Great civilizations and dynasties do not have a fairy tale beginning, for they are all founded on streams of blood . While Indian folklore is rich in heroic legends , a birth of a dynasty is replete with battles fought and won .

It is the same with the Vijaynagar empire , except there are several stories here with various versions. But the location remains the same. A river bed with a fortification on one bank . This was the principality of Anegundi, ruled then by a Hoysala chieftain. When the Delhi Sultans laid siege to the Hoysalas and Kakatiyas, the latter fell, leaving South India vulnerable to their attacks. Our story begins here in the 14th century.

Sitting in a coracle and enjoying the ride around the Tungabhadra I heard a guide narrate the story of Vijaynagar to a group of tourists .”When the Delhi Sultans had invaded Warangal, two brothers called Hakka or Harihara and Bukka escaped and landed here in Anegundi,” he says , pointing to the town on the other side of the river.

The brothers who were under the Kakatiyas then started serving the local chief here . Meanwhile the chief gave refuge to Bahauddin, a rebel nephew of the Delhi Sultan , Muhammad Bin Tughlaq.

“The Sultan plundered Anegundi and the brothers escaped again, and this is when they met Vidyaranya , a seer from the Sringeri Shankaracharya Mutt who asked them to build a city on the other bank of the river .He called it Vijaynagar or the city of victory though we also call it Vidyanagar after the seer, “ the guide said. The story however does not end here. The brothers raised a small army and revolted against the Sultan, who returned the kingdom to them. The seeds of the Vijayanagar empire which went on to rule all of South India for over 350 years had just been sown.

And yet everything about Hampi is not about Vijaynagar. Gazing at the waters of the Tungabhadra, I was looking forward to going towards the Pampa Sarovar on the other side. After all, Pampa is older than Hampi or Hampe as it was called and this was the Kishkinta of Ramayana where Rama gets the support of Sugriva and Hanuman and even kills Vaali. It is no wonder that Jambhavan , the lone sloth bear in Sugriva’s army comes alive in Daroji, the sloth bear sanctuary located close to Hampi.

As dusk dawned in Vittala temple , I was lost in the silence , when a familiar voice greeted me. It was the guide and his lot of tourists. As I walked away , I could hear him say, “ This is the greatest empire of all times, people compare it with Rome , but let me tell you that Vijaynagar is even more majestic than Rome .” I thought this is probably where civilizations and empires meet – on battlefields. And yet there is a similarity in the stories – one river and two brothers…

This was featured in my column , Inside Story in the Metro Plus. For more stories of Hampi, visit my blog

At first glance it hardly looks like a palace. But on a second glance it does not seem like a saw mill either. To me , it looks like an exquisitely designed home , carved in rosewood, replete with a Mangalore tiled roof with wooden pillars, an open courtyard, two narrow staircases leading to a hall flanked by rooms and a balcony .

It is well past noon and I am in the Shivappa Nayaka palace in Shimoga or Shivamogga, a town located on the banks of the river Tunga in the Malenadu heartland . We happen to be the only tourists in this sprawling palace. The staircase leads us upstairs and we enter the main durbar or the balcony of the palace . Looking out into the vast expanse , we see that the well manicured lawns have turned into a veritable art gallery with ancient sculptures scattered around them.
We wait patiently for the watchman to finish his lunch and take us on a guided tour.

The original palace he says was built by Hiriya Venkatappa Nayak of the Keladi Dynasty in the 16th century. The Vijaynagar empire was declining and the Keladi Nayaks, who were ruling as chieftains under them , had slowly emerged emerging on their own. A local battle fought here between the Nayaks and the Palegars resulted in the former’s victory and hence a fort and a palace were built here.

The victory was however shortlived. Soon, Adil Shah of the Bijapur Sultanate destroyed it after a bitter battle and it was later rebuilt by Shivappa Nayak in the Indo sarcenic style. The story however does not end here. When the British took over from the Nayak, they converted the palace into a saw mill to store logs..Finally the monument assumed its current form , after it was restored by the ASI.

