Temple Imagery from Early Mediaeval Peninsular India 1409430294, 9781409430292

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temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india Analysing the ways in which ideas of heroic discourse and the socio-religious and political needs of the period moulded iconography, this book explores the evolution of the iconography of the early mediaeval Hindu temples of the Indian peninsula, over the course of the sixth to twelfth centuries C.E. In order to study the socio-religious and political atmosphere in which the early mediaeval temple iconography grew and developed its specific forms, the author makes use of the inscriptions, archaeological and the literary materials ranging from the fourth centuries B.C.E. to the thirteenth century C.E., as these give an idea of the continuities and discontinuities in the ideas of heroic and political discourses which lie at the back of the visual art forms that they created. Of particular interest are the royal charters, issued in Sanskrit and Tamil, the religious narratives from the Sanskrit epics and the Purāṇas, iconographic canons that form a part of the religious texts known as the Āgamas, written in Sanskrit, the court literature of the early mediaeval period and the early historical Sangam Tamil literature, apart from the archaeological material from the Indian peninsula. The author focuses particularly on exploring the ideas of power current in the society that created the narrative iconography of the period and the region studied. Archana Verma has been a Visiting Fellow at the Institute of Archaeology, University College London, UK and a Fellow at the Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Simla. She researches and teaches on various aspects of South Asian Art History and Cultural Studies.

To my grandparents who sacrificed all they had to free India and To my late father who waited patiently to see this work being completed while fighting against illness

Temple Imagery from Early Mediaeval Peninsular India Archana Verma

Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Simla

First published 2012 by Ashgate Publishing Published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Sq uare, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright © 2012 Archana Verma Archana Verma has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Verma, Archana. Temple imagery from early mediaeval Peninsular India. 1. Hindu decoration and ornament – India – History – To 1500. 2. Hindu temples – India – History – To 1500. 3. Art and literature – India – History – To 1500. 4. Art and society – India – History – To 1500. I. Title 704.9'48945'0954–dc22 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Verma, Archana. Temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular India / Archana Verma. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4094-3029-2 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Hindu art – India. 2. Art, Medieval – India. 3. Hindu temples – India. 4. Hindu symbolism. I. Title. N8195.I4V47 2011 704.9'4894509540902–dc22  ISBN 9781409430292 (hbk)

2011008622

Contents

List of figures Acknowledgements Introduction

vii xi 1

1

Changing perceptions of divine power: the evolution of religious idiom in peninsular India

13

2

Puranic pantheons and their iconography (AD 600–1200)

59

3

Heroic discourse: concepts and images in literature and iconography (early historical and early mediaeval periods)

213

4

Imaging royal power in visual and verbal narratives

233

5

Pantheons of power – the iconographic programme in royal temples

251

Reflections

273

Glossary Bibliography Index

279 285 297

List of figures

The Publisher acknowledges that certain figures are not of perfect quality, but this was the best that could be achieved considering the age and quality of the original photographs, and the infeasibility of returning to the site of the originals to rephotograph them. Note: Photographs for Nos 1, 6, 9, 19, 32, 45, 48, 55, 56, 61, 110, 111, 112 and 113 were graciously supplied by Prof. R. Champakalakshmi for publication. All other photographs were taken by the author. 1 Śayana Viṣṇu, Mahabalipuram

15 Viṣṇu, Kalugumalai

2 Seven horses carved on a ‘linga’ pedestal

16 Viṣṇu, Gangaikondacolapuram

3 Andhakavadhamūrti, Ellora

17 Viṣṇu, Singavaram 18 Varāha, Mahabalipuram

4 Fight between Jaṭ āyu and Rāvaṇa, Kailāśa, Ellora

19 Varāha Tiruvellarai

5 Rāvaṇānugraha, Ellora

20 Varāha, Badami

6 Viṣṇu, Mahabalipuram 7 Viṣṇu, Tiruvottiyur 8 Viṣṇu on the lower tier, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

21 Varāha, Namakkal 22 Varāha, Pattadakkal 23 Varāha, Aihole 24 Varāha, Aihole

9 Viṣṇu, Gangaikondacolapuram

25 Varāha, Ellora

10 Viṣṇu, Aihole

26 Varāha, Gangaikondacolapuram

11 Viṣṇu, Aihole

27 Trivikrama, Mahabalipuram

12 Viṣṇu, Badami

28 Trivikrama, Namakkal

13 Viṣṇu, Pattadakkal

29 Trivikrama, Badami

14 Viṣṇu, Namakkal

30 Trivikrama, Badami

viii temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

31 Trivikrama, Pattadakkal 32 Narasimha, Tiruvellarai 33 Narasimha, Kuram 34 Narasimha, Aihole 35 Narasimha, Namakkal 36 Narasimha, Tiruparankunram 37 Narasimha, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram 38 Narasimha, Kailasa, Ellora 39 Narasimha, Cave 15, Ellora 40 Śarabhamūrti, Darasuram

57 Gangādharamūrti, Lalitankura Cave, Tiruchirapalli 58 Gangādharamūrti, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur 59 Gangādharamūrti, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram 60 Gangādharamūrti, Matangesvara Temple, Kanchipuram 61 Gangādharamūrti, Ugrakaliamman Temple, Tanjavur 62 Gangādharamūrti, Gangaikondacolapuram 63 Gangādharamūrti, Melakkadambur

41 Lingodbhava Gangaikondacolapuram

64 Gangādharamūrti, Aihole

42 Lingodbhava, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

65 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

43 Kārttikeya Ellora Ramesvara

66 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

44 Kārttikeya, Ellora 45 Somāskanda, Mahabalipuram 46 Somāskanda, Kanchi

67 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

47 Somāskanda, Kanchi

68 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

48 Somāskanda Periyavanmani

69 Tripurāntaka, Kailasa, Ellora

49 Somāskanda/Thyagaraja, Pattisvaram

70 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier, Valisvara Temple, Tiruvalisvaram

50 Skanda, Kilaiyur

71 Tripurāntaka figures on the second tier, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

51 Skanda, Gangaikondacolapuram 52 Kārttikeya with Vallī and Devasenā, Tiruvenkatu 53 Kārttikeya, Tiruchatturai 54 Gangādharamūrti, Aihole 55 Gangādharamūrti, Lalitankura Cave, Mahabalipuram 56 Gangādharamūrti, Mahabalipuram

72 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier of Gangaikondacolapuram 73 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier of Kampaharesvaram, Tribhuvanam 74 Tripurāntaka, Kodambalur 75 Tripurāntaka bronze, Mayavaram 76 Tripurāntaka bronze, Jambuvanodai

Figures

77 Dancing Śiva, Aihole

98  Naṭ arāja, Madras

78 Dancing Śiva, Badami

99  Naṭ arāja bronze, Tanjavur

79 Dancing Śiva, Ellora

100 Naṭ arāja bronze, Tanjavur

80 Dancing Śiva, Ellora

101 Naṭ arāja bronze, Tanjavur

81 Dancing Śiva, Hucchcchimalli Gudi, Candrasala, Aihole

102 Naṭ arāja bronze, Tanjavur

82 Dancing Śiva, Konti Gudi, Pillar, Aihole 83 Dancing Śiva, Papanatha Temple, Pattadakkal, Aihole

ix

103 Naṭ arāja, Siyamangalam 104 Naṭ arāja, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur 105 Naṭ arāja, Gangaikondacolapuram

84 Dancing Śiva, bronze, Kuram

106 Naṭ arāja, Gangaikondacolapuram, upper tier

85 Dancing Śiva, Olakkanesvara Temple, Mahabalipuram

107 Bhṛngī in Naṭ arāja pose, Gangaikondacolapuram, upper tier

86 Dancing Śiva, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

108 Bhṛngī in Naṭ arāja pose, Gangaikondacolapuram

87 Lalāṭ atilakam, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

109 Bhṛngī in Naṭ arāja pose, Jvaraharesvara Temple, Tiruvarur

88 Dancing Gajāntaka Śiva, Tanjavur

110 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

89 Lalāṭ atilakam, Matangesvara Temple, Kanchipuram 90 Lalāṭ atilakam, Airavatesvara Temple, Kanchipuram 91 Lalāṭ atilakam, Tribhuvanam

111 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotees, Mahabalipuram 112 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

92 Lalāṭ atilakam, Chidambaram

113 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

93 Woman dancer in Lalāṭ atilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

114 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Pattadakkal

94 Woman dancer in Lalāṭ atilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

115 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Singavaram

95 Woman dancer in Lalāṭ atilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

116 The Goddess, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

96 Woman dancer in Lalāṭ atilakam pose, Darasuram

117 The Goddess, Mahabalipuram

97 Woman dancer in Lalāṭ atilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

118 The Goddess, Mahabalipuram 119 The Goddess, Tanjavur

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temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

120 The Goddess, Gangaikondacolapuram 121 The Goddess, Aihole

129 Varāhalāñchana, Aihole 130 Gangāvataraṇa, Mahabalipuram

122 The Goddess, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

131 Śiva’s hand in varada mudrā without Brahmā’s head, Gangāvataraṇa, Mahabalipuram

123 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Saluvanakuppam

132 Caṇḍeśānugraha, Gangaikondacolapuram

124 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Mahabalipuram

133 Thyāgarāja Shrine, Tiruvarur

125 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Pattadakkal 126 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Ellora 127 Rāvaṇānugraha, Pattadakkal 128 The Goddess with various narratives including the Rāvaṇānugraha, Darasuram

134 Chariot shaped maṇḍapa, Darasuram 135 Chariot shaped maṇḍapa, Tribhuvanam

Acknowledgments

I am deeply indebted to the following for their support: The Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Simla, for supporting this work with a Fellowship and other infrastructure so that it could be completed without any problem. Prof. Peter Ronald de Souza, Director, IIAS, Simla, for all the kindly help he extended to me which went beyond the call of his duty. Prof. R. Champakalakshmi, for supervising the research that has finally emerged as this monograph in its present form, and also for providing me with some of the illustrations used in this work. The École Française de Extrême Orient, Pondicherry for allowing me access to its resources, and also for providing me with some illustrations. The faculty of the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi for providing all kinds of guidance and support whenever I needed it. The staff of various institutions and libraries that I visited during this research. All the staff of the IIAS and JNU who worked diligently and well beyond their call of duty during my research. All my friends and family who gave me support when this work was being completed. Sanjay, Photocopier, JNU for all typing, printing, binding and copying jobs. Ashgate Publishing and especially to Erika Gaffney for publishing this work efficiently and on time. IIAS, Simla December 2011

Introduction

Reading the implicit language transmitted from a work of art is a trend which has been extensively used by the art critics of the West. In the context of the art of India, this trend is still in a nascent stage. This concept involves not only deciphering the symbolic communication that is emitted by a work of art, but it also requires decoding the hierarchical equations in the society, the identification of the processes of assimilation, accommodation, and transformation of various cultural undercurrents. It also requires the recognition of the new meanings which such a transformation acquires and disseminates to the audience – all these are phenomena that construct the work of art under study. Essentially this implies that the interest of the researcher is not only in unravelling the nature and the context of the production of an art object, but also in identifying the ideas which are being disseminated from that art-object – often in a latent form. These ideas often reflect underlying social and political equations of dominance and subjugation. In this sense, a work of art is a narrative and a text. The visual text disseminates ideas through the relative arrangements of its visual components. Apart from this the visual text often accommodates the messages from the texts of other media: for example, literary and oral narratives may influence the making of the visual narrative. In that case, the ideas of social equations which form these narratives also become a part of the visual text and the visual text becomes a disseminator of these ideas to the audience in visual form. Also, the visual text becomes a convergence ground for the socio-cultural belief systems of the past and present. A work of art then, acts as both a receptor and a transmitter of messages. It is constructed by and it constructs our cultural and political perceptions. The foregoing passages encapsulate the concepts which form an integral part of the present research-work. The Brahmanical narrative art of early mediaeval Peninsular India, as indeed all temple art of early mediaeval India, was created under royal patronage to popularise the Brahmanical temple religion based on the Agamic rituals and the Puranic concept of a personal god who delivered the devotee from the sufferings of the Kali Age. Peninsular India is chosen here because this region has an unbroken tradition of

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temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

profusely carved Brahmanical temples from the sixth and seventh centuries AD onwards. Besides, South India also has an extant Tamil textual tradition (represented by the sangam literature and post-sangam epics), that provides evidence of socio-cultural continuities in the development of early mediaeval temple iconography. The visual narratives of the early mediaeval period draw their political allegory largely from the Sanskrit praśastis and Tamil verses of the Tamil and Sanskrit epigraphs, besides other literary texts from this region. Peninsular India offers a wide scope and a better perspective for a holistic approach to the transmission of ideas from the text of one medium (i.e. inscriptions) to the text of another medium (i.e. art) across time and space. The messages from the epigraphical material, when combined with the messages from the visual text, show that there was a symbolic parallel created between the image of the deity and the image of the royal patron. This symbolism was latently transmitted and was only psychologically perceived in the beginning of the early mediaeval period and became more explicit in the subsequent periods. An enquiry into this aspect of communication of ideas through visual narrative is a major concern in the present work. An attempt is also made to show that this symbolic parallel existed not only in iconography but also in the cosmic symbolism of the temple, in literary texts, and to some extent in the early historical Tamil literature. Political processes – particularly the changing nature of kingship, acculturation and assimilation leading to expanding religious organisation – were all instrumental in the creation of the visual narrative. An important feature of this process was the definition of woman as a metaphor for territorial control and ‘universal’ sovereignty. This feature had its precedents even in the early historical period, and the sacred iconography of the early mediaeval period extensively used this idea to present the imageries of sovereignty. This work explores this particular aspect in considerable detail. At this point, it would be in order to explain some of the terms which are used in this work. It has been said earlier that a work of art transmits ideas of dominance, subjugation, assimilation, and transformation to the audience. Hence it is a narrative. In the present work the images that are the focus of study are termed as ‘narratives’ for an additional reason. A large number of these images are carved in the form of sculptural panels based on Puranic and Tamil legends. They narrate, visually, a portion of the literary legend to the observer. At the same time they carry within them assimilative socio-religious currents and messages of political authority. The iconic images which are derived from these legends also carry within them the narrative details on which they are based. Hence the icons are as much a part of the narrative tradition – visual, literary and oral as the narrative panels. In this sense the definition of narrative art has been enlarged here. The term ‘narrative art’ in this work includes visual (including iconic), verbal (epigraphical) and literary forms of narrative art, not just the sculptural panels. The visual narratives studied here draw their ideas from the literary texts; they assimilate and transform them and often present them in a redefined version.

introduction

3

In this sense they are texts in visual form. The term ‘text’ in this work includes oral and visual media apart from the literary/epigraphical ones. As said earlier, this work uses iconic images as part of the visual narrative. A sculpture is an image because it is based on some legend or because it reflects the persona of some religious/political figure. However, an image becomes an icon when it is worshipped, placed on a pedestal, glorified, and adored. Hence the composite image of Thyāgarāja going on a procession in a chariot is an icon not only because it represents a divine family, but also because the procession imparts to it a majestic aura adored by the audience participating in the festival. The allegoric parallel that it draws with the royal patron creates a symbolic iconic image of the ruler in the popular psyche. The term ‘icon’ encompasses all these meanings. The study of iconology hence is a study of not only the evolution of images, but also of the iconisation process, that is the process which makes an image an ‘icon.’ Understanding this iconisation process involves a study of the social and religious processes that contribute towards the making of the icon, the political atmosphere in which the icon evolves, the ways in which it uses the existing ideas of dominance and control, and the legitimising devices it uses for the purpose as well as an understanding of the forms in which the iconisation process is expressed. These are some of the themes along which the chapters of this work are organised. These are also the features that show the relevance of this study. For the way in which the iconisation process takes place shows us why an image is constructed in a particular manner and how it expresses the hierarchical equations of the society. Understanding these ideas that are transmitted from a text gives us an insight into the mechanisms, the reasons and the nature of visual and verbal communication in a particular society. The visual form of a myth is often a variant of its literary version. When the latter has reached the fullest extent of its development the visual form then elaborates and develops the mythological structure under the dictates of changing cult requirements. At this point it becomes possible to speak of the ‘language’ of art in which (while the vocabulary of symbols remained more or less constant) each symbol could take on a new value in a changed context. The literary and the visual versions of a myth do not therefore very often tally with each other but rather supplement each other.1 These are some of the concepts that have been employed while correlating portions of the visual and the literary versions of narratives in this work. The purpose of the visual narratives was primarily to communicate the qualities of the enshrined deity through myth-narration in the visual form. The meaning of the sculpted myth-panels, however, was generally less comprehensible to the layperson than the spoken word.2 The ‘internalisation’ of important texts through memorisation and recitation can serve as an effective indoctrination process. The growth of a community’s religious consciousness is often a result of an oral recital of its authoritative scriptures in every aspect of its life, from ritual to instruction.3 Due to its potential to create a popular religious psyche, the use of a sacred text in the visual form by the political authority has deep

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temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

political and religious meanings. In this work an attempt is made at some length to utilise the concept of the power of the oral dissemination and the visual recapitulation of the sacred text. The term ‘visual’ here connotes both the plastic medium and the public performances of sacred texts and the court literature which drew from the sacred genre. The integrative processes of the early historical period which contributed towards the formation of the Bhakti-oriented religion in the early mediaeval period have been discussed in Chapter 1. This was, in a sense, a shift from the practices oriented towards the worship of a cultic-deity to an emotional devotionalism centred on a transcendental deity. The hagiographical texts such as the Periya Purāṇam reflect a tendency to accommodate the earlier cultic practices in the concept of devotionalism. For example it has been suggested by David Shulman that the legends dwelling on the motif of the father sacrificing his own son to god (as in the case of Tiruttoṇḍār), uses the cultic practice of sacrifice to emphasise the intensity of emotional offering in the context of Bhakti. In this case, the son represents a part of oneself and offering him to a god is symbolic of offering oneself to the deity as an emotional offering. The god’s acceptance of such an offering in the legend symbolises the divine acceptance of the devotee’s self which is the ultimate goal of Bhakti.4 This is only one example of early mediaeval religion using surviving motifs from the early historical period in a transformed context and form. The present work surveys such themes from the early historical period that formed a part of the early mediaeval society and thereby its sacred literature and art. This work deals with the concept of woman as territory and territory as woman. It has been observed by a number of scholars that the representational writings of the period have conventionally used gender to describe weakness or power. Hence the objects or subjects which had a passive or powerless position in the context in which they were located were treated as ‘feminine’ or ‘effeminate’ and the individuals, groups or entities which were in a dominant and efficacious position were characterised as ‘masculine’ and ‘vigorous.’5 Oriental scholars thus structured the history of Asia along binary oppositions such as Orient and Occident, spiritualism and materialism, savage and civilised, degenerate and progressive, and masculine and feminine with Europeans functioning as producers and observers, while India and Indians became passive objects.6 They further observe that most Indologists described Hinduism as a passive ‘sponge’ or a ‘jungle’ and saw India (which often corresponded with Hinduism) as an amorphous entity that lacked a world-ordering rationality. Hinduism was a ‘place’ lacking rational capacities, a land of the imaginary, a land full of fantasy. Within this construct, scholars associated India with the feminine. By equating the feminine with irrational Nature and the masculine with rational Culture, scholars like Cunningham also characterised Nature as the dominant force guiding India or Hinduism.7 In this vortex of binary oppositions Vedic and early historical phases of Indian history were perceived as rational and glorious, while the polytheistic idol-oriented religion of

introduction

5

the early mediaeval and later periods and the timeless animistic religious practices were perceived as irrational, imaginative and decadent.8 The polarity of symbolic masculinity and femininity is evident here. For many Hindu nationalists too the non-iconic Vedic worship and the Advaita philosophy emphasising the formlessness of the ultimate principle became the locus of authentic Hinduism. Any image attempting to represent this principle was thus inevitably reductive; Mediaeval Hinduism was posited to reflect the shift from relatively scant image-oriented worship to a religion heavily tilted towards image worship. It was the decay of authentic Vedic Hinduism that allowed the growth of polytheism and Goddess worship according to this perception. By diminishing the polytheistic aspects of Hinduism, Hindu nationalists sought to create an ‘authentic’ identity – the modern nationalist Indian Hindu was not effeminate or irrational; he was the masculine force needed to expunge the colonisers.9 The nationalist embarrassment, say the scholars, extended particularly to the ‘immodesty’ of the women depicted in Hindu art. Whereas the literary tradition could more easily be reconstituted ancient Hindu artefacts exhibiting women as sensual and sexual beings could not as easily be erased from the national landscape.10 As we know, this gave rise to the characteristic nationalist art during the reformist period of colonial India. Ananda Coomaraswamy’s writings have been perceived as a counterdiscourse empowered by gender as a representational technology. He is said to have ascribed the fallen status of Indian philosophy to insensitive European scholars who perceived it as effeminacy. Coomaraswamy sought to reverse colonial characterisations of Indian thought. To achieve this end, he adopted the strategy of gendering Indian thought as a masculine discourse. Reversing the representation of India as emaciated, Coomaraswamy utilised Sanskrit texts and Hindu and Buddhist art objects to represent Indian culture as ‘vigorous’ and ‘calm’.11 He both re-imagined Hindu polytheism as essentially monotheistic and gave Hinduism the cachet of philosophy. Thus, Hinduism now was even better than ‘dogmatically monotheistic’ religions like Christianity and Islam because of its sponge-like femininity as it reached a wider audience peacefully while maintaining its monotheistic essence.12 The observations cited above revolve around the concept that femininity and feminisation are characteristics that have been continuously used in the scholarly writings to represent weakness, repression, suppression, passivity and disorder. This reinforced the depiction of the feminine as weak in the minds of the receptive audience and perpetuated the binary opposition stereotyping masculine as dominant and feminine as weak. However these constructions of the weak groups or objects as feminine had themselves resulted from generations of visual and verbal messages that had characterised woman as powerless. These messages again were constructed from the convergence of various social currents which had subordinated woman, and therefore the feminine image. In the context of this research we can only cite here a few instances, such as the subjugation of the dominant and powerful Goddess in

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the form of a consort of the omnipotent Śiva, the verbal imageries describing the feminine and the visual representations of such images as the Varāha, the Naṭarāja and the Gangādhara which invariably draw a symbolic parallel between the omnipotent god and the powerless, conquered woman. This is the main concern of some of the arguments of Chapters 1, 2 and 3 in the present work. A major concern of this research, as noted earlier, is to trace the symbolic parallel between the visual and verbal images of the deities and the rulers, which thereby created a parallel between the royal and the divine images. A construct of this nature is not new to the historiography of art and such attempts have been made before. It is noted in the present work that the triple-shrine structure of the Viṣṇu temple, especially of Vaikuṇṭha Perumāl at Kanchipuram, has been perceived as drawing a symbolic parallel between divine sovereignty over the three realms and the royal control over a territory encompassing varied ecological bases, his powers being akin to god’s creative, protective and destructive acts. In a study, Denis Hudson13 has used not only the iconographic–architectural plan of the temple, but a poem from Periya Tirumoḻi composed by Tirumankai Āḻvār on the temple to make this royal– divine allegory explicit. According to Hudson, Tirumankai has structured this poem to express the meaning of the icons on each of the Vimāna’s three floors; out of the four-line verses, the first pair alludes to Viṣṇu’s acts as portrayed on the three floors of the Vimāna. The second pair alludes to Pallavamalla’s conquests as portrayed in the Pradakṣiṇā panels. These parallels says Hudson, suggest vividly royal conquest and rule as being a metonym of the divine sovereignty over the cosmos. A close reading of this poem, however, shows that the verses do not create a direct parallel between the ruler and the deity as suggested by Hudson but end each stanza, by saying that this Pallava king who possesses such prowess comes to worship in this temple of Vaikuṇṭha Perumāl.14 This suggests several things. First, the verbal imagery here not only indicates the visual allegory but also shows that the idea of an allegoric parallel between the royal and the divine images was strongly entrenched in the popular psyche. Religious poetry and the epigraphical eulogy in particular had a significant role to play in the crystallisation of this psyche, as will be shown in the present work. Second, the image of the powerful ruler here indirectly derives from the fact that this ruler is said to pay obeisance to the powerful divine sovereign for whom the poem is composed. This image of the god-like ruler, then, derives validity from his act of devotion to the deity. Another allegorical example that authors have frequently used is the Gangādhara image in the Lalitānkura Cave at Trichy and Mahendravarman Pallava’s inscription describing the image. Following Michael Lockwood,15 a number of authors have shown that this verse simultaneously refers to the power of Śiva and that of the Pallava ruler. An example from the Deccan is the image of Dancing Śiva from the Ravula Phadi Cave at Aihole, which, has been perceived as a symbolic image parallel to that of Mangaleśa Cālukya on the basis of the allegorical epithet carved below the panel.16 The royal temples of

introduction

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the early mediaeval rulers from Peninsular India have been interpreted as a statement of royal power, apart from being the commemorative monuments for royal victory. The Kailāsanātha temple at Kāñcī,17 the Lokeśvara and Trailokeśvara temples at Pattadakkal,18and the Rājarājeśvaram at Tanjavur19 are some outstanding examples of this form of historiography. More than any other temple, the last of these has been the subject for the representation of a monument as the most powerful expression of the political authority of its dominant royal patron. The centralised administration, the political control over the harnessing and mobilisation of resources, and the authoritative position enjoyed by Rājarāja I, the creator of this monument, has justifiably attracted scholarly writings of this nature. In the present study, we have not only attempted to analyse to what extent the royal temples of Peninsular India can be perceived as an expression of political power, but also an attempt has been made to study the underlying socio-cultural processes that contributed towards the emergence of the royal tendency to express its dominant image visually and verbally. Furthermore, the accommodations, the modifications and the transformations that went on in this visual and verbal expression across time and space have been a concern for our enquiry. In the case of the royal temples of the Coḻas, (since we have a series of such temples built throughout the Coḻa period), it was imperative to reflect on whether all such temples can be uniformly interpreted as an actual expression of power or if perhaps there is a degree of fluctuation in this expression of power. Since assessing the extent of political control exercised by the Coḻas is an enquiry which can encompass a vast study in its own right – partly because of the large number of epigraphs involved in such a study – and since this enquiry goes beyond the scope of our research, a direct survey of this nature has not been taken up here. However an attempt has been made to locate the visual and verbal expression of royal authority in the context of the fluctuating extent of the empire during the reigns of the Coḻa rulers who were significantly involved in the construction of royal temples. It is reflected in Chapter 5 that the degree of authority changed across the Coḻa period. Hence while in some cases the notion of a majestic monument as a visual expression of royal dominance holds true, towards the end of the Coḻas’ rule this visual expression is more an attempt to keep the dominant royal image alive than based on a real image of a dominant monarch. It may be argued thereby that the idea of ritual sovereignty20 manifests only towards the end of the Coḻas’ rule. The large-scale mobilisation of resources towards the royal power-base for the construction of the two Bṛhadeśvara temples would not have been possible without a ritual sovereignty being exercised by the Coḻas. The visual language thus reflects varying degrees and forms of royal authority. The above argument is based on the premise that a text – literary or visual – can be read as an expression of the power of the King. In recent times the most insightful exercise of this nature has perhaps been made in an analysis by Romila Thapar of the visual and literary representations of Śakuntalā, which reflects a changing character of the royal power. It shows that the legend as

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narrated in the Mahābhārata depicts the king – typified by Duṣyanta – as only a protector of his subjects. In contrast to this in the fourth century drama by Kālidāsa the king’s duties include that of being responsible for his subjects’ welfare as well as of maintaining the social order. Thus in the play there is a rhetoric of political power based on the monarchical state. The fourth century AD was a period of well-established monarchies. Hence Kālidāsa’s court at Hastināpur is now the focus of those in authority, and kingly authority was expressed in various ways; for example in taking impressive titles such as ‘Mahārājādhirāja’. This is in contrast with ‘gopta’ and ‘rājā’ being the major titles for Duṣyanta in the epic.21 In the context of our study it is possible to draw certain parallels between the images of royal power as reflected in our sources and the above analysis. The Sangam rulers were heroic warriors whose authority derived from their martial skills, their redistributive qualities pertaining to their supplicant kinsmen, as well as their control over the resource-bases of the river valleys in which they exercised their military might. In the post-Sangam monarchical kingdoms of Peninsular India from the seventh to the ninth centuries AD, the king’s legitimacy rested more and more on Brahmanical institutions and on their claim to be the protectors of the Dharmic social order. The Coḻas builtup on this political authority and gradually consolidated and transcended the micro-level monarchical systems, while in the last phase of the Coḻa period the political authority waned to a considerable extent thus retaining only a Dharmic image of ritual authority. A somewhat parabolic paradigm of the fluctuating power of the Coḻas has been created by a number of authors following S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, dividing the whole Coḻa rule into ‘early’, ‘middle’ and ‘late’ Coḻa periods.22 The present work does not demarcate the phases of Coḻa rule as it perceives this period as one of constantly fluctuating political equations beginning from the last stages of Kulottunga I’s reign, with the rulers constantly attempting to assert their sovereignty from time to time (though an in-depth analysis of the extent of Coḻa power is beyond the scope of this work as has been said before). The power of the patrons of the Cola temples is reflected in the monuments they built. It has been argued that even in the early Coḻa period, the temples were constructed around key political or military events.23 This trend continued into the period of royal temples and the art of the Coḻas and hence can be seen as a political statement.24 The perception of a monument as a visual expression of royal power extends to the allegorical image of the icon as a visual metaphor of royalty as we have mentioned earlier. In the Coḻa period this visual metaphor acquired a more powerful symbolism when the Utsava mūrtis of bronze were used for festive processions amidst the devout populace. Thyāgarāja is one of the most powerful examples of this.25 Naṭarāja in the form of Utsava mūrti (as well as the icon at Cidambaram) became the focus of the devotion of the Śaivite world, and therefore an allegory of the Coḻa sovereign.26 The present work explores the forms in which such allegorical metaphors expressed themselves extensively.

introduction

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The scope of this study covers the time-span roughly between the early historical period of the compilation of Sangam poetry to the end of the Coḻas’ rule in the twelfth century AD. The geographical area covers the political power bases of the Pallavas, the Pandyas, the Rāṣṭrakūṭas, the Cālukyas and the Coḻas. The Sangam literature has been explored to ascertain the linkages between and the divergences from the early historical to the early mediaeval periods. Apart from the visual sources in the form of sculptures and temples and the Sangam literary data, the epigraphical materials of the period (especially the royal eulogies and the Puranic sources in Sanskrit) are utilised. As is known the geographical area mentioned was subject to continuous political invasions, and conflicts across the whole of Peninsular India. The control of resource-bases of the important river valleys, the transition communication zone of Namakkal and the coastal political and trade centres were some of the reasons for such conflict. In this political flux, this work contextualises the creation of the visual language for political dominance in terms of the changing religious needs of royal patrons who integrated the agrarian expansion of the time into the institution of the temples that they patronised. To this was added their attempt to integrate various social groups into temple religions. The royal patronage of the visual metaphor thus has been perceived as an overarching element that encompassed various levels of society.

