Date with Hampi, Badami, Pattadakal and Aihole

Our Akram-arranged 2018-Innova zoomed past at 120 kpmh with the silk-smooth Siriyoor route providing the vehicle the right impetus, disregarding the host of monstrous trucks plying alongside with Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra, or Haryana registrations carrying goods from one State to the other.  

My friend Ragu had painstakingly compiled a new collection of songs. We began with the customary Maha Ganapathe by Maharajapuram Santhanam, and then paid tributes to Kadri Gopinath by tuning his soothing music on saxophone before switching over to an assortment of songs ranging from old Tamil, Hindi film songs, instrumental music, Carnatic vocal and instrumental, skits…

As soon as Innova reached the outskirts of Hampi, it slowed down at the sight of battalion of police force, and preparations for a facelift to the city. I re-checked my credentials if my status has changed from a common man. “No; then why so much of commotion to welcome us?”

Far from it. The city was gearing up to celebrate Hampi Utsav-2020 the next two days -10 and 11 January. Just our visit synchronized with it. We had in fact deliberately planned to visit either before or after the Utsav (earlier scheduled for 27 and 28 Feb), just to avoid being thrown around in the melee. But here we are part of what we were avoiding; and enjoying it too.

Hampi was the capital of Krishnadevaraya’s flourishing Vijayanagara Empire, which he ruled for 21 years in the early 16^th century. So short a span? Yes, he was so heartbroken at his son’s death of snakebite, that he abdicated his kingdom, crowned his brother as king, and settled down quietly in a village now in Kurnool district, in pursuit of inner peace.

Every monument in Hampi bears the stamp of Hindu, Islamic or Jain architecture - be the queens’ palaces, the elephants’ place, or other structures. The massive deities (since defaced) of Narasimha, Peanut Ganesha, Mustard Ganesha, were all made of single stones. The life-like Nandi guarding his Lord at a temple at Pattadakkal is huge, next only to his counterpart in Tanjore. The king thus promoted art, architecture and culture alongside benevolent administration. By the way we didn’t miss the abode of Tenali Rama. The public is not allowed access to the musical mantap in a temple. To test the sound, visitors were hitting the pillars with stones and spoiling the structure. The presiding deity at the Vittala temple was removed before invaders could deface it, and taken to Pune where He is worshipped now.

This place was Kishkinda in the Ramayana period. “Over there,” said Sivaram, our multi-linguist Guide, pointing at a mountain, “was where Vali lived, and on the mountain next Sugreeva. Ragu and Aunty ventured to climb the 550-odd steps to the top of the mountain, the birthplace of Lord Hanuman. ‘These mountains are far from one another. How could regular meetings take place?” we asked Sivaram. “Sir, they are vaanaras; they would just take long jumps and reach in no time.” We visited Sabari Ashram too where she waited for Lord Rama’s darshan with lots of tasted berry fruits.

The local authorities had organized several cultural programmes at different venues for Hampi Utsav. Our Guide recommended we attend the one to be inaugurated by Chief Minister Yediyurappa. Playing our senior citizen and Bengalurian cards, we gained entry into the VIP enclosure. The programme featured eminent local and namma Bengaluru artists. The shadow show by a Bangalore boy elicited thunderous applause. The Hindustani classical-music rendering was soulful. We were able to identify two ragas: one similar to the old Hindi song, “Jyoti Kalash Chhalke’ sung by Lata Mangeshkar in Bhabhi ki Chudiyan, and “Darshan do Ghanshyam Nath…” by Hemant Kumar in Narsi Bhagat.

In Badami, the four-cave mountain overlooking a lake is indeed picturesque. Some religious festival was going on. Hence the original Banashankari temple was extremely crowded, but we did manage to squeeze in and have a peep. And the erstwhile temples of Aihole speak volumes of architectural splendour. It was a pity to see the vast defunct Pattabhirama temple turning fast into ruins.

Some visits fade into oblivion sooner, some manage to stay a while. But I guess this visit would claim a much longer span.

Learning Kannada

Regardless of whether one is a septuagenarian, octogenarian or, even nonagenarian, it is never too late to learn something new. Be it the unavoidable host of computer applications (some of them intricate) to stay tuned to the changing trends, or the local language for an effective communication. Gothagida?

But everything needs a spark. Nanu helitthu saria? And I got mine last month. I went to buy the notorious Schnider electric switch, for the n’th time from Pavan Electricals. I was amazed at the way the proprietor, a native of Rajasthan, spoke to customers fluent Kannada. As it turned, we both had landed in Bangalore more or less at the same time. I then swore to myself that I would no longer tread on sign language, an equally unfamiliar territory, but would learn Kannada - if not at the Sahitya Academy award winners’ level, at least familiarize myself with the minimum 200 words required to speak a language. Namma decision sari allava? Manasiddhare  maarga ide. Where there is a will, there is a way.

As luck would have it, around this time came the announcement in the SFV Residents Telegram Group of the intention to start a spoken-Kannada class. “What can be more welcome than this,” I said to myself as simultaneously I began visualizing myself in a serious debate in chaste Kannada with Suresh Murthy, Nirmal Kumar and others on CAA, NRC, or the Jharkhand jolt. Nanna mental preparedness sari agida?

As expected the arambhika utsaha to the spoken-Kannada class was tumbha chanagide – with 40 multicultural SFVians rushing to register in a span of ippathu mooru minutes.  And, the first meet at Club House three weeks ago took off to a good start. Well begun is half done.  

Mr Satish P S, of Ebony, Mechanical Engineer from IIT, a mild-mannered man of amiable disposition and an infectious smile to go with it, agreed to conduct the class. Must be an incurable optimist to get the language across to us who are way past our prime. No big deal. He is of a different mettle - a Corporate trainer, mentor and a consultant, all rolled in one, for the manufacturing industry. Any doubts if we are in safe hands?

The next session witnessed a sudden predictable drop in attendance. Yes, everyone had already planned his/her vacation for the year-end. With the New Year celebrations over, we expect them to be back into the fold in the ensuing sessions.

Now a peep into the proceedings. The teacher asked us to come up with common expressions for which we were keen to know the equivalent in Kannada. “How are you?” asked one. “Channagidira,” to elders, and  “Channagidiya”, to the young ones, he clarified.

“I am going to SLV, wish to join me for coffee,” raised another. “But they close at 7.15 and now it is past 8 pm” answered another impromptu oblivious to the fact that it was meant for Kannada translation, and not a real offer. Regardless, the teacher translated both.

“I will go to market tomorrow for vegetables, would you like to join,” was next. “No thanks. I would rather watch cricket match,” replied her spouse thinking it was posed to him. “Patient-incarnate Satish sir dutifully translated all of it, just in case it could aid the duo to take their fight to the next level, in an altogether different language.

“Mr ….. is a very nice person,” said one glancing at that student sitting opposite. “Thank you very much sir,” replied the other accepting the compliment. “No, no, I just said it for translation.” 

On the flip side, for most the verb in different tenses seems to pose a problem. Coming, came, will come, or speak, spoke and will speak, etc. and the subtle nuances between Chanagidaare, referring to appearance, and Ollavaru implying one’s inner qualities, etc.

In contrast, with a better understanding of numbers now, I anticipate less chances to hand thirty rupees when the hawker asks for twenty. That said, when the teacher posed me the question in Kannada: ‘In which floor do you stay,’ I had to write 19 in the air for a response, unable to guess rightly 19th.

Anyway, for the fence sitters, just imagine how much of ‘educ-tainment’ you miss every Friday evening. Make up your mind fast.