entrance. Intrigued I went in, had a wonder around the stone structure and left. I made a note of the name, just in case it came up anywhere and started cycling back. It was called Anegundi.

Cycling back I soon found the Durga Mandir. Realising I had not been able to see it before as it was hiding on the other side of a hill, I began my ascent. Funnily enough, I met the same Sadhu there as I had at Lake Pampa and after a brief conversation, I went to the Durga mandir.

I pushed my bike up the unrelenting hill, its one gear and my lack of stamina proving to make cycling up it out of the question, and visited the temple. I then asked about Vāli. No words were given in reply, and I was simply pointed in a direction. Intrigued, I followed and continued walking.

I walked and walked, and finally found arrows painted on the surrounding rocks, which guided me to where I was going. I climbed boulders and squeezed my way through caves until I reached what I thought was my destination.

I had without knowing, made it to the top of the hill, and I was able to see Hampi in all its glory before my eyes. Monkeys kept me company as I was blown away by all before me.

However, I soon realised that the arrows had not stopped. I was at this point becoming nervous. I had walked a long way, across a number of obstacles that were not easy to cross. Spurred on, however, by the feeling that I was close, I descended a few ladders that were merged into the rocks.

What I found was mesmerising…

I had descended the final part of the cave and found myself in Vāli Gopha. I looked up, realising that from every direction, I was enclosed by rock. In the middle of the small space, however, lay one piece of stone a few feet high. It was painted orange, and had on it a picture of Shiva. A trident stood next to the rock. I was amazed that such a place existed, in the heart of this mountain.

The cave seemed so detached from its surroundings, that it seemed to be in a world of its own. Reflecting, I could think of only two words to describe it, Shakti and Shaant, Strength and calm.

The sun pierced the rocks, breaking through the few spaces between them, accompanied only by the gentle touch of the wind.

I had assumed it was the place where Vali was trapped, and I started my adventure back out of the cave to my bike, retracing the arrows but following them in the opposite direction. It was only around 10am by this point but it was already touching 30 degrees. I felt like it was time to get a drink, and so picking up my bike, I found a small stall just outside the mandir.

I asked for a cold drink, and the owner, an older man with a modest smile, knowing I was not a local, replied in almost faultless English. I was surprised and we started talking. He told me that he was a retired engineer who chose to spend his days here working behind the stall, because it brought him a peace that he been unable to find elsewhere.

I asked him about the place I had just visited and he told me that it was not where Vali was trapped, but where he did his penance to Shiva, giving him his incredible power. It was this penance, he told me, that meant Vali could only be killed through a trick rather than in a fight. The feelings that came to me in the cave suddenly started to make sense. Shakti and Shaant.

Furthermore, he asked me if I had been to Anegundi. Remembering the name rang a bell I recalled that it was the temple I had found earlier. Intrigued, he told me that it was believed to be the place where Rama killed Vali. It turned out that I had stumbled upon the location of a main chapter of the Ramayana, by accident.

Enjoying how my day was unfolding, I thanked the owner Sirnath, and continued my journey. I rode my bike down the winding paths of the hills, feeling as free as I ever had.

I now went in search of Anjanaya Hill. A temple 600 steps up a hill, that was said to mark the birthplace of Hanuman.

The temple dedicated to Hanuman was again, as in Chitrakoot, located 600 steps up a magnificent hill. Parking my bike at its base, I started my ascent, trying to block out the fierce heat, focusing only on the task ahead.

With each step up, I could see more of Hampi, and its beauty continued to captivate me. After about 400 steps I started to tire. The morning of cycling had started to take its toll, and so I stopped, taking some time to appreciate all before me. However, soon after, I was quickly overtaken by a pair of elderly women, wearing sandals and sarees. They stopped next to me and we started talking. Although conversation was hard to follow, it was what was not said by these two that spoke to me. Although the way they held themselves indicated a fatigue, their faces would not show it. Wearing only a smile and bright eyes, it seemed as though it was a journey they had completed many times before, and would complete many times again. It reminded me about the power of this myth, this legend, and how alive it is to all those that follow it.

Reaching the top, finally, I was greeted by a small structure. It stood humbly admist the strength of the wind. Hanuman is the the son of Vayu, the God of Wind, and so feeling its presence, I couldn’t help but think that it was Vayu still watching over his son. Once Hanuman was struck by the weapons of the God Indra, and in his anger Vayu took away all the air on the earth. If that was his anger, then maybe this breeze was his blessing.

I walked into the temple and encountered a single man singing the Hanuman Chalisa, and it filled me with joy. For the few verses I knew, we sung together, and we smiled.

Hanuman is strength and power. He is will and determination. He is wisdom and devotion. He is a friend to all those around him. Hanuman is the one who as a child, thought the sun was a mango, and desperate to eat it, flew up to the heavens to take hold of it. Hanuman is joy, and he brings hope to all those that follow him.

In all the places I have been to that have Hanuman as their focus, I have seen this. His birth place was a reminder of all of this and his humility. The very fact that at its centre rested a shrine to Rama, Sita and Lakshmana, with Hanuman only on the periphery is perhaps the best example of this.

I have realised that perhaps Hanuman is often depicted in orange, because that is the colour of the feelings he inspires in those around him. His bright, illuminating glow cannot help but fill the hearts of those who follow him, even as the sun upon rising, will bring light to the darkest parts of the Earth. I understood why those two women I had seen climbing the hill did so with a smile, in spite of the immense difficulty it posed them. They wanted to see the birthplace of Hanuman, the orange beacon at the top of this hill of Hampi.

Feeling a complete contentment at how my day had unfurled, I began my climb down the hill, looking out onto the vast landscape. The rocks still exuding their orange glow, one that I understood so much more now. I had one more stop on my trail and that was Rishyamookh hill, the location where Rama met Hanuman and Sugriva for the first time.

Asking a few locals for direction, I eventually found a quite ashram, and again leaving my bike, I crossed a small stream and encountered three Sadhus. One, with a beard so long that it tickled his belly button, another asleep on the ground, and a third who upon seeing me, opened up the small cave, which hosted icons of Hanuman and Sugriva. After appreciating this immensely powerful space, I exited, and was greeted by the third Sadhu.

I was again offered lunch, and after my experience at Sharabhanga’s ashram, it was a lunch I was happy to eat, and one welcomed all the more by my stomach which seemed to growl in anger at the rough morning it had had. However, it was soon soothed, and keen to ask questions, I started talking to the third Sadhu, perhaps still working off the excitement the day had provided me with. He smiled, and looked at me.

‘Eat first, talk after.’

I laughed to myself and continued to eat. A few minutes had passed and he said a few words to me. I replied, and thinking it was okay to talk again, I continued enthusiastically to ask questions.

‘Eat first, talk after,’ he repeated.

I finished my food, and seeing the coconut and the ash I found myself knowing exactly how to clean my plate, and after doing so, I was able to ask my questions.

We discussed what happened here, how long he had been here, and what he thought of the Ramayana. I could tell that with all his heart he believed the Ramayana was true, and with this sheer conviction telling me all I needed to know, I thanked him and set off back to my guest house. It has been a long morning. I was hot, tired and my legs had started to cramp up with a few hundred metres to get back. But, I could not have wished for a more perfect day. I had set out wishing to see only a few places, but the wealth of the Ramayana showed itself to me, and for that, I am grateful.

After seeing a few more sights in the morning, I said goodbye to Hampi. It’s orange glow will always remind me of the joy that Hampi brings when on the Trail of Rama.