Jan 2 – 4, 2011: South India is known for its temples, and according to the guidebooks, its people are known for their devotion to their gods. I can attest to the magnificence of the temples, but not that south Indians are any more religious than northerners. It is true that the temples weren’t short of people patiently waiting to pray, but I had no way of knowing where they were from, and I still remembered the crushing crowds in Kolkata’s Kali temple during Durga Puja.
Sri Ranganathaswamy temple, including the golden roof of the main shrine
Anyway, I was in Tamil Nadu to see temples, and after my New Year’s Eve diversion in Chettinad I was back on the trail, being driven past flooded fields to Trichy. Sorry, Tiruchirappalli. Really, I have no objection to the Indians erasing the colonial names of their cities, and am careful to write Kolkata and Mumbai, but did they have to come up with so many jaw breakers? And about those floods – not normal for the time of year. Hundreds had died and thousands been made homeless by unusually severe weather.
A flower picture underway inside Sri Ranganathaswamy
After checking in and eating lunch in Trichy I headed right out to visit the Sri Ranganathaswamy temple, which Lonely Planet said would “knock [my] socks off”. Sorry, Lonely Planet, but Madurai’s Sri Meenakshi Amman had already done that, and Trichy’s temple didn’t quite measure up. It may have been a bit bigger, but its soaring gopuras boasted fewer figures and less paint, and I missed the tank whose stepped walls had provided seating with a view in Madurai. Besides being quieter, the much smaller Sri Jambukeshwara temple I visited the next day also included some excellent carving.
Souvenir stall outside Sri Ranganathaswamy
Of course, there’s more to the temples than impressive buildings and intricate carving – they are a kaleidoscope of color and scents, inside and out. Stalls selling souvenirs and garlands line the entryways. In Madurai there was even a whole section inside devoted to stalls. There’s often a temple elephant, a big draw for the kids. Here you find a small group conducting a private ceremony, there a statue swathed in cloth of gold. The great cathedrals of Europe must have hummed with life like this when the pilgrims arrived – some still do (think Santiago, Fatima, Lourdes) but not with the same intensity of color.
Statue outside Sri Ranganathaswamy
When I started booking hotels for India back in August I drew a complete blank for Trichy and neighboring Thanjavur (formerly Tanjore), but when I tried again in early December I found a good price for the Grand Gardenia in Trichy. Although rather out of the center, its halal restaurant seemed a big hit with the locals, and I appreciated the spicy Chettinad cuisine after the rather bland fare at the Bangala. I also appreciated my comfortable room.
The temple elephant at Thanjavur
Because of the hotel problems I hadn’t scheduled a stop in Thanjavur, but I arranged a car and driver for the trip onto Puducherry so that I could stop off and visit the Brihadishwara temple. Wow! A thousand years old, without the paint of the newer temples, and drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see how the later temples evolved from this one, but I thought the older carving much finer. It also reminded me of the Champa carvings in southeast Asia – not surprising given the trading links.
The main shrine at Thanjavur
If you have to choose between Trichy and Thanjavur, go to Thanjavur, not least because for once non-Hindus are allowed in the inner sanctuary. This is apparently because the rajah of Tanjore decreed that “Harijans” (Dalits, “untouchables”) would be allowed in back in 1939, and foreigners counted as untouchables. A plaque on the wall records both the event and Gandhi’s appreciative comment. Sadly, even though this aspect of the caste system was outlawed in 1950, it’s still an issue. I had just read an article in the local paper about access for untouchables to one of the smaller temples in Trichy.
In Thanjuvar lots of people wanted photos - theirs and mine!
I had thought about stopping at yet another temple, Nataraja in Chidambaram, but after Thanjuvar the skies darkened ominously, and we drove into the town through driving rain. I felt sorry for the people we passed in the countryside, who disappeared indoors or huddled under awnings. Although the rain stopped while I ate lunch, the temple wouldn’t open for another hour or so, and I wasn’t wild about walking around in the floods in bare feet. I chose to keep going. Perhaps I’d seen enough temples for one trip.
Thanjuvar, detail
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