Thinking never felt so good and beads of perspiration glistened on our forehead and peace arrived in spurts. Words flowed steadily in thought in fast disappearing streamlets. There was fragrance ,of lighted camphor and tiny white flowers .
My people’s concentrated history flowed in these stone archways -stone people who lived on forever .These are my own dearest kinsmen. My flesh and bones are made of the same powdered red rock. We worship the same granite god.
(At the Hazar Rama temple in the Hampi ruins)