Notes 1 T. S. Maxwell, The Gods of Asia – Image, Text and Meaning, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1997, pp. 217–219. 2 Ibid., p. 219. 3 William A Graham, Beyond the Written Word – Oral Aspects of Scripture in the History of Religion, Cambridge University press, Cambridge, 1987, p. 161. 4 David Shulman, The Hungry God – Hindu Tales of Filicide and Devotion, University of Chicago, Chicago, 1993, pp. 16–43. 5 Annapurna Garimella, “Engendering Indian Art” in Vidya Dehejia (ed.), Representing the Body – Gender Issues in Indian Art, Kali for Women, Delhi, 1997, pp. 22–41. 6 Ibid., p. 25. 7 Ibid., p. 30. 8 Ibid., p. 31. 9 Ibid., p. 32. 10 Ibid., p. 33. 11 Ibid., p. 34. 12 Ibid., p. 36.

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13 Dennis Hudson, “Vaiṣṇava Temples with Three Floors for Icons – A Study of Vaikuṇṭha Perumāl Temple in Kanchipuram,” Unpublished paper for CSWR, May, 1988. I am grateful to Prof. R. Champakalakshmi for allowing me to read the paper. 14 Sriram Bharati (tr.), The Sacred Book of Four Thousand (Nālāyira Divya Prabandham Rendered in English with Tamil Original), Sri Sadagopan Tirunarayanaswami Divya Prabandha Pathasala, Chennai, 2000. See examples Verses 2.9/5,; 2.9/8, etc., pp. 233 and 234 (Periya Tirumoli, pp. 232–234). 15 Michael Lockwood, Gift Siromony and P. Dayanandan, Mahabalipuram Studies, The Christian Library Society, Madras, 1974, pp. 49–59; Marilyn Hirsh, “Mahendravarman I Pallava-Artist and Patron of Mamallapuram”, Artibus Asiae, Reprint from Vol. XLVIII, MC MLXXXVII 1/2, pp. 125 ff; R. Champakalakshmi, “Iconographic Programme and Political Imagery in Early Mediaeval Tamiḻakam: the Rājasimheśvara and Rājarājeśvara”, B. N. Goswamy (ed.), Indian Art – Forms, Concerns and Development in Historical perspective, in D. P. Chattopadhyaya (General Editor), History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilisation, Volume VI, Part 3, Project of History of Indian Science, Philosophy and Culture, Munshiram Manoharlal, New Delhi, 2000. 16 K. V. Ramesh, Cālukyas of Vatapi, Agam Kala Prakashan, Delhi, 1984, pp. 11–74. 17 R. Nagaswamy, “Innovative Emperor and His Personnal Chapel” in Vidya Dehejia (ed.), Royal Patrons and Great Temple Art, Marg Publications, Bombay, 1988, pp. 37ff. 18 Carol Radcliffe Bolon, “Two Calukya Queens and their Commemorative Temples”, in Vidya Dehejia (ed., 1988), op. cit., pp. 61 ff. 19 Vidya Dehejia, “Patron, Artist and Temple – An introduction” in Vidya Dehejia (ed. 1988), op. cit., pp. 4 ff. Also, R Champakalakshmi, op. cit., pp. 15 ff. 20 For an Overview of this paradigm of the Coḻa State, which for a large measure, views the power of the Coḻa rulers as only ritual and not real, thus arguing for a weak political authority only symbolically acknowledged by the lower levels of chief and officials, vide Burton Stein, Peasant State and Society in Mediaeval South India, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1980, followed by James Heitzman, Gifts of Power – Lordship in an Early Indian State, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1997. Many western scholars have followed this model, thus generating a critical response from South Indian scholars, the most prominent among them being R. Champakalakshmi’s review article of Burton Stein’s work cited above. Vide R. Champakalakshmi, “Peasant State and Society in Mediaeval South India – A Review Article”, in Indian Economic and Social History Review, 18 (3 and 4), 1981, pp. 411–26. 21 Romila Thapar, Sakuntala – Texts, Readings, Histories, Kali for Women, New Delhi, 1999, p. 48. 22 K. A. N. Sastri, The Coḻas, University of Madras, Madras, 1955 (revised edn). 23 Douglas Barrett, Early Coḻa Architecture and Sculpture (866–1014 AD), Faber and Faber Ltd., London, 1974. 24 This Idea has been elaborately discussed in Vidya Dehejia, Art of the Imperial Coḻas, Columbia University Press, New York, 1990. 25 For a discussion of this feature, vide Rajeshwari Ghose, The Lord of Arur – The Thyāgarāja Cult in Tamil Nadu – A Study of Conflicts and Accommodation, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1996.

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26 Among the major works on this theme is David Smith, The Dance of Śiva – Religion, Art and Poetry in South India, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1996.

1 Changing perceptions of divine power: the evolution of religious idiom in peninsular India

The evolution of iconographic forms has always been closely linked to the ways in which divine power has been perceived by society through the centuries. This perception is often reflected in the texts of the period under study. These texts not only constructed and crystallised the image of a deity, but they also served to disseminate these perceptions in the society. Since a large portion of this literature is in verse form, it was largely transmitted across the social space through the oral medium. This was then taken up by the visual medium, which served as a complementary form of this text. The following passages explore the ways in which the religious idiom evolved across the peninsula and the diverse equations that the social perceptions of divinity created in the process.

I The early historical society was characterised by forms of worship centred on cults located in various ecological zones with social groups pursuing various means of subsistence in different ecological milieux. This was a society in which the religious life of each social group revolved around its own specific cult. Anthropocentric worship of tribal deities and folk rituals characterised the intense humanistic religion of the early Tamils. Their religious system was oriented towards appeasing these deities for immediate sustenance. However we also have evidence of certain cults which cut across the barriers of various ecological zones. Puranic/Brahmanical pantheons evolved through a long process of development from the early historical to the early mediaeval periods, that is from the early centuries of the Christian era to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries AD. This development took place along with the changing social and political needs of peninsular India. A study of these pantheons therefore needs to be made against their religious matrices before their multilateral dimensions of political and social meanings can be studied.

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From even the earliest layers of Sangam poetry we get evidence of a Puranic influence on the indigenous religion and society, though in the Sangam period it was neither dominant nor institutionalised. This Puranic influence appears in gradual stages, though it is not easy to demarcate these stages. They are perceptible towards the end of the period and become dominant features in early mediaeval religion. The imagery of the early mediaeval period discussed in the subsequent chapters takes as its source mainly this Puranic influence but is also moulded by idioms from the Sangam tradition. Hence it is important to discuss the religious beliefs and cultic practices which evolved in early historical south India as reflected in the corpus known as the Sangam literature. tiṇais and their deities In the Sangam society this religion was represented by or derived from the folk cults of the various deities that addressed the existing tribal, kinshipbased social organisations of the time. It is well known that the Sangam landscape was divided into five tiṇais and every tiṇai had its own deity. Thus, Kuriñci or hilly tracts were ruled by Murugan, the god of youth, beauty and war and worshipped by hunters and shifting cultivators. Mullai, the pastoral/forest region was inhabited by the pastoralists who worshipped Māl/Māyon. The Neital or coastal area was inhabited by the fishermen and the salt-makers, who worshipped Varuṇan, who is interestingly a Vedic deity and associated with the sea. Marutam or the agrarian river valleys were inhabited by the cultivators who worshipped Vendan, identified by mediaeval Tamil commentators as Indra, another Vedic deity. Pālai or the desert did not really exist in the Tamil region but this theme was conceived by the Sangam society since the hilly slopes or the pastoral tracts could become parched and dry in adverse climatic conditions. Pālai thus was a transitory zone between the Kuriñci and the Mullai and was the domain of the Goddess Koṟṟavai, often called simply Ammai, reminiscent of her association with the mother Goddess. In the extreme conditions of Pālai, people took to robbery and cattle lifting. Thus Eiynārs were the hunters/ robbers who are referred to as worshipping Koṟṟavai. Apart from the cults associated with the ecological-subsistence zones, Sangam society had certain cults which were not confined to the boundaries of any tiṇai. These extra-tiṇai cults show the influence of the Puranic religion in some cases while in others they represent local, autochthonous practices emerged from a heroic society. The practice of worshipping naṭukal, the ‘hero stone’ is an example of the latter. We have references to naṭukals being the only divine symbol of worship in a certain land,1 as well as naṭukals existing in various eco-zones. These naṭukals received paddy offerings and ‘gods’ were believed to reside in them.2 The worship of Śiva was another practice which was not associated with any eco-zone. This element was evidently associated with the Puranic

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influence. Even the earliest layers of Eṭṭuttogai refer to Śiva worship.3 The belief of Śiva as the creator of the five elements – the sky, the air, fire, water, and the earth –was known to the Sangam society.4 As described earlier Murugan was the god of war, associated with the hilly tracts. He was also called Cey, the Red One. Though in the early phases of the period he was worshipped only by the local population of Kuriñci tiṇai and not universalised, he had a very significant presence in the religious field. Murugan served the needs of a heroic society oriented towards tribal warfare and the glorification of war and its war-deities, of whom he was the chief. The concepts of youth, beauty and aggression were intertwined with each other and hence Murugan or Cey was also the child god of youth and beauty. He was conceived as having the power to possess women and was appeased by shamanistic practices involving exorcist rites and ecstatic dances.5 The priest–dancer was called ‘Velan’ or the ‘spear-holder’, which was an epithet of Murugan too. Thus in order to appease the deity of war and youth the shamanistic dancer assumed the guise of the deity himself and went into a frenzied dance. We also have references to priestesses who received the offerings from the devotees and returned a part of these offerings to them.6 The modes of worship as utilised by the people of Sangam and post-Sangam society shows the way they perceived the divine and also the nature of religion that existed in this society. The Goddess cults were associated with human and animal sacrifice in which some of the followers cut off their own heads as offerings to the deity. The Goddess was associated with sacrificial offerings, given as ‘food’ in exchange for her favour of granting victory to the warriors7 and the hunters.8 It was believed that if she was starved she would not make her devotee victorious. There is evidence that the hunters actually offered their heads as a sacrifice to the Goddess in exchange for victory granted in cattle raids.9 Two features of the Goddess cult emerge from these references – first, that the Goddess needed to be ‘fed’ on blood and flesh, often human, and second, that ‘sacrificial feeding’ was done in exchange for the favours granted. Thus in the early historical period the appeasement of the deity was based on a contract and this appeasement was often in the nature of sensual gratification of the deity. It reflects the nature of the religion of the period, where the relation between the deity and the devotee was more on the temporal level and the deity was not so much a universal godhead but more an agency for fulfilling the immediate survival needs of the community. There is also evidence of a difference in the contextual meaning of the ritual of sacrifice which was normally used by the tribal groups. In the Śilappadikāram, during the Indra festival warriors are described as sacrificing their own heads in order to ensure victory to the king.10 Here sacrifice serves a different function. In the case cited in the previous paragraph it was either used to ensure success for the social group or was offered as an expression of gratitude to the tutelary deity after achieving success in war. In contrast to this during the Indra festival the ritual of sacrifice is used as a contract for

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ensuring victory to the king rather than to the community. In this case there is a priest involved and there is large-scale public participation of various groups in the festival. shrines – temporary and permanent Though Sangam literature does not show evidence of institutionalised religion organised around the temple as its focus there is evidence of various notions of a ‘shrine’ existing in the Sangam society. The cult of the naṭukal has already been mentioned. Although very often the image of the dead warrior was carved on the stone-slab called naṭukal, the concept of a ‘shrine’ without any carved image is also implied in the early historical period in the references to a ‘kaṇḍu’ in a hall used for common worship. The kaṇḍu was placed in a hall and smeared and bedecked with flowers and lamps were lit in front of it.11 ‘Kaṇḍu’ means a pillar or a post that did not have any anthropomorphic image carved on it. It is argued that the tradition of linga worship emerged out of it. In any case such traditions of pillar-worship certainly facilitated the growth of the cult of the linga. The pillar or stone-slab in this case acts as the focal point of worship. Since Murugan and Koṛṛavai are said to reside on hilly tracts it is possible that some kind of images were installed on the hills for the purpose of worship by the hill-folk. But Murugan is also said to ‘live’ in the Kadamba tree.12 We have more instances of gods ‘residing’ in the tree. Thus the Aṟṟuppaḍai genre of literature refers to gifts being offered to the gods beneath the shades of snake-infested marutam branches.13 In some cases the tree becomes a ‘shrine’ which houses the deity to whom worship is offered. In other instances it is not clear whether the tree itself was worshipped as a divine symbol, or an image or stone/object was installed under the tree for offering worship. In the latter situation the object installed under the tree acted as a more permanent shrine, while in the former situation the tree itself acted as a temporary ‘shrine’ as the worship was being offered to it. The concept of a deity under a tree facilitated the growth of the tradition of Śiva sitting under the Banyan tree and receiving worship offered by the people. We have the reference of an Āy chief gifting a blue garment woven by a weaver named Naga to the ‘god who sat beneath the Banyan tree.’14 The effort of the chieftain to include various social groups in the worship ritual offered to Śiva is seen in the special mention made of the name of the weaver who supplied the cloth for the Āy chief’s offering. However the emergence of the temple as the integrating institution had not yet come about. The presence of an image did not always indicate a regular shrine where an offering of worship was made. This is evident from a reference regarding the worship of the sea- god in Paṭṭinappālai, which talks about the fishermen eating and drinking with their women on full moon nights and worshipping the sea-god after seating him beneath the pine-tree.15 It is obvious that the object/image symbolising the sea-god placed beneath the pine tree was only

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a temporary ‘shrine’ created to act as the focal point of the full moon-night rituals of the fishermen folk. Thus a temporary shrine embodying an image could be created for the religious needs of the people. The most significant of these temporary ‘shrines’ is associated with the element of possession in connection with Murugan and the Goddess cults. The Śilappadikāram describes a hunter girl called ‘Śālinī’ who became the human embodiment of the Goddess to whom the hymns were sung and sacrifices were made by the hunters.16 The Murugan cult was also associated with the phenomenon of divine possession of the devotee during a frenzied dance ritual. Such a possessed person to whom the worship was directed then acted as a temporary ‘human shrine,’ to serve the needs of the community. It is significant that such ritualistic dancing involved a psychological embodiment of the deity by the members of the community. Thus the absence of the institutionalised religious apparatus resulted in the perception of a divinity in various forms by the people worshipping that deity. A place, an object or a human being could acquire the characteristics of a shrine for the time being. As said before this was important only as a receptor – a focal point of a belief system of a people who invoked the supernatural or embodied it only for immediate gains, and solving their problems of survival. This feature of emotional ritual dance and possession etc. later acquired significance in the Bhakti poetry popularising Śaivism and Vaiṣṇavism. Gradually as various social groups got integrated into the mainstream society, we discover the elements of an institutionalised religion with the temple emerging as its rallying point, and also some of the more prominent divine figures emerging as universal deities. Even in the earlier layers of the Sangam corpus, (represented by the Eṭṭuttokai) the temple of Śiva that was circumambulated by the Pandya King is mentioned.17 In the Aṛṛuppaḍai genre (later than the Eṭṭuttokai but earlier than the Śilappadikāram), references are found to Śiva temples with pictures drawn on the walls.18 There was a Kālī temple which was inaccessible.19 There were women going to worship in the temple of Murugan with their husbands and children, offering flowers and incense to the deity.20 The Perumpānāṟṟuppaḍai also refers to the Truvehkā temple at Kāñcī,21 which was later included in the 108 divyadeśams of Vaiṣṇavism in the early mediaeval period. Tirupati and Srirangam are referred to in the Śilappadikāram,22 datable towards the end of the pre-Pallava period. These references show the existence of various kinds of temples (e.g., koṭṭam, nakar and koyil) and of a worship system in which flowers and incense were offered. However the fully developed Brahmanical temple as the centre of a canonical religion is not yet known to the Sangam texts. In the Śilappadikāram we find an account of Indra’s festival being celebrated at Kāverippūmpaṭṭinam. This festival shows the convergence point for all the elements of the Sangam and post-Sangam religious systems. The sacrificial rituals observed during Indra’s festival have been noted earlier. The same account of Indra’s festival also refers to great rituals being performed in the

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temples of Śiva, Murugan, Vāliyon the brother of Kṛṣṇa, Nediyon (Viṣṇu) and Indra. Besides this, Vedic rituals were faultlessly performed.23 Various strands that are being integrated through public participation in a festive gathering are obvious here. The stage was now set for the institutionalisation and standardisation of the temple-centred religion in the early mediaeval period. assimilation of deities – tamil and puranic The above evidence suggests that various divinities that were being worshipped by the Sangam society were gradually getting assimilated, as a relationship or identity was established between some of them. They were also getting associated with the Puranic deities so at the end of the Sangam period cultic pantheons emerged that incorporated within them the indigenous deities. The heroic society of the Sangam period which depended upon victory in inter-tribal warfare for survival naturally followed various cultic practices and brought together and merged various divinities associated with war. The cult of the dead warriors, that is a belief in warriors’ spirits, seems to be closely associated with the spirits and demons dancing in the battlefields.24 Koṟṟavai is also depicted as striding the battlefield with demons.25 Such references show that the spirits and demons were associated with Koṟṟavai as her retinue. The battlefield became the venue for this assimilation process and victory the common motif to bring together these elements. At another level there was an attempt at associating Śiva and Koṟṟavai even in Puranānūru through symbolic depiction. The symbolic figures imaged in the form of Śiva are depicted as performing austerities and charming women who are mirror images of the Goddess on the hill.’26 In this early reference there is a conjunction between Śiva and Koṛṛavai, albeit through symbolic metaphor and not direct association. A third level brings together Koṟṟavai and Cey or Murugan. Perumpānāṟṟuppaḍai speaks about a female spirit praising the ‘beautiful Goddess’ (Tunankaiyan-celvi) who ‘treads the devil dance and who gave birth to Cey, the killer of the demon’.27 In the Sangam corpus Koṟṟavai is often described as beautiful, the term describing her being ‘Ananku’ which means both ‘beautiful’ and ‘affliction.’28 Thus the poetic metaphor brings together two distinct tiṇai deities in a mother–son relationship. The connotation of Ananku as an ‘affliction’ is significant as it portrays the sacred power as dangerous, thus facilitating this assimilative process as both Cey and Koṟṟavai were war-deities and a strong content of aggression was associated with them. An element of danger and threat to society was associated with the beautiful female deity, who by such associations granted victory to the hill-folk who worshipped her. The depiction of the Goddess as ‘mother’ draws on the protective role of divine power that got associated with the Goddess of war and victory. From there it was only a step further when the Goddess of victory became the mother of the war god, who also had

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associations with the ideas of youth and beauty and the power to disrupt an ordered, circumscribed world of women. The Śilappadikāram brings together the culmination of all the cultic elements associated with the figure of the Goddess and merges them on one level with the Puranic Goddess and on another level with Śiva as his consort. We have the reference to Śālinī, a girl from the māravar tribe of hunters who is said to be possessed by the Goddess and ‘assumes’ the form of the Goddess during her phase of possession. During the time of possession, her tribal folk dance before her and sing hymns to the Goddess addressing Śālinī. There are references to Aiyai, ‘a respectable lady’ and by extension ‘mother’, as well as the Goddess of victory riding a stag.29 Śālinī is one of the epithets of Durgā. This conglomeration of images is expressed through the character of Śālinī. And this complex image is represented as the consort of Śiva through her identity and also through her verbal address by the worshippers. She ‘assumes’ the feminine appearance of Śiva; she is called the younger sister of Viṣṇu and addressed as Durgā, Lakṣmī and Sarasvatī.30 The synthesis of all the cultic elements involving the Goddess in Puranic theophany as the consort(s) of Śiva at another level can also be recognised in such references. This reference also brings out the significant iconographic attributes related to various images of the Goddess. The features from Śiva’s form have been used as also from the imageries of Durgā / Mahiṣāsuramardinī and Kālī to portray Śālinī.31 Hence this reference constructs a composite image of the Goddess with multilateral iconographic symbolism. The actual iconographic representations in peninsular India drawing upon this composite construct of the Goddess image are discussed in Chapter 2. It is important to note that etymologically speaking, Koṟṟavai means ‘the Goddess of victory’ and this is precisely the concept associated with Durgā, ‘the inaccessible’ who was created to attain victory. This similarity in concepts probably made it possible to bring together the identities of the two deities. A final level of synthesis occurred in the case of the tutelary deities of various centres, who were accommodated into the Brahmanical pantheon as the consorts of Siva. The most significant example of this is the Goddess of Madurai who draws from the indigenous idioms and is related to Śiva through the common iconographic feature of the moon.32 That the various Goddesses were also perceived distinctly from one another is evident from a description in which Koṟṟavai, Ananku and Kālī are described as distinct from one another.33 The Puranic deities like Śiva and Viṣṇu have from the beginning been associated with the religious system of the Tamil region. However towards the end of the Sangam period we have evidence of the Puranic deities taking a dominant place in the religious system. Kallittogai and Paripāṭal reflect this trend strongly. The images of Śiva as dancing at the end of time and Ardhanārīśvara have been used for direct comparison with a bull who skewered and gutted a warrior instead of a symbolic suggestion in a description of bullfights.34 The pastoral motif of bull fights which was a mark

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of the Sangam society has become interlocked with the Sanskritic motifs of Śiva as the androgynous God and a perpetuator of the Cosmic Cycle through his dance. The later works of the Sangam corpus reveal that almost all the major forms of Siva were known to the ancient Tamil society. Śiva’s Tripurāntaka aspect is elaborated in Paripāṭal. Tirumāl had a significant presence whose identity coincided with the Mullai deity Māyon. Amongst his incarnations, most significantly mentioned are Varaha, Trivikrama, Narasimha, Kṛṣṇa and Vāliyon or Balarāma.35 These references from Kalittogai and Partipāṭal show a strong entrenchment of the Puranic belief system in the Tamil region. They elaborate the legends related to forms of Śiva and Viṣṇu, expound the concept of Viṣṇu as the cosmic deity and in the case of Kṛṣṇa, associate the Tamil deity Piṇṇai with Kṛṣṇa and Vāliyon. They also depict Viṣṇu as having two consorts. These references have a direct relationship with the devotional religion which evolved in the early mediaeval period and the iconography which was based on it. Due to Sanskritisation there seem to have been some attempts at associating Brahmans with the cultivation process. This itself is indicative of a society progressing from the rudimentary means of subsistence to a more evolved socio-economic system that involved a progressive integration of social groups and an extension of the agrarian process to erstwhile uncultivated land. Perumpānāṛṛuppaḍai gives a detailed description of a Brahmadeya village.36 It is interesting that in this reference a separate description is given of Marutam tracts while Brahmadeya settlements are described separately, thus suggesting that by the period of this song a distinction was made between the Brahmadeyas and the non-Brahmana settlements of agrarian tracts. The emergence of the Brahmadeyas as a major reorganising institution of the society and religion was a significant factor in bringing about the assimilative process in the early mediaeval period. Under Brahmanical influence there seem to have been some efforts at reorganising the society along the four orders that is in contrast to the earlier phase, when the Tamil region did not have a full-fledged varṇa-based society. We have the reference in Śilappadikāram to people of four orders living on the four streets of Madurai, each order being protected by a guardian deity (Bhūtam). It is interesting that three of the four orders are classified into priestly, warrior and merchant divisions. Their guardian deities have the parallel imagery to that of Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Śiva. It is also significant that the deity of the warriors is described as conquering the world and ruling the world with justice: idioms which became important in the descriptions of the kings in the early mediaeval period. The guardian of the merchant order holds a pair of scales and a plough as his symbols thus integrating the social groups involved in commercial and agrarian activities (parallel to the Vaiśya varṇa of the Brahmanical society).37 Thus Viṣṇu has a royal image (which has been drawn upon), fit to be compared with the warrior–protector class while Śiva is associated with the fertility cults, fit to be compared with the guardian deity associated with cultivation, grains etc. While describing the mercantile

