विजयनगरम्

अध्याय I — प्रस्तावना

Departure

There were eleven of us, which already felt like too many humans to fit into two cars and one sensible plan. We drove through the rough terrains of Maharashtra roads carving their way through hills and dust, laughter and silence sharing equal space inside the cars. Somewhere along the way we crossed into Karnataka a land once ruled by the sangama dynasty whose magnificent capital vijayanagara  survives today as Hampi part ruin, part memory.

We arrived late that night. The moon hung low over the stones indifferent to all the stories standing beneath it. Tired and uncertain, we searched for a place to stay and finally found two rooms booked for the next two days. Everything felt chaotic and unplanned yet alive with energy and anticipation. The next day was my birthday. We celebrated it the old way  in a simple old-style hotel where you sit on the floor and eat at your own pace. One of my friends played the bongo, despite not really knowing how to play the bongo and the uneven rhythm somehow made the moment more honest Surrounded by people who had grown up with me, who knew me across years and phases. It became the best birthday I have ever had. That night however  god seemed to have other plans. The lights went out, and June’s humidity settled heavily over us. Sleep came in fragments for most of us, restless and uncomfortable but I slept deeply like a child untouched by heat or darkness.

अध्याय II — भोजनम्

Breakfast

Breakfast passed quietly. Filter coffee was served, strong and unadorned, the kind that lingers. As someone who returns to coffee often, I found comfort in its familiarity. It was a small, steady ritual before stepping back into a city built

अध्याय III — नगरयात्रा

The site of the old city is a strange wild place to have been the birthplace and capital of an empire. The whole of it is dotted with little barren rocky hills, and immediately north of it the wide and rapid Tungabhadra river hurries along a boulder-strewn channel, down rapids and through narrow gorges. The hills are made of granite, weathered into every shade from grey to brown, and they have hardly any vegetation on them.

But despite its often-precarious appearance, this landscape is actually one of the most ancient and stable surfaces in the world. These vast sheets of granite were formed beneath the earth’s surface between about three and a half billion years ago, during the earliest formation of the earth’s crust.

Some of these rocks were already here during the emergence of the very first life on earth, from tiny microbes and bacteria. They have watched life rise from the seas seen dinosaurs rule the earth and disappear and then seen humans slowly emerge, while softer rocks around them wore away. These hard granites remained.

It was through this landscape that we began our journey through the city, we hired a rickshaw to move between the larger sites.

We first went to the Vitthala Temple. Even in ruins, it felt carefully planned. The stone pillars were tall and closely spaced, covered with detailed carvings of animals and people. The place felt quiet but heavy, as if it was still holding onto its past.

From there we went to the Queen’s Bath. It was enclosed and symmetrical, very different from the open temples. It felt private and calm, more like a place meant for rest than display.

Next was the Virupaksha Temple, which felt completely different from everything else. It was active and full of people. Bells rang, prayers were being said, and life continued as it must have for centuries. It did not feel like a ruin at all.

Later we sat by the Tungabhadra river. The water moved fast over the rocks, loud and constant. We did not talk much there. Watching the river felt enough.

Later that day, we took a coracle ride on the water. The coracle moved slowly, cutting through the quiet surface of the lake, with the rocky hills standing still all around us. The city felt far away, even though it was never really gone.

It was one of the most surreal moments of the trip. Sitting there, surrounded by people I love and keep close to my heart, felt deeply grounding. No one was rushing. No one was trying to capture the moment too hard. We were just there.

The water reflected the sky and the stones, and for a while everything felt balanced and calm. It was a simple experience, but it stayed with me longer than many of the grander sights.

We ended the day at Anjanadri Hills. People were sitting quietly on the steps, watching the sky change color as the day ended. Everyone seemed calm and peaceful.

Then we saw the bear.

It appeared suddenly moving quietly near the steps. In that moment the calm completely disappeared. One of my friends saw it and immediately started running down the steps, screaming loudly and very seriously. The rest of us followed soon after, not waiting to think too much. The hill became silent again after that, but the memory stayed with us.

