Mohammed’s family has been sharing Hampi’s secrets for six generations. His great-great-grandfather guided the first British archaeologists through these ruins.
Raman laughs when he tells me this, his eyes crinkling like old maps. For four generations, his family has guided travelers through the same forest paths that once carried India’s most precious cargo to the world.
The Royal Enfield’s engine echoed between massive granite boulders as I approached the final curve, and suddenly there it was-the sprawling ruins of Hampi emerging from the otherworldly landscape like fragments of a dream that once ruled half of India. Standing among stones that witnessed the rise and fall of the mighty Vijayanagara Empire, I finally understood why they call this place the “last great Hindu kingdom.”
The Royal Enfield\’s engine echoed against the canyon walls as I rounded the 15th hairpin bend, and suddenly there it was—the endless carpet of emerald tea plantations emerging from the morning mist like a secret the mountains had been keeping for centuries. At 6,000 feet above sea level, I finally understood why they call Munnar the Kashmir of Kerala.