A place in India that doesn’t feel like India. A paradise where the sky meets breathtaking rock formations, shaped by time itself. Yes, I am talking about the Grand Canyon of India—Gandikota.
The Unplanned Adventure Begins
Back in 2019, when I was working at ArchitectureRED in Chennai, I found myself craving an escape. A break from the daily grind, a journey with no fixed plan. I picked up my phone, called my friend Ullas, and asked him to join me. Without a second thought, he was at Chennai’s CMBT bus stand in Koyambedu, ready for the unknown.
We had no destination in mind, just 1.5 days before we had to be back by Sunday evening. With limited time and an even tighter budget, we ditched the idea of accommodation altogether, choosing to travel through the night on buses instead.
As we scrolled through Google, looking for places that could be reached overnight, two names caught our attention, Belum Caves and Gandikota. This blog is about Gandikota, a place that left an imprint on me like no other.
The Struggles of Getting There
The journey was far from smooth. Multiple times, we found ourselves stranded in rural Andhra Pradesh, waiting for buses that never came. The vast Deccan Plateau stretched endlessly before us as we made our way to Kadapa, a town known for its Kadapa stone, a material widely used in South Indian architecture. As an architect, I was eager to see the famous Kadapa stone quarries in their raw, untouched form.
From Kadapa, our next stop was Jammalamadugu, a small town near Gandikota Fort. We expected to find a direct bus to Gandikota, but to our disappointment, there was just one bus per day, and it had already left.
Hiring an auto was an option, but at ₹900 for a round trip, it was too expensive for our budget. A few inquiries later, we found a cheaper alternative—taking a bus to Kondapuram and then switching to another bus from there.
The Rural Experience
The one-hour journey to Kondapuram was an adventure in itself. The town felt eerily quiet, with more goats and cows than humans. The bus stand was occupied by goats, lazily chewing on torn political posters.
We approached a local barber for directions, but he spoke neither English, Tamil, nor Hindi. Somehow, through gestures and broken words, we managed to communicate. He made a call, and within minutes, a rickshaw driver arrived, agreeing to take us to Gandikota for ₹300. A bit steep, but with time running out, we had no choice.
As we rode through the plateau, the landscape subtly shifted. The rickshaw driver, much to our frustration, kept picking up random passengers, turning our private ride into a shared one. But we let it slide. Our goal was simple—reach Gandikota before sunset.
Along the way, we saw shepherds herding their flocks, their silhouettes merging with the golden glow of the setting sun. It was a sight straight out of a painting, a fleeting yet unforgettable moment of life in the Deccan.
Exploring Gandikota Fort Before Sunset
Ullas, impatient as ever, wanted to rush straight to the canyon, but I had other plans. As a history buff, I insisted on exploring the fort first.
Dating back to the 16th century, Gandikota Fort was originally built by the Deccan Sultanates, but its history is layered with influences from the Kakatiyas, Kalyani Chalukyas, and Vijayanagara Empire. The Pennar River, which carved the canyon over centuries, made this region a strategic stronghold for these powerful dynasties.
We entered the fort and wandered through its massive stone walls, passing ancient relics of forgotten empires. Our first stop was the Madhavaraya Temple—a structure that left me with more questions than answers.
Why build such a grand temple in the middle of nowhere? Was this once a thriving settlement? Did the Deccan Sultanates destroy the temple during their siege of the Vijayanagara Empire? We could only wonder.
The gopuram still stood tall, though time had reduced parts of the temple to ruins. The intricate Vijayanagara-style pillars, adorned with carvings of mythological demons and celestial beings, stood as silent witnesses to an era long gone.
Moving forward, we came across old barracks and a prison once used by the Deccan Sultanates. Their architecture reminded me of Golconda Fort, another marvel of that time. A lone cow grazed along the path leading to the mosque, a stark contrast to the soldiers who once guarded this fortress.
But time was slipping away. The canyon awaited.
Witnessing the Grand Canyon of India
Finally, we rushed towards the canyon, and the moment we laid eyes on it, everything else faded away.
All the delays, dust, exhaustion—none of it mattered anymore.
The wind howled through the Deccan, carrying whispers of the past as we perched on the edge of the canyon, staring in awe. The Pennar River, though reduced to a trickle, had carved this majestic gorge over thousands of years. The towering cliffs, deep ravines, and vast rock formations created a sight so surreal, it felt like another world.
We sat there, saying nothing. Just absorbing the raw beauty of Gandikota.
In that moment, I realized—not coming here would have been a mistake.
Leaving with Memories
The sun dipped below the horizon, and a silvery moon took its place. By now, the place was empty. Everyone else had left. With no light pollution, the sky exploded with stars, a view no city could ever offer.
Reluctantly, we walked back to our waiting rickshaw, which took us to Jammalamadugu. The ride back was quiet—not because we were tired, but because we were still lost in the magic of what we had just witnessed.
Gandikota had given us memories to last a lifetime.
Final Thoughts
Gandikota isn’t just about the Grand Canyon of India—it’s about history, adventure, and the unexpected. If you ever plan to visit, be prepared for a journey that’s as thrilling as the destination itself.
A journey during my days at ArchitectureRED in Chennai, but an experience that remains timeless.
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