Friday, March 29, 2013

Ruining of Rachakonda

Dust covered paths, meandering in between olden rocks and shrubbery. Walking brisk and ever so softly. Looking out for the odd chameleon changing colors, looking back in caution and awe. I make my way towards the ruins of another past civilization now hidden from the public's eye. (and in India - that is quite a feat, as the public of 1.2 billion people is everywhere!)
Only to be found for those who want to be in ruins themselves, ruining alive. 

The mid day heat is fierce and it is burning a hole in my back. 
I have not brought a cap (though I remember as always that I have a perfect military cap nestled in the safety of my closet back home!) nor any sunscreen - too much melanin already in my skin to handle the Indian sun this day.
My thoughts disappear with the advent of my thirst. I remain solitary and satisfied, with my keen eye looking out for a ruined surprise. 

I climb higher, walk slower and reach the oasis of the past culture. I sit under the ancient tree and look at the dust gathering on the broken down pieces of history. It seems futile; why I am here - almost a compulsive need to reconnect with our broken past. Alone midst wilderness and the vibes of the days and eons gone by. I feel like a relic myself after a while; ruining myself another time around. 

It was always my intent to be an anthropologist; to connect and reconnect the mysterious nature of man, and his intense purpose to connect with a higher god. All dimensions unfold as I walk in the mid day heat; the burning sensation has now passed followed by a nihilistic thirst to find rest and shade. The trees provide the same, but the purpose of being here in the lonely desert-ish day... My shadow has become stronger than my physical self. I can see the mirages coming closer. There is no respite when you are ruin;ed in the first place. 

I find an ancient kingdom, tucked inside the shrubs and weeds. The pains and memories of an age gone by. It makes my nostalgic almost - my life holds no significance, when entire civilizations wiped out; their stories not recounted, their lives tucked in a void of no care. 

What of the aspirations and hope of this so called globalized society (to be immortalized through e commerce and waste) That which now plagues to wipe the entire planet out. What if we were to be not remembered at all. Do we entitle ourselves to such a right. I damned well believe so.
I step quietly and restfully into the arms of a place unknown. The ethereal vibrations are almost alive. 
Rachakonda a quiet hill - cursed over 300 years by a woman and the entire hill fort fell into ruins. The palace which once probably spanned across couple of these beautiful worn down Deccan hills is now so desolate, that apart from a few wicked looking monkey families (which are following me quietly). There is nothing and no one around. 
The curse was strong perhaps - for I feel the entire hill pulsate with the worn and burned energy. 
Anthropology was not quite the quest to find what was abandoned - but perhaps what was never revealed to anyone without keen eye in the first place. 
There are many baolis / water holes and its a respite in this burning heat and yet I do not see any snakes or small creatures coming to take comfort. There is something awfully wrong goes my gut feeling. There is no one on any of the adjacent hills and after spending half a day walking and looking around for the left overs of what was once great, I am greatly concerned. 
While walking from one hill to another - I hear voices speak in the shrubbery (voice of a middle aged man/men). They are speaking in telugu and I am not able to hear who is saying what. Initially there is but one voice which perhaps multiples to two and then again back to one. It is saying something like Who are you - Why are you here. I do not know telugu enough to make out what is exactly being said, but i get startled and stand there for someone to emerge to rob me or confront. Yet there is no visual movement in front or anywhere around me. I feel a bit uncomfortable now; feel like leaving this remote isolated place now. I climb down, and the voice climbs down with me. In between I hear some statements, and I am thoroughly baffled and scared in the day. I take my knife out and clench it between my fingers. I am taking a warriors stand - perhaps the last requirement for a complete ruining. 
It was as if, someone on that hill did not want me to see the ruins in peace - and this is not the first time I have got that feeling either. As if whenever and wherever something has disappeared into the void - there is a leftover (almost the same with the human life/body) and this leftover aggressively takes possession of what was once almost breathing; alive!?

I leave the place quickly post the mid day sun. The place alive and breathing yet, I can see that. I feel disturbed yet almost on attention beyond any comparison. I feel ruined and alive midst the sweat pouring through. 


No comments:

Ode to Humanity

I am not a big fan of human kind, the version of life that in today’s day seems to be only focused upon itself. The day’s pass and humans ...