Hindustan Times
Thiruvananthapuram!
I’m in deep withdrawal for Kerala. Just two days this week in Thiruvananthapuram for a National Seminar on Indian Classical Dances hosted by the Kerala government. But those two days were pure happiness because a) I was in South India, b) it was raining and ‘lastly but not leastly’ as we Indians like to say, I got to hang out at the ambalam (temple) of Sri Padmanabhaswamy in whose name Travancore was ruled by its former kings.
The British even did a 21-gun salute to the deity (the highest in the imperial hierarchy, accorded only to the rulers of erstwhiles like Mysore, Hyderabad, Baroda, Gwalior, J&K and Patiala).
The deity, Sri Padmanabhaswamy (Vishnu), is depicted in ‘Ananta-sayanam’ - reclining on the cosmic serpent Ananta. That’s how Thiruvananthapuram the city, the modern state capital of Kerala, gets its name:
Thiru (the Malayali and Tamil way of saying ‘Sri’ or ’sacred/holy’)
+ Ananta
+ Puram (city/town),
adding up to the Holy City of Ananta the Cosmic Serpent.
Sri Ananta Puram, if you insist.
‘An-anta‘ itself means Eternal - ‘un-ending’; see the Indo-European word link?
The ‘v’ between Thiru and Ananta is the ‘sandhi‘ or joining sound between two vowels, according to Sanskrit phonetics. ‘Trivandrum’ is the meaningless anglicisation of this fabulous name.
The temple is the property of the former rulers of Travancore and bang in the middle of the palace grounds, which are bang in the centrum. To get to the flight of steps above which the temple sits, you go past the big temple tank to the right, with its slat-covered ladies’ bathing ghat on the far side.
It blew my mind as it always does in South India, how temples are such a chill-zone for the citizenry. That is if you’re not bolshy about what constitutes chilling and don’t insist that the only way to chill is with a bottle while chewing on assorted dead animals. My point is that it’s possible to do both as a matter of right.
Anyhow, Kerala temples are v. bolshy about dress codes. Men have to be bare-chested and togged in mundus (dhotis) and women have to wear saris. Since I was in the salwar-kameez I’d worn for the four-hour flight from Delhi, I bought a mundu for Rs 50 at a kiosk outside and tied it like a lungi on top of my clothes, which was acceptable. You can also rent a mundu but I couldn’t handle the thought of wearing a used one and laughed at my pickiness: as if God cares. But each religious place does its own thing, so I didn’t have a problem. Anyway, I had personal stuff happening in my head for Sri Padmanabhaswamy.
Going in, the particular smell of a South Indian temple swamped me: that dear, familiar compound of malli (jasmine), tulsi, vibhooti (sacred ash), incense, lamp oil, burnt wicks, coconuts, bananas, sandalwood, ghee and samagri (offerings to the sacrificial fire). It’s a smell like no other. It’s how the house would smell in childhood after Varalakshmi Puja every August on a Friday and we’d pipe in Telugu: “Ma intiki raave, Mahalakshmi!” (Come to my house, O Goddess of Good Fortune).
A calendar image of Sri Padmanabhaswamy.
Why did a Tamil family do a Telugu number as its family ritual? South India’s like that, we’re all awash together in a tsunami of sambar.
That temple smell operates on me as powerfully as Carven’s Ma Griffe or good old Chanel No 5 which my dead-for-decades mother wore and I wear in her memory, though Ma Griffe is simply not to be found anywhere now. I know only one woman in Delhi who wore Ma Griffe, an Eastern UP Thakur married to a Sikh and I almost fainted when I realized years and years ago that she wore that particular scent.
Since Kerala is where we last lived as a proper family, it’s hallowed ground for me. I’d last been to Padmanabhaswamy with my mother as a little girl so I looked around with grateful and curious eyes, just so glad for the chance to be there again.
There was much to see and admire in carvings made of one huge block of stone and Kerala-style frescoes vivifying mytho-moments all around the walls with great drama and quite voluptuous splendour. Children put their ears to the walls at certain places where you’re supposed to hear the sound of the sea like when you hold a seashell to your ear (I did too, but couldn’t hear it, worse luck). There are three pradakshinas (concentric spaces) around the sanctum and you’re supposed to walk all three to properly conclude your visit, after the upclose darshan of the deity.
What I saw was a whole life being lived in and around Sri Padmanabhaswamy.
