History · Ch 7 — An Imperial Capital: Vijayanagara
Questions in Search of Answers
Questions in Search of Answers
The buildings that survive from Vijayanagara tell us a great deal about how spaces were organised and used, how they were built, and with what materials and techniques. For instance, by studying a city’s fortifications we can assess its defence requirements and military preparedness. Buildings also reveal the spread of ideas and cultural influences when we compare them with structures in other places. They convey the ideas that builders or their patrons wished to project, and are often suffused with symbols that are products of their cultural context. We can understand these symbols when we combine information from other sources like literature, inscriptions, and popular traditions.
Architectural features alone do not tell us what ordinary men, women, and children — the vast majority of people who lived in the city and its outskirts — thought about these impressive buildings. Would they have had access to any areas within the royal centre or the sacred centre? Would they hurry past the sculpture, or would they pause to see, reflect, and try to understand its complicated symbolism? And what did the people who worked on these colossal construction projects think of the enterprises to which they had contributed their labour?
While rulers took all important decisions about the buildings to be constructed — the site, the material to be used, and the style to be followed — who possessed the specialised knowledge required for such enormous enterprises? Who drew up the plans for the buildings? Where did the masons, stonecutters, and sculptors who did the actual building come from? Were they captured during war from neighbouring regions? What kind of wages did they get? Who supervised the building activity? How was building material transported and where did it come from? These are some of the questions that we cannot answer by merely looking at the buildings or their remains. Continuing research using other sources might provide some further clues. …
Krishnadeva Raya, as seen and as shown. A beautiful statue of Krishnadeva Raya was placed on the gopuram of the temple at Chidambaram, Tamil Nadu — obviously the way in which the ruler wanted to project himself. And this is how Paes describes the king in person:
Of medium height, and of fair complexion and good figure, rather fat than thin; he has on his face signs of smallpox. …
Timeline 1 — Major Political Developments.
| Period | Developments |
|---|---|
| c. 1200–1300 | Establishment of the Delhi Sultanate (1206) |
| c. 1300–1400 | Establishment of the Vijayanagara Empire (1336?); establishment of the Bahmani kingdom (1347); Sultanates in Jaunpur, Kashmir and Madura |
| c. 1400–1500 | Establishment of the Gajapati kingdom of Orissa (1435); Sultanates of Gujarat and Malwa; emergence of the Sultanates of Ahmadnagar, Bijapur and Berar (1490) |
Timeline 2 — Landmarks in the Discovery and Conservation of Vijayanagara.
| Year | Event |
|---|---|
| 1800 | Colin Mackenzie visits Vijayanagara |
| 1856 | Alexander Greenlaw takes the first detailed photographs of the archaeological remains at Hampi |
| 1876 | J.F. Fleet begins documenting the inscriptions on the temple walls at the site |
This figure shows a sculpted portrait of Krishnadeva Raya, the most famous ruler of the Vijayanagara Empire, placed on the gopuram (the monumental entrance tower) of the Nataraja Temple at Chidambaram in present-day Tamil Nadu. The statue is not a naturalistic likeness but an idealised representation — the king is shown in a dignified, regal posture, with the kind of composed, authoritative bearing that rulers wanted to project to the public and to posterity.
The image is used in the textbook to illustrate a key problem of perspective in studying history: buildings and sculptures tell us what patrons wanted to show, not necessarily what was true. The textbook contrasts this polished, idealised statue with the Portuguese traveller Domingo Paes’s contemporary description of Krishnadeva Raya, which notes that the king was “of medium height, and of fair complexion and good figure, rather fat than thin; he has on his face signs of smallpox.” That is a far more human, unvarnished account. The statue omits the smallpox scars and the ordinary build; it presents a flawless, heroic image. …
The photograph in Figure 7.32 shows a section of the structure called the queen’s bath, located within the royal centre of Vijayanagara. The image captures part of the ornate architecture of this building — likely a view of its exterior wall or a corner of the structure, with decorative elements such as carved pillars, projecting balconies, or intricate stonework visible. The caption identifies it as “part of a structure,” meaning the photograph does not show the entire building but a fragment that highlights its design and craftsmanship.
The queen’s bath is one of the surviving buildings in the royal centre that helps historians understand how spaces were organised and used. The ornate nature of the structure — with its elaborate carvings and careful stonework — suggests it was a place of leisure or ritual, not a utilitarian space. Its location within the royal centre implies it was part of the private, elite zone of the city, likely used by the royal household. The fact that it is called a “bath” indicates a water-related function, and the decorative treatment of the building shows that even functional spaces were invested with aesthetic and symbolic meaning. …
Figure 7.33 is a line drawing of a single sculpted pillar from the Virupaksha temple at Hampi. The pillar is carved in the typical Vijayanagara style, with a square base and a tapering, multi-faceted shaft. The illustration shows the pillar divided into horizontal bands or registers, each filled with a dense pattern of decoration.
The lowest band near the base contains a row of rearing animals — likely mythical lions or yali — with their heads turned to the side, a common motif in Vijayanagara temple architecture. Above this, a band of floral motifs runs around the pillar: stylised lotus petals and scrolling vines. The middle section of the shaft is carved with human figures in various poses — dancers, musicians, or devotees — set within arched niches or torana frames. These figures are shown in profile, with detailed headdresses and garments typical of the period. The upper portion of the pillar narrows and is decorated with repeating geometric patterns and more floral scrollwork. The very top of the pillar, where it would have supported the temple ceiling, is shown as a square capital with a simple moulding.
The drawing is labelled only with the figure number and caption; there are no arrows, labels for individual motifs, or annotations on the page. The pillar is shown in isolation, without any surrounding architectural context — no temple wall, no other pillars, no floor or ceiling. This is deliberate: the textbook uses this single pillar to focus attention on the craftsmanship and symbolic language of Vijayanagara stonework.
What this figure teaches is not about a specific historical event or person, but about the visual culture of the imperial capital. The combination of floral, animal, and human motifs on a single structural element shows how temple builders integrated multiple layers of meaning — the natural world, the divine (through mythical beasts), and the human realm — into the very fabric of the building. The pillar is both a load-bearing architectural member and a canvas for religious and royal symbolism. The fact that such a pillar survives, and is detailed enough to be drawn, tells us about the skill of the sculptors and the resources the Vijayanagara state invested in temple construction. …