Legends say that the Maratha ruler, Rajaram, the son of Chatrapthi Shivaji was hidden in this palace when he was pursued by the Mughal ruler Aurangazeb. The story dates to the later 16th century when the dynasty was ruled by Rani Chennamma, wife of Somashekara Nayaka . Rajaram, along with his confidants apparently entered her court dressed as a monk , seeking alms. They were passing through her kingdom and they sought refuge . The queen , against the advice of her officials, hid Rajaram in this palace for a few days until he carried on with his journey. While Rajaram escaped, an infuriated Aurangazeb sent his army to defeat the queen, but in the battle that followed, the queen’s forces defeated the Mughals, forcing them to sign a treaty with the Nayaks.
As the watchman finished the story, the parakeets screeched , announcing their displeasure at our prolonged presence. Looking up , we saw a tree that was filled with bats, who were probably enjoying their afternoon siesta. Fascinated , we watched them for a while and then continued on our quest to see more places and hear more stories.

People make places is a maxim that I often believe in . Very often a journey is made endearing or inspiring because of some people you meet on the way. Sometimes its just a few minutes of interactions , but very often they make such a lasting impression

The boy lamas at Bylakuppe, a Tibetan settlement at Coorg told me their stories about how they had braved the cold, harsh landscapes and the Chinese to make their way down to India. They were probably of the age when most kids down here play cricket on streets with gay abandon. Some of them had even lost their parents in the journey or had left them behind in Tibet .

I met forest guards in the jungles of Karnataka who narrated stories of how they protected themselves from man and beast. In the fishing camps of the river Cauvery, dynamite is often used to kill the Mahsheer fish by poachers and some of the naturalists I had met in the local resorts were former fishermen who are now brand ambassadors of conservation. I met Naik who had even gone to court to file a case against his own brother who was a fisherman once upon a time. Today, both the brothers conserve the Mahsheer, the game fish sought after by anglers all over the world.

Such tales of inspiration and courage are at every nook and corner of every journey . Passion is another quality that I see in ordinary people which make them lead extra ordinary lives. These are men and women who leave the comfort of their homes to follow their hearts. I met a local , Swamy in Kamalapura near Hampi who runs a stationery shop. His passion for birds and bears and photography has transformed him into a conservator and he manages the forest guest house.

I met a Jain Kuruba or a tribal who collects honey in the forests of Karnataka At a time when most of his colleagues were braving the bees and the bears to collect honey, he went on to study English in a local school and even educated his wife and kids. Today he works in a luxury resort entertaining guests .

However this story belongs to Dorjee who drove us around Ladakh last year. Ladakh is more about people than landscapes and if you have not interacted with the local people, then your trip has not been worthwhile. Dorjee belonged to Zanskar, where his wife and children stayed. He spent six months a year in Leh, making money for the entire year when he returned to Zanskar for the off season and bitter winter. He was full of energy and he had a never say die attitude. Tough and strong, Dorjee would brave anything . He introduced us to ladakhi culture, told us about his family and sang Ladakhi songs to us. However he was not just a travel companion

It happenned on the fag end of our Ladakh trip when we were returning to Leh via Tso kar . It was to be our last day in Leh.We had just entered the Taglang la pass at 17,500 feet when it just started to snow. It was early September and I was experiencing snow in ladakh for the first time. While I started taking photographs , Dorjee frowned. Coming from a man who would throw caution to the winds, the frown meant trouble. He urged us to get into the jeep and we barely crossed the pass when the snow storm started. We continued for a few minutes when Dorjee spied a truck on the opposite end struggling its way. Dorjee stopped saying it would be a bad idea to continue and just then we realized the truck had stopped. A bus with the local police force arrived behind us wondering why we had stopped. They analysed the situation and said there was nothing to be done until the truck moved or the storm quelled. The snow filled up the roads steadily as more vehicles piled up on either side. It slowly became an hour and Dorjee told us how dangerous it had been in earlier situations. We asked him for options. He shrugged saying either the truck had to be thrown into the valley or we have to wait and it could be days if the storm didnt subside . Suddenly he lost patience.