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activities of the deity only trade associated with the agrarian produce is mentioned and not sea-based trade. Such references show that there was an effort to integrate various social groups along the lines of the four orders. It is also significant that Śaivism had a broader social base, integrating within its fold a wide-ranging array of social groups. This is indirectly reflected in assigning a large section of the society comprising of merchants and peasants under the guardianship of the deity who resembled Śiva. Vaiṣṇavism on the other hand drew its supporters largely from the elite groups; thus the warrior deity was compared to Viṣṇu. As a result of the integrative processes going on in the Tamiḻakam we find a transformation of the cult of the Murugan, the chief war deity of the Kuriñci tiṇai. Gradually the worship of Murugan was universalised. This process went hand-in-hand with the integration of various eco-zones. Ultimately Murugan emerged as a major deity par excellence in the Sangam period. Simultaneously he came to be identified with Kārttikeya, the Puranic god. Cey/Murugan’s integration with Koṟṟavai in a mother–son relationship has already been discussed earlier. By the time of Aṟṟuppaḍais and Śilappadikāram Murugan’s worship had begun to be universalised, culminating in the form of a sacred geography in the Tirumurugāṟṟupaḍai. Thus Paṭṭina Pālai describes a Murugan temple at Kāverippaṭṭinam where the frenzied dancing takes place during his festivals.38 The tribal mode of ritual is used here in Murugan worship, but the locale is not the usual hill but the port-town of Kāverippaṭṭinam, one of the ancient political bases of the Coḻas. The fact that festivals are always held here for the god adored by all shows that Murugan is no longer the deity of the hill people but the people from other eco-zones have begun to worship him; he is probably also patronised by the ancient Coḻas, as is evident from the fact that his temple is located in one of the most important Coḻa centres and is the focal point for the celebration of festivals. Paripāṭal describes the legends associated with Murugan and also identifies him with Kārttikeya. This text brings together various cultic deities associated with the Tamil region and integrates them with the Murugan figure. Thus, in the reference cited above, Cevvel (‘The Red One holding a spear’) has been identified with the folk deity Aiyanār who rides the elephant Pīṇimukam and also with the six-faced Kārttikeya, and is referred to as the son of Śiva who destroyed the Tripura.39 This completes the association of Cey with Koṟṟavai. Thus the two cults of Kuriñci and Pālai tiṇais integrate within themselves other Puranic and folk elements and finally bring all these elements under the common sectarian Śaiva religion. Along with the social spread of the cult of Murugan went the geographical spread of its cultic centres, crossing the boundaries of its original Kuriñci tiṇai. The hill of Tirupparankunram in the Pandyan region as sacred to Murugan was mentioned in late Sangam poetry.40 Śilappadikāram reinforces Murugan’s identity with Kārttikeya and also brings into the picture some other shrines sacred to Murugan. These include Centil, Sengodu and Tirupparankunram.41

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By the period of this epic four very important shrines of Murugan are well known. It is noteworthy that of these Erakam is generally identified with Truverakam near Kumbhakonam in the agrarian tracts of the Kaveri valley. Thus we can see the cult of Murugan spreading over eco-zones other than Kuriñci – the mention of Kāverīppaṭṭinam in the coastal area as containing a Murugan shrine has already been made earlier. It is significant that Tiruverakam lies in the heart of Coḻanaḍu, thus suggesting the spread of a major cult across the core area which was being exploited by the ancient Coḻas for creating a resource-base. The culmination of the process of universalisation of the cult of Murugan across Tamiḻakam took place in Tirumurugāṟṟupaṭai, which although belonging to the Paṭṭupāttu collection is datable to the postSangam period. This poem takes its title from the Aṟṟuppaṭai genre or the guide poem to a patron but here the ‘patron’ is not a chief or king but the deity Murugan. Through this poem the legends related to Murugan were worked out and the Sanskrit elements of Kārttikeya and the Tamil elements of Murugan were synthesised together. Besides, the five major shrines were sung as the focal points of Murugan worship. Thus for the first time a religious network associated with Murugan–Kārttikeya worship was worked out. These five shrines do not include the Centil and Sengodu of Śilappadikāram and instead, include Tiruchchendur (on the coast), Tiruvāvinavikudi (Pāḻani Hill) and Palamutiracoḻai (Aḻagarmalai).42 Kāverippaṭṭinam of PaṭṭinaPālai also has been dropped while Tirupparankunram and Tiruverakam are common sites in Śilappadikāram and Tirumurugāṟṟupaṭai. Thus a redefinition of the sacred shrines associated with the cult was attempted in the process standardising the list of the sacred shrines. To this Svamimalai was included to make the nodes of the pilgrimage network as six. This poem works with the idea of both the geographical spread and the theophanic universalisation of the deity. We see the assimilative trends in the forms of worship offered that include the traditional Kuravai dance43 in the iconographic descriptions and exploits of Murugan, which draw from both the Tamil and Sanskrit idioms.44 Another motif through which this integration is achieved is through associating two spouses to Murugan, Valli from the hunting tribe and Devayānī from the Puranic legend. Thus the expansion of the definition of this composite deity is symbolised by his two consorts, one from his original hill – forests hunting habitat and the other from the Sanskrit tradition. Murugan’s visit to his consort Devayānī at Pāḻani Hill as described in the text is accompanied by the visit of three great gods namely, Śiva, Viṣṇu and Indra (the memory of which survives in the annual festival of Murugan at this place in modern times celebrating the marriage of Devayānī with Murugan and the visit of the gods during the festival for this marriage). This reflects an attempt at the accommodation of the Tamil deity into the Brahmanical system, the accommodation being legitimised by the public participation in the related festival.

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The text ends with an invocatory prayer to Murugan that highlights both Sangam and Puranic levels of association by describing the natural residences of Murugan (Kadamba tree and intersection of roads being significant ones) and also associates Murugan with the Puranic legend of the birth of Kārttikeya and nurtured by the Kṛttikās.45 The above discussion shows the total integration of Murugan and Kārttikeya into the creation of a composite deity. But above all, this poem also focuses on the need of the society to offer devotion to a universal god who transcends various levels of society and answers to the needs of all the social groups. The songs of the Paripāṭal also reflect this characteristic as each Paripāṭal poem is devoted to a particular deity detailing his transcendental form. Though the earliest layers of Eṭṭuttogai reflect that some rudimentary idea of a sect close only to a God existed even in the Sangam literature,46 the idea of Bhakti emerged only in the post-Sangam period and took a concrete form in early mediaeval period. A hymn reflecting a similar mood to those of Paripāṭal and Tirumurugāṭṭupaṭai exists in Śilappadikāram where insistence is made on invoking the name of Viṣṇu and concentrating on his form.47 These postSangam texts thus are a testimony to the emergence of this new trend in the religious matrix that took concrete shape in the early mediaeval period, the details of which will be discussed in the next section.

II In peninsular India the period between the sixth and ninth centuries AD marks a conspicuous shift to the dominance of the Puranic world-view in the construction of ideologies and in the formalisation of the Puranic religious system. It is also the period in which the need for a change from Vedic to Puranic religion seems to have become crucial for the projection of royal authority and the portrayal of the royal image. Hence in both the Deccan and South India Brahmadeyas are invariably accompanied by temples as the focal point of religious activity. Therefore it means that the Puranic texts were now the guiding principles in the textual tradition for iconography, architecture and the construction of the royal image. Though Bhakti or the cult of devotion is basic to Puranic religion as evident from the Puranic texts, it is only in South India (Tamiḻakam) that a bilingual tradition (that is both Sanskrit texts and Tamil hymns) provides the basis for the development of the Puranic pantheon and iconography. While in the Deccan there is a strict adherence for the Puranic texts in the Tamiḻakam the beginnings of a vernacular idiom can be seen for popularising the Purāṇas. The ideology of Bhakti was spread across the Tamiḻakam by the Nāyanmār and the Ālvārs through their devotional hymns to Śiva and Viṣṇu respectively. The exploits and forms of Śiva and Viṣṇu were sung by these saints from one devotional centre to another, describing these exploits at specific places.

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Thus the sacrality attached to these places was also transmitted to the centres where the hymns were sung and the centres across the Tamil region were unified into a single religious network. The hymns of the Ālvārs and Nāyanmār also formed the basis for some of the iconographic forms developed in the later part of the early mediaeval period (seventh to thirteenth centuries AD). The emerging kingship-based polities of Tamiḻakam thus utilised the system of temple-based Brahmadeya settlements as an assertion of their claim over territory. The agrarian tracts of Coḻanāḍu provided the resource-base for these emerging kingdoms; significantly the venue of the most extensive travel and the focus of the largest number of hymns to shrines by Nāyanmār is the fertile Kaveri Valley of the Coḻanāḍu. It is also significant that the Nāyanmār’s conception of the sacred place or the place of pilgrimage includes in its scope the larger settlement within which the shrine is situated.48 The description of Tillai, Vilimilalai, Marukal and Cenkaṭṭankuti attest to the antiquity of these towns as Brahmadeya settlements.49 constructing the multifaceted image of a deity The early mediaeval image of the deity carried within itself multiple meanings. This was the age when the emphasis was more on the temple-centred religion than on Vedic religion. Hence the depiction of Śiva incorporated in itself the pointers to the religious authority that was claimed to be the Vedas. The Tevāram hymnists depicted him as the embodiment of the Vedas.50 The transition from the Vedic to the Puranic form of worship was sanctified by depicting the god as the manifestation of the former. The latter form of worship was validated through this process. By attributing the earlier tradition to the deity it became easier to follow the worship rituals of the new tradition as the latter addressed itself to the former by the medium of the deity. In this context there is an important reference by Sambandar who says that the Lord of Sirkali destroyed the Tirpura so that the virtuous Vedic chants could be resumed there. This kind of oral depiction created an interface between the Vedic and the Puranic systems and constructed a religious system which synthesised both. In another hymn Sambandar describes Tillai as the home of the men who have conquered the cosmic evil through sacred learning and the tending of the sacred fire.51 While the worship rituals themselves had acquired an iconic basis the status of the priests still depended on their image as the carriers of Vedic knowledge. The emotional idiom of the Tevāram (directed towards the icon but latently pointing at the Vedic system) went a long way in crystallising this image. Iconologically speaking the popularisation of the Vyākhyāna Dakṣiṇāmūrti of Śiva as an expounder of Vedic knowledge was directly related to the communication of such ideas. Sambandar’s hymn on Muruganpunti shows the interface between the Vedic and folk levels of the image of Śiva, which were brought together through the devotional medium. Sambandar says that Śiva dwells at this place which is a home of hunters and Vaṭukar tribesmen while chanting the Veda, delighting in the Uttiram festival at the

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wave-washed Oṟṟiyur shrine.52 The image of the deity integrates here various cultural systems. A somewhat related construction of the divine image was attempted by describing Śiva as the consort of various folk Goddesses who were worshipped in the outlying areas where devotional Śaivism extended itself. The motif of the localisation of the deity at these centres was used for this purpose. Sundarar’s hymns on Kotikkulakar are examples of this.53 In these hymns the image of Śiva living at this place in an isolated state reflects the extension of a cult in an erstwhile ‘unclaimed’ space. Sundarar also questions Śiva on his taking Kāṭukiḻāl (lady of the forest) as his companion when he already had Ganga and the Goddess as his consorts. The Tevāram played a great role in popularising the Puranic narratives in the vernacular medium across the Tamil region. This brought the Puranic sculptures in the temples closer to the populace, who could relate to this temple art through the Tamil Bhakti hymns. The vernacular Bhakti tradition thus served to emphasise the visual text’s relation to the Puranic literary text. The relation between the verbal and the visual traditions was explicated through the oral tradition. The creation of the image of Śiva as the supreme deity was suffused with the currents of the sectarian conflicts which were going on in devotional religion in South India at that time. Various forms and legends of Śiva were taken up to create such an image of Śiva. Lingodbhava was one such example that was taken up by the Nāyanmār for association with various shrines across Tamiḻakam. This legend establishes Śiva as the supreme deity among the three great gods, and thereby the shrines which were associated with this legend acquired a significant position in the popular psyche. Appar’s constructions of Śiva’s images includes his depiction as having a thousand feet and shoulders and also a thousand names at Ārur.54 This image is similar to the Viśvarūpa conceptualisation of Viṣṇu. This shows an attempt to bring Śiva’s imagery at par with that of Visnu. Often these sectarian conflicts brought a transformation in the significance attached to a pilgrimage centre. Ramesvaram is an example of this. In one hymn on this centre Appar describes ‘pious’ Māl (i.e. Rāma) building this shrine after killing the sinful demons, who were ignorant of pious life.55 These contrasting characteristics associated with Rāma/Māl and the demons are completely reversed by Sambandar. He describes this shrine as having been built by Rāma to ‘atone for his sin’ of killing the ten-headed king of Lanka.56 From being a centre associated with the act of grace of a ‘pious’ God it was turned into a centre created to wash away the sin of this erstwhile ‘pious’ god; the sin being the killing of a demon who was a devotee of Śiva. The sectarian conflict is instrumental here in the characteristic imaging of the deity, the demon and the shrine. The sectarian conflict is reflected in the iconographic programme of even the temples ostensibly not dedicated only to Śiva. The Trimūrti Cave and Adivaraha Cave at Mahabalipuram have syncretic leanings. The former is

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believed to be dedicated to Brahma, Śiva and Viṣṇu, with Śiva’s shrine in the centre.57 This suggests a predominance of Śiva over the other two gods. The Adivaraha Cave on the other hand is conceptualised as a temple for Śiva. Here a Harihara panel on the southern side outside the shrine corresponds to the Viṣṇu panel on the northern side. This is in keeping with the Āḻvārs’ reference to Viṣṇu as one who keeps Śiva on his person as stated earlier. The iconographic programme makes visually explicit the Prabandham reference of Śiva being only a part of Viṣṇu. To further enhance this correlation, Viṣṇu is accompanied by his consort Lakṣmī while Harihara is accompanied by the Goddess, thus suggesting that the Hariharamūrti is a pointer to the image of Śiva residing on the person of Viṣṇu. The prominent sectarian conflict and the staunch royal patronage of Śaivism are evident in the imprecatory verses engraved in the form of inscriptions on Dharmaraja Ratha, Ganesha Ratha, Ramanuja Mandapam and Varāha Mandapam at Mahabalipuram. This verse says that the Śiva shrine was built by the rulers for the sake of the wish fulfilment of their subjects.58 This is followed by the imprecatory verse, cursing six times those in whose hearts Rudra does not dwell.59 The messages conveyed to the audience through these inscriptions are clear. First, according to the royal proclamation there is no distinction between the royal wish and the wish of the subjects. Hence the temples have been carved to satisfy the wish of the subjects. Varāha Mandapam (on which this verse is carved) is definitely of Vaiṣṇava affiliation, thus suggesting the extent to which royal preference for one sect was expressed. Here the king not only lays down his own preference but expects the subjects to merge their own religious leanings with his. Interestingly this verse is carved on the floor of the Varaha Mandapam where it is easily visible. Of course we have to consider here how many people could read a Sanskrit verse carved on stone. Here the role of the temple Brāhmanas as the mediators of royal norms of public expression is important. The rituals had a value not merely as the paraphernalia of a ritualistic religion but also because they defined the deity as the anthropomorphic focus of the devotional communication. This anthropomorphic focus was also hierarchised to express sectarian conflict. This is most clearly expressed in Appar’s Ilinkapurāṇakkuruntokai in which he uses the rituals to establish Śiva’s supremacy over Brahma and Viṣṇu when he says that since they sought to find the ends of the linga rather than worshipping it following the usual rituals they did not have wisdom.60 The salvation-giving worship ritual here not only defines the deity as the centre of devotion but it establishes a hierarchy between the personal God and other Gods. worship ritual as an expression of the correlation between human and divine images Worship rituals delineated a correlation between the human and divine images. The glorification of the shrine was related to the emergence of temples

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as pilgrimage centres which were woven together in a network through poetry. The word for pilgrimage, ‘tīrttham’, literally means a body of sacred water. This is related to the fact that the sacred centres invariably had a body of water in the form of a pond, tank or river attached to it. Hence going to a pilgrimage centre also meant bathing in the sacred waters, especially on festival days. The rituals associated with the worship of the icon show that they were in fact the visual and overt expressions of the symbolic correlation between divine and human images. As a lateral current to this correlation divine activities were synchronised with the daily routine of the devotees who worshipped the deity. Hence the ritual required not only the devotee to bathe in the water, the same process was formulated for the deity as well. A great religious significance was attached to seeing the deity being bathed with Vedic chants and adorned with sandal paste and flowers.61 The patterning of the divine lifestyle on the lines of human lifestyle and the act of the viewing of this divine lifestyle by the devotees reinforced the symbolic overlap between the divine and the royal images. The Vaiṣṇava hymn Tiruppāḷḷiyelucci of Toṇḍaratippoṭi shows the crystallisation of worship rituals in the temple. This is a Tamil song composed clearly for the purpose of being sung every morning before the idol to arouse the god. The song itself very elaborately describes the morning scene in the temple when people and gods have arrived to pay their obeisance to Viṣṇu.62 By creating such songs meant to be sung regularly the rituals described in the song received a popular validation and also were ‘fixed’ in the worshipsystem as a necessary element of offering devotion to the deity. This song also depicts the deity as the divine sovereign who receives obeisance from his mortal and divine subjects in the form of the temple rituals. Rituals (and the oral recitations of such songs) thus define the deity as the focal point of devotional worship and also institute sovereignty upon his image; the oral dissemination of these images through these songs creates a psychological support-base for such images in the popular mind. This symbolic correlation in the ritual sphere was contiguous with the correlation implicit in the iconographic creation (the latter will be elaborately discussed in Chapters 4 and 5). Ritual here makes explicit what is latently reflected in the iconography of the period. from devotionalism to philosophic discourse: utilisation of this genre for royal – divine correlative imagery This correlation between human and divine imagery was evident not only in devotional hymns but also in philosophical discourse. Maṇikkavācakar’s Tiruvācakam shows a more philosophical leaning than the emotional devotion of the Tevāram trio. Maṇikkavācakar uses various styles from Sangam poetry but the theme is usually the philosophical exposition of Śaivism. A good example of this is the Tirudaśāngam, that is the ten insignia (of a king)

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sung at Tillai. In the traditional genre it describes the ten identifiable features of a King including his country, capital, steed, weapon, garland and flag etc.63 Here the poet uses this genre to describe Śiva in the form of a king through the questions of Śivakāmī and answers of her parrot. Śivakāmī is Śiva’s consort and plays the role of a separated royal consort who asks about her divine/royal lord. On one level the divine and royal identities of a god have merged together while on another level these identities have been utilised to expound the Śaivite philosophy. Thus in answer to Śivakāmī’s questions the parrot replies that the river of this divine king is the renowned bliss64 and his vehicle is the horse of gnosis.65 Similarly his mountain bestows on us blissladen deliverance using the sword (of gnosis).66 We can see the shift from the emotional poetry of the earlier three saints where such descriptions were always iconographic and were located in a religious centre. In contrast to that Tiruvācakam introduces the idea of providing a philosophical base to Śaivism, an element which had not existed before. Instead of attaining love for the god, here the emphasis is on gaining knowledge and thereby deliverance. Both Tevāram and Tiruvācakam depict the god in the royal image but a reading of these texts shows that the intention behind this royal–divine parallelism is different in both the texts. Maṇikkavācakar takes further the invocation call to the devotees used by the earlier saints, which created a sense of community. In Tiruvācakam this call becomes more aggressive, patterned on the style of a battle and is now not only a call for going to a shrine or to join in the devotional singing and dancing but also to fight the enemies of ‘delusion.’ It exhorts the devotees to beat the cosmic sound-emitting drum of the chieftain who holds the sword of gnosis and captures the heavenly city before the forces of delusion arrive. It is obviously an urgent call for aggressive unification of the community rather than an emotional participation of a loosely bonded group. The valour of a divine ‘chieftain’ serves to reinforce this aggressive unification. With Tiruvācakam we are in the realm of philosophical discourses and the utilisation of the Aham and Puram themes for a militant unification of the Śaivite community. This was the period when sectarian conflict had started playing a great role in the religious sphere; hence the need for a greater unification. This insistence on the abstract deduction of devotional experiences also reflects an intensification of the canonisation of the religious tradition. devotional religion and aham genre The image of the deity as the divine sovereign who drew devotional tribute from his ‘subjects’ inspired the Alvars to use the Aham genre of the Sangam poetry to express their devotion. The natural consequence of the royal/divine parallelism was that the deity should receive a similar kind of affection as the hero received in the Sangam literature. In Sangam poetry the deity or the hero/ chief was adored by his consort in the Aham genre. The devotional milieu

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of the early mediaeval period built upon this tradition. This reinforced the parallel between the divine and sovereign images of the deity. Following the same style in which a Sangam heroine expressed her love for the hero, the Bhakti hymnists of the Vaiṣṇava faith portrayed the deity in the form of the divine lover for whom the devotee expressed his devotional love. They used the themes of separation, possession etc. as in the Sangam poetry.67 Just as the Sangam poetry depicts a girl being ‘possessed’ by Murugan, in the same way the Vaiṣṇava poetry depicts the devotee (often literally) as a girl possessed by Viṣṇu.68 Nammāḻvār uses this idiom to describe his daughter’s ‘possession’ by Viṣṇu.69 Āṇḍāl, Periyāḻvār’s adopted daughter used this Aham genre successfully to traverse the domestic space of women and integrated it with the tenets of devotionalism. Though her predecessors had used the motif of the girl in love with the god none of them had been able to (or had even tried to) achieve an integration of the female domestic space with the devotional realm of the temple and oral recitation of the songs. One way in which Āṇḍāl achieved this was by infusing Vaiṣṇava devotion into the women’s rituals on festive occasions. Tiruppāvai was constructed around this theme. In a characteristic verse she says that on the full moon of Mārgali they should praise Viṣṇu before going for their ritual bath in order to bring prosperity to the land.70 Here the conventional concept of ritual bathing for prosperity on a festive occasion has been merged with devotional praise to Viṣṇu. In a similar verse in Nācciyār Tirumoḻi she uses the idiom of observing traditional worship rituals of women for the purpose of obtaining Venkaṭam’s lord.71 It is significant that the rituals used are traditionally observed by the women, but the object is to obtain Viṣṇu as the reward. The purpose of festivities has been constructed in accordance with the devotional religion. It has been suggested that to bathe in the month of Tai on festive occasions is an archaic custom known from Sangam literature and is related to young girls’ hope of obtaining a desirable husband.72 Here an attempt to reinterpret and reconstruct an old festive tradition according to Vaiṣṇava devotional tenets has become explicit. Nācciyār Tirumoḻi also uses the motif of the girls’ ideal of attaining Kṛṣṇa as the ultimate goal, here in the form of a lover/husband. Thus the fourth hymn exploits the motif of girls drawing loops to see their future prospects of finding the youth of their dreams.73 Āṇḍāl’s poems used the motif of the girls’ usual activities to consolidate the idea of Kṛṣṇa as the desirable companion for them on one level and also to provide the womenfolk with an oral text of the imageries of Viṣṇu /Kṛṣṇa’s exploits which they could personally relate to. In her poetry he was not some distant deity to be aspired for through worship but rather the ideal companion to be desired. In this sense Āṇḍāl’s poem brought the god and the concept of devotion closer to the womenfolk than any of the earlier Āḻvārs had done. The Aham idiom used for creating a unity between the devotee and the deity in the form of consorts is sharply reflected in the sixth hymn of Nācciyār Tirumoḻi. This hymn describes Āṇḍāl’s dream about her marriage to Kṛṣṇa/

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Viṣṇu. Interestingly the signatory verse of this hymn ascribes good children as a reward for reciting this hymn.74 This is in sharp contrast to the signatory verses of earlier Āḻvārs that ascribe attainment of heaven and mokṣa as rewards. While Āṇḍāl integrates the domestic space of women into the Vaiṣṇava devotionalism the ultimate goals of a devotee were defined by the gender roles ascribed by the society. Thus, a man could aspire to attain god’s feet while a woman could hope to attain domestic bliss by reciting these hymns. The most intensive form of devotion is the motif of possession by the deity. This is an integral part of the Aham genre. It was extensively used by the Āḻvārs. This idea makes explicit the notions of supremacy of Viṣṇu and the merger of the devotee with the deity. Since Tamil tradition already had a strongly developed cult of Murugan which covertly worked with the notion of possession by the deity some conflict between Vaiṣṇavism and the Murugan cult was inevitable. In Āḻvār poetry this conflict took the form of the Āḻvārs attempting to displace Murugan from the popular psyche and to institute Viṣṇu in his place (though how far this attempt was successful is another area of study). Tiruvāymoḻi has a whole decad devoted to this attempt. Like in Śaivism the Āḻvārs invoked the devotees to sing and dance ecstatically in praise of the god.75 The ecstatic dancing and singing mode of worship of the Murugan cult was utilised by the Bhakti hymnists to perpetuate the devotional religion. However the fact that this was not a mere imitation of that cult but rather an attempt to displace it with Vaiṣṇavism is evident from Tiruvāymoḻi. Borrowing from the Sangam motif of a girl’s possession by Murugan that was cured by frenzied dancing, offering toddy, rice etc., Tiruvāymoḻi refers to the possession-sickness of a girl but changes the ‘diagnosis’ and ‘cure’ to suit the Vaiṣṇava Bhakti mode. The poet addresses the women preparing for the traditional exorcism rites and says that they have not understood their sickness; this is not some ‘mean’ God but ‘great divinity’. He restrains the women from dancing ‘incongruously’ and doing ‘wild’ things like throwing rice and toddy and heeding the ‘strange’ gypsy’s advice. He exhorts them to praise Viṣṇu instead who alone can cure the girl’s illness76 (emphases mine). While the girl ‘possessed’ by Viṣṇu is a motif patterned on that of the Murugan cult the poet also establishes a hierarchy between Viṣṇu and Murugan by calling the former as a great deity and the latter as a ‘mean god’. The attempt to displace the power of the Velan and the mode of Murugan worship with the recitation of the Bhakti poetry as the only cure for the girl is also evident. The Vaiṣṇava attempt to degrade the existing mode of cultic worship vis-à-vis the Sanskritic religious prescriptions is more explicit in the following stanza ‘To cure her spirits, you sacrifice a goat and pour toddy, strike your hands and shake your shoulders, what use ladies? ... Listen; go seek the Vedic seers and devotees of the lord. You mix and pour toddy with wasteful words and sinful deeds and dance to loud music in frenzy. Oh! This is lowly. With the help of Vedic seers, worship the auspicious feet of the lord ... that will cure this girl.

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I cannot stand and witness you heaping hollow praises on some lowly god and wastefully dance to cheap music.’77

By calling the traditional Murugan worship-system ‘lowly’ and invoking the women to seek the Vedic seers instead the poet ends his reproach by stating his inability to watch this ‘hollow’ performance. It is evident that during the period of Tiruvāymoḻi, the Vaiṣṇava poetic tradition tried to gain a stronghold on popular minds by attempting to dislodge the Murugan cult and its traditional mode of worship. In this context Āṇḍāl attempts a merger of the identities of Murugan and Kṛṣṇa in Tiruppāvai. She eulogises the spear in Kṛṣṇa’s hand.78 It is well known that the spear is traditionally associated with Murugan. The iconography of Kṛṣṇa never shows him as holding this weapon. By portraying Kṛṣṇa as the ‘desired consort’ she also draws from the motif of Murugan’s image as a deity capable of enchanting women. The attempt to create an image of Viṣṇu that ‘engulfed’ the identities of Śiva and Murugan – his main contestants in the socio-religious space – existed even earlier, in the period of the earliest four Āḻvārs. Thus Poykai says that the name is Aran, Nārāyaṇa the vehicle is the bull etc. – that is, they are one.79 Pey says that the images of the God having matted locks and a tall crown are actually of one of the gods of Venkaṭam.80 It has been shown in a study that Māl is described in the image of Murugan.81 Viṣṇu here is referred to as Ceyan, the Red One. Similarly the fourth Antāti calls him Ilan Kumāran, ‘the young prince’.82 These references show a contest for the religious space between all these cults even in the earliest layers of Āḻvār poetry. Tiruvāymoḻi takes this contest only to a more aggressive level by strongly denouncing the Murugan worship system. The icon of Harihara is another example of how an image can be ‘read’ differently by two different audiences to proclaim their own supremacy. The Śaiva sects explained this image in terms of Śiva ‘giving’ his left half to Viṣṇu thus claiming Śiva’s superiority. Also the left half is traditionally regarded as the inferior half in India. The Vaiṣṇava devotees described this form as evidence of Śiva forming a part of Viṣṇu,83 thus perceiving Śiva in a subordinate position. This notion is explicitly stated in a verse, ‘can even Brahmā or Śiva through steady contemplation fathom his greatness, when they are but a part of him?’84 The legend of Kapālamokṣa85 was popularised by Tiruvāymoḻi to establish the supremacy of Viṣṇu over Śiva. The bitter animosity that existed between the two sects is expressed in a verse in which Nammāḻvār says that Viṣṇu is the ruler of Brahmā, Śiva and other gods. It does not help the linga worshippers to speak ill of him; his superiority is proved by the Kapālamokṣa legend.86 The poetic idiom of Tamil Bhakti thus explicated the symbolism of divine sovereignty in a subtle manner. The major factors of sectarian conflict, the growth of the pilgrimage network, and the evolution of ritualisation and devotionalism and dichotomic discourse carried within themselves the undercurrent of this symbolic parallel between divine and human sovereignty.