In one far sandy courtyard was a mandap (pavilion) where some people sat in deep meditation. Above them was the blue-grey monsoon sky (at 5 pm) and the pagoda-like silhouette of a red-tiled roof. Couples who had obviously taken a vow were sitting together murmuring from a Sanskrit prayer book. In each case, man and wife looked deeply bonded as they prayed together, the man holding the book while the wife turned the pages, as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder in that clean, open, beautiful space. College boys suddenly chancing on each other in the long stone-pillared corridors produced big smiles. Children played here and there, not hooting and hollering, but quietly, taking care not to cannon into elderly souls hobbling gamely around in triple pradakshina (you cover a whole km by the time you’re done).
Everywhere, groups of people chatted in low tones or solitary dreamers sat still watching the world wag by.
The only sound was that of Naam-kirtan by a band of Vaishnava pilgrims from Bengal who went around with cymbals singing ‘Hore Krishna, Hore Krishna‘. The local people tapped along where they sat, enjoying the pleasant sound, or stepped aside to give them space to do their thing.
On my way out down the broad flight of steps, I passed by an elderly samiyaar (sanyaasi) who sat mid-way in flaming gerua (monk’s orange), telling Hari-katha (epic stories with explanations) while people listened attentively around him.
At the foot of the steps, kiosks sold coffee, fried cashews, banana and tapioca chips, devotional cassettes, rudraksha wristbands (some, quite funky) and the usual pilgrim takeways like calendar pictures of Sri Padmanabhaswamy and of just everybody else from up in Sivalokam and Vaikuntham.
You may turn up your nose at ‘commercialisation’, but I found them quite dear and comforting. People buy those pictures to take back and keep in their puja room, to add to the god gallery already at home. It’s a keepsake for mere mortals, of having been to a kshetra. And surely these are nicer memories to keep than sad or angry ones? I counted my blessings and said bye to Sri Padmanabhaswamy with a good feeling.
I didn’t buy a picture.
But then, I knew I’d be able to tell you about it and share his picture right here.
And share this song in Malayalam composed by Maharaja Swati Thirunal (a whole, wonderful topic in himself), in Raga Neelambari, the ‘lullaby raga’ of South India.
(6 votes, average: 4.83 out of 5)
Loading ...Posted by Renuka Narayanan on Thursday, June 25, 2009 at 8:28 pm
Filed under Religion · Tagged ambalam temple, Kerala, Sri Padmanabhaswamy, Thiruvananthapuram
Forgot to add, the musician in the clip, playing Raga Neelaambari on the veena, is Rama Varma, b. 1968, of the Travancore royal family. He is a direct descendant of the great composer-king of Travancore, Maharaja Swati Thirunal and of the iconic painter, Raja Ravi Varma.
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wooow. Another amazing piece. Made me shed tears with longing for my homeland. Which i am returning to this weekend yipeeee
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Zimbly yoo are soooo lucky, I say, to be going back to the nadu. Have a great trip home, Vikram!
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wow ma’am what should we call it???
DIVINE INTERVENTION?????????
just 2 weeks ago my parents had a dekko of Kedar-Badrinath. my friend went to TIRUPATI. U WENT to KERALA. and now i’ll b going to SIDDHIBARI (HP). sure to catch up on some temples. everyone i know has had some lesson in spirituality this time.
and thanks for the meaning of Thiruvananthapuram.
i’ll b going today only with Chinmaya Mission. so see u again on 3rd.
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Sujata Anandan Reply:
June 26th, 2009 at 2:09 pm
Made me nostalgic, too, Renuka — specially when you spoke of the smells (and I could almost hear the sounds, too!). Kerala was always wonderful for me — but have always wondered if the people dress there only in whites/creams because the landscape (blue of the lagoons, red of the earth and green of the trees) is so rich while in Rajasthan they dress so colourfully because their landscape of endless desert is so bland?
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renuka Reply:
June 26th, 2009 at 7:22 pm
Have a great trip, Vidhi. Sidhbari is a real chill zone, too.
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HI, thanks, Sujata. You make a terrific point about textiles and terrain.
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What a beautiful piece of writing, Renuka!
In a strange way it is comforting to know that in our rush to meet the world we have yet the wisdom to nurture our past. It lives today, unseen perhaps, to the hurly-burly of a Mumbai day, but it lives, nonetheless.
One may not go to temples, or even pray. But I think most of us Indians have a respect for the traditions and cultural moorings. It is embedded in our DNA.
My concern is that we do not discuss and debate this in the mainstream TV or Print. Maybe it happens on TV, but I don’t watch, so I don’t know. For some years we were deeply apologetic for being Indian. We seem to be shedding that now. But we still seem hesitant to discuss the place of traditions and culture in the present lifestyle.
