Leaving Pooja’s wedding from Solapur, we headed south to Hampi, a village in the Karnataka state. Crossing the stateline, everyone must put their name and age on a sign-up sheet to be given to the officers stationed on the highway. The constant potholes made it a rather painful ride when Adam and I sat at the back of the bus. At one point when the front wheels made a sudden drop in elevation, we bounced up at least two feet in the air. I don’t have any b…s but it still hurt like nuts (no pun intended). On the plus side, we did get to try out some paans - mixture of ingredients including betel nut, herbs, spices and often tobacco, wrapped in a betel leaf - which were flavorful yet very uncomforting to the paan-virgin tongues.

We reached Hampi at around one thirty in the morning. I could hear the branches scratching along the side of the bus when we entered the six-feet-wide, unlit and unpaved road that leads to the guesthouse. With only the bus headlight to provide any visibility and no GPS (I’m not even sure if GPS could help in this remote place), our driver missed a turn and drove into a road that unexpectedly narrowed to about only three feet wide. Unable to reverse the bus in the jet-black night, we abandoned ship and walked to our guesthouse, the Goan Corner, which thankfully was only 200 feet away.

Turned out our group of fourteen only had 2 rooms reserved and only 2 persons were allowed in each room. The rooms were actually separate thatch-roofed cots with hammocks on the joined porch. The team courteously gave Adam and I our own room; two other ladies had the other. The rest had to sleep on the uncovered rooftop with provided mosquito nets and thin mats. When I found out that they did not have enough blankets to keep warm, I felt like a spoiled human because we left the ceiling fan running for most of the night in our room.

I found myself awake at 7:00 in the morning despite not having much sleep both nights before. The refreshing air outside had a faint smell of burnt leaves. The guesthouse caretaker used them to boil big tanks of water behind each shared bathroom, not that I saw a drop of hot water from the faucets during our time there. Apparently they will bring you a bucket of hot water if you ask.

Ignoring the mundane facts that the power was cut off most of the time and one must bring his own toilet tissues, the place was absolutely exotic and mesmerizing. A topless young guy of about 18 (who roomed in the next cot) cheerfully greeted us from his front porch while rolling a joint. He has been in Hampi for about a week and will stay for two months. Most people who stays in this area’s guesthouses are “hippy backpackers”. Many do bouldering (a form of rock climbing that is performed without the use of ropes or harnesses) and carry around with them a mattress to ease their fall. One even possesses a hang and gifted us with a melody that could melt a soul.

Being on schedule for a big group was impossible and a nuisance. I often refuse to sympathize and tend to get very impatient. Luckily the unperturbed Bunster was there to remind me to breathe and just enjoy the spectacular view. It was not until 11:00 that we finally headed out for some sightseeing.