India

Today we braved the sun and heat to wander the boulder-strewn ruins of Hampi.


The kind of sun that turns white skin red in under an hour. A sun that seems to stall at midday for 4 hours. But what a sight. Being Sunday we found ourselves joining the trail of Indian pilgrims making their way from ruined temple to ruined temple.

Mostly older folk, with hunched over spines, wrinkled faces and white stubble on dark chins. We passed Saddhus, orange material wrapped, orange strokes marking their foreheads; sharing coca cola beneath bouldered shade.
We passed masses taking holy dips at the fast flowing waters edge. Materials were dunked and flown upon the breeze to dry, creating brightly coloured sails flapping and fluttering.

Past coconut sellers;along unshaded, dusty paths; past red-faced monkeys munching on bananas.
We ended another day in Hampi on our verandah swing seat. The sun played out a bold drama in a dazzling orange costume, while the frogs began warming up for their dusk til dawn opera. The lush green reeds that carpet our view beyond palm trees and river to rocky hills were still and proudly erect. They are rich in colour and kissed by blinding golden sun daily, serenaded at night and danced with by the breeze that carries the chattering birds home at dusk. They are not daunted like us, by the devastating midday rays as they are permanently feet-dipped in cool water. All is well in the paddy field world. And all is well on our swing seat with thatched roof, delicious warmth on our skin, heavenly outlook and blushing sky bidding us good night. Shoobh ratri.