He stepped out into the storm amidst or protests and didnt return for another 50 minutes. Then as I saw through my binoculars, Dorjee was single handedly removing the snow from the road with his own hands and some crude instruments he picked up later. He barely wore anything to protect him from the cold except a cap and a thin jacket. Soon some locals joined in and they shoved the snow away so that the road was cleared, even though the storm continued though the intensity had come down.

Dorjee later told me that the truck driver was afraid his vehicle would skid, but he would do nothing about the snow. However Dorjee didnt just save the day – he just displayed what a Ladakhi spirit is..” madam, all of us locals..we fought in the kargil war..do you know that ..? was his parting shot as we drive down hill.

Driving to the remote part of Arunachal Pradesh in the northeast corner of India is a surreal experience. Colors change with every curve in the mountains along with the scenery.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Bright yellow mustard fields merge with some brilliant orchids that suddenly morph into dense forests with rivers gliding past them to snow clad mountains and conifers kissed by snow flakes to frozen lakes to a valley of clouds that wrapped the mountains…

CHENNAI TO DIRANG

Day 1 – Chennai: 4 am – What a way to start a holiday. Airlines have a way of making you work hard even when you are holidaying – so here we are (my husband and I) packed and ready, traveling from southern India to the northeast corner. It is the New Year’s Eve and the excitement is just about enough to keep us warm.

We flew from Chennai, transited at Kolkata, crossed the Bangalesh border to reach Gauwhati. Our holiday had begun. We journeyed on. Another long drive to Tezpur, our transit point before reaching our destination – Tawang at a distance of 400 kms uphill nestled at 10,000 feet high. So, four cities, three airports and one long drive – day one was almost over.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

There was a bit of unrest and hence there was heavy security. We crossed the Brahmaputra and were instructed that we could not take a photograph of this majestic river or the bridge. It was the twilight hour as we reached Tezpur, a town filled with legends and myths and even associated with the Mahabharatha.

Everything seemed shut. There was a grim silence everywhere. We were told that there was a bandh. A dull beginning to a holiday.

ROMANCING THE BRAHMAPUTRA
Day 2 – A ray of light streaked into our room and cheered us up. The new year had dawned and the morning seemed promising. We were to cross into Arunachal Pradesh from Assam. Dirang, enroute to Tawang was our destination.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We started our journey with a glimpse of the mighty Brahmaputra. A hillock, Agnigarh, overlooking the river is a tribute to the romance between Princess Usha and Anirudha, who is grandson of Lord Krishna.

My driver told me this story which dates back to the ancient epic Mahabharat, when the king Banasura had imprisoned princess Usha in this hillock and surrounded it by a rampart of fire. Hence the name, Agnigarh (house of fire).

A few scattered ruins and an ancient serene temple, Mahabhairab, were our sightseeing experiences. We continued and suddenly the scenery changed dramatically.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Golden mustard fields, lush dense forests, gushing streams, waterfalls and colorful orchids filled our landscape as we crossed Bhalukpung, where there was rigorous security.
We were asked for our permit and questions were hurled at us regarding our journey. We were finally allowed to proceed and we stopped at Tipi, at the orchidarium, claimed to be Asia’s third largest.

A small roadside motel was our next halt where we had hot noodles and chai (tea). For vegetarians like us, even that was a luxury.

The journey resumed and the mounatins and rivers kept us company. After eight hours of driving, we finally reached Dirang, a hill station tucked in a valley of orchards. We stayed in a lovely resort, overlooking the River Kemeng with the entire town on its banks.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

The cold had just set in. We rubbed our palms in glee. We had no idea that this was just the beginning… but I had begun to enjoy my holiday.