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III The growth of the emotional Bhakti led to the growth of ritualistic paraphernalia, the creation of poetic idiom, and the emergence of symbolic parallellism in imagery. As a consequence the early mediaeval period in peninsular India witnessed the construction of temples for housing the deity in various iconic forms and for carrying out rituals. During this period the rulers of the region consciously patronised one or other religious sect by erecting temples dedicated to the deity of the particular sect, that is Vaiṣṇavism or Śaivism. The temple served as the focus for the spread of the Puranic religion. For the first time stone temples were constructed by the rulers replacing brick and wood structures, as stone structures are more enduring. This evidently resulted in the establishment of the temple-oriented religion with an enduring influence. Temples were built in rock-cut and structural modes. In terms of the evolution of the Puranic religion and expansion of ritual the rock-cut temples had limited potential, for they could provide space only for darśana and the obtaining of blessings. The structural temples could increase the ritual activity multifold, had a greater role to play in restructuring society and economy and, therefore, could have a stronger hold over the society. Royal patronage was thus instrumental in the expansion of religion and also in the transmission of religious ideas. Also the temple housing the deity was significant in being symbolically parallel to the palace housing the ruler. To make this symbolism explicit the Tamil word for both palace and temple is ‘Koyil.’ What was communicated verbally through the text and overtly through the ritual was thus reinforced visually through the temple. The earliest temples in Tamiḻakam are simple rock-cut types excavated by the Pallavas. Geographically almost all the rock-cut temples are confined to the region between modern Chennai and the South Pennar River, Mahendravadi and Aragandanallur forming the northern and southern extremities respectively.87 The only exception to this cluster is the Lalitankura Cave at Trichy (on the bank of Kaveri) in the heart of Coḻanāḍu. The geographical spread of these Pallava rock-cut temples suggests the attempt by the rulers to exploit available rocks in the immediate vicinity. The Trichy Cave is a pointer to the limited nature of agrarian resources at the disposal of the relevant Pallava ruler and therefore his need to capture the Kaveri basin for the exploitation of a richer resource-base. Cave-temples suggest the propagation of a very simple form of temple-religion. In the propagation of the temple religion the accent was on the integration of local cults into the Puranic religious space and to give them a place in the newly excavated temples. A direct attempt to popularise the Puranic religion was made through the narrative panels depicting Puranic legends. The cave-temples of Mahabalipuram are striking examples of this. A look at the panels depicted here shows that the legend of Mahiṣāsuramardinī, the major incarnations of Viṣṇu (namely Varāha and Trivikrama), Śayana and Sthānaka Viṣṇu and major forms of Śiva were all well known and frequently executed in plastic art (Figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5).

1 Śayana Viṣṇu, Mahabalipuram

2 Seven horses carved on a ‘linga’ pedestal

3 Andhakavadhamūrti, Ellora

4 Fight between Jaṭāyu and Rāvaṇa, Kailāśa, Ellora

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5 Rāvaṇānugraha, There is some evidence that the Vedic–Puranic religion was consciously Ellora patronised by the rulers. The Guruvapalem plates of Parameśvaravarman

I refer to a Brahmadeya being given by the ruler to a Brāhmaṇa who is described as ‘Veda-Vedānga-itihāsa-Purāṇa-tattva-vidah.’88 Similarly the Reyuru plates of Narasimhavarman II record the gift of Reyuru village as Brahmadeya to a Brāhmaṇa well-versed in the two Vedas. His grandfather is said to be proficient in Vedas, Vedāngas, Itihāsa and Purāṇas.89 Rājasimha himself is referred to as ‘Āgama Pramāṇa’, ‘Āgamanusarī’, ‘Itihāsapriyah’ and ‘Śāstradṛṣṭi’90 in the epithets engraved for him in the niches round the enclosure of Kailasanatha temple. These references show that by the time this temple was created, the temple-centred Agamic–Puranic religion had not only become well established in the region but was receiving royal patronage in the form of sacred monuments built by the king according to the prescribed canons and in the form of explicit interest in the canonical texts shown by the ruler. This temple along with Vaikuntha Perumal also shows a stage in which the Puranic iconography becomes elaborate and well entrenched, as is evidenced from the narrative sculptures of these temples. This is reflected by all the major Śaiva and Vaiṣṇava forms and varied methods of execution.

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This pattern of patronising Puranic religion through sacred monuments and supporting the growing Agamic textual tradition to standardise the construction of these monuments was emulated by the chiefs. These chiefs might have wanted to establish their dominance in their own vicinities. Thus we have an inscription from Uttaramerur in Kāñcītāluk from the time of Nandivarman II on the South wall of the Sundara Varada Perumal temple in Sanskrit language and Grantha script, which records that this shrine was built in accordance with the āgamikas of this village who were well versed in Agamic principles and practice at the behest of Parameśvara Takṣaka of Paṭāka.91 Not only the adherence to the Agamic principles but also the use of the Sanskrit language and Grantha script point to the fact that the modes of dominant public expression in the religious sphere were dictated by the patrons. integration of local cults – goddess panels and somāskanda (tamiḻakam) It has been argued that in the seventh to ninth centuries AD an attempt was made to integrate the indigenous cults associated with various tiṇais in Tamiḻakam through the iconographic conceptualisation of composite panels. Thus the Pallavas developed the Somāskanda panels, which combined the Puranic deities Śiva, Skanda and Umā on one level while latently bringing into the fold the Pālai deity Koṟṟavai and the Kuriñci deity Murugan. The merger of the identities of Koṟṟavai with Durgā and hence by extension with Umā, and of Murugan with Skanda in the textual tradition has been discussed earlier. Thus the creation of this composite icon and the Pallava attempt to use this as a royal cult by placing this panel on the back wall of the garbhagṛha of the Śiva shrines helped to bring together various social groups in the mainstream society under Pallava rule. A similar integrative tendency is seen in the Goddess panels. While the Mahiṣāsuramardinī panels from Mahabalipuram and Saluvanakuppam are directly derived from the Puranic legends of the Goddess,92 we have several panels from the Ranganatha Cave at Singavaram, the Adivaraha Cave and the Varaha Mandapam from Mahabalipuram which show the Goddess flanked by the devotees sacrificing their head to her, alluding to the sacrificial ritual associated with the Goddess as described in Śilappadikāram. In the Varaha Mandapam the narrative panels include those of Bhū Varāha, Trivikrama, Lakṣmī and the Goddess. Obviously the first three are clearly of the Vaiṣṇava pantheon while the Goddess has been sculptured as a multilateral conceptualisation of a deity and to highlight her Puranic description as Viṣṇu’s sister she holds Śankha and Cakra which she acquired to kill Mahiṣa. To highlight her sacrificial association some sacrificing devotees are depicted. Her identification as Durgā is emphasised by the lion on the top left corner and the Tamil textual tradition associating Koṟṟavai with deer is emphasised by the deer on the top right.93 In the Adivaraha Cave she is depicted as the consort of Śiva of the Harihara image and hence her Śaivite affiliation is more

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prominent there. Also the fact that she stands on a buffalo head is a pointer to the Puranic legend of her fight with Mahiṣa and to her image as the consort of Śiva who receives sacrifice as described in Śilappadikāram. The devotee cutting off his hand accentuates this identity. These images show the integration of various currents of worship rituals and belief-systems into the making of a religious image of the Goddess. It was also this iconographic process which integrated an indigenous tiṇai deity with the Puranic Goddess born to kill a demon. Eventually, various ecological religious cults were brought under the fold of the Puranic religion through this process. In the Pandyan temple at Kalugumalai we have images of Umā-sahita and Tripurāntaka and Skanda with consort (probably Devasenā).94 Thus this shrine is a visual manifestation of the Tamil textual tradition which had converged the identities of Murugan with Skanda and Koṟṟavai with Durgā/Umā and further brought them under the Śaiva cultic head as discussed earlier.95 Thus what the Pallavas did by introducing Somāskanda panels in their shrines; the Pandyas resolved by introducing images related to these myths on their most important shrine. With the rise of Śaivism other local cults became subordinated to it and were incorporated into the Śaivite fold. The cult of Murugan is a significant example of this. Tirupparankunram was traditionally regarded as one of the chief abodes of Murugan (though a major temple of Murugan is not extant there). We have mentioned earlier that the Nāyanmār described this centre as a sacred abode of Śiva. This probably refers to the early rock-cut temple of Śiva96 at this place. This suggests the subduing of an ancient cult in favour of Śaivism at Tirupparankunram during the Pandyan period. This Pancāyatana Śiva shrine visually expresses this subordination aspect as Skanda-Murugan here is only a minor Pancāyatana deity, included in place of the usual Sūrya. the temple in the lower deccan Religious developments were also taking place in the Lower Deccan that moulded its temple architecture and iconography to a great extent. With the growing needs of the temple religion Pradakṣiṇā was transformed from being a functional feature for facilitating the circumambulation ritual to an architectural device for the projection of the Puranic narratives to the audience. For example in the Deccan temples the cave temples do not have a Pradakṣiṇā, while the Pattadakkal temples and the Kailasa at Ellora show fully evolved systems of circumambulating the shrine and at the same time viewing the narrative and the iconic panels on the wall. This parallels the extensive winding Pradakṣiṇās found in such Tamil temples as the Vaikuntha Perumal and the Kailasanatha, especially the former. The Durga temple at Aihole throws an interesting light on the religious shift in the Cālukyan region that necessitated a transformation of the nature of the circumambulatory path.

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The temples at Aihole have a Garuḍa carved on the top of the doorway of the shrine. This has led to speculation by scholars that these temples were originally Viṣṇu temples that were taken over by the Śaiva sect later, as presently most temples house a linga in their shrines. However the sectarian affiliations of the Aihole temples have been a venue for a lot of controversy,97 the Durga temple taking the lead in the scholarly debate trying to ascertain the original dedicatory nature.98 Efforts have been made to interpret this temple as a Śaiva, Vaiṣṇava or even a Jain monument.99 In this regard J. F. Fleet discovered an important inscription on the portions of four stone slabs of the north wall of the southern gateway.100 The inscription is not dated but refers to the reign of Vikramāditya Satyāṣraya, whom Fleet considers to be Vikramāditya II on the basis of palaeography. It refers to a gift given to the Āditya Bhaṭāraga of the temple of Ācāra-Aleko Narasinga. Fleet considered Āditya Bhaṭāraga to be the priest of the temple. However K. V. Ramesh is of the opinion that this phrase refers to the god Āditya and the temple was known as that of Komārasinga.101 Srinivas Padigar has corroborated this with the Sūrya images carved on the temple.102 Based on the archaeological features Carol Radcliff Bolon dates the temple to about 700 AD.103 On the basis of these former studies G. M. Tartakov considers it as an elite Brahmanical stone temple of the Puranic age, a vehicle of the supreme lord Āditya and belonging to Vijayāditya’s reign.104 In light of the above arguments it is only logical to follow the viewpoint that this temple was conceptualised as a Sun temple. The placement of Garuḍa on the Lalāṭa bimbas of the doorways can be explained in this context. It is well known that the Vedic conceptualisation of Viṣṇu and the Sun merges their identities because of the idea of Viṣṇu encompassing the world and the Sun traversing the sky. The Garuḍa motif of the doorway emphasises this merger of the identities of the two deities. This throws light on the complementarity of the visual motifs to show the conceptualisation of the deity enshrined in the temple. The present linga in the shrine indicates that there was a shift from the worship of Sun–Viṣṇu to Śiva at some point of time. Vikramāditya I’s initiation into Śaivism (Śiva maṇḍaladīkṣā)105 has been regarded as having far-reaching consequences on the religious evolution of the region, as royal patronage to Śaivism evidently meant an increase in the influence of this sect. It is significant that the major temples constructed in the eighth century AD, for example Virupaksa, Mallikarjuna and Sangamesvara temples at Pattadakkal are Śiva temples. In Kontigudi at Aihole there is a rectangular ‘linga pedestal’ kept outside the shrine which has seven horses carved on its base (Figure 2), evidently reflecting the linga cult displacing a solar cult. The Durga Temple predominantly and other temples tangentially show the changing religious trends in the region and the accompanying transformation in the monuments to accommodate these religious trends. The changing religious needs of the Durga temple are reflected in the concept of Pradakṣiṇā which undergoes a marked change in this temple. This temple has two Pradakṣiṇās – one inside the shrine and the other in the form of a colonnaded

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cloister outside the shrine. The colonnade reaches up to the roof of the temple. The outer Pradakṣiṇā has niches into where sculptures of Puranic deities on loose stone slabs are fitted along the walls. It is unusual for a temple to have two Pradakṣiṇās. Obviously the inner plain Pradakṣiṇā serves purely as a ritual feature while the outer one with its images serves both as a ritual architectural feature and as a gallery for depicting the Puranic legends of Śiva, Viṣṇu and the Goddess. It is significant that no distinct sectarian affiliation is evident in the choice of themes. It has been argued106 that some of the temples at Aihole underwent renovations in the period of Vijayāditya and Vikramāditya II, during which phase additions were made in the existing structures. A double stairway was added to the Kontigudi temple at Aihole and a lower staircase with a frontal approach has been excavated beneath the added stairway.107 It is worth noticing that the Durga temple’s double staircase and the outer cloistered Pradakṣiṇā are at a lower level than that of the inner structure approached by a frontal staircase. Though the double staircase of the Durga Temple has not been excavated it is quite possible that the whole outer Pradakṣiṇā and the double staircase were added some time later and the images in the outer Pradakṣiṇā carved on loose slabs, many of which have been removed. This also explains the presence of two Pradakṣiṇās since it is possible that the outer Pradakṣiṇā was added with its panels when a need was felt to popularise and glorify the Puranic narratives with the Puranic religion gaining a stronghold. The slabs depict the exploits of the deities in the iconic form utilising the synoptic mode of narration. The larger, outer Pradakṣiṇā thus serves a greater need than mere circumambulation, that is it presents the deity in a glorified form to the devotee,who not only circumambulates but also ‘views’ the exploits of the deity while making his ritual round of the temple. Perhaps this is why a second Pradakṣiṇā was needed as the earlier, simpler Pradakṣiṇā served only the simple function of circumambulating the deity in the shrine. At Pattadakkal the most significant royal centre of the Cālukyas, although a well-marked Pradakṣiṇā with a sculpture gallery is not constructed, the outer walls of the temples are profusely carved with Puranic narratives. The Pradakṣiṇā here involves going around the temples from outside and this also involves ‘viewing’ the divine heroic acts. That the glorified image of the deity as projected in the Pradakṣiṇā also had a correlation with the powerful image of the ruler is reflected in the Pradakṣiṇā at Vaikuntha Perumal, where this sacred space is utilised to depict the narrative of the accession to the throne of Nandivarman the royal patron. Although in no other temple is this correlation so explicit, since the image of the ruler had implicit underlying currents of a parallel with the image of the deity, ‘viewing’ the divine exploits had the potential to remind the devotee of the parallel image of the royal patron who engaged in military exploits to retain control over his kingdom. This is further accentuated by the fact that the architectural style travelled from one region to another following a military conquest, for example in the Virupaksa temple at Pattadakkal,

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was modelled after the Kailasanatha at Kanchipuram after the Cālukyan conquest of the Pallavan capital. This style was further transmitted to the Kailasa at Ellora when the Rāṣṭrakūṭas came to power. The viewership of the divine exploits by the devout audience thus validated the military conquests of the ruler as the taking of the art style of the conquered territory was in a way also an assertion of his victory over the rival territory by the patron of the temple. multiple currents in the depiction of the deity (ellora) At Ellora the deity in the gigantic panels is often depicted not only in the act of vanquishing the demon but his other exploits and other narratives associated with him are also obliquely depicted. For example the Andhakavadhamūrti panel in Cave 29 (Figure 3) depicts Śiva not only in the act of killing Andhaka but also the head of the elephant carved on the rear wall highlights his Gajāntaka form and one of his left hands shows the Bhikṣāṭana form. While one narrative is dominant here various other narratives subliminally contribute towards the making of the divine image. The deity is conceived here not only as the divine protagonist of a narrative but rather as the central figure of many of his exploits. The Pradakṣiṇā figures at Kailasa are largely iconic. The epic scenes however are largely in the continuous narrative mode. There are some episodic narrative panels from the Rāmāyaṇa, for example the fight between Jaṭāyu and Rāvaṇa (Figure 4). Interestingly in the latter panel Rāma is shown as being adored by two female devotees. This points towards the perception of this figure as both the hero of the epic and a divine being though we still do not have any shrines dedicated to Rāma. The images of the Goddess throw some interesting light on the perceptions of the feminine divine figure. The Puranic images of Mahiṣāsuramardinī depict the Goddess as the most powerful deity, who was born to kill the demon Mahiṣa when no god could vanquish him. This image of the superiority of the Goddess culminates in the thirteen chapters of the Devī Māhātmya section of the Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa in which she is depicted as vanquishing various demons one by one the final battle being with Śumbha. She is endowed with the powers of all the gods. The Devī Māhātmya is also a text which converges the identities of various Goddesses from the Brahmanical pantheon onto the image of the Goddess. This includes the consorts of Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Śiva among others. On another level Śiva’s consort Pārvatī gets a passive and subsidiary treatment to Śiva and her subsidiary image is especially underlined in the Puranic narrative of her marriage to Śiva, in which he is the chief adjudicator and the omnipotent one while Pārvatī is his devotee attempting to draw his grace. The spectrum depicting the images of the Goddess thus ranges from one extreme to another. The Goddess images at Ellora highlight most of the prominent shades of this spectrum. There are a number of Mahiṣāsuramardinī panels of the

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Goddess conforming to her Puranic conceptualisation as the omnipotent deity. However the panel in Cave 14 shows her flaunting a crescent moon in her hair while her lion is attacking the Mahiṣa. This depiction shows a combination of the conceptualisation of the Goddess as Durgā and also as a consort of Śiva. The image of the passive consort of a powerful Śiva is brought out successfully in the Rāvaṇānugraha panels which are very popular in Ellora. These panels highlight the moment in the narrative when Pārvatī seeks Śiva’s support out of fear when Rāvaṇa attempts to shake Kailasa while Śiva comforts her and presses the mountain with his toe (Figure 5). There is also a panel in Lankesvara in which though Pārvatī holds Śiva with one arm, her pose is more of adoration than of a frightened consort (see Figure 14 in Chapter 2). This further highlights the gradation between the two deities. The depiction of Śiva here too is more iconic than narrative in nature. The Rāṣṭrakūṭa iconography thus accentuates the religious ideas and the architecture provides the backdrop to these. The later iconographic panels underline more the communicative aspect of religion rather than being just images of the divine.

IV With the coming of the Coḻas to power we enter into a phase in which royal intervention was instrumental in the construction of not only the iconographic aspect of the religious fabric but also in the creation and propagation of the religious text. In the earlier phase of the seventh to the ninth centuries AD the devotional texts were created and disseminated through the society solely by the saints who might have been patronised by the rulers. In the Coḻa period however the royal patron constructed not only the iconographic religious text but was also directly instrumental in the construction, popularisation and in the institutionalisation of the devotional literary text. The Coḻa phase thus marks an advance over the earlier phase of the seventh to the ninth centuries AD as far as the creation of the religious idiom goes. The royal intervention in the creation and dissemination of the devotional texts is reflected primarily in the discovery and organisation of the Tevāram hymns under Coḻa guidance. This legend is narrated in the fourteenth century Tirumuṟai Kanta Purāṇam which says that these hymns were lost to the world and were recovered by Nambi Āntār Nambi on the direction of the Coḻa ruler Abhaya Kulaśekhara identified with Rājarāja I from a sealed room in the Chidambaram temple. The legend has a parallel in the recovery of Vaiṣṇava hymns108 by Nāthamuni in the tenth century AD and the Sangam texts109 and hence is likely to be a symbolic motif. The association of the Coḻa monarch with the exercise of organising the devotional texts strengthens the view that the Coḻa royalty sought to fulfil its ideological needs through religious intervention. The Coḻa rulers along with organising the Tevāram hymns also instituted the singing of these hymns during the temple rituals. This singing ritual was in

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existence since the Pallava times, the earliest epigraphic evidence for making provisions for the ritual coming from an inscription of AD 845 at Vallam in which a Bāṇa chieftain under Nandivarman III is the donor.110 Early Coḻa inscriptions also reflect the popularity of the practice of making donations for the singing of the Tevāram during temple rituals.111 With Rājarāja I however starts the trend of the royal patron consciously instituting, validating and propagating an existing ritual of the devotional text through the venue of the royal temples. In the Bṛhadeśvara temple of Tanjavur alone Rājarāja I appointed 48 singers (Viṇṇappam Ceivar) and two instrumentalists to play the mattalam and utukkai. Many of them bore the names of the three saints. The religious trend in the Coḻa period also included an apotheosis of the 63 Nāyanmār. This process was interwoven with two features – consecration of the metal images of the Nāyanmār and the commissioning of the Periya Purāṇam the Śaiva hagiographical text by Kulottunga III in the mid-twelfth century AD. At Tanjavur the three Nāyanmār were consecrated112 and from then on numerous temples of the Coḻa period began to have the images of some of the Nāyanmār. This trend was obviously given an impetus by the commissioning of the Periya Purāṇam by the Coḻa ruler which is a hagiographical account of the 63 Nāyanmār. With the oral recital of this text the tradition of the 63 saints was crystallised in the popular mind and the deified images of the saints added a new dimension to the devotional religion – from being singer– saints they were raised to the level of divinities and the ruler had an important role to play in this expansion of the Śaiva pantheon. We also know about the festivals of the 63 saints especially the Pānkunī Uttiram.113 The elaboration of the hagiographical text is indicated by the exposition of the legends of the Periya Purāṇam at the Cidambaram temple and a festival institute conducted by Rājādhirāja II in honour of the year-long exposition.114 The festivals and the enactment of the hagiographical text served the purpose of the psychological assimilation of the notion of the apotheosis of the saints by the popular minds and the presence of the ruler on such occasions imported an authoritative validating touch to this apotheosis. the temple and its image under the coḻas The Coḻas took a special interest in moulding the temple and its image in their empire. It has been argued that Śaivism had a wider popular base vis-à-vis Vaiṣṇavism as it brought together the cultic practices and deities from various social levels. As it was a more effective instrument for acculturation, the Coḻa rulers used it as the main vehicle of the expression of Bhakti as also of their image as the protector–patrons of a substantial segment of the society without really distancing themselves from Vaiṣṇavism significantly.115 The visual metaphors of Śaivite acculturation are conspicuous in the temples renovated or constructed by the Coḻa rulers. The early historical Kaṇḍu or pillar worship had its visual parallels in the linga, that is the aniconic form of Śiva. This along with the idea of the deity residing in the pillar worshipped

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by early Tamils helped in the evolution and popularisation of the lingodbhava image in which Śiva emerged from the pillar, with Viṣṇu and Brahmā taking a subordinate place to him. The Tevāram uses this image extensively. The early Coḻa temples saw the elevation of the linga to the status of the only cult object to be enshrined in the main sanctum while all other forms of Śiva found a place on the outer walls of the Vimāna and chambers of the Pradakṣiṇā. Two other concepts from the early Tamil religion which were used extensively in the Cola temples were those of the deity sitting under the banyan tree and the dancing god in the forms of Dakṣiṇāmūrti and Naṭarāja respectively. The former occupied the southern niche while the latter was used as a Vimāna image as well as the Snāpana and Utsava icons within the shrine meant for pūjā and procession.116 Another feature of considerable importance is the prevalence of independent cult shrines for the Goddess (Piḍārī or Kālikoṭṭam), Murugan (Kumāra Koṭṭam) and even Gaṇeśa outside the Śaiva temple complex in several early settlements (e.g. Kaccippeḍu, the core of the city of Kāñcī) in pre-Coḻa times and referred to in early Coḻa inscriptions engraved in Śiva temples.117 They disappear from Coḻa records from the late tenth and early eleventh centuries AD when the Śaiva temple complexes incorporated these deities into their niches. They reappear in the form of subsidiary shrines like the Tirukāmakoṭṭam within the temple precinct from the twelfth century AD. This was a period that saw artisanal and crafts groups, as well as non-Brāhmaṇa elements acquiring greater participation in temple rituals. It would therefore seem that Śaiva iconography evolved in direct relation to the specific requirements of the ideological needs of the Coḻa power.118 The early Coḻas gave a more permanent form to the temple architecture and standardised the iconographic programme of the temple by converting the already existing temple into stone and placing a standard set of images in the niches on the outer walls of Garbhagṛha for example Dakṣiṇāmūrti on the south wall, Viṣṇu or Lingodbhava on the west wall and Brahmā in the north. The earliest of such temples are located in the Kaveri valley, which has a concentration of Bhakti centres. Most of them are early Coḻa foundations with a few exceptions which are probably late Pallava but renovated under the Coḻas. It has been suggested that most brick temples converted into stone under the Coḻas may well have been those Bhakti shrines attributed to their ancestor Koccenkaṇṇān by the hymns themselves and in the Coḻa praśastis. We have the famous example of Āditya I who conquered Toṇḍaināḍu in the late ninth century AD and is also credited with the construction of temples along the banks of Kaveri. Parāntaka I who extended Coḻa authority practically over the whole Tamiḻakam was also the earliest Coḻa ruler who utilised the religious network of Śaiva and Vaiṣṇava centres. All the known Rāma and Kṛṣṇa temples in the Tamil region have their origins in this period. The temple had by now superseded the Brahmadeya as the integrative force.119 The work of Sembiyan Mahādevī (the widowed queen of Gaṇḍarāditya) is significant in the direction of the standardisation of the temple iconography.

