It was the end of a grey workweek at Ena’s instrument store in the streets of Sarajevo, Bosnia. A retired musician, the peak of Ena’s career was over; however, the impact of her music rippled throughout generations. Her hit song, “Sisters of War,” with the warm notes of the accordion and the ethereal heights of the violin, had made a lasting impression. Ena’s music conveyed untold tales of sisterhood, polarization, and loss in a fractured society following the Civil War of the nineties, a conflict that had unfolded just two decades earlier.
As she prepared to close the store, Ena dusted off the bronze saxophone when she heard a small jingle at the door. A frequent shopper, music producer, and pianist, Ahmed, entered, bearing more than just a grin – he carried a small envelope.
“Zdravo draga,” he greeted.
“Hello Ahmed, what good deed have I done to be blessed with that smile of yours today?”
“I’m not sure about any good deeds, but a career as a musician brings with it many benefits even ten years later,” he said.
“You’re not trying to sign me up again, are you?” She said, playfully rolling her eyes.
“Rest assured, it wasn’t me. Instead, you’ve been selected for a unique opportunity. Avanya, the famous singer from Udaipur, is assembling some of the world’s most elite musicians to explore the forgotten city of Hampi. It is home to one of the richest musical temples globally, an invisible eighth wonder, and she wants us to join.”
“Stop talking nonsense, Ahmed. I’ve retired from the game. Besides, why me, and why this city? I haven’t even heard of such a temple,” Ena replied. “No, it actually makes perfect sense, and it’s an all-expenses-paid trip; you simply have to come,” Ahmed replied, convinced that Ena would not pass up such an opportunity.
With a sigh, Ena grabbed her denim jacket and keys and said, “Fine, I’ll consider it, but only over a round of rakija, courtesy of you.”
“Deal,” Ahmed agreed, tucking the envelope into his leather bag.
At the local bar, ‘Ziveli,’ they settled in, and Ahmed set out to persuade Ena further. Ahmed continued,
“Ena, this is more than just a trip; it’s a journey to a city of ruins steeped in history and grandeur. As a musician, you cannot miss the chance to experience the temple. Imagine yourself amidst captivating ruins, surrounded by the ancient melodies that once graced these hallowed halls. The acoustics of the temple are legendary; they say even the stones sing. Your artistic talent, Ena, resonates with the stories of Hampi’s past, and this experience is bound to be unforgettable.”
“Alright,” Ena conceded, “but I want another round of rakija.”
“Yes! Two rounds of rakija, please!” Ahmed exclaimed.
Hampi, The Forgotten City
Ten months later, Ena found herself in Hampi, but without Ahmed. As the group of musicians, including Avanya, listened to the tour guide’s exposition about the Virupaksha Temple on the banks of the Tungabhadra River, Ena muttered to herself, “Never trust the words of a salesman, or a music producer for that matter.”
The tour guide, in a deep, sophisticated tone, recounted the fall of Hampi in 1565 CE. “It was in this year that the glorious Vijayanagara Empire met its tragic demise, and the legacy you stand upon today was born from the ashes. Following the Battle of Talikota, the combined forces of the Deccan Sultanates vanquished the Vijayanagara armies. The aftermath was devastating, with merciless destruction befalling the city of Vijayanagara. Palaces were reduced to ashes, temples were razed, idols defiled, and the empire’s wealth looted. Lives were lost, and every effort was made to erase the name of Vijayanagara from history.”
At this point, Ena felt an unexpected shiver down her spine. Memories of the Yugoslav wars resurfaced, reminding her of the lost voices and stories from diverse Balkan communities. She couldn’t bear to imagine a world where such an erasure of history was achieved. With tears beginning to well in her eyes, she decided to step away from the tour group for a moment, seeking solace.
What was intended as a brief respite turned into a forty-minute solitary walk along a natural stone footpath until she stumbled upon it – the Vittala Temple. The imposing 15th-century structure stood before her, a testament to architectural brilliance and detail. As she studied its base, the Maha Mantapa, Ena was captivated by the intricate carvings of warriors, horses, and swans that adorned the temple. She circled the temple in awe, eventually finding herself back at the entrance, where she sat down and placed her hand over her heart.
