Floating Bricks and Silent Stories: A Journey to Ramappa Temple
When Stone Sings and Silence Speaks: A January Road Trip to Ramappa
By Shashi Bellamkonda | January 2026
The air in Telangana hits differently in January. It’s that brief, golden window where the heat retreats, leaving behind mornings that are crisp enough to wake you up without making you shiver. We started early from Warangal, the engine humming against the quiet morning, heading toward a marvel that has stood for eight centuries.
But the road to the past was paved with the energy of the present. The entire region is currently vibrating with preparation for the Medaram Jatra. If you haven't witnessed it, it’s hard to explain the scale—it is one of the largest gatherings of people in the world, a tribal festival that honors the goddesses Sammakka and Saralamma.
Even miles away, you can feel the anticipation in the villages we passed. To truly understand the magnitude of this event, I recommend reading this piece by my friend Serish Nanisetti in The Hindu: Samakka-Saralamma Jatara: The big tribal spiritual reset. He captures the soul of this "spiritual reset" far better than a drive-by observation ever could.
The Pause: Idly, Wada, and the Art of Breakfast
No road trip in India is complete without the ritual of the breakfast stop. We pulled into the NSR Hotel about midway through the 1.5-hour journey. It’s a functional spot, but the kitchen knows its business.
The idly arrived steaming—soft, yielding, and smelling of fermented rice batter. The wada was the real star, though: a golden, crunchy exterior that shattered satisfyingly to reveal a fluffy, savory interior. We dunked them into chutney that had the sharp, clean bite of green chilies and ginger. It’s simple food, but when the roads are good and the weather is kind, a plate of dosa and idly feels like a feast.
The Engineering of the Impossible
The drive was smooth—the roads in this part of Telangana have improved significantly—and soon the reddish hues of the Ramappa Temple (also known as the Rudreshwara Temple) rose against the greenery.
This isn’t just a temple; it’s a physics problem solved by artists. Built in the 13th century under the Kakatiya dynasty, the structure is famous for something that sounds like a myth until you see the science: floating bricks.
The roof of the temple is constructed with bricks made of clay mixed with sawdust and other organic materials. They are porous and incredibly light—literally light enough to float on water. This reduces the load on the pillars and the foundation.
Speaking of the foundation, the Kakatiyas used what we now call "sandbox technology." They dug a deep pit and filled it with a mixture of sand, lime, jaggery, and black myrobalan fruit. This acts as a cushion during earthquakes, absorbing the shock waves rather than resisting them. It is why Ramappa is still standing while many of its contemporaries have crumbled into dust.
The Modern Crutch
Yet, time is a relentless weight. Despite the genius of the sandbox foundation, the earth has shifted over eight centuries. As you walk around the structure, you’ll notice modern supporting pillars installed to shore up parts of the temple that were threatened by structural fatigue.
It’s a jarring visual—the stark, utilitarian modern supports against the intricate, fluid lines of the Kakatiya sculpture. But it’s a necessary scar. It reminds you that heritage is fragile. It doesn't survive on its own; it requires our active intervention.
The Missing Voice
Here is where the experience hit a snag. Ramappa was inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2021. That label usually promises a certain standard of visitor experience. The architecture sang, but I found myself desperate for the lyrics.
There were no official tours. More critically, there were no English-speaking guides available to decode the visual language of the temple. The pillars here are carved with verses of dance—the Perini Sivatandavam—and intricate mythological tales. Without a guide, these are just pretty pictures in stone. With a guide, they become a library.
I wanted to know why the Nandi faces the way it does. I wanted to hear the legends of the sculptor, Ramappa, the only craftsman in India to have a temple named after him (rather than the king or the deity). Instead, I was left Googling on my phone in the temple courtyard.
Practical Details: The DIY Guide Hack
Until Telangana Tourism releases an official audio app, you have to be your own guide. Since internet connectivity can be spotty in Palampet, I recommend downloading these resources before you leave your hotel:
- 🎧 The "Audio" Guide: Search for "Ramappa Temple Documentary" on YouTube (there are excellent ones by independent creators). Download the video offline. When you reach the temple, put your headphones in and listen to the history as you walk. It’s the best substitute for a human guide.
- 📄 The Deep Dive: For the architecture nerds, the UNESCO World Heritage Executive Summary is available online. It explains the "sandbox technology" and floating bricks in technical detail that most signboards miss.
- Did Kakatiya rulers hold the secret to earthquake-proof buildings? Read this Indian Express story
Honest Reflection
The drive is worth it. The breakfast at NSR is worth it. Standing in the shadow of the floating brick tower is absolutely worth it. But Telangana Tourism has a gap to close. We have the world-class asset; now we need the world-class hospitality to match it.
If you go, read up before you leave. Watch the documentaries. Because when you get there, the stones will be silent, and you’ll need to bring the stories with you.
Have you visited a heritage site where the architecture blew you away, but the facilities let you down? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments.
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