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In the village of Sembiyan Mahādevī, 40 miles from Tanjavur, stands the temple of Kaliasanathasvami. This temple may be taken as an example of the standard shrine evolved under this queen’s patronage. Like all her temples this temple had nine niches, Ardhanārī, Bhikṣāṭana and the Goddess forming a significant component of the iconographic programme. Here for the first time is seen the figure of the dancing Śiva.120 In the same village the queen established Brāhmaṇas well-versed in the four Vedas.121 Another temple of Konerirajapuram was built by her in memory of her husband during the reign of her son Uttama Coḻa. An inscription informs us of the dedication of a flower garden to the temple in the third year in the reign of Uttama Coḻa (AD 972). The temple which faces west displays the same features as seen in her Kailasanatha shrine including the Naṭarāja in one of the devakoṣṭhas.122 The Konerirajapuram temple contains an inscription datable to AD 976 that gives us considerable information about the administration of the temple and also significant details of the rituals connected with the metal images. The queen’s endowment provided for various items used in the pūjā ritual and the Brāhmaṇas and worshippers were given food during the major festivals. Concerning the rituals related to the images we hear of priests who ritually bathed the metal icons in milk curds, butter honey and sugar, carriers of holy water from the Kaveri for their bathing, those who prepared sandal paste for anointing the bronzes, the weaver who supplied fabric for draping them and the dyers of such cloth and those who held a canopy in procession.123 The early Coḻa temple in this sense served as an integrative element for various social groups, with the worship–ritual system acting as the venue for this integration. We also see above that the Coḻa patronage helped in the elaboration and the diversification of the ritual paraphernalia. This helped in expanding the social base of Coḻa rule. On another level we can see a parallel being created in the conceptualisation of the image of the deity and that of the ruler through the ritual paraphernalia that treated the deity in the same manner as the ruler. The political–ideational significance of this will be discussed in Chapters 4 and 5 but what is worth nothing here is that this parallel imagery, which had found its way in the Tamil Bhakti poetry in the pre-Coḻa period, found its tangible expression in the ritual system of the Coḻa temples. The royal patron played a significant role in the evolution of this imagery. Though giving extensive patronage to Śaivism the Coḻas never really distanced themselves significantly from Vaiṣṇavism. The largest number of temples of the Vaiṣṇava pantheon were built during Parāntaka I’s reign (as remarked earlier).124 We also have evidence of the Anbil Plates of Sundara Coḻa125 which record land grants being made to the Coḻa minister who is associated with the temple of Srirangam. His mother also had made many donations to the temple. The minister is the follower of ‘Ṣrī Nātha’ a word variously interpreted to mean either Viṣṇu or Nāthamuni; in either case a strong Vaiṣṇava affiliation is reflected. The temple at Srirangam itself had been receiving grants from the days of Parāntaka I right up to the later Coḻa period. These donations, apart from

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making provisions for the maintenance of the temple, provided for the ritual singing of the devotional hymns in the temple. Thus an inscription from the third Prākāra on the east wall (dated in the fifteenth regnal year of Kulottunga I) registers an agreement by the temple executives (nivandakkarār) made to Senāpatigal Vīracoḻa Munaiyadaraiyār alias Ayarkolunde Cakrapāṇi of Kottur for a Kalañju of gold paid for the purchasing of land to provide for the recitation of the Tiruppāḷḷiyelucci and Tiruvāymoḻi in the temple.126 Another inscription from the same place registers a gift of land for feeding Ṣrī Vaiṣṇavas.127 This grant is datable to AD 1085. Similar references to support Ṣrī Vaiṣṇavas are found in other inscriptions.128 It is notable that these are not direct royal grants but are granted by the high-ranking officials of the rulers and always pay tribute to the king before commencing the grant. In many cases the donor to the temple is the queen herself.129 This temple and the other Vaiṣṇava shrines were located in the fertile resource-base of the Kaveri Valley. Hence they played a major role in the social integration in the radii around them. The provisions made for the singing of hymns have their counterpart in the Śaivite shrines. This is significant because oral recitation of the hymns served to reinforce the parallel between the divine and royal imageries as well as the various rituals and exploits associated with the deity in the popular psyche. The royal patrons used both the Śaiva and the Vaiṣṇava hymns for their patronage in the temples. royal images in coḻa temples – royal portraits? It is imperative to consider in the present work a particular category of images found in some Coḻa temples that have been studied by scholars at some length. These are figures of Coḻa rulers and other royal family members of the Coḻas carved in high or low relief on the walls of some of the temples of the period, some of them identified with name in inscriptions near the images. Since these images are of royal personages and often identified, they have been called as portraits and considerable scholarship has gone into not only studying them but also in ascertaining whether they should be regarded as ‘portraits.’ Perhaps the first scholar to explore the tradition of the making of images of royal personages across the Indian subcontinent and spanning the long time-span of Indian history was T. G. Aravamuthan in his Portrait Sculpture in South India, where he explores the making of these images in the north and western India before he goes on to survey this process as it evolved in South India.130 He refers to an early group of figures at Nanaghat Caves near Junnar in Nasik datable to the second century BC. There is an inscription in the cave mentioning a sacrifice performed by a king and queen and the figures on the back wall of the cave include images of the king and the queen, their three sons, their father and a court noble.131 From the Coḻa period one of the earliest and most significant references he makes is of a group of figures in low relief in the Śiva temple at Konerirajpuram built by Sembiyan Mahādevī

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referred to in the previous section. This group of figures includes an image of her husband Gaṇḍarāditya worshipping the Śivalinga and is identified by an inscription below the image.132 Aravamutham shows in his study that this trend of making inscribed images of the royal personages increased greatly from the period of Rājarāja I when the Coḻa empire was at its height of power. Thus when Rājarāja’s father Parāntaka II died his queen became Satī with his body. Their daughter and Rājarāja’s sister Kundavai installed images of the deceased king and queen in the great temple of Rājarājeśvaram built by Rājarāja I.133 It is further stated that in the last days of Rājarāja I the manager of Rājarājeśvram set up images of Rājarāja I and his queen Lokamahādevī.134 A lamp was kept lit in front of the king’s image.135 Aravamutham also says that a metal image is found in the temple with the inscription ‘Rājarājendrasola-deva of the Big Temple (i.e. Rājarājeśvaram)’ engraved on the pedestal, and when the deity is taken out in procession this image of the Coḻa king escorts the deity. He further says that the inscription on the pedestal is datable to the seventeenth century, suggesting that in all probability the original image of the king was lost and was replaced by this image at a later date.136 Aravamutham also gives the reference of a bronze image of a woman at Kalahasti Śiva temple with an inscription on its pedestal, saying that this is the likeness of Sola-Mahādevī and was cast under the orders of Rājendrasola-deva.137 Aravamutham takes all the above instances as portraits of the royal personages and argues for a strong tradition of portraiture in India since the very ancient period. In more recent times, however, there has been speculation about whether these images should be regarded as ‘portraits’, since these are not true likenesses of the figures they are identified with but rather stylised depictions with names inscribed to identify the images with the royal personages they are supposed to represent. Padma Kaimal has come up with some interesting arguments in this regard justifying these images to be portraits, even though they are not realistic likenesses. She defines a portrait as a visual image composed of a collage of elements selected to capture something of the essential nature of specific human subjects who lived within the relevant span of historical time. In order to function as a portrait an image need not adhere to any particulars of the subject’s original appearance but it must somehow successfully articulate within its own culture its role as an index to that person’s extra-artistic reality. The specific devices employed to articulate that role and the aspects of the subject considered worthy of representation can vary enormously. She further says that the Kaveri-region’s portraits exhibit sufficient physical idiosyncrasies and expressions of the inner self to satisfy the most parochial definitions of portraiture.138 She gives the evidence of the Pallava kings Simhaviṣṇuvarman and Mahendravarman I in the Adivaraha Cave at Mahabalipuram to suggest that portraiture of this kind reflects an attempt at glorification of the royal lineage of the past by portraying the deceased royal ancestors of the royal patron of the monument.139 In the same context she also discusses the royal iconographic

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gallery in the Pradakṣiṇā of the Vaikuṇṭha Perumāḻ temple at Kanchipuram built by Narasimhavarman II, a Pallava king in the eighth century AD. She considers this as a portrait gallery of the king taking his royal lineage back to his ancestors and also highlighting his activities as king, thus glorifying his persona through the medium of portraiture.140 Elsewhere she has referred to the painting in the ninth chamber of the circumambulatory passage of the Rājarājeśvaram at Tanjavur. This includes a male figure accompanied by three female figures offering worship at the Chidambaram temple. The male figure has often been identified as Rājarāja I and the women as his sister Kundavai and his two queens. Padma Kaimal argues that the inclusion of a portrait of Rājarāja I, as a devotee of the most sacred Śiva temple in South India, placed his own royal temple at Tanjavur on the sacred map of Śaivism rather than being identified as only a royal temple without any sacred significance. Thus the royal portraiture of the eleventh century is a break from the portraiture of the earlier period where it served mainly to emphasise the devotion of the royal patron at a sacred shrine.141 Padma Kaimal extends this notion of a powerful image of the ruler in portraiture to the images of powerful deities (such as at the Trichy cave) as having a second meaning of a parallel image of a powerful ruler – an idea already discussed by various authors.142 As the present work explores the notion of parallel imageries of the king and the deity this last argument of Padma Kaimal is especially significant here, since she considers these allegorical images as ‘portraits’. Susan Huntington has critically appraised this argument of Kaimal’s, contextualizing it in the Hindu notion of Dharma and its prescribed duties for the ruler.143 Huntington argues that it is not appropriate to look at these double-meaning images from the secularised viewpoint of our contemporary age to allow for an intentional political propaganda on the part of the royal patron. She asserts that it was the duty of a Hindu ruler in ancient and early mediaeval India to protect his realm and his subject according to the vision of Dharma. Hence a glorified image of the king is in line with this Dharmic image of the ruler and intentions of political propaganda should not be read into these images. Huntington underlines that the Hindu visions of Dharma and Mokṣa considered this world as illusionary and regarded the other world as the goal to strive for. Keeping in line with the royal Dharma for his subjects and realm a parallel between the royal and divine images is not secondary but rather an explicit motivation behind the making of these images.144 Several ideas emerge from the above discussion. First, if seen from the perspective of this work the important question is not whether the royal images discussed above are realistic likenesses or not but rather what purpose they serve and what kind of idea they transmit to the audience. Hence Padma Kaimal’s detailed discussion on whether they should be considered as portraits is not of central significance here. What is of significance is her argument that these figures referred to as ‘portraits’ served to glorify the royal lineage and also placed royal temples such as the Rājarājeśvaram at Tanjavur on the

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sacred map of South India. This has to be cross-examined. In fact the Tanjavur temple remained in prominence as long as Rājarāja I ruled, but as soon as his son Rājendra I came to power this temple was phased out of significance and Rājendra I’s personal royal temple became prominent. Hence the argument about placing a royal temple in the sacred network of devotional shrines is not tenable here. As for the glorification of royal lineages through portraiture, image galleries such as those at Kanchipuram and the images of rulers such as those at Mahabalipuram do glorify both the kings and the lineages they come from. But the same cannot be said of the large number of images of the royal personages from the Pallava as well as the Coḻa times who are shown in the pose of offering worship or folding their hands. These images clearly represent these royal figures as devotees of the divine power to whom the temple is dedicated. Perhaps here Susan Huntington’s argument holds true as these images ‘portray’ the royal figures as upholders of the Dharmic ideal. As for the images having a double meaning of a powerful deity and a powerful king, in the following chapters the present work shows that for a large part of the period under study this was not a conscious transmission; rather it was a psychological process of image-making. Only from the eleventh century onwards a conscious attempt at creating this imagery is evinced. Hence political intention is not always present; rather the double meaning creates a favourable situation for the construction of a political legitimacy for the ruler. In that sense Susan Huntington’s argument is very valid in the context of this study. remodelling the narrative – textual reconstruction of religious perspectives In the Coḻa period (under royal patronage) the Śaivite religious narratives were recounted and the religious perspectives were reconstructed through the text in the process. While recounting the lives of the sixty-three Nāyanmār, the Periya Purāṇam also acts as a reformulator of the form in which the deity, the devotee and religiosity were perceived. These images covertly formulated the models for the audience to follow. Thus while describing the devotees assembled in the Devasiriyam temple Cekkilār states that these devotees considered god’s service as their only goal and were bound to this duty even if the five elements were to lose their balance in chaos.145 This imagery is a departure from those schools of thought which sought deliverance from the cycle of birth, death and rebirth as their goal. In contrast the only goal for a devotee here is service to god. Cekkilār also modifies and transforms the events of his narrative to create an omnipotent divine image which could not be defied by human agency. A remarkable example is that of Caṇḍeśānugraha. In the Tevāram, Caṇḍeśa’s father is said to have kicked the linga when Caṇḍeśa cut off his leg.146 In Cekkilār’s narrative this event is modified and he says that Caṇḍeśa’s father in his anger kicked at the vessel containing milk for the ablution of the linga and spilt it.147 The human assault here is deflected towards the milk pot and away from the linga. The focus here is thus not only on the rewards for most extreme and

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unquestioning devotion but also on the greater sacrality reposed in the object meant for worship – it is no longer a symbol of divine presence but rather the divine presence itself. It is remarkable that in the most significant visual narration of the legend (at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram), not even the act of kicking at the vessel is depicted, but only the final divine act of granting grace to the devotee is highlighted. The visual narration here anticipates the literary narration of the later hagiography and reflects an emerging religious perspective directed as much towards the image as towards emotional devotion. The hagiographical text served to create a psychological base within the audience for the institutionalisation of the religious ritual and also for establishing the supremacy of Śaiva devotionalism through the means of violent metaphors. This is best illustrated by the legend of Ceṟṟuttunai Nāyanār. He belonged to the Veḷālar community and hailed from a village called Kilat-Tanjavur (i.e. in the vicinity of Tanjavur). The narration says that he cut off the nose of the royal consort of Pallavar Koccengan who had smelt a flower meant for the garland for god. The narrative describes him as ‘the lionlike servitor’ who continued to perform his services to the deity and finally attained the heavenly abode of Naṭarāja and enjoyed undying bliss. The narrative goes on to say that Koccengan Nayanar (the Pallava king whose queen’s nose was cut off) saw her lying on ground bleeding and weeping. On being informed of the facts the king asked, ‘But should not the punishment be in accordance with the manner in which the crime took place?’ Saying so he pulled out the sword from his waistband and cut off the hand of his queen. The narrative remarks further, ‘At this the heavens applauded and rained flowers on him. The king who executed this unique act of justice reigned for a long time and in the end reached the abode of Śiva’148 (emphases mine). The messages that were transmitted from the use of such a narrative style are clear. The temple rituals were to be accorded a supreme importance and no one was allowed to disrupt them. The use of this extremely violent form of narrative was meant to construct a psychological basis in popular minds for the accommodation of the temple rituals. The description of such violent acts as ‘justice’ and their executors as brave and deserving of prosperity in this world and the highest attainment in the next world were obviously meant to provide a justification for this theological stand. Another well-known legend which uses the violent idiom to validate the worship system is that of Caṇḍeśa, which has been dwelt upon earlier. A related theme is that of establishing the supremacy of the Śaiva devotee over and above everyone by using violent metaphors in the religious narrative. The legend of Pukalccoḻan in the Periya Purāṇam aims at this objective. It is said that he once sent an army to defeat Atikan, a hill-chief. The army brought back before the Coḻa king the amassed pile of the heads of the enemy. The narrative says that ‘the king who is the life of the lives on earth’ saw a small matted lock on the centre of one of the heads which was brought for his inspection. He was greatly anguished on seeing this Śaivite head. The ‘munificent King’ wailed that he had failed as a defender of the Faith of the Sacred Ash. Questioning his

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righteous rule he directed his ministers to crown his son. He held the Śaivite head in a golden basin, went round the fire and chanting the five-lettered mantra, ‘reverentially entered with delight the raging fire’ (quotation marks mine).149 This is a case of the violent idiom turned inside out. There is an element of sarcasm in describing the king as the ‘life of the lives on earth’ when his army had just amassed a pile of heads after a gory battle. The sarcasm of course refers to the fact that this pile contained a Śaivite head. The king is ‘munificent’ because he has repented the death of a Śaiva devotee and is ready to atone by paying for it with his own life. The messages are again clear – on no account should any harm come to a Śaiva devotee and not even the king is exempt from a punishment if this injunction is violated. In the previous legend the queen could be punished by the Nāyanmār and the king. But here since the king is at the apex of the power structure he should inflict punishment on himself. This narrative thus attempts to redefine the equations in the social hierarchies so as to place the membership to one’s own sect as supreme and to make the ritualistic acts of one’s own sect inviolable. Such edvidence also places the personages of the deity, the devotee, the ruler and the people along a plane characterised by gradation and a symbolic parallel between the deity and the ruler. It helps to create an image of the ruler/deity who is entitled to obeisance/devotion from the subjects/devotees, but in exchange for this obeisance/devotion the subject/ devotee is also entitled to protection from the society – a contract which no one, not even the ruler is supposed to violate. Here it is important to remember that the Periya Purāṇam is not a normative text; it does not lay down codes of conduct that its audience is expected to follow. Rather it attempts to construct a collective psyche that internalises the messages transmitted through its legends and thus facilitates the propagation of its sectarian principles. These ideas were communicated through the oral and the visual narration of the text. In the foregoing discussion an attempt has been made to show how various aspects of the religious system of peninsular India gradually evolved from the early historical to the end of early mediaeval period. It involved not only the role of the temple as the integrative force in the socio-religious and economic fields and the role of the text, (both in the verbal and visual forms) to participate in the construction of this fabric, but also the element of the royal agency intervening in this evolution and construction process to validate and perpetuate the religious trends emerging in the society.

Notes 1 Puranānūru 335, quoted by George L. Hart III, The Poems of Ancient Tamil – Their Milieu and Their Sanskrit Counterparts, University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1975, p. 26.

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2 J. V. Chelliah (Ed.), Paṭṭupāttu – Ten Tamil Idylls, Tamil University, Thanjavur 1985 (Reprint) p. 35, lines 87–89. 3 A. K. Ramanujan, Poems of Love and War, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1985, p. 302. 4 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 257, lines 502–505. 5 Shu Hikosaka and John Samuel (eds), Tamil Poetry Through the Ages (Eṭṭuttokai), Vol. I, Institute of Asian Studies, Madras, 1997, p. 55 (Narrinai 34). 6 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 265, lines 669–678. 7 Alain Danielou (tr.), Śilappadikāram by Ilāngo Aḍigal, George Allen and Unwin, London, 1967, p. 77. 8 Ibid., p. 76. 9 Ibid., p. 83. 10 Ibid., p. 20. 11 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 45,lines 304–312. 12 Ibid., p. 111, line 84. 13 Ibid., p. 119, lines 268–270. 14 Ibid., p. 153, lines 133–135, n. 3. 15 Ibid., p. 35. 16 See note 9 above. 17 Shu Hikosaka and John Samuel (eds), op. cit., pp. 353–5 (Puranānūru 6). 18 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 33. 19 Ibid., p. 33. 20 Ibid., pp. 257–9. 21 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 127, lines 428–431. 22 Alain Danielou (tr.), op. cit., pp. 70–71. 23 Alain Danielou, op. cit., p. 23. 24 For a reference, see A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 115 ( Paṭiṟṟuppāttu 35). 25 Ibid., pp. 189, 309 (Paṭiṟṟuppāttu 13). 26 Ibid., p. 174 (Puranānūru 251). 27 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 133. 28 Tamil Lexicon, Madras University Publication, Madras, 1982, Ananku 2. For related discussion on the theme of Ananku, see George L. Hart III, op. cit., pp. 93 ff. 29 Alain Danielou (tr.), op. cit., p. 77. 30 Ibid., pp. 78, 77. 31 Ibid., pp. 80, 82. 32 Ibid., pp. 137, 140–141. 33 Ibid., p. 127.

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34 A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 204 (Kālittokai 101). 35 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 107, lines 46–48; p. 127, lines 428–431; A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit.; p. 218, lines 63–68 ( Paripāṭal 3); pp. 223–224 (Paripṭāal 2); pp. 219–220 (Paripāṭal 2); K. G. Seshadri (tr.), Paripāṭal, Institute of Asian Studies, Madras, 1996; pp. 11–13, lines 30–41; pp. 33–35, lines 35–44; Alain Danielou (tr.), op. cit., pp. 115, 117, 119. 36 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 123, lines 341–345. 37 Alain Danielou (tr.), op. cit., pp. 134–135. 38 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 39, lines 175–184. 39 K G. Seshadri (tr.), op. cit., pp. 43–47. 40 J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., pp. 224–425. 41 Alain Danielou (tr.) op. cit., p.145. 42 For Identification of these places, see J. V. Chelliah (ed.), op. cit., p. 333. 43 Ibid., p. 353, lines 275–279; p. 351; p. 355, lines 309–313. 44 Ibid., p. 345; p. 347; lines 142–145; lines 150–152. 45 Ibid., p. 357, lines 361–367. 46 A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 101 (Kuruntokai 203). 47 Alain Danielou, op. cit., p. 120. 48 Indira Viswanathan Peterson, Poems to Śiva – The Hymns of the Tamil Saints, Motilal Banarasidass Delhi, 1991, p. 146. 49 Ibid., p. 147. 50 Ibid., pp. 109, 110, 114. 51 Ibid., p. 191. 52 Ibid., p. 178. 53 Ibid., p. 177. 54 Ibid., p. 115. 55 Ibid., p. 199. 56 Ibid., p. 198. 57 K. R. Srinavasan, Cave Temples of the Pallavas, Archaeological Survey of India, Delhi, 1964, p. 159. 58 T. V. Mahalingam, Inscriptions of the Pallavas, Indian Council forHistorical Research, Agam Prakashan, Delhi, 1988, p. 164, No. 48, verse 10. 59 Ibid., Nos 50 and 51. 60 Indira Viswanathan Peterson, op. cit., p. 259. 61 Ibid., p. 227. 62 Friedhelm Hardy, Viraha Bhakti, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1983, p. 436. 63 G. Vanmikanathan (tr.), Pathway to God Through the Truvācakam; Sri Kasi Mutt, Tiruppanandal, Tamil Nadu, 1980, p. 311, verse 359.

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64 Ibid., verse 361. 65 Ibid., verse 363. 66 Ibid., p. 312, verse 362. 67 Srirama Bharati and Sowbhagya Lakshmi (trs) The Tiruvāymoḻi of Nammāḻvār Rendered in English, Tyaga Bharati Music Education Mission, Melkote, 1987, II/1/2; II/1; I / 4; V/5 etc. 68 Ibid., V/5/5; I/9. 69 Ibid., V/6/1; V/6/8. 70 P. S. Sundaram (tr.), The Poems of Āṇḍāl (Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi), Anantacharya Indological Research Institute, Bombay, 1987, verse 3. 71 Ibid., I/1. 72 Friedhelm Hardy, op. cit., p. 418. 73 P. S. Sundaram (tr.), op. cit., IV/ 2; IV/4; IV/8; IV/10. 74 Ibid., VI/11. 75 Srirama Bharati and Sowbhagya Lakshmi (trs), op. cit., III/5/8, III/5/6. 76 Ibid., IV/6/2–3. 77 Ibid., IV/6/7–9. 78 P. S. Sundaram (tr.), op. cit., verse 24. 79 Friedhelm Hardy, op. cit., p. 283. 80 Ibid., p. 283. 81 Ibid., p. 284, 3rd Antāti, 61, 72. 82 Ibid., p. 284, 3rd Antāti, 25, 4th Antāti, 44. 83 Srirama Bharati and Sowbhagya Lakshmi (trs), op. cit., I/3/9, II/2/3. 84 Ibid., II/7/12. 85 Srirama Bharati and Sowbhagya Lakshmi (trs), op. cit., III/4/8. 86 Ibid., IV/10/4. 87 K. R. Srinavasan, op. cit., p. 24, Fig. 2. 88 T. V. Mahalingam, op. cit., No. 45, line 14. 89 Ibid., p. 172, No. 53. 90 Ibid., pp. 179, 180, 181, No. 55. 91 Ibid., No. 95, line 2. 92 K. R. Srinivasan, op. cit., Plate XXXVI. 93 Ibid., Plate XLIII. 94 C. Sivaramamurti, Kalugumalai and Early Pandyam Rock-Cut Shrines, Bhulabhai Memorial Institute, Bombay, 1961, p. 26. 95 K. G. Seshadri (tr.), op. cit., p. 43 (Paripāṭal 5). 96 C. Sivaramamurti, op. cit., p. 32.

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97 The first one to relate the Garuḍa motif with Vaiṣṇava affiliation was H. Cousens in The Chalukyan Architecture of the Canarese Districts, Calcutta, 1926. F. M. Asher contested this notion by saying certain temples of decidedly Śaiva affiliation in Assam and Bihar have this motif, vide F. M. Asher, The Art of Eastern India, 300–800, Minneapolis, 1980, Pls. 115, 116. However, the meaning of a visual motif can vary across space and time. S. V. Padigar in Viṣṇu Cult in Karnataka, Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Mysore, 1996, pp. 64–71, followed Asher by arguing that Garuḍa motif on doorways of Calukyan temples may not have any cultic significance. However, he does notice decrease in this motif with the rise of Śaivism and interprets it as a sign that this motif had begun to have a sectarian connotation. Also, he fails to notice that the frequency of the motif does vary with the expansion and contraction of the Vaiṣṇava base in the society and therefore, points towards a sectarian connotation of the Garuḍa motif. 98 G. M. Tartakov has collated the excerpts of this effort in The Durga Temple at Aihole – A Historiographical Study, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1997 in Appendices I–XVI. 99 The last being ascribed by J. F. Fleet in IA, VIII, October, 1879, No. LVIII, p. 285, on the basis of a stone slab inscription on the base of the temple which says ‘Ṣrī Jinālayam.’ However, there is a possibility that this stone slab was brought from another Jaina temple, since the Durga temple does not show any Jaina architectural or sculptural features. 100 IA, VIII, October, 1879, p. 286. 101 Quoted by Carol Radcliff Bolon, see note 103 below. 102 Srinivas Padigar, “The Durga Temple, Aihole – An Āditya Temple,” Archaeological Studies, Vol. II, 1977, pp. 59–64. 103 Carol Radcliff Bolon, “Varieties of North Indian Style, Nāgara Phase, circa A.D 620–750” in, Michael Miester et al. (eds), Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture (North India), American Institute of Indian Studies and Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1988, p. 300. 104 G. M. Tartakov, op. cit., pp. 100 ff. 105 EI, XXXII, pp. 175 ff. 106 Carol Radcliff Bolon, op. cit., pp. 294–296. 107 Ibid., p. 300. 108 A. K. Ramanujan, Hymns for the Drowning, Princeton, 1981, Introduction, p. xiii. 109 K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, A History of South India – From the Earliest Times to the Fall of the Vijayanagara, Madras, 1958, pp. 110–111. 110 R. Champakalakshmi, “Patikam Pātuvar – Ritual Singing as a Means of Communication in Early Mediaeval South India”, Studies in History, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, 10 (2), 1994, pp. 208–9. 111 For example, SII, Vol. XIX, No. 69; SII, Vol. VII, No. 749 etc. 112 SII, Vol. II, 38. 113 For example, see S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, Later Cola Temples, Mudgala Trust, Thomson Press, Faridabad, 1979, pp. 306, 314. 114 Ibid., p. 211.

