Anegundi - as soon as we reached its gateway, told us that "I am a small village", the north gateway was really small for a large volvo 45 seater bus to enter. As I walked along this village to reach our cottage with Tapan, leaving behind the bus (which entered the village from another round about entry), I realized that the village was almost over.
In the evening, we went to a small temple on a nearby hill where Shama (the Mumbai architect activist in Hampi) is proposing to have mini village festivals on the sloping mounts of the hill. As we reached, it was already cloudy, and when we were descending from the hill, it started drizzling. That night it rained. It was a great weather to have in Hampi, given the scorching heat otherwise which makes it unbearable to walk around the village all round the year. Tapan said we were just lucky!
But such a weather is most welcome to see a lot of greenery around, all the time. Our cottage was a superb example of this. We had a great green patch of land, in which were nestled cottages behind colourful flower shrubs against dried thatch roof cottages. Pink against brown really looked lovely, and purple (lotuses) amidst grey granites made an almost realistically artifical pond in the site. On top of that, leaf impressions imbedded on our concrete portico plinths, cowdung plastered walls, white washed interiors and surreal cloud shaped cloth ceilings were a perfect ambience.
The village people were extremely simple. Tapan was a super star - people saw her in the lanes and would call her out - "tapan madam", while tapan sheepishly kept telling me "i am forgetting his name!". The lanes had some kind of hierarchy, which one could feel - because there was only one spine which we traversed the most. The smaller lanes lead to the Tungabhadra river through some route or the other.
The village had a large palace, the image of which in incomprehensible because it is in such a bad shape that there is no sense of place now. What only remains is a large courtyard, with a mystic orange Ganesh idol (as big as a human head) perched on a concrete stub in the centre of this courtyard. The courtyard doesnot see the sky, it is blanketed by a cover of dense tree foliage. You come out of the palace through a foliated archway, entering into the village cluster houses.
The houses have typical timber posts, which are fast becoming old fashioned / weak structural members for the villagers. Tapan has identified some house types through her study of the village. But what I loved was that every house had a colourful flowering shrub just at its portico. Even if it was a pink periwinkle spread around the first step you take in the house, it was completely naturally erupting from the ground, undisturbed, untailored. Many houses had staircases leading to the top of their houses on their outside surfaces, which gave a beautiful character to the houses. The sense of passing from between two house walls (almost a shaded dark alley) to opening on the open to sky terrace reminded me of the circulation of the palace complex entry (Grand platform) at Hampi. There are these subtle nuances that keep happening in the village, which one can relate at a larger level to the town of Vijaynagar, like the baby rath that the village owns is another example.
In the evening, we went to a small temple on a nearby hill where Shama (the Mumbai architect activist in Hampi) is proposing to have mini village festivals on the sloping mounts of the hill. As we reached, it was already cloudy, and when we were descending from the hill, it started drizzling. That night it rained. It was a great weather to have in Hampi, given the scorching heat otherwise which makes it unbearable to walk around the village all round the year. Tapan said we were just lucky!
But such a weather is most welcome to see a lot of greenery around, all the time. Our cottage was a superb example of this. We had a great green patch of land, in which were nestled cottages behind colourful flower shrubs against dried thatch roof cottages. Pink against brown really looked lovely, and purple (lotuses) amidst grey granites made an almost realistically artifical pond in the site. On top of that, leaf impressions imbedded on our concrete portico plinths, cowdung plastered walls, white washed interiors and surreal cloud shaped cloth ceilings were a perfect ambience.
The village people were extremely simple. Tapan was a super star - people saw her in the lanes and would call her out - "tapan madam", while tapan sheepishly kept telling me "i am forgetting his name!". The lanes had some kind of hierarchy, which one could feel - because there was only one spine which we traversed the most. The smaller lanes lead to the Tungabhadra river through some route or the other.
The village had a large palace, the image of which in incomprehensible because it is in such a bad shape that there is no sense of place now. What only remains is a large courtyard, with a mystic orange Ganesh idol (as big as a human head) perched on a concrete stub in the centre of this courtyard. The courtyard doesnot see the sky, it is blanketed by a cover of dense tree foliage. You come out of the palace through a foliated archway, entering into the village cluster houses.
The houses have typical timber posts, which are fast becoming old fashioned / weak structural members for the villagers. Tapan has identified some house types through her study of the village. But what I loved was that every house had a colourful flowering shrub just at its portico. Even if it was a pink periwinkle spread around the first step you take in the house, it was completely naturally erupting from the ground, undisturbed, untailored. Many houses had staircases leading to the top of their houses on their outside surfaces, which gave a beautiful character to the houses. The sense of passing from between two house walls (almost a shaded dark alley) to opening on the open to sky terrace reminded me of the circulation of the palace complex entry (Grand platform) at Hampi. There are these subtle nuances that keep happening in the village, which one can relate at a larger level to the town of Vijaynagar, like the baby rath that the village owns is another example.
Granite is abundant in the village, but for some reason, people seem to be making newer extensions in their houses in brick. Tapan has refuted this approach in the village through her work "Uramma house", which is a beautiful Guest house in the village. The Uramma house (name comes from the Goddess Uramma), has a linear portico, spacious entry room, sunken court, landscaped courtyard and two guest rooms with bathrooms inside. The Neem tree inside is amost a surprise for all the visitors. There were other trees like the white gourds, and some smaller vegetables etc. The courtyard, offset from the living space just brings the right amount of light in the room and the axial passage separating the rooms and the courtyard gives enough privacy to the guests. Not only that, from inside the rooms, one can frame interesting patches of the court that are almost planned.
Coconut leaves were used extensively to extend porticoes and form canopies, the village had a temple which was snugged in the rocky hill behind. monkeys would crawl in and out of the temple. Parrots and pigeons kept fluttering all the time. The green wings of the parrots made a good combination with the red stones.
A bundle of naughty boys always crowded around the 64 pillar mantapa or somewhere near the Tungabhadra river. There was one more temple complex near the river banks. Villagers often go to fish there, or have a bath, clean clothes, utensils. Some awkward impressions of the village was the switch over to plastic pots instead or brass/steel or clay, switch over to plastic bags instead of jute/cloth or fibre, switch over to brick walls or concrete staircase instead of the rough humble granite - all such transformations look grave when compared to the lifestyle of the people around.
There is a small masjid, a small church, a banana workshop, a library and a school in the village - I could not explore them much. This leaves some room for the next visit.
A bundle of naughty boys always crowded around the 64 pillar mantapa or somewhere near the Tungabhadra river. There was one more temple complex near the river banks. Villagers often go to fish there, or have a bath, clean clothes, utensils. Some awkward impressions of the village was the switch over to plastic pots instead or brass/steel or clay, switch over to plastic bags instead of jute/cloth or fibre, switch over to brick walls or concrete staircase instead of the rough humble granite - all such transformations look grave when compared to the lifestyle of the people around.
There is a small masjid, a small church, a banana workshop, a library and a school in the village - I could not explore them much. This leaves some room for the next visit.