A VALLEY OF CLOUDS
If there is heaven on earth, this is it. A valley of clouds that hid everything from mountain peaks to grasslands, flowers and birds and touched our cheeks gently as we got down to capture it on our lens.

Day 3 – We were driving from Dirang, a small hill station in Arunachal Pradesh towards Tawang set high in the Eastern Himalayas The mountains curved as River Kameng flowed along with us.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

It had just snowed. All of a sudden, it was white all around. Snow, ice and clouds all around. Snow-clad mountains wrapped in a valley of clouds was all we could see till we came to a glacier which opened to a gate guarded by dragons with bright colored flags fluttering all around.

We were at Sella Pass, where history and romance meet at 13,700 feet. At the height of Indo-China war in 1960s, Sella was a local maiden who had fallen in love with Jaswant Singh, an Indian soldier. She died a martyr and the pass was named after her and here was marked as a boundary between India and China. Jaswant Garh, a memorial for the soldier is also close by.

We had noone for company except for a couple of dogs and a small tea shop that served us some hot tea and noodles. The cold breeze tickled the bones as we stopped and stared hard at the placid clouds, tugging at the mountains.

A bright shaft of sunshine pierced through our skin as we let the heat in and rubbed our frozen fingers in glee. It was just us, the dogs and nature at its silent best.

BEYOND TAWANG

Day 4 – It is an understatement to say that Tawang was freezing cold. This is a town which sees the first rays of sun in India, but ironically the sun never shines. The temperature was many numbers below zero.

We had just checked in Tawang Inn the previous evening after another seven-hour drive and had tried sleeping in the bitter cold. Morning came but the cold spell continued. We stuffed ourselves with as many layers of clothing as possible and decided to move out of our room in Tawang Inn.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Tawang, which means ‘chosen by horse’ is full of magical monasteries and mystical gompas on one end and a war memorial on the other. A heady mix of religion, history and nature, this town was ravaged during the Indo-China War in 1962.

The home of the Mompas, the monastery was founded in 17th century.Tawang is known for the lakes and waterfalls and we set out looking for them.

A thick layer of mist hung over the roads as we drove up hill. This is the road that takes us to Tibet and China, but we did not have the requisite permits to get there.

A sea of clouds envelopes everything, as mountain peaks jut out.

A LITTLE CAJOLING

Our driver told us that there were more than 100 lakes up hill and if the army gave us permission, we would get there. A little cajoling with the army got us trudging uphill in our jeep.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

The mist descended even thicker and many times we stopped dead in our tracks wondering if there was a curve ahead or if we were at a cliff. Visibility was at zero.

We kept climbing higer and higher. And suddenly the veil was lifted and we saw the blue sky. A sea of clouds encircled us, wrapping everything below. The sun shone brightly out of a clear and spotless sky.

Small peaks jutted out of the clouds which had spread themselves. We stared right into the clouds and could not see anything below. It was just that -– a 180-degree view of the clouds and the sky and the mountains on the other side.

We kept climbing uphill till we came to the first lake – the Patang Teng Tso or the PT Tso lake. It was just 20 kilometers from Tawang and it seemed like a long journey. There was not a soul around, not even the occassional yak or mountain goat. Even the army was not there.

Snow was snow scattered all over, carpeting a mountain here and there, while the lake was frozen. There were several lakes, a mix of water and ice; some with colored flags fluttering high, some dotted with a small temple.

The colors were stark, blue and white, black and brown. I had not seen anything so majestic, peaceful and beautiful. I wanted to capture every image with my lens, but a lot is still in my mind’s eye.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We saw several bunkers used by the Indian army way back in 1962. The war memorial was a tribute to the martyrs. We crossed several tombstones on the way. It is a scary thought that this peaceful place was once a battle field. And to give assurance was a temple tucked away in the ice.

GETTING THERE

Tawang is in Arunachal Pradesh and you need a permit to visit it even if you are an Indian citizen. You can get one at Gauwhati which was my first port of call.

