Stories, songs, and fairy tales

On a lone desert highway, scorching wind in my face. Warm smell of tar, rising up through the air. There wasn't much worth writing about that ride back from Lepakshi. It was a rude shock that the summer heat was already here and Bangloreans were liars. It was no less hot and dry than the outskirts of Baroda at the peak of summer. All the stories about how it rains as soon as it gets too hot to bear were turning out to be fairy tales. In the bards’ defense, we were still about 80 kms out. There was nothing spectacular or scenic about the landscape. I doubt it was beautiful by any aesthetic score card. It did remind me of westerns but more for the desolation and less for the romantic portrayal of a harsh landscape. There are places that can be desolate, god forsaken and yet they seem to have a purpose. Places where the people have developed a relationship with the land they live on. However hard their life be they have found something that makes the harsh realities of their abode endearing. The land is a part of who they are and it, in turn, is incomplete without their spirit. This, was not one of those places.

The aborigines of Australia remember their land by reciting songs about it. The songs are more than just maps or directions, they document and narrate their relationship with the land. A son inherits the songs from his father, much the same as his father’s brother becomes his uncle. He then borrows this reality to make sense of his own world till he can go on a walkabout and make his own songs. I doubt anybody was singing about this land. There are trips when you want to stop every few kilometers. Wait, watch and soak it in. Stop for a chai and a chat, patiently hear a song or a story before you go on. Then there are song-less places that make you uncomfortable. You cant make sense out of them and would rather be somewhere else.

A building to the right — burnt and gutted. A small complex of shops — not anymore. On the other side of the road, half a dozen people stood waiting under the sparse shadow of a babul tree. A few kilometers ahead a stone crushing unit stood between the road and the railway line. A hill rose behind the railway line. We stopped to drink some water, the motorcycle exhaust ticking in the background. That was the only thing hotter than burning tar on the road. The tar, irritated and frustrated, had given up at places. It had melted, flowed and moved the white divider lines to reorganize the traffic rules. We passed small villages every few kilometers. Characterless clumps of houses, sometimes, a shady bar, a hardware store, a closed seeds and fertilizer shop. But, no respite from the fire raining down from the afternoon skies. The trees were scarce and far between. Empty, parched fields lined the road. Stubble of the Rabi crop still in the fields, and it was too early for the Kharif planting. Dry, dusty, hot and desolate. But, this is not how it had started that morning.

We left the house at 5.30. It wasnt as cold as the month before but the morning air still had a chill to it. I dumped my heavy riding jacket for a lighter wind-cheater that I use for everyday riding. It didnt take me long to repent my decision. It was pleasant within the reaches of the city but as soon as we crossed nandi hills the mercury dropped a few bars. The motorcycle would shake as I shivered in the cold onslaught. The air would get warmer when we passed a water body, only to get back to its own right after. The sun rose higher in the sky and the air got warmer. It was warm yet pleasant when we took the left off of the Bangalore-Hyderabad highway towards Lepakshi. The road wound through a few small villages and bright yellow sunflower fields before it reached Lepakshi. The monolith nandi sat big and heavy to our right as the road made the last turn into the village. It was one of the largest I had ever seen. More than twice the size of the bull at the end of Broadway in the financial district. I sat facing it on a large boulder, admiring its proportions. Niyeti was engaged in a conversation with an old, crumpled lady. Niyeti looked interested at first, entertained a little later and finally, just plain frustrated with the fact that she couldnt understand a word of telugu that the old lady was speaking. Neither could I but I had read about some of the mythical stories she was trying to tell Niyeti. I could catch a few words — Rama, Sugreeva, Jatayu…

The story goes that Jatayu came crashing down somewhere near the present day site of the nandi when Ravana cut his wings off. At the request of Sita, Rama and Laxman went chasing after Maricha disguised as a golden deer. Sita protected by the Laxman rekha waited patiently for their return. But cunning Maricha drew the brothers farther away from the hut. Ravana dressed as a mendicant then put the end game of his devious plan into motion. He fooled Sita into crossing the Laxman rekha and grabbed her as soon as she did what she was told not to do. He then abducted her and flew away in his sky chariot. Turning point in the epic, in my opinion. Jatayu heard Sita’s cries for help. He attacked the chariot, but all in vain. He was no match for Ravana’s might. Ravana cut his wings off and he came crashing down. Rama and Laxman went after Ravana but he had already made his way to Lanka. They had to fight a bloody war to bring Sita back.

