Coffee, temples and Bahubali
From Jog, our drive took us through the coffee growing hills of
Chikmaglur district. This stretch of the drive is something to
remember. The road meanders through coffee estates that envelope
the surrounding hills, along with the mist that clings to the silver
oaks. Sleepy hamlets bide their time for the picking of the crop.
Lazy streams whisper past. Everyone knows that the coffee will
take its own sedate time to grow. And coffee is the king.
Chikmaglur town, however, is another story altogether. Having
lent its name to such a lush and scenic district, the town does
everything to disappoint. Just before you reach the town, you
leave the coffee hills behind and enter the arid dryness of the
Deccan. The change is so remarkable that in a few kilometers you
can't even remember what a coffee plant looks like. Gone is the
misty coolness of the hills. But here are the temples.
Belur and Halebid are about 40 ugly km south of Chikmaglur
town. These Hoysala temples, carved in such mind boggling and
exquisite detail as to make them the KTDC's pride, are among the
most important historical sites in India. Competing with the temples of
Khajuraho in the detail of carvings, though, sadly, not in subject matter, the
temples are a must.
The temples of Belur and Halebid are about
20 km apart. Both are squat, star shaped structures, which do
not impress until you go up close and realise that their exteriors
are entirely bathed in sculpture. Both Belur and Halebid have
KTDC accommodation, but if you don't want to spend hours at the
temples, then drive 40 km further to Hassan.
Hassan serves no purpose in a tourist's life other than being near
Belur, Halebid and Sravanbelagola. There is an Ashok Group hotel
here, but the Hotel Amblee Palika nearby is much better value
for money, with decent rooms at Rs 300 for a double.
Our next major stop was Mysore. But first we took a minor detour
to see the status of Bahubali at Sravanbelagola. Standing on top
of a rocky hill, this 17m high status is over a thousand years old.
The quality of the stone is so impeccable that it is impossible
to believe its age. Yet, there he has been for a millennium, standing
serenely on top of his hill, staring out over the Deccan. A steep
uphill climb over bare rock brought us to his feet, where we had
to jostle for space between frenetic devotees squabbling mercilessly
about whose pooja would be done first. Bahubali refused to look
at them.
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