It is a long journey by road via Tezpur and a stopover at Bomdila or Dirang is a must. Ideally you should break the jouney into two days. And believe me, the drive is worth it! Though there are flights to Tezpur, it is advisable to avoid the same.

ACCOMODATION

Extremely basic. There is no power most of the time. You could also stay in Bomdila, but I prefer Dirang, en route to Tawang. You need a permit to get here. For details, check out ArunachalPradeshTourism.com

This article was published earlier in a travel website gonomad

When in New York the first thing you need to do is to buy yourself a Metro card so that you can travel by the local subway which is the nervous system of the city. It links every inch of the five boroughs – Manhattan, Bronx, Queens, Staten Island and Brooklyn that make the city and you can travel to any part of them. I spent most of my time in Manhattan which was supposed to be the origin of the present New York City and you will see that my images reflect that. Besides the metro card, arm yourself with a coffee or a hot chocolate , honey roasted nuts ,a good camera and loads of energy, for you have to walk to see every aspect of the city. The streets, the subway and the shows are as much fodder for your lens as the monuments and the statues..

Entertaining visitors in the Battery Park, in Manhattan. The park which has several memorials and statues is so called as this was where the artillery battery was parked by the colonial rulers – Dutch and British. Facing the New York harbour, the ferries to Statue of Liberty leaves from the remnants of an old fort called Castle Clinton .

There streets of New York reverberate with energy and music that cannot be explained..there is always something that is happenning here..A TV programme and some performers caught my attention


Most tourists visit the site of the World Trade Centre which is now being rebuilt. The Trinity Church and the St Paul’s Chapel which is the oldest surviving church of the area is another landmark there. Today it is a memorial for all those who died in the tragedy .


Times square – The most buzzling square which is a montage of malls, broadway shows, restaurants and the massive neon signs. There are live web cams here and this is the place where the famous New Year ’s Eve celebrations are held.

And finally the lights of Manhattan

We are driving through the mountains in Ladakh, listening to local music and our driver Dorjee turns out to be a die hard romantic. As the landscape changes, Dorjee gets a bit emotional talking about his family in Zanskar and the baby he is expecting in a few months.

And then he goes on an impromptu karoke session and sings out aloud . I ask him to translate the lyrics and he complies with a grin.

The chortens and the mani wheels whizz past us . The music suddenly changes and Dorjee is a bit silent. I tease him and he interrupts me in Hindi, “ This is not a romantic song madam, its a poem by Tsangyang Gyatso, our 6th Dalai Lama.” Dorjee does not elaborate further as we drive towards the lake Panggong Tso .

We spot a bit of green as we near the wetlands. And then something moves . The birder in me comes alive as I gesture to Dorjee to stop. “ Cha Tungtung karbo, madam..never seen them near Panggong before, “ he says as I move closer to take a picture of the black necked cranes .

The bird of Kashmir is a large whitish grey bird and has a black head, red crown patch , black upper neck and legs and a white patch near the eye. Another car stops by and we spend some silent moments clicking away.

Then Dorjee breaks the silence. “Cha means bird and tung tung karbo is long legged and white. That song madam, “ he says referring to the earlier melody “is a poem on the white crane . It talks about the rebirth of the Dalai Lama who was believed to have been murdered .”Cranes do have a spiritual significance in Buddhism as they symbolize marital longetivity. In fact I read later they have their own monastery and festival in Bhutan where they return every year.

Back home, I spoke to Gopi Sundar from the international crane foundation . I learnt that these Tibetan cranes visit Ladakh probably from the river valleys of Tibet for breeding between June and September. “When the snow melts, you will find these birds coming in pairs, marking their territories and dancing- a part of their hormonal activity. You would probably find 30 nests here, “ he says adding the remaining 60-70 are non breeders. The chicks later fly with their parents who are fiercely protective, guarding them from feral dogs. “Real estate is a serious issue here, “ says Gopi referring to the loss of habitat for these cranes as wetlands become lesser and tourism increases as well. Its tough life to be a crane now , “ he laughs. Listening to him, I go back to the walks around the lakes where Dorjee treated us to the prophetic song and dedicated it to his family

White crane, lovely bird,
Lend me your wings!
I’m not going far and away,
I’ll return through the land of Litang.

