Journeying alone in southern India, trying to fathom its vibrant yet simplistic rusticity, I was travelling through the wide open spaces of my own mind. I discovered a different side of myself. I was alone, but never lonely. I met some incredible people on the way. I rediscovered my own palate, my musical interests, rekindled my love for history. I saw how we humans are all so different yet so alike; how India, with its overwhelming presence, takes you on a path like no other.

On my long journey through India’s southern expanses, I went to this one small village nestled in the lap of a natural barrier of gigantic volcanic rocks and hillocks of the Deccan plateau, on the banks of the sacred river Tungabhadra. It was a tiny village of ancient ruins, called Hampi. This village that barely houses a few thousand people today was once the glorious bustling capital of one of the greatest South Indian empires, Vijayanagara, that ruled for several centuries and whose name translates to ‘the abode of victory’. The whole experience bared me to the fact that no glory, however splendid, ever lasts. This was no epiphany of any kind, but I did come face-to-face with time and nature’s unrivalled control over everything. History is just one of them. Glory is then confined to the ballads.

I decided to make this stop just to take a walk back in time. My kamalan pathfinder, who hails from the region, had told me some stories of the place. Legend has it that the founders of the empire were brothers and chose this region of the Deccan to establish their capital because they found that here “mice were chasing cats and cats were chasing dogs”. Although it is only a legend, it is still narrated to symbolize the act of the ruled chasing out and taking control of the rulers.

Armed with that knowledge of its history, I set foot into the tiny hamlet. The sprawling rocky landscape came into view as I approached the village. The first sight that welcomed me in its entirety at the centre of Hampi, after driving through many ruins, was the grand tower of the Virupaksha temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva. This temple was one among the handful of structures that still stood largely intact and was still in use. It was a bright sunny morning and the occasion was also special. It was the traditional start of the Kannada New Year based on the lunar calendar. Given the occasion, the temple was abuzz with activity. There were elaborate rituals being performed and lavish meals served. I decided to explore the sites nearby and come back to the temple later. About a kilometre from there were the ruins of the great market across a temple dedicated to Lord Krishna. I could imagine the bustle the market must have once seen. I was told stories about how heaps of precious gems, stones and pearls were sold by weight. The scale of ruins at Hampi made the grandeur of the Vijayanagara Empire quite palpable. They seemed to be deeply engrossed in an unending conversation with the surrounding protective landscape.