Women yapping in the veranda, giggling children asking to be photographed and solemn men in the courtyards of public building staring into infinity to brood on world changing events together characterize bulk of Badami’s population. I wrote about them in bits and pieces in earlier posts. Here is putting them together in one post.
Most of the houses have some women or children sitting outside and killing time. When I heard two such kids pleading for a photo, I was glad to oblige and pulled out the camera from the bag. The next was the turn of an old lady, who was equally eager as the kids. She was with a group of 3-4 women on the veranda who had spread some grains around them for cleaning. She laughed jovially and asked to be photographed. I was happy to oblige again. There was a bit of excitement among the ladies when I took out the camera. They barely spoke first, but got chatty as soon as they realized that I speak Kannada. In these parts, they still think you are from a faraway country if you are hanging out with a backpack and a camera.
If I remember correctly, the lady’s name is Eeravva. She tried to pose and became stiff when I pointed the camera at her. I pulled back, smiled at her and said ‘you are supposed to smile’. The women around laughed, and Eeravva joined them too and said ‘I have a very big mouth’, indicating that she may not look very good smiling. The ice broken, I took a few pictures as she smiled. I was invited for tea soon after the photo session, but I politely declined. The conversation that ensued between us on the street was very typical – I was asked about my whereabouts, my family and what do I do for a living. Eeravva blurbed her story and about her children, unasked. I was invited for lunch that afternoon before I continued further towards the lake.
In Badami, women tend to sit together in front of the house, do some work and yap with their neighbours. Kids, restless that they are, keep going back and forth on the narrow streets, more often than not in their school uniforms. The younger men go out of the house to work. Old men have a difficulty in spending time. They gather under the ficus tree, in front of the temple, or wherever there is some space to sit. They discuss about world changing events, gaze at people walking on the street, try to strike conversation with anyone and everyone, play something silly, gamble or just continue to stay bored.
One evening I spent time taking pictures of a few of them, and naturally a conversation or two followed. Somehow the first question that pops up in everyone’s mind is “where are you from?” Subsequent questions can vary, but still belong to a small predictable set. ‘What do you do?’, ‘Are you a tourist?’, ‘Can you speak Kannada?’, etc.
Children hardly differ from one tourist town to other. ‘One photo,’ is a popular phrase with Badami’s kids too. They are delighted to see a stranger with a backpack. They come running, raise the index finger and repeat those well worn words with great delight. When I get one such request, I smile at them and move on if I am in a hurry to get somewhere. But when I have time in my hands, I pause for a quick chatter, take a picture and show it to them. It makes then dance with delight and makes me feel good. But I have to move on before their friends, and friends’ friends come along and build an army around me.
I hired Sharanu, a self appointed guide for my explorations outside the town planned for the next day. He turned out be an opportunist!
Next morning, he was not keen to come with me as he had bagged a more profitable assignment. He offered to send me someone else instead. Having realized that Sharanu will anyway get a commission from the second man, I drove a hard bargain and brought down the price to half. I figured out later that Sharanu got a hefty commission even after the bargain.
Maruth, my substitute guide knew the location well, but little else. It did not bother me much since I had already got my dope of history from an ASI guide. We walked through some surprisingly beautiful stretches with colourful sandstone formations and a few puddles with crystal clear water. Rocks on the way formed curious structure like small caves and some unusual protrusions. There were some holes in the earth, now filled with water, which Maruth claimed to be deep enough to sink a man.
Sidlaphadi, our destination was about an hour’s walk. It is a curious structure – a rock bridge of sorts with a gap below it. The bridge has some gaping holes that are believed to be created by lighting. The name Sidlaphadi roughly translates to cave formed by lighting. Here, ASI had discovered a few evidences about the bridge having sheltered prehistoric men. The ASI museum in Badami has a replica of the bridge and a few informational posters about its the way of life of the then inhabitants.
My guide Maruth
We walked further to Mahakoota (read more about Mahakoota here), a small village with an ancient temple from the time of Chalukyas. I did not spend much time at Mahakoota, but continued to Naganatha Kolla. Naganathakolla is a small village with an ancient temple in the middle of the forest. The temple was well kept, but it seemed like I was the only visitor to go there in a long time. The gates were open but the temple doors were locked. A villager whom I chanced upon on the way back informed me that an elderly man in the village has the keys. But I wasn’t really keen to look inside, I was just happy to be there all by myself spending time quietly, sitting in the temple courtyard.
The temple at Naganathakolla was completely deserted.
From my vantage point in the caves up in the hill, I could see the Bhoothanatha Temple at the edge of Agastya Lake. Unlike the caves that are full of people, the temple premises was empty, save for occasional drifting visitors. Sitting in the temple courtyard one evening, I watched the cool breeze ruffled the lake surface and the evening sun disappear behind the town.
The temple is the last place I visited in Badami. I have a strange apprehension about approaching places that are beautiful beyond description. I admire them from a distance for a long time and feel good about being in its vicinity. Sometimes I feel contented just to be able to see it from far than approaching it from close quarters and observing its cross sections. I spent many hours walking along the lake, keeping the temple in the view and postponing the visit till the last day. May be I was afraid that it would not live up to my expectation. Or may be I was afraid that the experience is complete on being there, leaving me with nothing further to look for.
The setup of Bhoothanatha Temple is grand. Surrounded by walls of red sandstone rocks on three sides and the waters of the lake lapping up the steps in the front, it seems like a magical land that could only be imagined in a painting. The temple itself is a simple structure with an array of round pillar enclosed by a parapet in the front and a small room forming the sanctum. The sandstones walls kissed by the gentle waves from the lake glow brightly in the evening sun.
During my wanderings along the lake shore, I drifted towards the hills and climbed a series of steps that took me up the table land above. The steps climb through narrow gaps in the rocks that are wide enough at places just to let in a few people at a time. Sunlight peering through the gap and flaring up small sections of the wall make a colourful play of light and shade in these fissures.
Up on the hill are a few temples, a few pillars and remains of a fort. Fortification of the hill must have been an easy task, as it mostly involved building walls to restrict entry through the cracks in the rock. I was hoping to see some bird life in the scrub vegetation that spread along the plateau, but the area seemed lifeless, save for the monkeys. Next day, I walked for a few hours along with a local guide who took me deeper into the hills, seeing no more than a handful of birds of common species.
