Preface
Hampi is a place where religious Hindus go to visit a temple, rock climbers go for some of the best climbing in the world, backpackers go to do nothing in cheap guest houses, and tourists go to marvel at the artistry of the dynasties of the south. Decorated with what are apparently some of the oldest exposed boulders and hills on the planet, there is an undeniable sense of peace and spiritual energy everywhere in Hampi’s air.
I visited Hampi three years ago, and learned about the problems between the local guest house owners and the politicians. This is what I wrote then: "the government is trying to shut down guest houses on both sides of the river, claiming that commercial establishments cannot be allowed so close to a UNESCO World Heritage Side (on the temple side of the river) or in a national forest (on the backpacker side of the river). According to the locals, all of this is a ploy by politicians to direct tourists towards the more expensive hotel in the nearby town of Hospet, hotels that they just happen to have invested a lot of money in."
Fast forward to early last year; about a month before the lockdown, the guests houses in the "backpacker side of the river" — also known as Virupapura Gaddii also known as Hippie Island — was destroyed. The guest houses and shops were razed to the ground, and could now be counted among the ruins.
Speaking to locals, it became clear to me that this was a sensitive and complex subject. Each person had a slightly different theory and story.
Pablo
Pablo (real name Ravi) was a friend of the owner of the guest house. He was big, loud, and happy, and it was hard to catch without a smile on his face. He spoke like a witty philosopher, layering humour and meaning into his sentences. "I'm Pablo Chocobar in the day, Pablo Escobar in the night", was a line that we heard a few times over the few days we stayed there.
Within ten minutes of sitting with us, we were talking about the caste system, and politics. "It's not a pyramid of power", he told us. "It's a circle. We give the police bribes to let us continue business. The police give the politicians bribes to get posted to Hampi. The politicians then use this money to bribe poor people for votes. The poor people build guest houses, and it continues."
He got a little serious when we talked about Hippie Island, though his smile stayed.
"They told us that for 42 square kilometres around a UNESCO heritage site, there can't be any commercial activity. But this is not true. Look at any UNESCO site outside India. Even 100 m from heritage sites, they have shops and restaurants."
"It's all politics", he said.
Surya
Surya was a lean, young man from Andhra Pradesh. He was extroverted, but soft-spoken and radiated a calm energy. Like Pablo, but also very much different from him, he never stopped smiling.
Him and his friends had started a non-profit to help improve the environment in Indian towns. While we were there, they signed a deal with the local government to help beautify the areas around the Tungabhadra river.
"Did you talk to the politicians about Hippie Island?", I asked him one night.
"Yeah, man. He said it was because of the drugs. Everything else was just an excuse. You know the Collector has all the power in Indian towns. This area was becoming a hotspot for drugs, and he said he had to do something about it."
Jackie
Jackie looked like the truest hippie there ever was, and he played the djembe. He showed us videos from before the demolition -- locals and travellers sitting together on the magical rocks at Sunset Point playing music. "That was a magical time".
He told us that Hippie Island would flood every year. "The travellers never bothered. We ensured no one ever got hurt. Last year, some powerful Indians were sent there by the politicians. When the water came, they said the place was too dangerous. That's why it was demolished", he said with confidence.
Pyaare
Pyaare worked at our guest house, and looked like a guy who went to the gym a lot, but then stopped a year ago. He was from Himachal. Like many others, he spent Winters in Hampi and Summers up North.
He was shy in the beginning, but soon was laughing and talking. He had been working with tourists since he was a kid, in Manali and in Hampi. "The travellers taught me everything".
He told us that in Manali, he worked at a hotel. "It's different from Hampi there. I can't sit and chat with guests like this. There, it's all Indian tourists who expect a very different kind of service".
When we asked about Hippie Island, he said that the island was built on forest land. The government had given permission for agriculture more than 50 years ago. At first, when travellers started coming, the locals started hosting them in small rooms. Then these rooms became guest houses, and then ships came. It got bigger and bigger, and soon there was a court case. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court, who decided the whole place was illegal. That's why it was demolished.
Lady of the Guest House
When we left, we went to a guest house by Sanapur lake to pick up a friend. The lady who ran the place convinced us to sit for coffee, and sat down with us when I asked her about the guest house.
She and her husband had had to rebuild their guest house four (!!) times, each time after a fresh round of demolitions. They were not rich enough to buy land, so were renting the current land. "Whether tourists come or not, we still have to pay rent", she complained."
She said she was tired of the whole thing. When business was good, she had enrolled her children into a nice convent school in the city. Now, first with the demolition, and then the lockdown, all the money was gone. She had had to take the kids out of the good school, and move them to the government school nearby.
"Now, everyday they are coming up with new rules", she told us. "We pay bribes to the police because we serve liquor. We pay bribe to the fire people. And now they are saying we have to put CCTVs everywhere. I don't have money to pay rent. Where will I get CCTVs from?"
As we left, I offered to pay for her kids' school fees, but she refused.
Raghu
Raghu was our "auto driver guide". On the day we decided to cross the river to see Hampi, he was waiting for us as we got off the boat. "Hi I'm Raghu. I'm your auto driver", he said as it was already a fact. I guess he just knew this before we did.
As he took us around the city, we talked about everything. He told us that most of his generation had grown up with the tourists. The "hippies" had discovered Hampi when he was a kid. "They would stay on the rocks. When they needed food, they just knocked on locals' doors. That's how the locals here started their guest houses."
He told us that the locals understood that Hampi had to be taken care of. They had even agreed to the initial plan which promised to improve the condition of the archaeological sites. "They haven't improved anything. They have only ruined our lives."
We said that we admired the courage of the people to carry on smiling in the face of this constant onslaught from the government. "The tourists taught us that what they come to Hampi for again and again is not the ruins, but the friendship they have with us. This is the Hampi spirit. They can destroy the buildings, but we will bring Hampi back."
Epilogue
While driving back from Hampi, we saw an accident on the road. About half a kilometre ahead of us, an Innova coming the other direction some how jumped over the divider and rammed head-on into another Innova.
The accident scene was surrounded by locals, and there was a lot of blood on the road. One of the cars even had a kid, who was thankfully breathing. A woman had already died, and three men were stuck in their cars in painful positions. Along with a few locals, we helped get them out of the car and to the side of the road. After the ambulances arrived, we started driving back in silence.
My mind somehow jumped back to Hampi to the destruction of Hippie Island. These locals had spent 30 years building up this place from nothing. They had respected nature, shown love to travellers, and squeezed out a living while being crushed by dirty politics. Why did they keep getting back up, when everything could be swept out from beneath their feet at any instant?
"What is the point of these guys fighting for little things like bribes, politics and all?", I turned to Ania. "At any point, a car may ram into them and they may die."
Ania didn't say anything for long instant. "But That's exactly the point of the fight. You can die at any moment, so you can't wait for some big, grand fight. You have to fight for what you believe in, even if it's little."