Hampi
Every stone here has witnessed more history than most countries.
Mohammed’s family has been sharing Hampi’s secrets for six generations. His great-great-grandfather guided the first British archaeologists through these ruins. Now, at 58, Mohammed carries stories that no guidebook will ever contain.
“When I was young, I wanted to leave this place. ‘What future is there in old stones?’ I thought. I went to Bangalore, worked in an office, wore a tie, earned good money. But every night, I dreamed of these ruins calling me home.”
“One day, a foreign tourist came to the office and saw my Hampi photos on my desk. He said, ‘I’ve been to Hampi three times, but I feel like I’ve never really seen it.’ That’s when I understood – the stones don’t need me. The stories do.”
“You know what the saddest thing is? Young Indians come here and see only broken buildings. But foreign tourists see the wonder immediately. We’ve forgotten how to see magic in our own backyard.”
He shows me a carving invisible to untrained eyes – a musical pillar that still produces perfect notes after 500 years. “This is why I came back. Not for the tourists, not for the money. For moments like this, when someone sees their heritage come alive.”
“I could have been a manager in Bangalore. Instead, I chose to be a guardian of stories. Some days I wonder if I made the right choice. Then I see wonder in someone’s eyes, and I know.”
Mohammed doesn’t just guide tourists through Hampi. He guides India back to its own magnificence.
– Zara