A road trip takes these friends back in time, to the medieval empires across the Deccan peninsula

Indian Express

11 hours ago

A long-held desire to visit Hampi finally fructified in the guise of an all-girls road trip through Karnataka in March. It was an indelible adventure, one that, on the face of it, began in Goa and ended in Bangalore, but in fact wove five history enthusiasts through the vestiges of three dynamic empires spread across the Deccan peninsula and 10 medieval centuries. It is no coincidence that their once-thriving capitals are located near river systems. Waterways have long played a critical role in the development of civilizations, empires and societies, not least economies.
In the case of the Chalukya and Vijayanagara empires, says historian Anirudh Kanisetti, the river valleys they arose in also held geopolitical and strategic importance. 'The Malaprabha river cuts through sandstone cliffs which provide an easily fortifiable area where you can raise crops, dredge various minerals, get sandstone to construct temples and post lookouts all over the cliffs — essentially the ideal heartland for a militaristic kingdom'. For an arid region that once produced nothing but millets, the Malaprabha river's rocky valley ultimately made amends by spawning an empire so powerful that it reigned supreme over the Deccan variously between the 6th and 12th centuries CE. Its pastoral founders reportedly borrowed their moniker from the chalke (crowbar), an essential implement for cultivators, and it went on to become synonymous with the empire's free-standing rock-cut temple architecture. The early examples can be found strewn across Aihole and Badami, the respective commercial and political power centres of the Chalukyan Empire. The finest of these temples are to be seen in the cluster at Pattadakal, their one-time cultural seat, located on a bend of the Malaprabha, a village so somnolent that it belies its past as the scenic setting of many a Chalukyan coronation.
While taking a breather under a leafy tree near the stunning Lokeshwara Temple (now Virupaksha Temple), we imagine Queen Lokamahadevi — on whose behest it was built — sailing up the Malaprabha with her entourage, alighting on its bank, and walking through the large riverside gateway to supplicate before Shiva in the richly sculpted sanctum. One imagines this is also how the Ramalingeshwar complex in Aihole, best visited during the annual ratha utsav (chariot festival), would have been accessed. In its vicinity, on the ridge above a lone Jain cave temple, rock paintings and as many as 42 dolmens, are indicative of the valley's pre-historic antecedents. Alongside temples, we find the ingenious Chalukyas employing the Malaprabha's rugged terrain to their military advantage. They built the Badami citadel atop a gigantic, impossible-to-breach, sandstone promontory. While not much remains of the fortifications, the view from the top is breathtaking in every sense of the word — the climb up is neither for the unfit nor the fainthearted.
After posing beside the stone chariot inside Hampi's musical-pillared Vithala Temple, our Rs 50 currency notes dutifully held aloft, we gave ourselves some downtime near the glittering and — warned a sign — crocodile-infested waters of the Tungabhadra. A two kilometre-guided walk along its rock-strewn bank, replete with shrines and monuments, would have brought us to Virupaksha Temple, the top attraction in Hampi, but the heat dissuaded us. Instead, we sat watching coracles ferry locals to and from the opposite bank.
There, hidden from view by boulders and a verdant copse, was Anegundi, a prominent fortified town that predates Vijayanagara. Also where our first taste of authentic local cuisine, a lunch curated by the Kishkinda Trust, waited. We took in the calming blue as it gorged through the granite landscape. Kanisetti explains, 'The city's site, on the banks of the Tungabhadra, was strategically positioned to control the Raichur Doab, an important frontier between the Deccan Sultanates and the territories of Vijayanagara. The part of the Tungabhadra that the eponymous empire ruled over was much rockier, easy to fortify, but less suitable for populations. Vijaynagara solved this with extraordinary feats of hydraulic engineering.' By constructing dams, reservoirs, and rainwater collection systems, the Tungabhadra empire managed to transform the relatively inhospitable landscape into the seat of one of the largest cities of its time in the world.
Many of these feats, the drawing of water for agriculture, drinking, and bathing, from the Tungabhadra, are still in evidence in Hampi. Most riverside temples are equipped with large step-wells (pushkarni or kalyani) to cater to the shrine's requirements. Canals built by Vijayanagara rulers continue to irrigate not just the farmlands flanking the river but even those further afield. Rainwater was harvested in several reservoirs that visibly encircle Hampi even today, like the expansive Kamalapura Lake. Another integral feature of Vijayanagara's extensive water supply system was the aqueduct. These raised water channels, as seen beside the step-well near Mahanavami Dibba, ensured the royal enclosure stayed well and truly hydrated. It is no empty boast then that Hampi once housed a whopping 400,000 inhabitants!
The Yagachi Rivers in southern Karnataka are less rocky than their northern counterparts and the Hoysalas (sandwiched between the Krishna and Kaveri rivers) found them better suited for irrigation purposes. For other requirements, the rulers constructed a number of reservoirs. In fact, Dwarasamudra (Halebidu), the capital city they founded in the 11th century, stands on the shores of one such artificial lake. Those soothing waters can be seen beyond the well-tended grounds of the star-shaped and exquisitely carved 12th century Hoysaleshwar Temple. We had to ultimately steal ourselves away from Halebidu's intricate soapstone friezes and sculpted figures to head to Belur, their later capital, banked on the Yagachi. There, an equally magnificent Chennakeshava Temple held us in rapt thrall. When we finally left, we did so with the evening aarti reverberating in our ears. Could one have asked for a better send-off?