Am I being too critical?
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Hi Partho, thanks. Not critical at all, it’s the baggage we’re trying to sort. DNA is right. I feel we tried to throw away tradition but it isn’t going anywhere, it comes back to bite us if we don’t use it and tame it to our present needs.
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Hi renuka di,
Thanks for the nice post.
I went to The Sri padmanabha temple with my father about 2 yrs ago when I was in Thiruananthpuram for my first job.My grandmom had reminded us to go there at least once.
It was an amazing experience. They tied mundu on top of my jeans…
Temples fascinate me..
Thanks ..
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renuka Reply:
July 6th, 2009 at 11:25 pm
Hi Snigdha, glad u had a good time there! Mindu on jeans just about sums it up
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Dear Renuka,
Hi So glad you went to my marital town and glad you got darshan of the Lord. Did you also see the Gopalakrishnan temple within the main temple, when you do a pradakshina of that kshetram you can see the entire Krishna Leela in frescoes. I always point them out to my little ones who love Krishna’s Bal Leela.
Renuka do you also know that on the platform from where you can take darshan of Lord Padmanabha you cannot do Shashtang Namaskar or else you have to pay fine . The Idhikam is that whoever prostrates there becomes the Lord’s Dasa. Only the Raja can prostrate there and therefore all Travancore Maharajas call themselves Padmanabha Dasa. How poetic, to be the Lord’s servant.There are two other famous temples also the Pazhvangadi Temple for Lord Ganapati where people hurl coconuts at a stone as offering. Then there is Attukal Bhagvathy (Devi) temple. The Annual Pongala is very famous. You have rows of people making Rice boil over in an earthen pot. The offering to the Bhagvathy is bursting crackers called Vedi Vekkal.
I always go in summer (kids vacation) so I am never in time for any dance/music festival. It is ages since I wanted to see a Kathakali recital. Was your dance festival good ?
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renuka Reply:
July 6th, 2009 at 11:27 pm
The dance was at Natana Gramam to celebrate the centenary of Guru Gopinath, who simplified Kathakali, etc into ‘Kerala Natanam’. A very interesting experience, at the Swati Thirunal College of Music by day at a seminar on classical dance.
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Very nice and informative writeup…. I didn’t know anything about the temple of Sri Padmanabhaswamy… Very nice to read your captivating description too.. Thanks a lot for sharing this piece, and the pictures were also very nice! This is a perfect blog.
There is a video link too! So we get an experience…
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renuka Reply:
July 6th, 2009 at 11:27 pm
Rahul, thank you, you overwhelm me…so happy you shared my ‘trip’…
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Great description, Renuka. Temple towns that double as state capitals are so convenient - direct flights and so on, so the hardship factor is zilch, unlike when you struggle through unfamiliar terrain or language barriers to catch a glimpse of the Lord. I loved your sights, smells and sounds fiesta and I absolutely endorse your temple street (’Koil Street’) experience. The last time I did that was in the Vishwanath Gali in Benaras - brought back an assortment of holy threads, puja powders, puja pothis or shloka booklets and such like. And the few hours I spend in the streets outside Kapaleeshwarar in Madras last me several years…so I understand, my dear fellow pilgrim.
I second K. Rahul’s view above, that this is a perfect blog. Why not take up Latha’s suggestion above and catch a Kathakali recital for us on film and in prose - in your unique style ! Does your blog-boss permit you to write sequels to much-loved stories ? And if you are the blog-boss herself, why dither ?
Waiting for your next….
Raji
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I am speechless. Kathakali…I need my friend Sudha Gopalakrishnan to help me translate those mudras…but wait till you see Kudiyattam…it’ll blow your socks off! I get stoned on those mizhaavu drums, that light from the oil lamp, that slow, delicious build-up…it’s like deep meditation to watch Kutiyattam and Kathakali…the most powerful theatre-dance forms in the world and I’ve seen enough to hold this opinion, it’s not knee-jerk ‘nationalism’…
my request to you all is to not miss the chance to see Kudiyattam…I don’t understand many of those arcane mudras myself, so I just switch off and surrender to the experience…i let it take me along …and boy, is it like a spa for the mind, that 2,500 year old living theatre…Ammanur Madhava Chakyar as Ravana in ‘Ashokavanapravesham’…mindblowing memory.
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Hey, you ever eat those bright yellow sweet banana pakodas and those kachha kela pakodas and masaal-vadais on the roads at T’puram, at the dhabas? Too good, no? I ate them with real hunger.