Peacocks from the east of India,
Parrots from the lower Kongpo area!
Though (their) birthplaces are different,
(Their) meeting-place is Lhasa, the land of Dharma wheels.

The willow lost its heart to the bird,
The bird lost its heart to the willow!
If affection concords in harmony,
The hawk cannot overpower (them).

Can you narrate your travel experiences or get philosophical about it – all in 125 characters ?!
If thats got your attention, welcome to the “Two Line Travelverse” contest. Here is an opportunity to share your travel verse with the world and also win prizes!

How do you participate in the contest…

1. If you don’t have a Twitter id, get yourself one!
2. Follow Club Mahindra on Twitter (twitter.com/clubmahindra)
3. Tweet your contribution to @clubmahindra.com.
   For e.g. refer to the image below.
   

 …there are also special prizes for retweeting (RT); the contestant with the most number of RTs also wins!

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Selected entries will win…

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The contest ends on March 14th, but early birds always have preference! So get started and let the verses flow.

The charm of the railways is unmistakable. But it was a nondescript railway junction that made journalist, Bishwanath Ghosh literally change tracks. The writer in Ghosh was inspired by life in these railway junctions as he went on to write about them in his maiden travel book – ” Chai Chai – Travels in Places where you stop but never get off.” CLAY spoke to the Chennai based author and here is his take on travel writing .

1.What got you to write a travel book ?
I decided to write the book about two years ago. I was travelling from Kanpur to Chennai, returning from my annual Diwali trip to home. The train had stopped at Itarsi station. Itarsi is a big junction. I was having tea at the platform and during the nearly 10 minutes that I spent at the platform, I heard names of stations from virtually every corner of India being mentioned. It suddenly struck me, “People all parts of the country pass through this place, so many cultures criss-cross this station, and yet I know nothing about Itarsi except that it is a railway junction. What lies outside the railway station? Who all live there? What do they do?” Subsequently, the publishers approached me to write a travel book. They wanted something different. So I chose seven junctions that people invariably pass through during train journeys but where they never get off. I made these junctions my destination and that’s how the book came about. I started with Mughal Sarai, came to Jhansi, then Itarsi. Moving down south, I covered Guntakal, Arakkonam, Jolarpettai and Shoranur.

2. It’s not often that people choose their first book to be about nondescript places which hardly features on any tourist maps…
Mine is a travel book and not a guidebook for tourists. It is a study of your own backyard, which you take for granted to the extent of ignoring it. But these are places, the small towns and the villages, where the real India lives. My book satisfies my own curiosity, and perhaps the curiosity of hundreds of others, about what lies outside the yard of these railway stations.

3. As a traveller, what catches your attention about a place?
Anonymity. Anonymity leads to curiosity, and curiosity makes you travel and discover.

4. The book is full of sights and sounds of a destination and anecdotes. Is there a specific sight or a sound that still remains with you.
The bustling markets in the evenings – people shopping for groceries, chaatwallahs doing brisk business, small-time bars full of people, men loitering around in paan shops or chaurahas. No one is ever in a hurry, they have all the time in the word. That’s the life we left behind 20 or 30 years ago.

5. What is your take on travel writing today?
Travel writing is yet to evolve, in the sense we still have a Paul Theroux giving us his take on India. But on the tourist-writing front, yes, Indians are discovering a lot of off-the-beaten-track places, which is heartening. Just about 10 years ago, no one was making such discoveries.

6. “Real India” today as it is portrayed seems to have become ironically a perspective of the foreigners only. Do you feel your book has broken that mould?
In a sense, yes. Because if you look up the internet, you will hardly find any information about a place like Mughal Sarai. But now you have a book that has an entire chapter devoted to Mughal Sarai. And the book has not been written by a foreigner, but an Indian.