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115 For an elaborate discussion on this theme, Vide R. Champakalakshmi, “Ideology and the State in South India”, Mammudipudi Venkatarangaiya Memorial Lecture I, AP History Congress, XIIIth Session, Srisailam, 1989, pp. 12 ff. 116 Ibid., pp. 13–14. 117 R. Champakalakshmi, “Growth of Urban Centres in South India – Kudumukku Palaiyarai, the Twin Cities of the Colas”, Studies in History, Vol. I, No.1. 118 See note 115 above, p. 14, Also, K R Srinivasan, “Tirukkamakkottam”, Proceedings of the Thirteenth All India Oriental Conference, Lucknow, 1974, pt. 3, pp. 50–56. 119 Note 115 above, p. 15. 120 Vidya Dehejia, Art of the Imperial Coḻas, Columbia University Press, New York, 1990, p. 2. 121 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, Early Coḻa Temples, Orient Longman, New Delhi, 1975, pp. 181–2. 122 Vidya Dehejia, op. cit., p. 4. 123 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, op. cit., pp. 186–89. 124 An extensive survey of these temples has been made by S. R. Balasubrahmanyam (note 121 above, pp. 55 ff). Amongst these, some are in ruins now, while others were renovated in later periods. At Tirukkalavur, Madhuvanesvarar temple yielded some inscribed stones giving details of an inscription of Parāntaka I’s 27th regnal year, referring to the plots of lands owned by the temples of Mahādevar, Kāla Piḍāri and Mahāviṣṇu in this village. Eventhough the Viṣṇu temple is in ruins now, this inscription attests to endowments being made to it in Parāntaka I’s period (Ibid., p. 55). At Tirunamanallur, there existed once three Śiva temples and one Viṣṇu temple…. An inscription of the 32nd year of Parāntaka I records a gift for a perpetual lamp to the Tiru-Meṟṟāli Mahāviṣṇu temple at Tirunavalur (Ibid., p. 64). Kattumannargudi was named after Parāntaka I’s epithet as Vīranārāyanacaturvedīmangalam, as he had created this caturvedīmangalam. About sixteen miles from Chidambaram, this place has a Viranarayanasvami temple going back to Parāntaka I’s days (Ibid., pp. 70–71). The deity in the local Viṣṇu temple at Kilur is called Trivikrama. This deity was sung by Tirumankai Āḻvār as Tiru Idaikkali Āḻvār at Kovalur. This Vaiṣṇava temple from the Āḻvārs’ sacred network held a prominent place in Parāntaka I’s time (Ibid., p. 185). Another such temple was the Kanakavalli Visnugrham lying 8 miles south of Vellore in North Arcot District (Ibid., p. 89; SII, I, No. 53). At Govindapadi, a suburb of Tirumalpuram, 7 miles from Kanchi on the road to Arakonam on North Arcot District lie the ruins of a Viṣṇu temple which contained inscriptions of Parāntaka I from his 12th to 41st year (Early Coḻa Temples, pp. 92, 96). At Madurantakam in Chingleput district, another caturvedīmangalam created by Parāntaka I, lay the Kodandarama Perumal temple (Ibid., p. 98). He also erected a Pallipādai in memory of his son Aditya I at Toṇḍḍaimanāḍ, about 6 miles from Kalahasti in Andhra Pradesh in his 34th year (Ibid., pp. 101–103). 125 EI, Vol. 15, pp. 44 ff., No. 5. 126 SII, Vol., XXIV, p. 60, No. 57. 127 Ibid., p. 61, No. 58, verse 12. 128 Ibid., No. 104, verse 14, No. 105, verse 7.

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129 Ibid., p. 66–67, No. 62. 130 T. G. Aravamuthan, Portrait Sculpture in South India, Asian Educational Services, New Delhi, 1992 (First published by the India Society, London 1931), pp. 3–44. 131 Ibid., p. 3. 132 Ibid., pp. 32–33. 133 Ibid., p. 34; SII, II, no. 6, para 1, lines 13–14, 3–5; SII, III, no 6, paras 13–18; 19–21. 134 Ibid., p. 34; SII, II, no 38, paras 14, 17, 44, 47. 135 Ibid., p. 34; SII, II, no 41, para 2. 136 Ibid., p. 34. 137 Ibid., p. 37. 138 Padma Kaimal, “The Problem of Portraiture in South India, circa 870–970 A.D.” Artibus Asiae, Vol. 59, No. 1/2, 1999, p. 66. 139 Ibid., p. 72. 140 Ibid., p. 73. 141 Padma Kaimal, “The Problem of Portraiture in South India, Circa 970–1000 A.D.” Artibus Asiae, Vol. 60, No. 1, 2000, pp. 178–179. For more discussions on royal portraits in South India by Padma Kaimal, see Padma Kaimal, “Passionate Bodies: Constructions of the Self in South Indian Portraits” Archives of Asian Art, Vol. 48, 1995, pp. 6–16, Published by: University of Hawai’i Press for the Asia Society. 142 Padma Kaimal, “Playful Ambiguity and Political Authority in the Large Relief at Mamallapuram,” Ars Orientals 24, 1994, pp. 25–26, n. 46. For similar arguments by other authors, see Michael Lockwood, Gift Siromoney, and P. Dayanandan, Mahabalipuram Studies, The Christian Literature Society, Madras, 1974, 34–41; Frederick M. Asher, “Historical and Political Allegory in Gupta Art,” in Bardwell L. Smith (Ed.) Essays on Gupta Culture, Motilal Banarsidass, New Delhi, 1983, pp. 53–66; Susan L. Huntington, with contributions by John C. Huntington, Art of Ancient India: John Weatherhill, Inc., Tokyo and New York, 1985), p. 641 n. 9; Joanna G. Williams, The Art of Gupta India: Empire and Province, Princeton University Press, Princeton and New Jersey, 1982, pp. 45–46. 143 Susan L. Huntington, “Kings as Gods, Gods as Kings: Temporality and Eternity in the Art of India” Ars Orientalis, Vol. 24 1994, pp. 30–38 (Published by: Freer Gallery of Art, The Smithsonian Institution and Department of the History of Art, University of Michigan). 144 Ibid., pp. 34–36. 145 G. Vanmikanathan (Condensor) and N. Mahalingam (General Editor), Periya Purāṇamby Sekkiḻār, Sri Ramakrisnhna Math, Madras, 1985, p. 65. 146 Indira Viswanathan Peterson, op. cit., pp. 137, 330. 147 G. Vanmikanathan (Condensor) and N. Mahalingam (General Editor), op. cit., p. 484. 148 Ibid., pp. 499–501. 149 Ibid., pp. 413–416.

2 Puranic pantheons and their iconography (AD 600–1200)

With the emergence of the temple as the centrifugal force for the religious process temple rituals became very important as channels for propagating religious activity. The Āgamas were the prescriptive–normative canons for carrying out the rituals and also for the construction of the temple and its images. However this was not a linear process. A detailed study of the images and the Agamic descriptions shows that the Agamic injunctions drew from the iconographic traditions already in existence, and after being codified further moulded the subsequent iconographic tradition. Thus it was a reciprocal process of textual creation in which an iconographic idea flowed from the visual to the literary canonical text and then back to the visual text. Apart from the Agamic injunctions Puranic narrative elements and the Sangam and post Sangam poetic elements also formed the delineation of the early mediaeval visual image. The purpose of this chapter is twofold – to explore various strands involved in the iconographic creation and thereby to understand the exchange of ideas in the textual creation referred to above. This explicates the complex evolution of a religious tradition which has the visual image as its focus. This image itself is the central point of various ideational currents merging together to form the image. Those currents express themselves in both visual and verbal forms. Most of the major Purāṇas had come into existence by the seventh to the eighth centuries AD. In contrast to this the Agamic tradition was continuously evolving throughout the early mediaeval period; it is difficult to ascertain the earliest date when the core of the Agamic ideas evolved. Due to this difficulty the dates of the Agamic texts used here have not been mentioned. Therefore while comparing the canonical descriptions with the sculptures the nearest possible corroborative source has been taken, since it is difficult to say with any certainty that a particular image is based on a particular text and viceversa. Here a word also needs to be said about the date of the sculptures. As the Āgamas many of the images studied here also are difficult to date with exactitude. However it is possible to ascertain an approximate and relative chronology for many of these monuments. For example the temples at

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Badami and Aihole can be assigned to the seventh to the eighth centuries AD with the three caves at Badami and the Ravula Phadi Cave at Aihole falling in the earliest phase and the structural temples at Pattadakkal being in the last phase of this time-bracket. The cave-temples of Ellora are datable to the eighth to the ninth centuries AD, Kailasa being the latest. In the Tamil region the Pallava monuments can be assigned to the seventh to the eighth centuries AD, again the rock-cut caves preceding the structural temples in chronological sequence. The Coḻa monuments are more clearly datable. They along with the Coḻa bronzes fall within the time bracket of the ninth to the twelfth centuries AD. Of the four royal temples the Rājarājeśvaram at Tanjavur and the Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram date to the eleventh century AD. The temples at Darasuram and Tribhuvanam were constructed in the twelfth century AD, the latter being the last of the Coḻa royal temples. Apart from this broad chronological outline an attempt is made in this work to provide dates of particular images where possible. Since a vast region is being explored here and the iconographic forms are numerous only some major forms will be studied. The choice of the iconographic forms has been decided by the central theme of the work – they have been used to show the allegorical power of the royal patron. All the images discussed below reflect the idea of a parallel between royal and divine prowess. All these images construct the image of a royal/divine upholder of social order, as will be shown in the subsequent chapters. It is to be noted that the intention of this chapter is not to highlight the allegories of power in the icon but rather to show the directions of iconographic evolution and the visual or literary sources from where an iconographic idea may be traced. The minute details of the images become necessary in this respect.

The three forms of Viṣṇu Amongst the Sthānaka, Āsana and Śayana forms of Viṣṇu the standing or Sthānaka form is the most common in South India and Deccan. One of the earliest examples of this image is found in the Adivaraha Cave at Mahabalipuram on the north side of the garbhagṛha entrance on the back wall of the Antarāla (Figure 6). He is flanked on the right by Śeṣanāga and is attended by two devotees. There are no consorts with him and he holds a conch and disc in two of his four arms. There are no Agamic or Puranic references for this image and it shows the basic characteristics associated with Viṣṇu – conch, disc and Śeṣa. It is significant that later layers of Sangam literature and the Āḻvārs refer to his conch and disc rather than any other attribute. The Śeṣa, though standing in an adjoining niche, is reminiscent of his Śayana aspect,which was most popular in South India right since ancient times.1 This image serves as a possible inspiration for a majority of Viṣṇu images in South India. An image as late as the one found in the Tiruvottiyur temple of Adipurisvarar in the Chingleput district datable to the reign of Rājendra I (first half of the eleventh

6 Viṣṇu, Mahabalipuram

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century AD) shows the same characteristics as the Mahabalipuram image though in a more refined manner – conch and disc and no consorts. Here the Śeṣa and the devotees also have been eliminated and Viṣṇu stands alone on a base (Figure 7). In contrast to this almost all the major Coḻa royal temples show the Sthānaka mūrti of Viṣṇu according to full Agamic prescriptions. Thus the Tanjavur temple has a Sthānaka Viṣṇu in the niche on the outside of the Vimāna wall that is accompanied by two consorts on both sides. The Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram temple niche almost replicates the Tanjavur image (Figures 8, 9). As compared to the above the Sthānaka mūrtis of Viṣṇu from the Cālukya region show a greater variation. The image found on the outside wall of the Lad Khan Temple of Aihole is accompanied by one consort on the right and a Gaṇa on the left. The image from the Malegutti temple of Badami is a more refined version of the Aihole image (Figures 10, 11). In contrast to this we have the eight-armed Sthānaka Viṣṇu from Cave 3 of Badami (probably earlier than the Malegutti temple) that holds various weapons in its arms apart from the disc and the conch and stands alone. The emphasis here is on providing weapons to the deity as the abhaya/varada pose for the right arm has been deleted (Figure 12). The eight-armed Sthānaka Visnu from the Virupaksa temple of Pattadakkal is also much like the eight-armed image from Cave 3 of Badami though stylistically different. The Pattadakkal image adds to the Badami iconography by introducing two dwarfs at the feet of Visnu (Figure 13). The iconographic portion of Atri’s Vaikhānasa, the ‘Samūrtārcanādhikaraṇa’, describes the ‘Yoga’, ‘Bhoga’ and ‘Viraha’ forms. Its description of Sthānaka Viṣṇu tallies with the four-armed images described above. It says that when the god is devoid of the Goddesses and the sages, this form is known as ‘Viraha’.2 It seems that Atri’s tradition was followed in the South with the tradition being stronger in Tamil Nadu than in Karnataka. The Vaikhānasa further makes provisions for the worshipping sages but the extant Sthānaka images do not display this feature: the text says that the inclusion of the Goddesses makes the combination a ‘Bhoga mūrti’.3 The images from the Cālukya region with a consort and those from the Coḻa royal temples fall in this category. It is remarkable that none of the four Vaikhānasa texts – Atri’s, Bhṛgu’s, Kāśyapa’s or Marīci’s, refers to an eight-armed Viṣṇu. We have an early reference of an Aṣṭabhuja Viṣṇu from an inscription of the fourth century AD from Madhya Pradesh,4 and also have the iconographic evidence from Nagarjunkonda of an eight-armed Viṣṇu. The Pratimālakṣaṇa portion of the Viṣṇudharmottaram describes the eight directions as the eight arms of Viṣṇu.5 In this sense the eight-armed Viṣṇu can be said to be a representation of the all-encompassing god. The Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇa, which was more popular in the north India speaks of an eight-armed Viṣṇu with various weapons and attributes in his various arms. Though other iconographic features do not tally with the eight-armed images described above the feature of the eight-armed Viṣṇu with various weapons seems to have travelled from the north to the south (especially the Cālukyan region)

7 Viṣṇu, Tiruvottiyur

8 Viṣṇu on the lower tier, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

9 Viṣṇu, Gangaikondacolapuram

10 Viṣṇu, Aihole

11 Viṣṇu, Aihole

12 Viṣṇu, Badami

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and later canonised in the Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇa with more iconographic additions.6 Thus this is obviously a different strand from that of the Agamic ones. The Āsana mūrtis of Viṣṇu are sitting on either the coil of Śeṣanāga or on a throne-like base. Usually they are four-armed holding conch and disc. The Huchchappayya Math of Aihole has a carving of Āsana Viṣṇu on the snakecoil. He is surrounded by attendants but his consorts and the two sages are not to be seen. The Badami Cave 3 image is a more refined execution of this form. This composition introduces his two consorts. The Āsanamūrti from Namakkal is perhaps one of the best compositions of this form. Here his conch and disc are carved above his two hands. He is attended by Brahmā, Śiva and two gods whose identity will be shortly clear. His incarnation Narasimha is sitting on his left side near his feet (Figure 14). This image thus conceptualises Viṣṇu as the Supreme Being in the universe to whom all the powers pay obeisance. Narasimha is also projected here as his incarnation but hierarchically on a lower level than he is. In a completely different key are two images from Tamil Nadu datable to the ninth century AD. One comes from the western wall of the Vimāna of the Virattanesvara temple at Tiruttani in Chingleput district and the other from Vettuvan Koil on the west wall of the Vimāna at Kalugumalai (Figure 15). These images are in Lalitāsana devoid of consorts and carrying the conch and the disc. Kāśyapa’s Vaikhānasa arranges the Āsana forms in four types – Yoga, Bhoga, Sukha and Vīra. He says that the Yoga image may be deprived of the two consorts and the worshipping sages.7 The Viṣṇu sitting alone conforms to this. The Yogāsana mūrtis may also be worshipped by Mahī and Mārkaṇḍeya.8 The Namakkal image has at Viṣṇu’s feet a man and a woman who are probably pointing to these two figures. Again Bhogāsana can have apart from the accompaniment of the two consorts and two sages Kiṣkindha (Brahmā) and Sundara (Śiva) and also the Sun and the Moon honouring Viṣṇu.9 Thus the two divine figures behind Viṣṇu in the Namakkal image are the Sun and the Moon. Since the most distinguishing feature of Bhogāsana, the presence of the two consorts, is not there in the Namakkal panel it cannot be called a Bhogāsana image. It appears to be an elaboration of the Yogāsana concept taking some features from the Bhogāsana form for example Sun, Moon, Śiva, Brahmā etc. The Badami image is thus a Bhogāsana form since both the consorts are present. The text further says that in a Vīrāsana image a garment hangs over the god’s feet and two hands stretch forward and rest on the knees.10 This is most prominently displayed at Aihole as described above. A noteworthy feature is that none of the four Vaikhānasa texts mentions the snake-coil seat for Viṣṇu. Atri’s Vaikhānasa however mentions the throne as the seat for Viṣṇu.11 The images with this feature thus may be related to this text. Marīci’s Vaikhānasa also refers to a throne for most of the Āsana forms,12 though the images described are far removed from the extant images.

13 Viṣṇu, Pattadakkal

14 Viṣṇu, Namakkal

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15 Viṣṇu, Kalugumalai

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It seems that Śeṣa was the accepted seat for Viṣṇu but in some cases a throne was specified. During the Coḻa period we see the full-fledged Bhogāsana mūrti on the top layers of the Vimāna of the royal temples at Tanjavur and Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram (Figure 16). At a much later date one of the gopurams of the Srirangam temple shows Śiva sitting with his consort on his lap – a motif from the Bhogāsana concept. The top layer of the Vimāna of the Nagesvarasvami temple at Kumbhakonam shows a Vīrāsana Viṣṇu on Śeṣa. The Śayana image of Viṣṇu is very popular in the Tamiḻakam. One of the earliest and the finest is the Pallava panel from the Mahiṣāsuramardinī Cave of Mahabalipuram (see Figure 1 in the previous chapter). At his feet are two worshipping figures variously identified as the sages and the Āyudhapuruṣas.13 There is another figure bowing to Viṣṇu at his feet identified as Bhūdevi.14 Brahmā on lotus and other Gods are absent in this image. Thus this seems to be basically the Madhu–Kaiṭabha narrative. Another Pallava Śayana image is found in the Ranganatha temple at Singavaram. The sleeping Viṣṇu is similar to that at Mahabalipuram. But the lotus-born Brahma from his navel has been introduced here (Figure 17), as also the Garuḍa. Thus this image combines the legends of Madhu – Kaiṭabha with the birth of Brahmā and also adds the motifs of Viṣṇu’s vehicle Garuḍa and Bhūdevī. The Śayana images from the Ranganatha Cave at Namakkal and Tirumeyyam are treated very elaborately with a horde of attendant figures

16 Viṣṇu, Gangaikondacolapuram

17 Viṣṇu, Singavaram

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surrounding Viṣṇu. At Namakkal an inscription found on the beam of a pillar of the sanctum mentions the sculptures of the attendant deities and other figures in almost the same order as they are carved around the Śayana image.15 This is thus an elaborately carved image with ascertained identities of the figures showing the crystallisation of Agamic composition (as also does the Tirumeyyam image). They conceptualise Viṣṇu in the form of the supreme deity to whom all the divine figures are paying obeisance. The Vimānārcanakalpa, that is the iconographic portion of Marīci’s Vaikhānasa, is helpful in finding the canonical base for the images described above. The Namakkal and Tirumeyyam images follow this text very closely. It says that with the attendant deities, seven sages, Viṣvaksena, Brahmā on a lotus issuing from Viṣṇu’s navel and Śiva, it is Uttama Yogaśayana. With only seven sages and Viṣvaksena it is Madhyama Yogaśayana; and without Madu and Kaiṭabha and the sages it is Adhama Yogaśayana.16 The Bhogaśayana adds to this the two consorts of Viṣṇu massaging his feet and also Tumburu and Nārada.17 It can be seen that most of the Śayana images from early medieval Tamiḻakam combine some or all of the Yogaśayana characteristics. The Namakkal and Tirumeyyam images borrow the Tumburu and Nārada motifs from Bhogaśayana form and add them to the attendant group of Yogaśayana. The Mahabalipuram image seems to be purely narrative in content. In the lower Deccan in the Konti Gudi temple of Aihole there is a Śayana image carved on the ceiling of the temple. This image has the ‘crossed legs’ position referred to by Marīci’s Vaikhānasa. The attendant figures include one sage near his head (Nārada or Tumburu), two females (probably his consorts) Madhu and Kaiṭabha near his feet, Mārkaṇḍeya near his right foot and two dwarves.18 This image answers to the Bhogaśayana mūrti of Marīci. This shows that the Cālukyan region experimented with the Bhogaśayana aspect in contrast to the Tamiḻakam where the Yogaśayana aspect was more popular. The near complete Agamic composition of the panel suggests a crystallisation of Marici’s Vaikhānasa tradition (though the text might have been canonised much later). Although the ten Avatāras are known from the fourh to the fifth centuries AD and from the seventh century AD in peninsular India, only few of them are frequently represented in the sculptures of the early mediaeval period. The study of the evolution of the iconography shows that Matsya and Kūrma, two incarnations of Viṣṇu, are not significantly represented in early mediaval peninsular India. Perhaps this was because this period attempted to synthesise the folk or indigenous elements with the Sanskrit elements and Matsya and Kūrma do not provide the scope of a synthesis of this nature. Their representation was important only when legitimacy from the Vedas was sought. The Bhakti hymns from South India which popularise the indigenous forms also continuously refer to the vedas as their source, since their personal god (Viṣṇu or Śiva) is said to be the proponent of Vedic knowledge and Vedic scholars are frequently mentioned in these hymns as worshipping their personal god.

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There is another feature which emerges out of this survey. Rāma and Kṛṣṇa the two cultic heads that have become so important in our times and are believed to be the hallmark of Indian civilisation are nowhere represented as cultic icons in this extensive survey. These two epic heroes are depicted only in narrative panels. This suggests that at least up to the tenth century AD these cults were not at all significant for the society as a whole since the Bhakti shrines are not built for them till the tenth century AD.

The Varāha The most prominently depicted Varāha images are those of the Bhū Varāha, that is the Varāha showing both animal and human features and lifting the Earth Goddess from the Kali waters. The theme is also related to the assimilation of the Earth Goddess into the Vaiṣṇava pantheon as a consort of Viṣṇu in the Varāha incarnation. This explains the presence of two consorts of Viṣṇu – Ṣrī and Bhū in the Bhogamūrtis described above. In the context of our work the Varāha images are executed to project the enormous strength of the deity, who holds the Earth. In Chapter 4, it is shown that the rulers in the early mediaeval eulogies were also described in the same light. The prototype of this image was set by the Adivaraha Mandapa of Mahabalipuram. It is accompanied by another female figure variously identified as the Nāgī and the Bhūmi before she was lifted out of the waters19 (Figure 18). This image sets a norm in the composition especially in the features of the Varāha holding the earth with his hands and resting her on his knees. This norm was followed in the Tamiḻakam and in the Cālukyan region. At Palaiyarai and in the Pandyan country we can see this image in one of the niches on the rock to the left of the Tirupparankunram Cave. Though stylistically the panel is different from that at Mahabalipuram the image retains the features of holding the Goddess with his arm and resting her on his knee. This cave is assigned to the early Pandya ruler Jaṭila Parāntaka Neḍuñjaḍaiyan whose inscription is found here. Another figure assignable to the middle of the ninth century AD,20 has the Earth resting on the left knee of the Varāha as he holds her with both hands. The Goddess’ legs are dangling and her feet rest on the hoods of the Nāga. This panel is found in the Pundarikaksa Perumal temple in Tiruvallarai in Trichy district and dates from the Pallava period (Figure 19) as it has been glorified by Tirumankai in the Divya Prabandham. This method of holding the Earth Goddess was also employed in Cave 3 of Badami in an elaborate panel, though here she stands on a lotus in the lower left palm of the Varāha and the knee has not been employed to support her (Figure 20). This kind of depiction suggests the enormous strength of the divine incarnation. The Varāha muzzles the face of the Goddess here. There are a number of Nāga and Nāgī figures carved here alluding to the cosmic waters.

18 Varāha, Mahabalipuram

19 Varāha, Tiruvellarai

20 Varāha, Badami

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As compared to the above the Varāha in the Lakṣmī–Narasimha rock-cut temple at Namakkal shows a synthesis of two styles; one is just described above in which the Varāha holds the Earth in his arms. The other style was more popular in the Upper and Lower Deccan and it shows the Bhūmi resting on the arm and shoulder of the Varāha. At Namakkal, the Earth rests on the upper arm of Varāha but he is also encircling her with his right arm and supporting her feet with his left hand (Figure 21). Thus this image shows a combination of both the postures. This panel also introduces four figures above the head of the Varāha that are identified differently but are likely to be the four sages, Sanaka, Sanandana, Sanātana and Sanatkumāra.21 The impression of the Varāha emerging from the waters has been created here by carving only the upper parts of his legs with one leg bent at the knee. The Varāha image from Pattadakkal (Figure 22) shows almost the same posture of holding the Goddess as the image described above. The images from the Ravulaphadi Cave at Aihole (Figure 23), the Durga temple at the same place (Figure 24), Lankesvara Cave at Ellora and Kailasa at Ellora show a posture in which the Bhūmi sits on the upper arm and the shoulder of Varāha and is not supported by his other arm (Figure 25), though the images from Ellora have his arm raised higher in a vertical fashion. Though the Nāga is invariably present in all the panels other attendant figures are deleted in the panels mentioned above and attention is paid to the refinement in carving and spatial arrangement. This points to an increasing tendency to delete narrative details and to move towards depicting the image more as an icon. This is most strongly reflected in the Varāha image in the niche on the outer wall of the Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram temple (Figure 26). This figure does not even have the usual Nāga. Bhūmi sits on the thigh of the Varāha who holds her with his arm. Thus the icon encompasses in itself the narrative here. One may wonder why the details regarding Bhūmi’s position on Varāha’s thigh or arm etc. are important. As has been mentioned one style was more prevalent in the lower Peninsula while the other style was more popular in the upper Peninsula. Besides the regional differences these variant depictions suggest an existence of a multiplicity of narrative texts (both visual and literary) that were influencing the construction of the identity of the Varāha and his consort. Also it points towards the argument presented in the beginning of this chapter – that the visual and the literary texts were in flux and both media were influencing each others’ construction. All the four texts of the Vaikhānasa agree largely on the description of the Ādivarāha image, the only standing form of the Varāha. The other two – the Pralaya Varāha and the Yajña Varāha – are sitting forms. Marīci’s Vaikhānasa differs from the other three in only one detail – his bent leg should be planted on the Nāga’s hood.22 The hood is not mentioned in the other three Vaikhānasas. The images from Mahabalipuram, Tiruvellarai, Lankesvara Cave and Kailasa at Ellora described above reflect this feature. Those from Durga Temple and Cave 3 of Badami show his foot on the snake but not on the hood, thus reflecting a variation from the Agamic image.

21 Varāha, Namakkal

22 Varāha, Pattadakkal

23 Varāha, Aihole

24 Varāha, Aihole

25 Varāha, Ellora

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It is significant that Viṣṇudharmottaram prescribes that Nṛvarāha should be shown as placing his foot on Śeṣa.23 It seems that this tradition was followed in the visual representations of the image and was later canonised in Marīci’s Vaikhānasa. In the still later tradition of Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇa Varāha is described as having one foot on the Nāga and another on the back of the tortoise.24 This is obviously a development from the earlier traditions of showing the Varāha’s foot either on the head of the snake or on a pedestal. Kāśyapa’s Vaikhānasa says that of the two feet of Varāha the right one should be planted on the ground and the left one should be bent and placed on a pedestal.25 The Ravula Phadi image at Aihole comes closest to this description though the pedestal is not shown here. The Bhṛgu’s Vaikhānasa says that the leg planted straight should be on a pīṭha.26 This is shown in the Lankesvara Cave image from Ellora and the Badami and Aihole images described above. There is another remarkable feature found in the images from Mahabalipuram, Namakkal and Pattadakkal. All the four Vaikhānasas prescribe that the right leg should be planted straight and the left leg should be bent and the Earth should be on his thigh. However these three images have the directions of the legs and Earth’s position reversed – thus the Varāha faces to his right in these panels while the other images, according to the prescription of the Vaikhānasa, face to the left. Earlier the variation in Deccan images was discussed and it was noted that in the panels from the Deccan the Earth sits on Varāha’s

26 Varāha, Gangaikondacolapuram

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shoulder and upper arm rather than on his thigh, the latter position being described by the Vaikhānasa. These features show that the Deccan and often the Mahabalipuram sculptures show a variant theme from the one which was canonised. In fact the above discussion shows that none of the panels follow the prescriptions of the Vaikhānasa exactly, though some of the features may be common between the image and the text. Sometimes the image combines the descriptions from various texts rather than following any one particular text. The legend of the Ādivarāha that is the standing form of the Varāha discussed above is given in brief in the Vaikhānasa texts. The Kāśyapa’s Vaikhānasa says that the Varāha appeared to lift the Earth from the nether world into which it had sunk because of the weight of the creatures on it.27 Atri’s Vaikhānasa narrates that the Earth sank into the primeval waters and went into the nether world.28 These two versions of the legend show the difference between the iconographic detail of the Varāha standing on the ground/pedestal and in the primeval waters symbolised by the nāgas.