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snigdha Reply:
July 7th, 2009 at 5:06 pm
Hi renuka di,
I have eaten kachha kela pakoras on trains for thiruananthpuram,..but not at the dhabas….
They were quite good. Before that, i had never thought of a kachha kel apakora…
Thanks…
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Dear Renuka,
Talking of Kudiyattam, there is something else called Chakayar Kuthu, I have seen this at the Matunga Ahobila Mutt Temple. In fact it it there I saw Kathakali also. During Ramanavami we would get to see different performances. Now at Thane, there is no such activity. Chakayar Kuthu is a satirical comedy, the Chakyar comments on local issues , sometimes he may also pull up someone from the audience. Culturally Kerala is much better than Tamilnadu. They have College festivals and the talent is to be seen to be believed. Some of the top Malayalam film actors have been University champions inluding Vineet, who is a great Bharata Natyam dancer. Shobhana is another beautiful dancer.
Then as far as percussion instruments is concerned there is a mind boggling variety. During the festivals they have Panchavadyam,Thayambakyam. I had a cassette which I used to play for my little fellow when he was two he loved the sound.
Kalaripayattu is another beautiful martial arts of Kerala. Thacholi Othenan is a beautiful story I read in Amar Chitra Katha. I think my love affair with Kerala started when I was little, in my college days Mammooty and Mohanlal with their bushy mustaches and macho images were my favourites. And if you have not seen Malayalam movies you have not seen anything. For classical music, for simple stories with touch you this it. It is unfortunate, the Malayalam film industry does not release its movies with sub-titles. Only you have Priyadarshan remaking them, and somehow they don’t work. And the humour in the movies are so intelligent and clean unlike Hindi or Tamil. Tamil is awful. Thanks to my husband, we watch only Mallu movies much to the irritation of my little ones, though my older one now understands he obviously enjoys the humour.
I could write reams on Kerala - Gods own Country. Though ofcourse the State has a kala daag in the form of the Left. They strike at the drop of a hat, and they are so lazy. The auto drivers are so bad, at five in the evening they will charge you double because they cannot get return fare. The shopkeepers are so rude, unlike Mumbai where they will make you buy something. Here they behave as if they are doing you a favour by showing their wares.
Jahan kuch achha hai wahan kuch burra hona jaroori
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Dear Renuka,
I just saw your link on Neelambari. Omana Thingal Kidavo the lullaby song written by Swati Thirunal’s mother and song to him was another link on this. It took me back to the early days of singing to my oldest and the little one. I used to sing it (I learnt from my father I am an ignoramus as far as classical music is concerned) to Siddu to make him sleep. In the early days of his birth he would cry the entire night and at 1 and 2 in the night I would start with Omana Thingal, then all kinds of songs. It became a habit for him , when the Kaushik was born I would be feeding the second one and singing to the older one. These moments of motherhood are so divine but this is rare nowadays most of the time I am tearing my hair trying to get some order in the house. But that is another story altogether.
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oops the kaushik. My grammar teacher would cane me
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A teeny weeny correction — the temple is not “bang in the middle of the palace grounds”. There are a number of palaces around the temple and many them are still owned by the erstwhile royal family of Travancore; some are owned by the government. But ‘the palace’ where the royal family still lives is the Kowdiar Palace, which is located several kilometers north of the temple.
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thanks ma’am 4 everything
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Nice to read something good about my hometown, Thanks a lot, did u visit kuthiramalika ? The palace in front of the temple where the musician king ‘Swati Thirunal’ resided?
All the best for your new assignment, I was also with HT, and quit to work, as a Babu!
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Hi Renuka,
I had once visited the Kanchipuram Kamakshi temple, which said that men in lungis are not allowed. Yet in T’puram you have to wear a mundu/lungi to enter the temple. Are rules different for different temples? As I hail from the north, am eager to know!!
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after such wonderful insights… it’s sad to know you would no longer be writing so frequently… for maybe over the last 2 years when I started subscribing to the HT in Bombay, I decided no other paper was giving me so much intellectual insights into India that HT was, and the icing was your column and Sujata’s political coverage.
Saturdays and Wednesdays were made for me…
then when HT blogs started, Google reader used to pull up one or the other article of yours…
even though i had to stop HT print in between for a couple of months, I didn’t miss the web edition.
now google reader will have one less but important feed… to feed me with.
now that you move on to that land of Buddhist and other practices, I hope you shall find AND share the deeper and more varied insightful connections of religion, traditions and modern times.
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