Trippin by the pool

‘How did I end up here?’ He repeated my question, savoring each syllable.

The accent with its emphasis on grammar; the neatly ironed shirt and trousers; the flip-flops – all pointed to the archetypal Indian government clerk on a holiday.

We sat precariously balanced on a ledge atop Matanga Hill, taking in the sight of the lost city, slowly waking up to a summer day.

The capital of the 15th century Vijayanagara Empire, Hampi thrived as a center of culture and commerce until it was defeated by the armies of neighboring kingdoms. The victors sought to erase every trace of the city, burning down its palaces and temples. And so, it lay forgotten, overcome by the wild, until a British antiquarian discovered it centuries later. Folks from nearby villages followed, drawn by the stone ruins which they walled and converted into their homes.

For most of independent India’s history, Hampi’s children grew up swimming in its sacred water tanks; playing in stables which once housed the royal elephants; tapping away happily at the musical pillars of the Vittala temple complex; and idling away afternoons amidst the aqueducts. Until in the not-so-distant past, they were evicted by an administration driven by the promise of tourist money and moved to makeshift settlements a few miles away.

‘One morning, the officials arrived,’ he explained. ‘In a couple of hours, I had carted away a lifetime of memories in a few boxes.’

He was one of Hampi’s children. His grandparents were amongst the first villagers to settle down here. Not too long ago, he ran a shop in one of the converted ruins, selling everything from magazines to colas.

‘At first I didn’t know what I would do… where I would go. These ruins… they’re everything I have ever known…’ He paused, those sharp eyes turning wistful. ‘And now, I bring these ruins to life.’

Recovering immediately, with the flourish of one who plies a trade shaped by personal faith, Nagaraj Gola, my friend of several minutes thrust a visiting card at me. ‘So that’s how I ended up here. And I will be happy to be your local tour guide if you will. I come well recommended!’

The first rays of the sun came stabbing through the bastions and gateways of the fortifications encompassing the lost capital. The stone sheds in the marketplace where gems, horses and spices were once traded turned golden in the morning light. We sat quietly - sharing the rocky ledge as Hampi’s children would have, over her many incarnations, with their hopes and prayers.