The Vāmana/Trivikrama The legend of Vāmana further highlights the theme of the association of the Earth with Viṣṇu by depicting him as the lord of the Earth. On another level it reinforces the Vedic image of Viṣṇu as a solar deity who traverses the universe in three strides.29 It also focuses on the conception of Nārāyaṇa as the God of sacrifice who receives all oblations. This feature is stated by Bali in all the Vāmana narratives in the various Purāṇas. In fact there is a symbolic ring to the whole legend, as ‘Bali’ means oblation or sacrificial offering and in the legend Bali offers himself to the god. The Aihole temples show an intertwining of solar worship and the Vaiṣṇava tradition. The Trivikrama iconography showing Viṣṇu traversing the universe is particularly strong in the Cālukyan temples. In South India one of the earliest Trivikrama panels is again from the Varāha Mandapa of Mahabalipuram. Here the eight-armed Trivikrama’s leg is raised over his shoulders. The Sun and Moon are at the level of his waist on both sides. Śiva sits to his right and Jāmbavāna sounds a drum on the top to announce the gods’ victory.30 To the left of Trivikrama is seen a figure in a falling position, probably indicating Bali going to rasātala or the nether world, as all the Puranic versions of the legend state that after conquering Bali, Viṣṇu assigned him an abode in the rasātala. The figure of Vāmana taking dakṣiṇā water from King Bali is not depicted in this panel (Figure 27). The Vaikuntha Perumal temple in Kanchi has a two-panel depiction of this narrative. Bali pours water into Vāmana’s hand as a pledge towards the dakṣiṇā. Śukra tries to prevent him. The sacrificial horse is to the right of Bali at the top. The other figures are not identifiable. The second panel shows the eight-armed Trivikrama his leg reaching above his head. Garuḍa is shown as restraining Śukra and Bali looks up at Viṣṇu.

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A late-Pallava bas-relief of about mid-ninth century AD from the Pundarikaksa Perumal temple in Truvellarai in Trichy depicts the first part of the story, that is Vāmana taking water from Bali. The second stage of the story showing Viṣṇu in Trivikrama form is absent here, suggesting the familiarity of this region with the Puranic legend. However the concept of Viṣṇu as the purveyor of the universe has been subjugated in the visual narrative, thus highlighting the sacrificial aspect of the narrative more. The Lower Deccan and Namakkal show some of the finest compositions of this narrative. The Lakṣmī–Narasimha Cave at Namakkal shows a synoptic narrative composition of this legend. In this panel several events are combined together in a single frame. Thus on the right is shown Bali offering water to the Vāmana. In the centre is shown the huge figures of Trivikrama with his leg lifted above his shoulder and Garuḍa restraining Bali to his right. On the top left corner is shown a falling figure, probably Bali going to rasātala and Jāmbavāna announcing the victory of the gods. On the top right corner is the sacrificial horse and the yūpa that is the sacrificial altar, suggesting that this is the starting point of the story from where it progresses downwards, then to the centre, to the lower left corner and finally to the top left corner (Figure 28).

27 Trivikrama, Mahabalipuram

28 Trivikrama, Namakkal

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This composition is a departure from the Mahabalipuram mode, which is monoscenic and the Kanchi panel, which employs the sequential narrative mode. The Namakkal mode is also followed widely in the Cālukyan region suggesting that it was transmitted to Namakkal from the earlier panels at Badami. Also the Varāha panels described earlier are largely monoscenic. Hence the Trivikrama panels show a greater variation in the modes of narration. As for the textual basis of the scenes depicted at Namakkal the themes of Bali pouring water to Varāha, the latter enlarging himself and Bali being assigned to the nether worlds are the basic components of most of the versions of the Puranic narrative. The event of Garuḍa overpowering Bali is narrated in the Skanda Purāṇa, which says that in lieu of Viṣṇu’s third step Garuḍa tied Bali with Varuṇa’s noose.31 The noose is not shown in the Namakkal panel but the scene is definitely related to this reference. The Trivikrama panel from Badami Cave 2 (Figure 29), which is of an earlier date than Namakkal does not contain this scene of Garuḍa overpowering Bali. However the rest of the panel is arranged similarly in the sequential narrative mode. The narrative begins from the lower right corner showing Bali offering water to Vāmana, goes to the left part of the panel where Trivikrama stands stretching his leg up to his chest level, and on the right edge, below the raised foot of Trivikrama, Bali is again shown falling to the nether worlds. Thus, it appears that Namakkal follows the tradition of Skanda Purāṇa while Badami follows the tradition of other Puranic texts which do not mention Bali being bound by Garuḍa. The Cave 3 panel of Badami (Figure 30) also does not have the Garuḍa– Bali scene. The Sun and Moon are present at his chest level and Brahma is at the top. The Skanda Purāṇa32 gives a vivid description of the position of the Sun going downwards as the form of Trivikrama grew in size. Matsya Purāṇa also gives a similar description.33 The position of the Sun and the Moon at Badami and Mahabalipuram obviously refers to the size which Trivikrama had assumed. Thus if we look at these panels chronologically Badami Cave 2 depicts the most basic elements of the narrative. Cave 2 and Mahabalipuram introduce the element of the Sun and the Moon’s position vis-à-vis the size of the Trivikrama. Namakkal adds to this the motif of Garuḍa overpowering Bali when Viṣṇu’s third step could not find a place (as described in the Skanda Purāṇa), arranges the composition systematically and deletes the unnecessary details. Mahabalipuram does not even have the scene of Vāmana taking water from Bali and depicts only one moment of the narrative. Hence it can be called monoscenic while others follow the sequential narrative style. Pattadakkal’s Virupaksa temple has this narrative depicted in the central niche of the east wall of its Mahāmaṇḍapa (Figure 31). This panel takes up from Namakkal and depicts the narrative in the sequential narrative mode, showing Vāmana taking water from Bali in the lower left corner, a gigantic Trivikrama filling the whole niche in the centre, Garuḍa overpowering Bali in the lower right hand corner and Jāmbavān sounding the victory of the gods in the upper left corner.

29 Trivikrama, Badami

30 Trivikrama, Badami

31 Trivikrama, Pattadakkal

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The Pattadakkal panel further deletes the details of Sun, Moon, Brahmā and other adoring figures and depicts only the basic narrative details. Trivikrama’s leg lifts up in a vertical position. The Kailasa at Ellora has a Trivikrama narrative which is part of the Pradakṣiṇā around the main shrine. It shows his leg reaching above his shoulder level and Vāmana taking water from Bali in the lower right corner. Other details are further deleted. This shows a greater tendency towards depicting the image in the iconic form while subduing the narrative aspect of the image. Earlier a similar tendency was noted for the Varāha panels too. The above analysis takes into account the Puranic versions of the Trivikrama narrative. A study of the Vaikhānasa texts gives a different interpretation of the scene of Garuḍa overpowering Bali’s figure. This image is described in exactly this form in Marīci’s Vaikhānasa. However the figure that Garuḍa is said to control is referred to as Śukra and not Bali. Atri’s Vaikhānasa agrees with Marīci’s text.34 It is interesting that the Purāṇas highlight the sacrificial aspect of Bali’s dakṣiṇā in the extreme form while the Vaikhānasa texts allude to Garuḍa punishing Śukra because he tried to obstruct the dakṣiṇā. The prescriptive canons that were collated later than the period of these images have not only attempted to standardise the iconographic creation but have also attempted to reconstruct the narrative and to introduce this reconstruction in the visual medium by laying down guidelines for the creation of the image. The image itself can be interpreted as representing both the Puranic and the Agamic traditions since the figure overpowered by Garuḍa can be perceived either as Bali or as Śukra. Hence the Agamic reconstruction of the narrative introduces a new meaning into the identity of the image. In this sense the visual narrative reflects a continuous process of reconstruction and accommodation of elaborated narrative in the iconographic tradition. The Namakkal Trivikrama is shown as lifting his right leg as against the left leg mentioned in the Vaikhānasa. This shows that the canonical text and the visual text do not converge always and the iconic tradition was in a state of continuous flux. A question may be asked as to why the details of the level to which Trivikrama’s leg is raised are important. The four Vaikhānasas state that the level to which Visnu’s leg is lifted shows the extent of space conquered – up to the knee it signifies the conquest of the earth, up to the navel it signifies the conquest of the skies and up to the forehead it signifies the conquest of the heavens. It is remarkable that all the panels described above show him raising his leg above the navel level and hence signify the final stage of his conquest. The image of Trivikrama thus has been created to convey the idea of a powerful, divine sovereign.

Narasimha As opposed to the Varāha and the Trivikrama images which associate the Earth with Viṣṇu as her consort and controller (the latter form also emphasising

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upon the Vedic concept of the solar–universal deity traversing the universe), the Narasimha incarnation of Viṣṇu is not associated with these concepts. Rather it appears to incorporate the folk traditions of a guardian deity of the forest and rural areas into Puranic Vaiṣṇavism. Narasimha is also associated with the pillar as is described in the Puranic narratives that he appeared from a pillar which was struck by Hiraṇyakaśipu. As has been discussed in Chapter 1 traditions of pillar worship and the cults of the deities of the forest in the outskirts of the villages were very strong in the Tamil society of the time. The Narasimha narrative incorporated these belief systems into its fold and hence the creation of the Narasimha image could facilitate the merging of these cults into the Puranic religious system. The iconographic chapter of the Mayamatam gives an interesting detail in this regard. It says that according to the knowledgeable Narasimha must be installed at the top of a mountain, in a cave or in a forest in the depth of an enemy’s realm, so as to bring about the death of an adversary. In villages and other settlements he is to have four arms.35 One of the earliest known images of this deity is a two-armed seated figure – along with other divinities such as Brahmā, Śiva in the form of aniconic linga, Pārvatī and probably Skanda – found executed on a slab in Munnur in the South Arcott District. The figures are datable to the early seventh century AD. Narasimha is seated in the Lalitāsana pose. Representations of Narasimha are also found in Pandya country. The famous Anaimalai Cave temple was dedicated to Narasimha, whose image was set up in about AD 770 by Mārankari, the minister of the Pandya king Jaṭila Parāntaka Neḍuñjaḍayan. The temple was completed after his death by his younger brother.36 A seated figure of Narasimha in Lalitāsana is found on one of the tiers of the Vimāna of the early rock-cut temple of Kalugumalai in the Tirunelveli district. The figure carries the conch and the disc and the face suggests the terrific aspect. The Pundarikaksa Perumal temple in Tiruvellarai in Trichy district has a late-Pallava representation of the Narasimha image along with that of the Varāha discussed earlier (Figure 32). The Narasimha is shown as holding the demon in combat the legs of the two interlocked. There is a kneeling female figure at his foot. In the successive panel he is shown as tearing the insides of the demon who is thrown across his lap. The left foot of the god rests on the naga coils. A panel datable to the Coḻa period from the base of the Goddess shrine in the Somnath temple at Palaiyarai in Tanjavur district represents the story in two stages. The first one shows on the left side the fight between the eighthanded Narasimha and Hiraṇyakaśipu. With his lowest left hand the god catches the hair of the demon and their legs are interlocked in combat. The right side of this panel shows the earlier part of the narrative, depicting the god emerging from the pillar with Prahlāda standing in front and the demon seated. The second panel shows Narasimha tearing out the entrails of Hiraṇya, who is thrown across his lap.

32 Narasimha, Tiruvellarai

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There are several male and female figures shown in frightened poses. These two panels datable to the eleventh century seem to belong to some other temple whose stones seem to have been utilised in the construction of the present temple.37 The above references give two categories of the Narasimha image: (1) the sitting deity without the demon; and (2) the legend depicted in the sequential narrative mode. The sitting image is more iconic than narrative in nature though the former assimilates within itself the latter. Apart from these two categories Sthānaka Narasimha forms are also known – the most famous example coming from Badami Cave 3 where Narasimha stands in the Tribhanga pose, is four-armed, holding conch and disc and flanked by two Āyudhapuruṣas. The demon again is not present here. The Vaikuntha Perumal temple in Kanchi also has a Sthānaka Narasimha who is four-armed, holding conch and disc with the lower two arms in abhaya and Tarjanī mudrās. He is flanked by a devotee and the demon is not present. While the Āsana and Sthānaka Narasimha images reflect the Puranic narrative they most successfully project the image of Narasimha as the icon of the protective guardian deity discussed above. One of the latest of the sitting images is found at Kuram (Figure 33). By far the most common representations of Narasimha panels are those which depict him either in combat or drawing out the entrails of Hiraṇyakaśipu, either in Sthānaka or in Āsana form. Since only one of the two parabolic scenes of the legend is depicted in these panels they can be classed as monoscenic narratives (Figure 34). These are all images of the climax showing Narasimha tearing out the frontal part of the demon’s torso (Figures 35, 36). The scenes of the actual fight can be seen at Kanchi and Ellora (Figures 37, 38, 39). It appears that the two-panel sequential narratives from Tiruvellarai and Palaiyarai described above seem to combine these two parabolic events of the narrative that were earlier carved in the monoscenic mode with the exclusion of one of the two scenes. One of the latest of the Āsana images showing Narasimha drawing out the entrails of the demon thrown on his lap is placed in a niche of one of the Gopurams of the Srirangam temple. It is interesting that Sundara Pandya alias Jaṭāvarman of Madura, who ascended the throne in AD 1250/1251, constructed several edifices at the Ranganathasvami temple at Sri Rangam – one of which was a Gopuram that contained an image of Narasimha as is described in his inscription engraved on the east wall of the second Prākāra38 of the temple. The four Vaikhānasa texts are helpful in studying only the Āsana form of Narasimha without the demon, as the images with the demon on his lap are not described by the four Vaikhānasas. Generally the sitting forms agree with the Vaikhānasa description of a Lalitāsana pose describing him as holding conch and disc in the upper two arms and the Tarjanī and abhaya/varada poses of the lower two arms. The Kevala Sthānaka and the sitting Narasimha tearing the chest of the demon are described in the Mayamatam and the Rūpamaṇḍanam,39 two texts of a later date.

33 Narasimha, Kuram

34 Narasimha, Aihole

35 Narasimha, Namakkal

36 Narasimha, Tiruparankunram

37 Narasimha, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

38 Narasimha, Kailasa, Ellora

39 Narasimha, Cave 15, Ellora

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It is to be noted that many images showing Narasimha standing in the Ālīḍha posture with the demon thrown over his bent leg and he tearing the demon’s abdomen are not described by the Agamic texts. Similarly the battle scenes are also not described in these texts. Puranic narratives of the legend, though lengthy, do not dwell at length on the two parabolic events of the battle and the final climax entailing the demon’s death. These two events are described rather briefly by the Purāṇas. One of the longest descriptions is found in the Viṣṇu Dharmottara Purāṇa, which says that Narasimha (after rendering the daitya’s weapons useless) quickly seized the demon who was like a big cloud pouring missiles and assaulting the Narasimha. And having placed him swiftly on his lap as if he were a plantain leaf he tore open the chest of the daitya.40 The standing or the sitting position is not mentioned here. The Pratimālakṣaṇa portion of the Viṣṇudharmottaram describes both Sthānaka and Āsana forms of Narasimha. It says that the Sthānaka Narasimha should be in the Ālīḍha pose, and the chest of Hiraṇyakaśipu who rests on the knee of the god should be shown as being severed by his sharp nails. Also the lion-god should be represented as seated at ease on a throne with two of his hands holding the conch and the disc.41 It appears that the images depicting the battle and the climax showing Narasimha in the Ālīḍha posture take their inspiration from the Viṣṇudharmottaram, but are based directly on the Puranic narrative with the actual details of the postures of the figures being conceptualised by the creators themselves. This is why there is so much variation in the forms in these panels. This is a case of the visual narrative recounting the legend and also modifying it in the process of retelling. Various forms of sitting and standing Narasimha were experimented with and though the basic forms were outlined in the Viṣṇudharmottaram the textual canonisation of the finer details of this reworking did not take place until the time of Mayamatam and Rūpamaṇḍanam, which codified the existing iconographic traditions.

Śaivite response to the Vaiṣṇava incarnation images The incarnation theory of Viṣṇu strengthened his image as the omnipotent protector deity. The Śaivite sects in South India responded to the glorification of Viṣṇu by creating two iconographic forms which not only placed Viṣṇu on a hierarchically lower level than Śiva but one of which depicted, Śiva as strong enough to destroy Viṣṇu. These two forms that resulted out of the sectarian conflict were the Lingodbhavamūrtis with Varāha and swan; and the Śarabhamūrti. The former legend revolves around the concept of the linga which can’t be encompassed and even Brahmā flying up in the form of a swan and Viṣṇu digging the ground in the form of a Varāha could not find its ends

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 105 without Śiva’s grace. The accent here is obviously on downplaying the strength of Varāha and on placing Śiva on a higher level than both Brahmā and Viṣṇu. The legend of Śarabha elaborates upon the Narasimha legend and says that when Narasimha’s anger could not be subdued after he killed the demon Śiva had to take the form of a Śarabha that is a lion-like imaginary creature with wings and claws to kill Narasimha. Here again the emphasis is on Śiva’s supremacy over Viṣṇu. The cultic form of Śarabha became popular in the twelfth century AD and the most famous images of this form are found in the Coḻa royal temples at Darasuram (Figure 40) and Tribhuvanam, the latter a bronze image. The iconographic process was complemented by the textual process and the legends of these two forms were included in the Śaiva Purāṇas and the major Śaiva Āgamas such as the Amśumadbhedāgama, Uttara Kāmikāgama, Suprabhedāgama, Ajitāgama and so on prescribed the characteristics of the Lingodbhavamūrti. Śarabhamūrti was also included in some Āgamas, Uttarakāmikāgama being the most significant text for this image. The temples of South India usually have a Lingodbhava on the outer west wall of the Vimāna and this feature became regularised in the Coḻa temples, the royal temples also showing this figure prominently (Figures 41, 42). These images generally agree with the Agamic prescriptions of the figure that are similar to each other and prescribe a figure of Śiva emerging from a linga and Viṣṇu in the Varāha form at the bottom and Brahmā in the swan form at the top and both the deities in their own forms on both sides of the linga paying obeisance to Śiva. The similarity in the descriptions and the images shows a standardisation of this form in the Coḻa period. As for the Śarabhamūrtis, the Uttara Kāmikāgama says that he should be made in human form from shoulder onwards,42 though he should have the fangs of a lion.43 Besides, he should have four lion-like feet.44 The Darasuram image however differs in these matters from the Āgama as it has a lion-like face and eight feet. Besides, it has several adorning figures at the top that are not mentioned in the Āgama. In this case the form of image is not standardised yet and modifications and innovations in the visual image were still going on in the twelfth century AD. The Tribhuvanam metal icon is again different from the Darasuram image, showing the ongoing process of innovation in the creation of this image. The fact that both these forms were provided a space in the Coḻa royal temples shows that royal patronage extended a platform to the evolving cultic practices and beliefs which resulted out of the religious tensions and flux in the society. These religious tensions and this flux created their own distinct iconic forms in South India. It is remarkable that Śarabha is not found in the Deccan and the Lingodbhava images from the Deccan do not have the Varāha and the Swan carved along with the Lingodbhavamūrti.

40 Śarabhamūrti, Darasuram

41 Lingodbhava Gangaikondacolapuram

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42 Lingodbhava, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

The Skanda–Kārttikeya and Somāskanda Mūrtis The integration of the identities of Cey/Murugan and Skanda–Kārttikeya and then again that of Murugan/Skanda as the son of Koṟṟavai/Umā and Śiva has been discussed in Chapter 1. The early medieval iconography of this deity from South India shows the motifs of both the Tamil god Murugan and the Puranic Kārttikeya as opposed to the images from the Deccan which are typically of Kārttikeya showing that the synthesis of the identities had restricted itself to the South and did not get disseminated to the Deccan. At Aihole we have two significant images of Kārttikeya, one carved on the ceiling of Huchchappayya Matha and the other on the ceiling of the Huchchimalli Temple. The former image is sitting on a peacock holding a water-pot, a staff and a rosary and has sages worshipping him. Three of his six faces are visible. Obviously here he is depicted as the Subrahmaṇya the Vedic preceptor. The Huchchimalli image emphasises his warrior aspect. Here he has only one face, is two-armed and rides a peacock into action. In his right arm he holds a spear, ready to strike a demon shown as sitting on the ground before the peacock which is being fed with a snake by several figures who surround the Kārttikeya. Probably this panel shows the legend of Kārttikeya killing Tāraka. His bearings enhance his princely warrior form and his Brahmanical aspect is subdued here.

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 109 The Ramesvara Cave at Ellora (Figure 43) has a Kārttikeya panel where he is shown as standing with four arms and is single faced. His arms are broken and none of his weapons are visible. But we can see an enormous peacock standing beside him; he wears a thick Brahmanical cord and he is worshipped by Gandharvas and Śaiva Gaṇas. This image emphasises his Subrahmaṇya aspect and at the same time projects him as a Śaivite deity, suggestive as it is of him being the son of Śiva. Also at Ellora we have a panel which shows him standing along with Siva and Parvati and holding his peacock. The image of Kārttikeya as the son of Śiva is emphasised here, with his parents depicted also (Figure 44). This panel in fact is thematically linked to the Somāskanda panels from South India though the treatment and the conceptual meaning of the panel is strictly Sanskritic. It is significant that Gaṇeśa is not a part of the divine family shown – neither in this panel nor in the Somāskanda images from the South. The above images show that various textual identities of Kārttikeya from the Purāṇas were already popular and were iconographically conceived in the Deccan in the early medieval period. The Skanda images in South India are of two types – those forming a part of the Somāskanda panels, and independent images of Skanda/Subrahmaṇya, both in metal and in stone. It has been argued that the Somaskanda panels of the Pallava country reflect the integration of the various eco-zones associated with Murugan and Koṟṟavai and the relevant social and ethnic groups into the larger Śaiva tradition of the Puranic religious system with the dominance of Śiva clearly marked out.45 Hence this was a part of the wider integrative religious processes going on in the region, though the social significance of the integrative associations of the Somāskanda was restricted to the Tamil country alone. This is because this image was especially created under Pallava patronage to project the image of the Pallavas as the protectors of all social groups of Tamiḻakam. The Atiranacanda Mandapa at Saluvanakuppam seems to have the carving of probably the earliest Somāskanda that tallies somewhat with the Agamic description. Though badly eroded it shows the child Skanda in Umā’s lap and Viṣṇu and Brahmā worshipping Śiva along with other gods. This panel clearly shows the supremacy of Śiva. The south wall of the Pradakṣiṇā of the Shore Temple at Mahabalipuram has the well-known Somāskanda panel which shows the full-fledged Agamic Somāskanda (Figure 45). The composition is generally like the Saluvanakuppam panel, but a vessel is added at the bottom near Pārvatī’s leg. Skanda sits as a child on her lap and Śiva’s foot rests on a pedestal. The worshipping deities include only Brahma and Viṣṇu and other figures have been deleted. Except the vessel this is the standardised Somāskanda panel that is carved on the back wall of the garbhagṛha of Śiva shrines behind the linga during the Pallava period. We can see innumerable instances of such panels in the linga shrines of the Kailasanatha temple at Kanchi, all of which agree in detail with this panel, except that the vessel has been deleted at Kanchi (Figures 46, 47, 48).

43 Kārttikeya, Ellora Ramesvara

44 Kārttikeya, Ellora

45 Somāskanda, Mahabalipuram

46 Somāskanda, Kanchi

47 Somāskanda, Kanchi

48 Somāskanda Periyavanmani

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49 Somāskanda/ Thyagaraja, Pattisvaram

From Periya Vanmani – datable to the ninth century AD comes a Somāskanda panel which shows Śiva’s foot resting on the Apasmāra Puruṣa and there are dancing Gaṇas at his feet. These features were widely employed in the dancing images of Śiva as will be discussed later in this chapter. As these panels occur in abundance with such consistency in the Śiva temples of the Pallavas it has been argued that they were a conscious creation of the Pallavas to integrate various social groups under their rule, to show the dominance of Śiva over other deities and to project the divine family as a symbolic metaphor for the powerful image of the royal family.46 Skanda in these panels has been relegated to the stature of a diminutive child and hence both his associated images (of the attractive heroic Murugan and the powerful demon-slaying Skanda) have been subdued here, as also his Subrahmaṇya aspect. This composite image was later used by the Coḻas as one of their royal cultic images, especially in the form of bronze sculptures which were commonly known as Tyāgarāja and used as Utsava mūrtis. These bronzes usually have the child Skanda either standing or in the dancing poses and thus different from the child sitting on Umā’s lap in the Pallava sculptures (Figure 49). The Coḻas utilised an image created by the Pallavas and moulded it in their own distinct form to propagate the notion of the power of the Coḻa royalty throughout their kingdom.47

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 117 Apart from the diminutive Skanda as a part of the divine family we also have the independent images of Skanda in South India which highlight his powerful qualities. The image from the Colisvaran temple at Kilaiyur in Trichy belonging to the late ninth century AD is a good example of a four-armed Skanda holding Vajra and Śakti according to Agamic prescriptions (Figure 50). A very interesting image is a bronze from the Coḻa royal temple at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram which does not answer to any Agamic prescriptions and rather projects the visual synthesis of the Tamil Murugan and the Subrahmaṇya with the former dominating the composition. It is a four-armed image holding a miniature spear-point and cock in the upper hands and a small shield in the lower left hand. In the ankles he wears the Tamil heroes’ anklets. These are attributes associated with Murugan. However the fact that the Tamil deity’s image has been synthesised with Sanskritic attributes is shown by his Brahmanical cord (Figure 51). Thus this icon combines the Tamil and Sanskritic idioms in making this image of a warrior deity. Another interesting bronze comes from Tiruvenkatu in Tanjavur datable to the early eleventh century AD. This group combines the Agamic detail with that given in Mayamatam, as also a Tamil motif. This is the image of a youthful Skanda who wears the warriors’ anklet in his right leg and holds the Vajra and the Śakti in two of his four arms while the other two arms are shaped as if holding an arrow. He is flanked by his two consorts – Devayānī and Valli (Figure 52), stressing the composite idiom of Tirumurugāṟṟuppaḍai and Paripāṭal. The fourarmed Skanda holding Vajra and Śakti continues into the thirteenth century AD often accompanied by his peacock and wearing the anklet (Figure 53). Viṣṇudharmottaram describes the ‘four forms of Kumāra who has the four manifestations in Kumāra, Skanda, Viśākha and Guha’. According to this text Kumāra should have six faces, a peacock as his vehicle and should hold the cock, bell, spear and the banner of victory in his four arms. Skanda, Viśākha and Guha should be shown in the likeness of Kumāra but they should not be shown as six-faced; nor should they be shown as seated on a peacock.48 This description at once shows an early canonisation of various identities associated with Murugan–Skanda. At the same time there is a consciousness that though these manifestations emanate from the same deity there is a distinction between the six-faced Kumāra riding the peacock and the other figures integrated with his image who have a single face and don’t ride the peacock. Most of the major Śaivāgamas agree on the basic form of the Somāskanda mūrti, which tallies with the Mahabalipuram panels onwards. The panels earlier described show that some experimentation and innovation went on for the creation of this image before it was standardised during the Pallava period and further remodelled during Coḻa rule. It was observed earlier that the Pallava sculptures prefer a sitting Skanda while the Coḻa bronzes prefer a standing or dancing Skanda. Suprabhedāgama provides for a sitting or a standing Skanda while Kāśyapaśilpam – the iconographic portion of the Amśumadbhedāgama and Kāmikāgama – prescribe a sitting, standing or dancing Skanda,49 showing that the dancing Skanda was evolved later and Suprabhedāgama provides for the earlier tradition while the Amśumadbhedāgama incorporates the later tradition in its prescription.

