Hampi

Ancient SitesKarnataka,India

The remains of a south Indian city once the second-largest on Earth, sacked in 1565 and never rebuilt, scattered through 42 square kilometres of boulders.

September·Edge of season

Jun–Sep

The southwest monsoon breaks the heat and turns the paddy and banana terraces along the Tungabhadra green. By August and September the swollen river and the dam releases rise over the lowest ruins. Skies stay overcast and the boulders turn slippery underfoot.

Year-round The boulder field and its 1,600-odd ruins stand here every day of the year. What the year moves is the rest: the monsoon flood and green, and the swing from cool winter to punishing April–May heat.

Hampi is what is left of a city that was the second-largest on Earth around 1500 and was emptied in a single year. Vijayanagara stood on the Tungabhadra in what is now Karnataka, southern India. After the Deccan sultanates broke its army in 1565 the looting ran for months, and nobody came back. That is why the ruin is complete rather than picked over: more than sixteen hundred temples, gateways, tanks and bazaars across forty-two square kilometres. The boulders they stand among were never piled there. Rainwater sank into cracks in the bedrock and rotted the granite from inside; erosion carried off the crumbled part, leaving the hard cores — rounded blocks you could not walk round in a minute, stacked across the valley. The masons cut the city out of them. Their best work is at Vittala, where a shrine to Garuda rides on granite wheels, facing a hall of slender columns cut to ring at different pitches when struck. The columns are roped off now, cracked by decades of tapping, but the musicians and horses carved around them repay a slow circuit. Down on the river, Virupaksha never became a ruin at all. Worship has gone on there without a break since the seventh century, and at first light it is working rather than performing, with drums, bells, incense and pilgrims moving past you under a nine-tiered gateway. A few kilometres off, the royal quarter is open ground with stepped tanks and eleven domed chambers built for the state elephants, their arches taken from the sultanates the empire fought. Lanes thread between the boulders and take you past banana plantations and half-buried shrines. Round coracles spin you across the river, and climbers work the free-standing blocks, among the best rock in India. Half an hour up Matanga Hill gathers all of it into one view at last light. Rows of small rectangular holes still run along split granite faces everywhere you walk, where wedges were driven in to open a block. That is where the city came from, and after 1565 nobody came to take any more.

Worth knowing

Good to know

Start up Matanga Hill well before sunset — the route is a rough scramble between boulders rather than a path, and nothing is lit on the way down, so carry a torch.
Reach the Vittala temple at opening — the coaches come over from Hospet after breakfast, and the chariot courtyard is small enough to feel full once they arrive.
Keep food and bottles out of sight — the macaques along the Hemakuta and Virupaksha parapets are practised thieves and will take an open bag straight out of your hand.

Things to do

1
Climb Matanga Hill for the last light
The scramble up from the old bazaar takes roughly half an hour and ends at a small shrine on the summit. From up there the granite, the Tungabhadra and the scattered temple towers all catch the low sun at once — the only vantage point that gathers the whole city into a single view.
2
Stand at the stone chariot in the Vittala courtyard
The chariot sits at the heart of the empire's finest stonework: a Garuda shrine mounted on granite wheels, facing a hall whose slender columns were cut to ring at different pitches when struck. They are roped off now, cracked by decades of tapping, but the carving around them — musicians, horses, dancers — still rewards a slow circuit.
3
Catch the dawn puja at Virupaksha
Arrive at first light and the riverside temple is working rather than performing: drums, bells, incense, and pilgrims moving under a nine-tiered gopuram. Worship has continued here without a break since the seventh century, which makes this the one corner of Hampi that never became a ruin.
4
Cross the royal centre to the elephant stables
The kings' quarter is a different Hampi: open ground, stepped tanks, and eleven domed chambers built to house the state elephants, their arches borrowing straight from the Deccan sultanates the empire fought. The Lotus Mahal beside them shows the same blend of Hindu and Islamic lines.
5
Ride the boulder roads between the temples
Hire a bicycle or scooter and follow the narrow lanes that thread between granite blocks the size of houses, past banana plantations and half-buried shrines. Covering the ground at your own pace, with stops nobody planned for you, is how most of Hampi's ruins are actually found.
6
Cross the Tungabhadra in a coracle
The round basket boats that ferry people to the far bank spin as they go, and from water level the temples rise above you exactly as they did for the empire's pilgrims. The crossing pauses when the monsoon river runs hard, so ask at the bank before counting on it.
7
Boulder on the granite the city was cut from
Hampi's granite is rated among the best climbing rock in India, and hundreds of boulder problems have been logged on the blocks scattered through the valley and across the Tungabhadra. The cool dry months are the climbing season, for the same reason they suit walking the ruins. Climbers work the free-standing boulders, not anything the Vijayanagara masons cut.