अध्याय IV — कला, नाद, वसनम्

Art, Music, and Attire

We can see the clothing worn by the people of Vijayanagara in the colorful sixteenth century murals that decorate the walls of temples dedicated to Shiva and Vishnu in the village of Lepakshi. These murals show women with clearly different skin tones, wearing sarees in many ornate patterns that seem to come from different regions. Pearls are often shown woven into their hair, suggesting careful attention to appearance.

Other murals show noblemen hunting boar through forest scenes. Their facial hair is neatly shaped into refined beards. They wear kilt like lower garments along with jeweled necklaces. Turbans and other decorated headdresses appear to have been popular among the wealthy and powerful.

Both men and women are shown wearing perfumes made from sandalwood, rose water, flowers, cive, and musk. These scents were clearly an important part of daily life, not limited only to rituals or special occasions.

The markets of the city must have been lively but difficult to manage. Shopkeepers would have needed to stay constantly alert to monkeys, just as they do today in the region of Hampi. Red-faced rhesus macaques and silvery grey Hanuman langurs move in groups, walking along rooftops, dropping down from awnings, and stealing food from anyone who is not careful.

The roots of Carnatic music can be traced back to the temples and courts of South India, and Vijayanagara played an important role in its growth. Music was not only a form of entertainment, but a part of worship, learning, and everyday life.

Carnatic music followed strict rules and structures, yet allowed deep emotional expression. Instruments such as the veena and mridangam, along with the human voice, were central to its sound. The music moved slowly at times, building with rhythm and melody, and then settling back into calm.

In temples, music accompanied prayer and ritual, helping create a sense of order and devotion. In royal courts, it was performed with care and refinement, showing the value placed on art and discipline.

There were stones scattered around the whole city which uncannily resembles the musical notes of tabla,

Standing among the ruins today, it is easy to imagine these sounds once filling the space. The stones feel quiet now, but the idea of music still seems to linger in the air.

Dance was an important part of cultural life in Vijayanagara. It was performed in temples and courts, and it existed alongside music as a respected art form. Sculptures and carvings show dancers in balanced postures, caught mid-movement, suggesting discipline, training, and confidence.

Women played a central role in dance. They were not only performers for an audience, but participants in an art that allowed expression and joy. Dance was not always about display or duty. Many women danced for their own enjoyment, as a way to celebrate movement, rhythm, and freedom within the structure of tradition.

The gestures, postures, and expressions required control and skill. At the same time, they allowed space for emotion and individuality. In many spaces, curtains were used, held in place with hooks and simple fittings, creating a sense of separation and privacy. This allowed dancers to focus inward, away from distraction.

Art is a form of meditation, and to reach that state the mind and soul need to be balanced. Through dance, women could express devotion, strength, and pleasure, all at once.

उपसंहारः

Leaving

As we prepared to leave Vijayanagara, it became clear that this was not a society built on fear or rigid ideas. It was confident, curious, and open to influence. It absorbed music, art, architecture, and even clothing styles from different cultures without feeling threatened. There was no need to draw hard lines or protect identity through exclusion. The people here seemed secure enough to allow difference to exist.

Looking at this from the present, it feels strange. Our world today often feels louder, more defensive, more radicalised. We argue over symbols, identities, and borders, forgetting that cultures grow strongest when they are allowed to breathe. Vijayanagara reminds us that openness is not weakness. It is a sign of strength.

And yet, despite all its confidence and brilliance, this empire did not last. Nothing does.

The stones remain, but the people are gone. The music faded, the dancers stopped, the markets fell silent. Even the ideas that once felt permanent dissolved with time. Empires rise, cultures bloom, and then quietly return to dust, just like the stars that formed the granite beneath our feet.

Perhaps that is the point.

Nothing is permanent not cities, not beliefs, not even us. We are temporary arrangements of matter and memory, passing through landscapes far older than our thoughts. The best we can do is live fully while we are here, stay open, stay curious, and leave behind something gentle.

Vijayanagara did that.

And then it let go.