From afar, the fort seems to be perched precariously on top of a strange, jagged rock formation. Only when you get closer do you realise that the formation is man-made, a result of mindless and incessant quarrying of the hillock all the way down till the base of the fort at Uddappanahalli in Kolar district, about 60 km from Bengaluru.
This is not a one-off case but the fate of several rocky hillocks all around the tech city of Bengaluru.
Visit any of the adjoining villages and towns such as Ramanagaram, Bellahalli, Bettahalasuru and Sadahalli, all of which have now been subsumed by the mega city, and you see that many hillocks have been hollowed out or have been slowly shaved away over the years — to supply building material to the ever-hungry silicon city with its unceasing construction activity and incessant population inflow.
Some of the quarrying is legal while much is illegal, and allegedly carried out with the complicity of politicians and bureaucrats.
Ironically, the formations, which are a result of human greed, are stunning spectacles in themselves. A flock of crows perched on a line strung opposite a quarry at Sadahalli or the water body that has formed in a hollow at Bettahalasuru are beautiful in a surreal way. The water in this hollow, in fact, is often a lifeline for the villages nearby. With one spell of good rain, you even see nature struggling to come back to life amidst the boulders and crevices of the rocks.
As we take photographs of the hillock and the fort at Uddappanahalli, Yusuf, a curious farmer, stops to strike a conversation with us. The fort is said to have been built by a chieftain in the 17th century.
Isn’t it a tragedy that the fort is being threatened now by all this quarrying, we ask him. He looks askance at us, and replies, “That fort was also built by big stone blocks. The stone must have come from another such hillock, right?” He then walks off with a smile.
His question made us pause and we were back to the old dilemma — when does growth become destruction?
Unkind cut: Fort and landscape look unusually vulnerable as quarrying strips a hillock at Uddappanahalli in Kolar district, 60 km from Bengaluru. The fort is believed to have been built by a local chieftain in the 17th century.
Fishing: A hollow left by quarrying has become a lifeline for villagers, who get both fish and water at Uddappanahalli in Kolar district, 60 km from Bengaluru.
Double whammy: A bio-membrane spread at a quarry-turned-dumping yard at Bellahalli to prevent leachate from seeping into the ground. The civic administration dumps garbage in these places, exposing residents first to noise and dust from the blasts and then to odour and mosquitoes.
Chiselled face: The quarry landscape looks both denuded and dramatic at Sadanahalli, near Bengaluru.
Not so placid: At Bettahalasuru, water collected in a quarry has come in handy for households and cattle, but it has come at a huge cost to the environment.
Erasing history: Quarrying goes on around ancient Jain archaeological sites about a 100 km from Bengaluru.
Written on stone: Tyre marks are proof of the heavy-duty quarrying at Sadahalli.
Stone-faced: Quarrying feeds the insatiable appetite for construction.
Shack city: The promise of a better life has brought more and more migrants to Bengaluru. At a shanty town on the garden city’s fringes.
Skyline: The rapidly growing concrete jungle has to be constantly fed with sand and stone.