Some time ago, I stumbled upon an itinerary scribbled in my late father’s writing. An unfulfilled promise to visit the ancient Shiva temple of Thanjavur in South India. Four years later, I sat at my desk with eyes welling up as I held his map in my hands – a hymn to the magic of exploration. I picked up the phone and asked my mother if she wanted to travel with me in memory of this explorer we both loved.
Reading about Thanjavur, formerly Tanjore, is the next best thing to actually travelling there. Built by Raja Raja I of the Chola dynasty more than 1000 years ago, the Great Temple is a monument of Dravidian architecture that stands on the banks of the Kaveri river. A symbol of the great glory of the Chola period and their devotion to Shiva, this Tamil sanctuary has a majestic scale with a height of 216 feet and is said to be outstanding in its mathematical precision. George Michell and Indra Viswanathan Peterson write that while granite was used for the building of the temple, a colossal quantity had to be brought from a considerable distance either by bullock carts, elephants, or by ingeniously floating large blocks on specially built boats downstream from a distant quarry. Thanjavur drew artists into its fold due to the overwhelming royal patronage of the arts, that continued to flourish right until annexation by the British. Chakravarthy writes that the Brihadishvara temple had at least fifty singers and four hundred dancers, accompanied by musicians, tailors and architects. Devadasis, women and men dedicated to temple worship through classical Indian dance traditions, offered recitals at temples across India from as early as the 6th century CE. Devadasis in Thanjavur developed a system of music and dance that soared during temple festivals.
On a blistering hot June morning, Amma and I arrived at Egmore Station in Chennai at 6:30 am to board the Cholan Express, an 8-hour train ride to Thanjavur. We visited the Great Temple at sunset with purple sky and fuschia cloud blooms painting the horizon. Wicker baskets heaving with jasmine, rose, frangipani, and marigold coils spill a dizzy chorus of fragrance, as we stood intoxicated in the magnificence of the temple. Carved with powerful imagery, the temple was built to represent the sacred Mount Meru with hallways and spires covered with ancient stories on granite, taking the form of a visual anthology. The courtyard allows for untethered exaltation as we pass guardian deities to shrines dedicated to Goddess Brihannayaki and to Ganesha. Sacred mantras and rituals called to us and yet we spun in our own rhythm, slow as moonstone beads on a mala, round and round the heels of quiet bliss.
Amma and I went back to the temple again and again over the next few days, moved to silence and filled with gratitude. While the sheer scale of this temple nourished our parched senses, I was struck by the elegant simplicity of the space, with minimalist sculptures that lead you back to yourself. I thought back to parts of A.K. Ramanujan’s translation of an old poem by Basavanna:
The rich will make temples for Siva.
What shall I,
a poor man,
do?
My legs are pillars,
the body the shrine,
the head a cupola
of gold.
Listen, O lord of the meeting rivers,
things standing shall fall,
but the moving ever shall stay.
These words awakening an understanding that while we may not have access to powerful riches or glorious temples in our daily lives, we do have access to building a living temple of the self. The poem declares that we are all living temples filled with the cosmic dance of existence, so why not commune with our true nature wherever we are? And yet how do we make time for a balanced life amidst an ocean of daily noise? My own deep struggles of work versus creative life is emblematic of this daily art of negotiating space.
As a cure for lives filled with distraction, I am learning the value of daily inward reflections to find the spirit’s compass wherever I am. Whether I find pebbles of doubt or clouds of peace, I am learning that intentionally slowing time can allow new ways of seeing oneself. While I may or may not have the chance to travel this way with my Amma again, I will savour these moments as I journey in quiet contemplation to myself. In walking, in cooking, in gardening, in play, in service, in love, and in loneliness, perhaps we can all summon and gaze upon our inner sanctums with kindness each day.
Anonymous. (1973). Speaking of Siva. (Ramanujan, A.K., Trans.). London: Penguin Random House. (No date for original work written in the 12 century)
Chakravarthy, P. (2010). Thanjavur: A Cultural History. New Delhi: Niyogi Books.
Mitchell, G. & Viswanathan Peterson, I. (2010). The Great Temple At Thanjavur: One Thousand Years, 1010-2010. Mumbai: The Marg Foundation.