A few minutes later, she rose to her feet, only to find a localite standing nearby, wearing linen pants that blended with the warm sandstone and a white shirt. His presence exuded an air of mystery that left Ena momentarily dazed as she blinked, attempting to clear the faint haze surrounding him.
“Sister,” he softly spoke.
“Namaskāra,” Ena replied.
“Are you enchanted by the architecture of Vittalla? I sense your warmth radiating,” the localite observed.
“Yes, my friend. It is indeed beautiful, but I have yet to explore its interior,” Ena replied.
“Allow me to introduce you to the shallow waters of the fifty-six Saptaswara,” the localite proposed, extending his hand.
“My apologies, brother, but what exactly are the fifty-six Saptaswara?” Ena inquired.
“Perhaps it’s better to show you,” the localite responded.
Ena, curiously stood up and provided a light nod. Without a word, they entered the Vittala Temple. The main pillars, resembling musical instruments, upheld the ceiling of the Ranga Mantapa. Each main pillar was surrounded by seven minor pillars, collectively producing seven distinct musical notes representing various instruments – percussion, string, or wind. Ena whispered, “The Fifty-six Saptaswara.”
With a gentle smile, the localite began to tap the musical pillars, creating a melody that showcased the rich and forgotten history embedded within the temple’s very structure. Hours passed as he played stories through the Saptaswara pillars. His narrative painted a vivid picture of the temple’s origins in the 15th century during the rule of Devaraya II, a prominent leader of the Vijayanagara Empire, and the temple was dedicated to Lord Vishnu, as the localite explained.
Pausing for a moment, the localite said,
“Each of these pillars, placed during the empire’s reign, echoes the stories of devotion and grandeur that unfolded within these walls. Conversely, each crack and weathered stone is a testament to the erosion and loss of understanding following the battle.”
Ena, captivated by the historical context surrounding her, couldn’t help but feel a profound reverence for the silent richness of this forgotten city. Its economic, social, and intellectual prosperity was barely acknowledged in modern-day history. As Ena continued to explore the temple, she couldn’t escape the stark contrasts it invoked. Her footsteps echoed through the ancient corridors, each step carrying her deeper into the past. A sense of reverence and sadness enveloped her, for Hampi’s ruins were a poignant reminder of the harsh realities and enchanting beauty of a city that had weathered the test of time. It was a place where the fall of an empire, the invaders who had plundered its opulence, and centuries of decay were etched into every stone.
In the heart of Hampi, she imagined the echoes of poets reciting verses, scholars engrossed in their research, and artists drawing inspiration from the city’s grandeur. It was a place where creativity flowed as freely as the Tungabhadra River had once nourished the land. The royal patronage extended to these talents had turned Hampi into a thriving hub of cultural richness, much like the artistic heritage of her homeland in ex-Yugoslavia.
However, unlike Hampi, the remnants of ex-Yugoslavia were not preserved in stone but lived and breathed with the complexities of a divided history. The scars of political turmoil and societal fractures were not silent relics but an ongoing narrative. Confronted with this living history, Ena felt a call to harmonise the voices of the past, bridge the chasms of division, and compose a melody of unity that would resonate through the ages. Two years later, her song ‘Rakija,’ featuring Ahmed, soared to the top of the Balkan charts with the warm notes of the accordion and the ethereal heights of the violin. It was a song that echoed the transformative power of honouring history through conversation, experience, and the art of listening – all savoured over a glass of rakija.
Ena’s ‘Rakija’ became an anthem of reconciliation, a musical bridge connecting people from diverse backgrounds and perspectives. Its lyrics and melodies transcended the borders that had once torn nations apart, shining a light on the hope for a brighter future. The song carried a profound message about the power of conversations in recognising shared histories, reminiscent of Hampi’s role as a reminder of history’s fragility. It underlied the transformative potential of meaningful dialogues in preserving our collective past and forging a harmonious future. Ena’s journey, from the streets of Sarajevo to the mystical ruins of Hampi, rekindled her passion for music and her dedication to preserving our shared histories.