7. What is your take on more opportunities to aspiring travel writers today?
The idea is not to be blind to your own backyard just because you live there. Questions need to be asked all the time: how did your backyard come into being, why is it the way it is today, what it means to other people, and so on. A traveller and a tourist are two different people. A tourist usually looks for a bed of grass to walk on, while for a traveller it can often be a bed of thorns.

The sculpture calls out to me. Carved in stone is a story of a devout cowherd called Chandesa who worships an icon of Shiva on sand and anoints it with milk. His father angrily strikes him and Chandesa retaliates . His staff turns into an axe chopping off his father’s legs, just when Shiva lands on the scene and accepts him into his fold. When the guide finished his narration, it seemed to be just another tale from Indian mythology; but it did not end there.

“ See the sculpture carefully , the cowherd is a prince and the prince is the great Rajendra Chola 1,” he said explaining that this could be an allegory . Engraved in stone is the coronation ceremony of Rajendra Chola 1 graced by the Gods – Shiva and Parvati as the prince dedicates all his laurels to them .The sculpture that depicts this celebrated moment is the famous Chandesanugraha murthi panel from the Brihadeshwara temple.

I am in Gangaikondacholapuram,the long lost capital of Rajendra Chola 1 which has mysteriously disappeared leaving behind this mammoth temple. This was the town that once ruled all of India upto the Gangetic plain and also Srilanka, Maldives, Malyasia and Indonesia.
When Rajendra Chola 1 conquered the Gangetic plain, he wanted to portray to posterity that he was probably greater than his father Raja Raja Chola 1 who had immortalised himself with the Big Brihadeshwara temple in Thanjavur.

So he built another Brihadeshwara temple in a new found capital called Gangaikondacholapuram. However he did not complete the temple. And he finally ensured that his father’s temple was bigger than his. There were no answers to this sudden change of heart. Probably the panel was a clue to the sudden decision says my guide.

The towering 180 feet tall Vimana seem to touch the sky announcing its existence in this otherwise dead capital . A majestic Nandi obstruct our gaze. A few gardeners are tending to the lawn while we soak in the ambience. Various forms of Shiva captured in different moods stand out in the artistic mosaic.

A giant lion shaped sculpture called Simhakinar in the form of the Chola emblem stares at you . ” This is the way the defeated kings used to go down and pour the water they brought down from the Ganga,” says the guide. I peer down and see a flight of steps leading through a tunnel below into a huge well filled with murky water. Rajendra built another huge reservoir which was about 22kms long and elephants were used by the armies to bring the water from the river. “He had brought back more than 1000 pots of holy Ganga water and performed the Kumbabhishekam,” adds my guide.

We move on looking for the palace and reach a small mound close by called Malligai medu near a small village called Ulkottai An empty spectacle of sand and rocks greet us. Recent excavations have unearthed some priceless treasures which are now sheltered in a small hut near the temple complex where the State ASI’s museum remains. A Buddha stands on the stony pavement along with some banana vendors as we enter the hut. Smiling silently at me is the king himself from a painting against the wall. The image stays with me as we drive down the highway.

We were in Madikeri when we heard this story. A Haleri king was on a hunting expedition when he suddenly saw his wild dogs chased by a hare in a small hillock. He decided to build a fort there immediately as he felt a powerful energy vibrated from the region which made a meek hare courageous . A mud wall garrison was built there and the hamlet, which became the capital of the dynasty was named after the king. The king was Mudduraja , the dynasty was Haleri and the capital was called Muddu Raja Keri or Muddurakayray , what we today call Madikeri.

The Haleri Kings who ruled Coorg or Kodagu for over 200 years were Lingayats and their origin is traced to Veeraraja, a nephew of Sadashiva Nayaka of the Ikkeri Dynasty. . As the Vijaynagar empire crumbled, Veeraraja, who dreamt of establishing his own dynasty was looking to exploit the weakness of local kingdoms. His ambition took him to Kodagu which was then ruled by various Nayaks .

