Linda, The Monkey Kingdom – Hampi, Feb. 17-20

The Monkey Kingdom – Hampi

Nestled in the center of the state of Karnataka, 100 km from the west coast of Goa and near the small city of Hospet is the village of Hampi. Now a small hamlet that survives mainly on the pilgrim and tourist trade, this World Heritage Center has, in fact, attracted hermits and priests for thousands of years. Its history begins in legend and mythology, being the ancient capital of the Monkey Kingdom, Kishkinda, whose famous ambassador Hanuman, helped Rama find and regain his beloved Sita. This is from the wonderful epic, The Ramayana, which I read to my children when they were small and which we all have re-read since. Everyone who has come here has said it was one of their favorite places and even the guide books said that people often come for a few days and stay for a few weeks. If we did not need to go to our lessons in Kerala, Eleanor and I would be one of those people who stayed for those extra weeks.
The area around Hampi is surrounded by mountains of enormous boulders with a lovely river and winding creeks. The boulders, it is said, are from the antics of the monkey armies of long ago, who threw the rocks as evidence of their prowess. It certainly seems that this could be so, for the boulders are strewn in amazing configurations and piles. Wandering in the wilderness here is something like the American southwest in that it is warm and dry with cool, cool breezes and comfort in the shade. The color of the rocks change as the day goes by, yellow in the afternoon and lovely shades of pinks and purples as the sun sets. The fords in the rivers in this area have been considered sacred sites for thousands of years and there have been several important temples dotted along the river. One is still in use - the others, magnificent and picturesque ruins amongst the rocks. The large temples were mainly built during a short period of historical significance during the reign of the Vijayanagar kings. This reign began in the first half of the 14th century when two brothers were captured by the Moghul king, Tughluq. They were taken to Delhi where they reputedly converted to Islam and gained prominence in the government there. Indeed, they were trusted enough that they were sent to quell disquiet in the area of Kampila, which they did, only to abandon Islam and began to establish their own Hindu kingdom. Gaining vast tracts of land, they established Vijayanagar, City of Victory, in 1343, which lies on the outskirts of Hampi, where they enjoyed a monopoly on the lucrative trade of Arabian horses and silk. By the 1500’s, Portuguese traders were astonished by the immense riches of the area, with average citizens bedecked in costly jewels, ornate palaces, and joyous festivals. Its seven walls and massive fortifications made the city impregnable. In 1565, the Vijayanagar king started interfering with the rule of the Mughul government, then at its height under the clement rule of Akbar. During an armed conflict with the Mughuls, the Muslim generals threw in their support with Akbar and this kingdom fell. The palaces were large and ornate structures of wood on beautiful stone pedestals, and succumbed to the ravishes of fire. Within eight months, the entire city had disappeared and all that is left are the beautiful stone temples, a few royal buildings in stone, the immense public and private tanks and baths, and the foundations of hundreds of homes and palaces laid in orderly fashion amongst gardens and elaborate irrigation systems. It is quite an education seeing the layout of the city and the system of running water that had flowed through aqueducts from the surrounding mountains, continually replenishing the tanks and ditches.
Our days were spent wandering this beautiful countryside. We walked 5-7 hours a day, partially through the old ruins of the city and partially through the countryside. In the country, one is constantly delighted by the wonders both of nature and of man. Trails meander amongst the boulder mountains and fantastic outcroppings. And sprinkled generously throughout are temples of various sizes. Some are small enclosures about 10 feet square, perched against boulders or on top of them. Others are larger temples, often perched on the tops of impossible mountains, where access meant a scramble up these immense boulders – somewhat like the photographs I’ve seen of the monasteries in Greece. Other temples are by the rivers, tucked amongst the groves of banana and coconut and date, entwined with creepers and flowering vines, bushes, and trees. Here, the monkeys especially liked to play, chasing one another through the trees and ruins, with a ready supply of water and bananas nearby. The entire area covers many, many square miles, and one could easily spend weeks here, never going to the same place twice. The town itself is quiet and relaxed. It doesn’t attract the large tourist groups as it is not easily accessible. (We had a LONG overnight bus ride … on a local bus. All other connections were quite complicated. It is, however, fairly easy to get here from Goa, so the “hippie” crowd that frequents Goa is also here, to a smaller extent – which means decent lodgings at low prices and some interesting food options.)
The simple lifestyle has been wonderful. Each day, we walk for many hours and most of the day is spent out doors. All of the restaurants have terraces and our life is a little stream of meanderings, reading, eating, and sleeping. There are few “needs” and no “wants”. When one really lives simply, you really don’t need or want very much – a clean room, a little healthy food and clean water, and a few articles of clothing and personal effects. It is a liberation, and one’s thoughts and heart can go elsewhere than in the battle of the everyday. As someone recently reminded me: necessity, consecration, perfection. To understand and actualize that is everything – no matter where one is or in whatever situation one finds oneself.
We have met some interesting people here. One young man was helping us with our train tickets. He told us a little of his youth here. It seems that there is a type of racing/hunting breed of dog in the villages here that is quite special. They are large and lean, a bit like Greyhounds, but more beautiful and elegant. As a youth, he got a puppy from one of the villagers and began to train it, both to hunt (a necessity) and to run (a joy). They ran over 20 km everyday, throughout this magnificent countryside. His dog took many prizes in shows throughout, and caught the attention of a tourist who offered $3500 (US) for the dog – a king’s ransom here. He did not sell, nor will he ever sell one of his dogs. He ran with his dog for 5 years, and then the dog retired, though not completely – the dog was on watch duty at night, keeping the monkeys away from the family banana orchard. This dog has since passed away, as has his youth. He now has his own home, a wife, a child on the way, and a little business that seems to be successful. But, it was with a slightly quivering lip, a nostalgia for youth, as he showed us the photographs of that first dog.
Another man we met here was a tailor. He learned his trade from his father, who learned it from his father, and so on for generations. One could see that he took great pride in his occupation, loving the notion that he made clothes for a specific person, with their personality and their exact body measurements in mind. The clothes were made to be perfect for that person. But the onslaught of ready-made clothing is putting him out of business. What an immense shame, for his clothing is not only of better quality, both in make and fabric and fit, but is actually just as inexpensive as ready-made! He is from Rajasthan, and the ready made factories of the area employ all the tailors – at rock bottom wages. For him to make a decent living, he comes here, to Hampi, many, many kilometers away from his home, for the winter tourist season. Then, he visits his home and family for a short period of time before heading for Manali, in the Himalayas, for the summer tourist season there. He hasn’t seen his family for 5 months! So, the tragedy of the ready-made world is two fold. It is usurping the expertise of these tailors and having them go against their ideal of making clothing for a person, thus taking away the dignity of the profession, both because one makes the same thing, over and over, and because of the working conditions. Then, if one wishes to escape this, it means leaving one’s family. The family structure, especially in Rajasthan, is still one of extended family; one’s wife and children could come with him, but it would be very difficult for all and would leave the family without the extended support of father, mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents – and those are the ones living at home! What a difficult predicament – one of those losses to the modern world that are incalculable and which are unforeseen by the west … unless you ask questions. Thus it has been for the artisan and craftsman since machines have come to rule. What an immense loss. One can only hope that this loss will never be complete – but it is quickly becoming the domain of “specialty” instead of the art and craft of everyday beauty – something for the wealthy, and not for everyone. And that is truly a deprivation for those of limited means, whose items of special beauty and craft are exported, while they are left with things “without soul”, being made by machine rather than man.