Another one talks of how Rama crowned Sugreeva, somewhere near Lepakshi, after killing his brother Vali. I couldn’t find many sources that staked claim to this one. Also, it seems to be a stretch given that none of the brahmanical scholars estimate the geographic location of Kishkindha to be anywhere near the present day Lepakshi. What is interesting though is Rama’s deal with Sugreeva to help him kill his brother and crown him king in return for his military support. Vali (Sugreeva’s brother) had banished Sugreeva because he’d been a coward and an opportunist. Vali was battling the demon Mayavi inside a cave. Sugreeva heard noises and saw blood. He thought Vali had lost the battle and instead of going after him, chose to seal the cave with a boulder. Vali eventually won the battle and found himself trapped in the cave. He easily forced his way out and to his kingdom to find that Sugreeva had instated himself as the king. Hurt by the betrayal, Vali chased Sugreeva out of Kishkindha. Not sure what the scholars have to say about this but it sounds like Rama, the fairest of all, supported the wrong guy.

The temple is on a small hill at the end of a lane off the main road. It was still early. Few more hours and the lane would be abuzz with shops selling pooja paraphernalia but only one shop was setting up at this hour. We bought a pooja thali from the shop and left our shoes and riding gear with him. A short climb takes you up the small hill and to the entrance. The modest entrance door, with a broken gopuram, and the view from outside the wall fail to prepare you for the grandeur of the structure and audacity of the project inside it. The usual gopurams and shikharas are missing — apparently, the construction was never completed. The story says that Achyuta Devaraya, who ruled the Vijaynagar empire from 1530 AD to 1542 AD, entrusted the construction of this temple to two brothers — Virupanna and Veeranna. Virupanna was later alleged for embezzling royal funds. He plucked his own eyes out to prove his innocence and loyalty. Heart broken, he threw them at a wall in the yet incomplete temple. The two red marks can be seen even today. Priorities of a kingdom falling apart shifted to war and internal bickering, and the ambitious project came to a grinding halt.

While we are at it, let me tell you a story of my own — The empire of Vijaynagar did not have a uniform administration across its territories, it was known to be a group of hegemonies ruled by lords that pledged allegiance to the Raya — supreme ruler. The political landscape required the ruler to quell multiple challengers, internal and external. The lords gathered taxes from their lands. Taxes were used to pay a tribute to the Raya in Vijaynagar and to maintain an army. The ruler would either ride with his own army to subdue a challenge or concoct an alliance based on the political situation at hand. The lords would also look for opportunities to expand their boundaries either during such campaigns or independently. It is documented that the lords kept in check by Krishna Devaraya were unleashed after his death. Virupanna and Veeranna were probably getting too powerful for Achyuta Devaraya’s comfort. The brothers were building an ambitious project that would put their principality on the map. It could potentially become a major trading center that could earn them taxes. The increased income would translate to a mightier army and rise in clout. Achyuta Devaraya nipped the challenge in the bud. He blinded Virupanna as a warning and Veranna fell in line.

The plan suggests that the structure was probably planned as more than just a temple. The complex is organized in two concentric mandapas around the main temple. The concentric mandapas are separated by narrow gullies at the front that widen into stone covered, expansive courtyards on the sides and the back. The central shrine is dedicated to Veerabhadra. Like the Veerabhadra temple in Vijaynagar, the shrine predates the temple and the surrounding complex. The expansion was probably a strategic afterthought. The sanctum sanctorum of the temple is a strong antithesis to the elaborate carvings and paintings outside. Three sides of the shrine are buried in a cave and third opens in a common area. Two other shrines open in the same area. The shrines are not placed uniformly. They were probably built at different times and were under the stars before the temple was built around them. The natya mandapa is very eclectic in its style of carving. Very elaborate and articulate at times and very primitive at others. The paintings on the roof are in a very bad state but one can imagine their beauty and vibrant colors from what remains. The quality of construction gets refined as one goes away from the center. The two concentric mandapas are more uniform in their construction and the masonry is visibly more sophisticated. The outermost wall is made of crisply cut large rocks arranged in interlocking patterns reminiscent of machu pichu.

We spent a couple of hours walking and taking photographs. We had to walk fast when we were out of the shadows. The stone was cold under the shade but it was getting hotter by the minute where the sun bore down. We found a shady cool spot with a good view of the complex to park ourselves out of the heat. It was late into the morning and we were not alone anymore. We could hear the temple bells ring once in a while as pilgrims came in and announced their arrival to the gods. A few of them ventured past the main temple towards the back where we were sitting. They were trying to find the two red stains left from when Virupanna threw his eyes at the wall. We joined forces with the new group and found the elusive proof of Virupanna’s loyalty.

We hit the road in the hopes that we will find a place to eat and wait for the sun to calm down a bit. But you know how that turned out.