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Disguised as a “jangama “ or a priest with healing power, he established a small group of followers in Haleri . He slowly overthrew the local Nayaks , including the formidable Karenbahu of Bhagamandala and Talacauvery and went on to become the lord of Kodugu with Haleri as capital .His grandson, Mudduraja later changed the capital to Madikeri and the dynasty ruled from the 17th century to the 19th century.

The Madikeri fort is today one of the few symbols of this powerful dynasty. It was eventually rebuilt in granite by Tippu Sultan who named the site as Jaffarabad.It was recaptured by the Haleri ruler Doddaveer Rajendra in the 18th century and it later fell into the hands of the British who renamed it as Mercara . Today the fort houses a palace, a temple, a chapel, a prison and a museum where you can see hero stones or virakkals among other things.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We embarked on the trail of this dynasty. Further away from the city is Gaddige or the Raja’s tombs, which are the Samadhis of the kings Doddaveerarajendra and Lingarajendra. A solemn air hung around and it was deserted almost but for a few boys who were playing cricket. The tombs of the divans and army commanders were also placed here. The domes and the minarets at four corners mounted by carved bulls stand tall against the sky.

The sun was setting and a mist threatened to rob the sun of its last few moments of glory . We headed to Raja’s Seat to watch the tussle. This popular tourist spot which boasts of scenic views was the seat of the royalty to admire nature.and also throw probably to throw their enemies down the hill.

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

A visit to Madikeri is never complete without a visit to the.19th century Omkareshwar temple built by Lingarajendra II dedicated to Shiva. Built in the Indo Sarcenic style, it has elements of Gothic and Islamic architecture as well and it is said that there could have been a secret passage below that leads to the palace of the king.

We drove towards Virajpet – one of the key towns and erstwhile capital named after Virarajendra, the Haleri king . It is said that Dodda Veerarajendra established the town in the 18th century to commemorate his meeting with the British General Abercrombie during their joint war against Tippu Sultan .

Virajpet which is just 30 kms from Madikeri is an important town today for coffee and spices and the St Anne’s Church and Clock tower stand tall, today reminiscent of the colonial era . The interesting aspect is that Virajpet was once an amalgamation of various communities such as Telugus,Tamilians, Malayalis, Bunts, Moplas, Christians,Brahmins and even Bengalis.Even today you can see streets like Bengali Street, Telugu street going by the cosmopolitan nature of the town that housed several communities..

Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We then went in search of a small palace where the Haleri Dyansty came to an end .Our trail ended in a small hamlet called Yavakapadi in Kakkabe where Nalknad Aramane built by Dodda Veerarajendra in the 18th century awaited us .

There were coffee plantations all around. A small mud road appeared out of no where .A beautiful two storey structure painted in red with a tiled roof, old wall paintings and pillars gazed at us as we opened the portals of the palace. A small mandapa in white was located close by. A drizzle started as we heard a sound behind us. A caretaker had silently moved in and was opening the main door for us. We were the only visitors. As we soaked in the moment, we were given a capsule of history .

During one of the wars with Tipu Sultan, Dodda Veerarajendra had to retreat and he came to this dense forest. He converted it as an operation base and built a palace and even got married here . This palace was the final refuge of the last king , Chikkaveerarajendra before he was deposed by the British and it symbolised the end of the Haleri dynasty .The caretaker showed us around as we climbed a small ladder , saw the hidden chamber in the roof , the torture room, the royal bedrooms and the main.durbar

It was ironic that the Haleri kings who had befriended the British to fight Tipu Sultan was finally deposed by the Europeans. As we walked back, we saw a few tourists who had just returned from their trek toThadiyandamole . The sun had set as we walked back to our homestay, wondering how this silent monument would have once been a scene of battles fought and won.

The article was published in the Deccan Herald recently.A guided tour of Coorg will be launched soon and the details will be available here.