Badami – a Weekend Sojourn
“Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. There are no wrong turns.”
When I tell someone I was in Badami, the name almost always elicits a raised eyebrow, an uninformed shrug or a direct question about where and what Badami is. Some people might know it as yet another heritage site, a cousin of the far more celebrated Hampi, home to the ruins of some ancient kingdom or another, but beyond that their knowledge of the place is rather limited. A friend of mine and I were thinking of a quick 2- to 3-day trip to some place not too far from Bangalore, and Badami fit the bill.
First, I have to admit that I was interested in visiting Badami, not as a historian or an archaeologist, not out of a desire to better my knowledge and understanding of the heritage and culture of our ancient country, but purely for the photographic opportunities that Badami provides. But, since I do my homework before I visit any place, I did read about the history of Badami, and for your benefit, I’ll summarise it here.
I was actually quite surprised to learn that Badami and Hampi were not always part of the same empire and saw their respective heydays in different eras, even though they’re often mentioned in the same breath, thanks, in large part, to the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) classifying them together as a single heritage complex. They have independent histories and flourished at different times under different dynasties. While Hampi was the capital of the Vijayanagar empire and was at its zenith in the 14th and 15th centuries (more on that here), Badami was the capital of the Chalukya dynasty that ruled a large swathe of southwestern India, and its ruins date back to the 6th to 8th centuries, quite a bit older than those in Hampi. Historical manuscripts from each provide significant references to the other, evidence of the trade and cultural exchanges that happened on a regular basis even in those days.
The Meguti Temple near Aihole
Anyway, enough about that. There’s plenty on the web if you need more information. We had heard that the rocks, hills and ruins in and around Badami provided some nice foreground elements for star trails and nightscapes, so I was excited about this opportunity. We decided to take the overnight train out of Bangalore, by far the most comfortable and sensible way to get there. I bought myself a bottle of apple juice at the station and was waiting on the platform for the train, when a ticket examiner saw the bottle, cast a suspicious glance at its amber contents, and proceeded to interrogate me (alcoholic beverages are not allowed on Indian trains). Anyway, after that episode was duly laughed off, we boarded without further excitement, had an uneventful ride and reached Badami shortly after sunrise. The tiny station reminded me of what I used to imagine Malgudi looked like, from the R. K. Narayan books I read as a child.
The ruins of Badami are built on and into the hills and ridges that form a U-shape around the Agasthya Lake that lies on the eastern edge of the town. We decided to climb these hills for a view of the sunset over the town that evening. While planning this trip sitting at home, with Google Maps and some other online tools (PhotoPills, other websites), getting to these spots and planning the shoot seemed relatively straightforward. But of course, a satellite picture taken from space and the reality on the ground are two very different scenarios, and we were told that it’s not as easy as it looks and that we would need a guide. And that, I have to admit, was excellent advice.
The tiny station reminded me of what I used to imagine Malgudi looked like, from the R. K. Narayan books I read as a child.
Later that evening, with Uday, our guide, leading the way, we climbed the ridge to the south of the lake. It involves a steep climb until one gets to the plateau at the top, and the rocky terrain and thorny shrubs will test anyone who wants to get to the top. Make no mistake, this terrain isn’t for the unfit or for those who aren’t sure-footed, it isn’t for sandals and shorts, and you will need proper shoes and hiking pants to negotiate it. Carrying a tripod and a few kilos of gear and water on your back will make this even harder. It’s also fairly easy to lose one’s bearings up here, it gets very dark when the sun goes down, and without a guide it will be near impossible to find your way back down the hill. Anyway, we finally got to the top and worked our way to the western edge of the plateau, to an old fort overlooking the town.
The fort overlooking Badami
I didn’t see a composition that really spoke to me, and the ruins of the fort didn’t give me much of an interesting foreground, until a very kind and obliging monkey wandered into my frame, perched on a wall at the edge of the cliff, and patiently stayed there until the sun worked its way through a little gap in the clouds, providing me with one of the few keepers from that evening. It’s a sight I would see a lot more of over the next couple of days – Badami and its environs are home to thousands of monkeys. We stayed here for a while, took some more pictures, but decided that this might not be the best place to shoot the sunset from.
The fort overlooking Badami
So, with Uday’s help, we made off again to a ridge overlooking the eastern end of Agasthya Lake. We were standing on a dry ledge that actually is the top of a waterfall during the monsoons, high above the lake, shooting across the water to the sun setting beyond it. It wasn’t the clearest evening, there was a haze over the horizon, and we did the best we could under the circumstances. I asked Uday what he did during the off-season, the summer, when he wasn’t guiding tourists to the different ruins dotting the landscape. First-year college student studying computer applications, he proudly responded with a smile. Good luck to him. I took a picture of him against the setting sun, which I promised to send him once I got home.
Agasthya Lake, with the northern and southern ridges on either side
Uday, our intrepid guide
We decided to wake up around 3 the following morning to shoot the Milky Way from an ancient temple. There were clouds in the sky, but we decided to take a chance anyway. By the time we got to the temple, we realised it really was a waste of time. It was overcast, ruining not only any chance of shooting the Milky Way, but also the prospect of a nice sunrise later in the morning. Oh well. At least breakfast was good.
The sun was too strong during the rest of the day to do any landscape photography, so we stayed indoors, waiting for late afternoon to venture out again. Our plan that evening was to head for the ruins of the temple complexes at Pattadakal and Aihole for the sunset.
The Pattadakal complex was well preserved, and small enough that one can cover it in an hour or two. According to the ASI, this was the where the coronation ceremonies of the Chalukya kings took place. It felt strange to walk around a place that is 15 centuries old, and wonder who walked those same paths and corridors all those years ago, what they did for a living, what they wore, what they ate, and what they’d think of us. I really enjoyed walking around this temple complex and wished we had more time, but we had plans to getting to the Galaganatha temple at Aihole before sunset and had to be on our way.
The Pattadakal Temple complex near Badami
The Pattadakal Temple complex near Badami
We followed the Malaprabha River northwards to the Galaganatha temple complex. Most of the structures here were in ruins and not as well preserved as those at Pattadakal. I thought about how this place must have been in the 6th century, the view from the temples to the hills across the river, birds flying home as the sun went down, fires being lit in homes and on the riverbank. A stone arch led into a temple courtyard beyond. As the golden hour turned to blue, as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the moon followed it on its downward trajectory, I thought of that arch as a portal into a lost world, a different time.
The Galaganatha Temple ruins, Aihole, near Badami
Before going to bed that night, we set our alarms once again for 3 AM to see if we might get lucky with the Milky Way this time. But, once again, we were denied. We decided to trek up the northern ridge for the sunrise, instead. We went up through the gates and along the gigantic fort walls, past the medieval granaries near the top to the Upper Shivalaya Temple that sits right at the edge of the cliff overlooking the town. As any landscape photographer will tell you, you want a cloudless sky for the Milky Way, but you do want some clouds for sunrises and sunsets. And Badami kept doing it the other way around. Still, I managed to get some shots of this temple. Not the best images I’ve ever made, but better than nothing.
The Upper Shivalaya Temple at dawn
The Upper Shivalaya Temple at dawn
A Badami denizen on the ghats of Agasthya Lake
In a way I was glad that Badami is off the beaten track. That’s it’s not easy to get here, even from Bangalore, the capital of the same state that Badami is in. There is so much history and beauty here, and it’s under threat of being lost forever. There’s only so much the ASI can do to preserve our heritage and culture. It’s up to us Indians to take that responsibility and make it our own.
