Anegundi. Having visited Hampi, today was about the older kin - Anegundi.
A memory that connects the younger to the older is the Kishkinda Old Bridge which reminded me of the Acropolis of Athens only because of the pillared structures. It surely may not be the most felicitous comparison but both are similar looking preserved ruins at the end of the day!
This town too was an auto ride away from our resort. First impressions were of a naive, native village with small colorful houses, small temples, chickens running by, cats and dogs beings themselves, cattle grazing and basking in the sun (which for us was 32 degree C of hot air; not the most enjoyable weather) and locals doing their chores - a landscape which to me was questionable of its visual and attractive offerings. I soon realized there was much more than a village.
We walked through the narrow winding streets, in the midst of all the possible domestic animals found, which for me wasn't quite a pleasing experience. However witnessing people doing their chores like drying chilies, making banana fibre ropes and kids amusing at us was fun enough to cover up the earthy stench and the presence of living beings other than humans. This led the way to the river bank where a boat awaited to ferry us across to the opposite side. We rode through dark green waters doted with huge wild grass and watercress all around, looking like a mangrove; reminding me of the dense growth of water plants in the Sundarbans. The other side was a beauty in simplicity. Just rocks of varying sizes, a clear water stream running through highlighted with patches of greenery. A sight at such a landscape is worth the long walk under the piercing heat; it is all that photographic beauty demands with a bounty of inner serenity. Walking through the rocks that changed sizes into now being called boulders, we reached the top which had a Samadhi or burning ground where great saints were burnt. This was not much of a delight but the walk back to the bank was equally satisfying.
Reaching back to the village, we walked to Chintamani, an old fort on the other side. All that one can do here is sit, rest and get an overview of Anegundi. Two days of walk combined into half a day, we now headed for lunch in the not-so desirest of places; it was a humble south Indian lunch served on banana leaf. Following the lunch we headed back to the resort.
I call Anegundi the Wrecked Balance because this town has everything wrecked, whether its the old huts, temples, fort, rocks but still I find a balance in all of it; the wrecked huts painted in perfect color combinations or the narrow stream of water running though the wide boulders. There is beauty in the balance.
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