50 Skanda, Kilaiyur

51 Skanda, Gangaikondacolapuram

52 Kārttikeya with Vallī and Devasenā, Tiruvenkatu

53 Kārttikeya, Tiruchatturai

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Ajitāgama provides for three kinds of Skanda – (1) six-faced and twelve-armed form holding various weapons and sitting on the peacock; (2) a four-armed figure holding Vajra and Śakti and either standing or sitting; and (3) the twoarmed figure.50 The second form answers to the images described earlier. The twelve-armed Skanda holds an arrow among other weapons that were used by the Tiruvenkatu bronze creators for a four-armed Skanda. Mayamatam provides for his two consorts, who are shown in the Tiruvenkatu bronze.51 These images follow the poetic traditions that were strongly entrenched in Tamiḻakam from an early period. They reflect motifs which found their way into various texts later. The textual prescriptions also suggest that the Agamic tradition was not very strong in the Deccan, which largely followed the Puranic narratives.

The Gangādhara mūrtis This was a popular form in both the Deccan and South India. However in the Deccan representations we find the pure Puranic narrative of Śiva holding out a strand of his lock to receive Ganga. The South-Indian sculptures, on the other hand, especially those from the Kailasanatha temple (Kanchi) onwards introduce the Tamil idiom of Śiva pacifying a jealous Pārvatī because he has received another woman – that is Ganga. The earliest traces of this motif are found in the Trichy Cave inscription of Mahendravarman I’s period. It says that Pārvatī seeing the god’s affection for rivers assigned Mahendravarman as the lord of Kaveri though the Gangādhara panel (Figure 57 below) to which this inscription refers does not show Śiva comforting Pārvatī. But the reference suggests that the idea was known to the Sanskrit eulogists of Mahendravarman I. Michael Lockwood was the first to suggest that this inscription draws a parallel between Śiva and Mahendravarman I and also between Kaveri and Ganga and the other scholars have followed his view since then. The Kaveri– Ganga parallelism which was consciously drawn makes the Gangādhara panels especially significant in the Tamil Country as it suggests the ruler’s control over Kaveri just as Śiva controlled the flow of Ganga.52 In the Deccan one of the most significant images of Gangadhara is from the slab in one of the niches in the outer Pradakṣiṇā of the Durga Temple at Aihole. It is that of an eight-armed Śiva holding various weapons, standing before the Nandī in tribhanga pose and drawing out a lock to receive Ganga (Figure 54). The Gangādhara composition from the Kailasa at Ellora shows Ganga in a diminutive anthropomorphic form descending on the stretched out lock of Śiva. This kind of conceptualisation enhances the significance of Śiva’s image vis-à-vis that of the river. We must remember that according to the legend Bhagīratha sought the help of Śiva because Ganga’s flow had a powerful force that the earth could not bear and only Śiva could control it. The oral/literary text thus highlights the power of the river Goddess in its narration style. The visual text however subdues the power of the river Goddess vis-à-vis the power of the ‘great god’.

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 123 The first Gangādhara images in the Pallava territory – chronologically earlier than the Deccan images described above – are a simpler version of the Deccan images described earlier. There is an image of this form on the second tier of the north facade of the Vimāna of Dharmaraja Ratha at Mahabalipuram (Figure 55). Here Ālīḍha Śiva’s right foot rests on the Apasmāra puruṣa and his upper left arm almost carries a large figure of Ganga on its palm. Here again there is no Pārvatī; the large figure of the river Goddess echoes the perspective of the literary traditions. The figure on the north wall of the Ardhamaṇḍapa of the Adivaraha Cave at the same place is very similar to the Dharmaraja Ratha image, except that the Apasmāra is deleted here and Ganga is shown as a large figure falling down into Śiva’s jaṭā in an añjali mudrā (Figure 56). There is no Pārvatī again. While the significance of the river Goddess is maintained in terms of the visual impact the fact that she pays obeisance to the God underlines the hierarchical position between the two. The Gangādhara figure in the Trichy Cave is similar to that of Dharmaraja Ratha though it is more finely carved and the front right arm holds a snake. Ganga here descends on the stretched out lock in diminutive form. The diminutive Ganga helps in projecting the powerful imagery of the god and at the same time subdues the significance of the river Goddess (Figure 57). The most mature and fine carving of this Sanskritic image (without a distressed Pārvatī) occurs at Tanjavur’s Bṛhadeśvara temple. This image is allied to the Mahabalipuram and Trichy figures as Śiva stands alone here and a small Ganga descends on his drawn out lock. There is a small figure doing penance on the sidewall of the niche, probably representing Bhagiratha (Figure 58). The heightened power of Śiva is sharply contrasted here against a diminutive river Goddess as the visual impact is focussed on the image of the god. Probably the first significant image that introduces Pārvatī is found in the Kailasanatha temple of Kanchi. This is a well-ornamented, finely carved Śiva in Ālīḍha pose drawing out his lock with one hand and as if trying to support an anthropo-riverine Ganga in Añjali mudrā with another hand. Pārvatī in tribhanga pose is watching the event (Figure 59) However there are no traces of her taking offense or Śiva trying to comfort her. The focus here is still on the Puranic narrative and on highlighting Śiva’s control over the river Goddess. The first image, which shows Śiva comforting a distressed Pārvatī, probably comes from the Matangesvara temple at Kanchi though it is not as well chiselled as the figure described above (Figure 60). A more finely-carved slab of this form comes from the Ugrakaliamman temple at Tanjavur datable to the early tenth century AD. Here Śiva comforts Pārvatī by embracing her (Figure 61). The Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram temple was the first Coḻa royal temple to introduce this synthesised idiom (Figure 62). This motif is more or less similarly followed by other Coḻa temples. The Amritaghateshvarar temple at Melakkadambur reintroduced the Apasmāra purusa to this evolved form (Figure 63).

54 Gangādharamūrti, Aihole

55 Gangādharamūrti, Lalitankura Cave, Mahabalipuram

56 Gangādharamūrti, Mahabalipuram

57 Gangādharamūrti, Lalitankura Cave, Tiruchirapalli

58 Gangādharamūrti, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

59 Gangādharamūrti, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

60 Gangādharamūrti, Matangesvara Temple, Kanchipuram

61 Gangādharamūrti, Ugrakaliamman Temple, Tanjavur

62 Gangādharamūrti, Gangaikondacolapuram

63 Gangādharamūrti, Melakkadambur

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The major Śaivāgamas prescribe the Devīsahita form of Gangādhara and state that Śiva should be shown as embracing Uma, thus alluding to the comforting pose. The Kāśyapaśilpa of Amśumadbhedāgama seems to agree for the most part with the more evolved Gangādhara images from South India. It says that Śiva’s right hand should rest on Devī’s breasts while his left hand should embrace her.53 This is the pose we see from Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram onwards. According to this text Śiva’s right hand should be touching Jāhnavī and Pārvatī’s left leg should be in the Svastika pose while the right leg should bend slightly.54 These features are seen at Kailasanatha though Śiva supports Ganga with his left hand, not right. On the right side of Ganga should be sages etc.55 as shown at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram. It seems that the images without Pārvatī are based purely on the Puranic narrative, the most mature form of them being at Tanjavur. The ‘Agamic Gangādhara’ shows the synthesis between the Puranic narrative and the Tamil motif of the ‘comforting pose’ involving Pārvatī. The above discussion shows that this form evolves from Kanchi onwards after a period of experimentation, before it gets canonised in the textual form. The Ravulaphadi Cave at Aihole also has a Gangādhara panel that does not answer to any Agamic text or Puranic narrative completely. It shows Śiva holding his locks on both sides with his two arms and Bhagīratha doing the penance. Three female figures in añjali pose descend on his jaṭā, probably representing Ganga with attendants. Pārvatī looks on in Vismaya mudrā and there is no ‘comforting scene’ (Figure 64). This image obviously pre-dates the canonisation and belongs to the experimentation stage.

The Tripurāntaka Mūrti This form is most popular at Ellora and in the South Indian temples. Mahabalipuram Shore Temple has a sitting Tripurāntaka carved inside a square niche cut into the body of the lion figure outside the temple. This is an eight-armed figure holding a bow among other weapons, one arm in the act of drawing out an arrow and he sits in the Lalitāsana. The Kailasanatha temple at Kanchipuram has several figures of the Tripurāntakas carved along the walls of the Pradakṣiṇā (Figures 65, 66, 67, 68) and on the outer walls of the Vimāna. Included among them is an Ālīḍha figure having ten arms holding various weapons, a, bow being one of them and drawing out an arrow. He is flanked by two sitting adorers. The figure on the Vimāna wall is similar to this except that it is eight-armed and there is only one standing figure beside him. The horizontal band below shows his Gaṇas holding weapons and in the fighting pose suggesting that the war is in progress though Śiva himself is shown as standing and watching. The main panel is iconic in nature but the lower register gives it the narrative touch. There is another comparable panel to this.

64 Gangādharamūrti, Aihole

65 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

66 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

67 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

68 Tripurāntaka, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

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There is another six-armed Tripurāntakain Ālīḍha posture though the position of legs is reversed here. The frame of the wooden chariot on which he stands is visible here. He has no attendants and this panel also is in the iconic mode. All these figures show the position of the arm holding the bow and that drawing the arrow in a similar position. However there is a panel here that shows the Tripurāntaka holding the bow as if it is slung on his shoulder while with another arm on the same side he is drawing out a fiery arrow. Beside him is a figure of Brahmā who according to the legend was his charioteer. The upper portions of the chariot are visibly carved here. This panel shows the narrative characteristics through the fiery arrow, Brahmā, chariot etc., though Śiva himself is depicted as facing the viewers like an icon. The Kailasa at Ellora has a Tripurāntaka that is more narrative than iconic in content. Here the upper part of the chariot and the horse are carved in high relief and Brahmā is shown sitting as the charioteer. Śiva stands on the chariot and draws out his arrow and strings the bow in the sky. There is a small figure carved above Brahmā holding probably a sword and in the combat pose. This panel thus is a departure from the Kanchi panels in the sense that it employs a different idiom for depiction (Figure 69). The iconic narratives from Kanchi show that the iconic depiction of Tripurāntaka had started in the Pallava period. However it was the Coḻas who used the fully evolved Tripurāntaka icons on a large scale on their temples. Apart from the Thyagaraja bronzes Tripurāntaka was another image that was used by the Coḻa rulers as an image patronised by the state, symbolic of its royal power. The mature evolution of the iconic Tripurāntakais is evident from a carved slab from the Muvarkoil from Kodambalur belonging to the late ninth century AD. Here Tripurāntaka stands in Ālīḍha position and is four armed. His bow is slung on his side and his arrows are seen at the back (Figure 70). The Coḻa temples began the practice of placing various forms of Śiva on the upper or second tier of the Vimāna to emphasise the various narratives. The Valisvara temple at Tiruvalisvaram shows – on the second tier of the Vimāna on the west wall – the image of Tripurāntaka in the iconic form along with those of Gajāntaka, Lingodbhava and Dakṣiṇāmūrti. Rājarāja I elevated this image almost to the status of a ‘royal icon’ in his Bṛhadīśvara temple when he used the entire second tier of the Vimāna of this temple for Tripurāntaka (Figure 71). Most of these figures are either in the Ālīḍha pose or in the Tribhanga pose holding the bow and having four arms. He also got this image executed in a painting in the circumambulatory chamber of the temple. Rājarāja was followed by his successors who placed this icon on the upper tiers of the Vimānas of their royal temples, but the exclusive space given to this image on an entire tier was never repeated. The practice reverted back to the earlier one of this form being included amongst other images on the upper tiers. Thus Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram shows an iconic form of this

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 141 image along with that of the Goddess on one of the upper tiers. Another section of the Vimāna of the same temple shows two Tripurāntaka figures on two different tiers; the lower one of these is more striking as this figure has been placed inside a niche over which the form of a shrine has been carved thus creating the impression of a ‘Tripurāntaka temple’ (Figure 72). While Tanjavur highlights its royal identity, Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram reverts back to the earlier tradition of placing a ‘Tripurāntaka shrine’ on the upper tier of the Vimāna and stresses its deification. A slab with Tripurāntaka carved on it almost in the round is found in the royal temple at Darasuram while Tribhuvanam has two figures of this form placed on the upper tiers along with other images (Figure 73). The iconic stone images and the bronze images of this form developed quite early, and most of them show a four-armed Śiva in the pose of holding an arrow with two hands (Figures 74, 75, 76). The Kāśyapaśilpam of Amśumadbhedāgama gives eight forms of Tripurāntaka but they are very elaborate forms. None of the images described above tallies with the text feature-for-feature. However we find traces of these features in the eight forms described. For example the sixth form is of an eight-armed Śiva ‘holding various weapons accompanied by Gaurī and ascending (on the chariot?) as this would look appreciable.56 The chariot-borne images might answer to this though Gaurī is not visible in them. The seventh form is the chariot-borne image having eight arms holding various weapons and ‘crossing the right thigh over the left one’. Brahmā the charioteer is also described elaborately.57 The Ellora image described above comes closest to this though the leg position differs and Śiva drawing the string and taking aim is not described in the text. The first form is ‘in the shape of a bow’, four-armed, holding an axe in the right hand and a black deer in the left and made of either metal or wood.58 The metal images answer to this but the two front arms in the arrow-holding posture are not described here. The fifth form describes the arrow-holding posture for a four-armed image. However the other left hand should hold a bow according to the fifth form,59 and not a deer as is usually found in the case of the existing metal image. It can hence be said that the traits of the metal images can be jointly found in the first and the fifth forms of the Kāśyapaśilpam. The Lalitāsana Tripurāntaka of Mahabalipuram is not described in the texts. The leg positions usually vary greatly in the images. Probably the description of the sixth form as cited above allows for these variations. The Aparājitapṛccha of Bhuvanadeva, a mediaeval text, describes a tenarmed Tripurāntaka ‘in a curved pose’ and holding various weapons. It appears to relate to the ten-armed Tripurāntaka from Kanchi described above – though according to the canon this should be a dancing image.60 It seems that the ten-armed image from Kanchi was elaborated upon and canonised in this text in the later period.

69 Tripurāntaka, Kailasa, Ellora

70 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier, Valisvara Temple, Tiruvalisvaram

71 Tripurāntaka figures on the second tier, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

72 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier of Gangaikondacolapuram

73 Tripurāntaka on the upper tier of Kampaharesvaram, Tribhuvanam

74 Tripurāntaka, Kodambalur

75 Tripurāntaka bronze, Mayavaram

76 Tripurāntaka bronze, Jambuvanodai

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77 Dancing Śiva, Aihole

The Nṛttamūrtis The dancing forms of Śiva can be broadly categorised into three groups of images. The first group of images elaborates the concept of Śiva as a dancer being watched by his consort. Śiva danced for her pleasure and all the gods accompanied him. These images were greatly popular in the pre-Coḻa period in both the Deccan and South India. One of the finest of these images comes from the Ravula Phadi Cave at Aihole where Śiva is dancing in his eightarmed form along with Gaṇeśa, Saptamātṛkās etc. while Pārvatī watches him on his left (Figure 77). A more finely carved image of this form is found in Badami Cave 1 where Śiva is sixteen-armed and Gaṇeśa and other figures are accompanying him in dance. This image shows something striking – Śiva is wearing the Tamil warriors’ anklet on the right leg, pointing to the fact that this motif had travelled upwards to the Deccan at an early date (Figure 78). A very similar image though eight armed is found at Ellora in Cave 14 (Figure 79). Here one can see various divine figures watching the dance. Cave 21 (i.e. the Ramesvara) at Ellora also has this theme depicted in an elaborate form though Siva is four-armed here and his dance-pose is different. The back wall is full of watching and accompanying figures. Pārvatī watches the dance (Figure 80). This four-armed dancing Śiva with Pārvatī and other figures is an elaborate version of the earlier panels at

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 151 Aihole and Pattadakkal. The former shows this figure in the Candraśālā of Huchchimalli Gudi (Figure 81) and on a pillar at Konti Gudi temples (Figure 82), while the latter shows it in a Candraśāla of the Papanatha Temple (Figure 83). Thus it can be said that these images reached maturity at Ellora. The Kailasa at Ellora also includes this image in one of the panels. Another form in this group is the ‘Bhujangatrāsa pose’ described by the major Āgamas and Mayamatam, a fine bronze of which is found from Kuram in Chingleput district, datable to the ninth century AD (Figure 84). It is to be observed that many of these images use the gajahasta–abhaya combination for hands which was used for Nataraja later. The images from Badami and the eightarmed ones from Aihole and Ellora described earlier use a combination of various poses through their hands depleted in the texts dealing with dance and hence do not represent any single dance pose but rather a dance involving various poses in progress. In this sense these dancing images are narrative rather than iconic in nature. The Kāśyapaśilpam of Amśumadbhedāgama describes the four-armed poses with the gajahasta–abhaya combination and slightly bent legs. However it says that there should be no apasmāra present in this form, that is the ninth form described in the text.61 Most of the images, however, include an apasmāra. The Nāṭyaśāstra62 describes the Kaṭisama mode of dance in which the leg position is curved, similar to that of the four-armed images described above, but the hand position does not agree with the images. It seems the dancing Śiva was being created in a number of ways, combining elements from various poses and introducing new elements before the dancing forms were standardised by the Āgamas. Bharata was followed for inspiration but he does not seem to be the binding authority for the images finally executed. Before going on to the second group of images it is important to discuss a form largely executed at Kanchi and at the Olakkanesvara temple at Mahabalipuram. This is a multi-armed image that uses the gajahasta pose of the Naṭarāja, but through one of the right hands – which is opposite to the Naṭarāja (who uses the left arm for the gajahasta pose). One of the left arms is raised upwards and the fingers touch the crown. This feature is characteristic of the second group of images described below. The above images under discussion thus use two-arm positions that were very popular in South India. However this is a half-sitting image with the right leg in Ālīḍha position, the left leg spread out and the lower part of the leg lifted up, the Gajahasta touching the heel. There are no accompanying figures in this form (Figures 85, 86). There is no iconographic treatise that describes this image precisely. However Kāśyapaśilpam’s seventh form says that the right hand should be in the gajahasta and the left hand may reach the centre of the forehead. The left leg should spread, the foot reaching up to the middle of the body.63 Though this is not the complete description of the pose the image may have been an elaboration of this pose – though it was not followed later in the Coḻa temples and nor did it travel to the Deccan.

78 Dancing Śiva, Badami

79 Dancing Śiva, Ellora

80 Dancing Śiva, Ellora

81 Dancing Śiva, Hucchcchimalli Gudi, Candrasala, Aihole

82 Dancing Śiva, Konti Gudi, Pillar, Aihole

83 Dancing Śiva, Papanatha Temple, Pattadakkal, Aihole

84 Dancing Śiva, bronze, Kuram

85 Dancing Śiva, Olakkanesvara Temple, Mahabalipuram

86 Dancing Śiva, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 161 The second group of images deals with a form generally referred to by scholars as ‘Ūrdhva Tāṇḍava’, popular through the Pallava and Coḻa periods in South India with many Tamil myths weaved around it. However the iconographic texts do not refer to any image called ‘Ūrdhva Tāṇḍava’ though the form referred to by this term is fully described in Bharata’s Nāṭyaśāstra as one of the 108 Karaṇas of dance. Bharata calls this form as ‘Lalāṭatilakam’ and therefore it will be referred to in this work as Lalāṭatilakam, since ‘Ūrdhva Tāṇḍava’ seems to be a coinage of recent origin and therefore a misnomer for images pertaining to the early medieval period. Lalāṭatilakam images show Śiva lifting his right leg straight upwards parallel to his torso and one of his left arms goes up and the hand touches the crown n a manner similar to the Kanci and Olakkanesvara temple images discussed earlier. One of the right arms of Siva winds around his lifted leg and makes the abahaya gesture. Some of the earliest of these images are found at the Kailasanatha at Kanchi. One panel shows a Gaṇa and Nandī dancing along with Śiva (Figure 87) while another shows Pārvatī watching the dance and some eroded small Gaṇas adoring him. The Matangesvara temple at Kanchi has a Lalāṭatilakam image accompanied with Gaṇas playing musical instruments and the Goddess in four-armed form dancing along with him (Figure 89). The Airavatesvara temple at Kanchi has this form accompanied with Gaṇas and divine figures observing the dance in the sky and Parvati standing beside Śiva in Tribhanga pose. The same temple has another panel of this dance form which is elaborately composed. Viṣṇu and Brahmā watch the dance in the sky, Pārvatī stands besides Śiva watching his dance, Nandī dances along with Śiva, and his Gaṇas play musical instruments while some watch him (Figure 90) Some of the later figures of this dance form are from Cidambaram, the Kalyāṇamaṇḍapam of the Śiva temple at Vellore in North Arcott District and Tribhuvanam among others (Figure 91). Here Śiva is alone. As mentioned earlier Bharata’s Nāṭyaśāstra in the fourth chapter titled ‘Tāṇḍava Lakṣaṇam’ describes the 108 Karaṇas or poses associated with the Tāṇḍava dance of Śiva. Here it is important to note that the Tāṇḍava constitutes all the 108 Karaṇas, with each Karaṇa forming a pose during the dance rather than being a separate dance itself as has been often mistakenly presumed. In this sense various Nṛttamūrtis can be said to represent different moments of the same Tāṇḍava dance. Bharata’s Nāṭyaśāstra describes at least two poses that agree with the images being discussed here. The 50th Karaṇa named ‘Lalāṭatilakam’ says that the leg should be lifted up and the great toe of that foot should touch the forehead as if making a ‘tilaka’. The dancer often also touches his forehead with his palm to suggest that this is the Lalāṭatilakam pose.64 The 64th Karaṇa called Niṣumbhita says the leg is lifted, the chest is elevated and the palm is placed in the tilaka pose.65 The images illustrated above have originated from these two Karaṇas.

87 Lalāṭatilakam, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

88 Dancing Gajāntaka Śiva, Tanjavur

89 Lalāṭatilakam, Matangesvara Temple, Kanchipuram

90 Lalāṭatilakam, Airavatesvara Temple, Kanchipuram

91 Lalāṭatilakam, Tribhuvanam

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 167 Here it is important to discuss another issue associated with these images. It has often been suggested that these images refer to the Tamil myth of the dance contest between Śiva and Kālī in which the right to worship was decided by their prowess in dance. Śiva defeated Kālī by lifting his leg during the contest. Kālī was capable of imitating the pose but chose not to follow him as it violated her maidenly modesty and she did not want to transgress the norms of modesty. She was thereby banished to the outskirts of the town and the temple was dedicated to Siva’s worship. This myth relates to the Cidambaram and the Tiruvalankatu temples. There are however problems with accepting this myth as the basis of the Lalāṭatilakam images. First, an extensive survey of these images from across South India reveals that almost none of the panels has Kālī in the defeated pose. A study of the Tamil texts of the sixth to the twelfth centuries AD also reveals that while other legends related to Śiva’s exploits are described in these texts the legend of the contest does not occur. One might expect that Karaikkal Ammaiyar’s poetry would refer to this contest if not the work of other poets, since she was directed by Śiva to stay at Tiruvalankatu and witness his dance there. A study of her poems shows that she has written especially on Śiva’s acts such as those related to Rāvaṇānugraha, Lingodbhava, Kālāntaka, Bhikṣāṭana and Tripurāntaka etc., in her work called ‘Atpūtat-Tiruvantāti.’66 The legend of the dance contest is however conspicuous by its absence. When she writes about Śiva’s dance which she witnesses this is what she has to say: ‘In the forest mysterious god is dancing/ the daughter of the mountain king is in fear glancing’.67 It is significant that Kālī’s contest with him is not mentioned and it is also significant that wherever Śiva is accompanied by the Goddess in the panels mentioned above it is Parvati watching him and not Kālī contesting with him. Kālī, wherever present, dances along with him. The Lalāṭatilakam images thus depict Śiva’s dance being watched by Pārvatī, as is described by Karaikkāl Ammaiyār who was closer in time to these images. Even a text as late as the Periya Purāṇam describes Śiva’s dance at Tiruvalankatu as being watched by Karaikkāl Ammaiyār, who describes the dance in these words – ‘Tiruvalankatu is the place where our Father, with his matted locks swinging in all the eight directions, dances the fire dance to the delight of his limbs in the hot cremation ground’.68 There is no reference to the contest here; nor isthe presence of Kālī as a rival mentioned. The myth of the contest as the basis of the Lalāṭatilakam images is refuted by the overwhelming evidence of the sculptural panels themselves. As said earlier, nowhere is this form of Śiva accompanied by a defeated Kālī. Either he dances alone (referring to the Periya Purāṇam description above), or Pārvatī watches his dance as described by Karaikkāl Ammaiyār (Figure 92). Besides, there is a profusion of sculptural panels which depict women dancers lifting their legs and touching their heads with one foot exactly as in the Śiva images (Figures 93, 94, 95, 96, 97). Cidambaram, the other centre said to be associated with the dance contest has the maximum number of these women – dancer panels. Also the Cidambaram panel of Lalāṭatilakam shows Śiva dancing

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alone, not with Kālī. It is obvious that at least till the date of Cidambaram Gopurams there was no sense of immodesty associated with a woman lifting her leg as the women dancers lifting their leg are depicted on the Cidambaram Gopurams. The myth was not only not associated with Śiva’s images it was unknown to the temple artists at Cidambaram and other places.69 In the above context it is enlightening to read the legend of the dance of Śiva and Kālī as given in the Linga Purāṇa: (After Kālī killed Dāruka) in order to propitiate her anger the delighted trident bearing lord of the devas performed the Tāṇḍava dance at dusk along with the ghosts and leaders of goblins.. After enjoying the dance of Śiva very much Parameśvarī danced in the midst of ghosts happily alongwith yoginis. Devas all round including Brahmā, Indra and Viṣṇu, bowed to and eulogised Kālī and then prayed to the goddess Pārvatī. Thus the Tāṇḍava of the trident bearing lord has been briefly mentioned to you.70

The above mentioned panels match with the Linga Purāṇa reference. In some panels we have the Gaṇas accompanying Śiva. In the Airavatesvara temple Brahmā and Viṣṇu are shown as witnessing the dance. We notice that the legend says that after being satisfied Kālī danced with the yoginīs. It was mentioned that the Matangesvara temple panel shows the Goddess dancing, obviously referring to this part of the narrative. The reference to the gods praying to Pārvatī shows that Pārvatī was present and explains her figure watching the dance in the image and in the texts. A remarkable feature at the beginning of the legend is that Śiva performed this dance in order to propitiate Kālī’s anger. The accent here is on pleasing a companion and the element of conflict between the two divinities is not present. The Tamil popular legend however changes the equation and uses the motif of contest to show the rivalry between two deities who represent opposite perceptions of the divine power. It is worth noting that (as discussed in the Chapter 1) Kālī and Cey were incorporated into the Śaivite pantheon even during the Sangam period. Hence the Linga Purāṇa and the sculptured panels reflect the composite nature of the sect and its pantheon. The popular perception however carries through the conflicting elements and constructs the legend of the contest based on the sculptures, not the other way round. This is a case of an idea flowing from the visual medium of the sculpture to the oral medium of the popular narrative and finally getting encoded in the Tala Purāṇas that were written down in the mediaeval period. Śiva’s dance however can also symbolise victory in a contest although the images described above were not carved with this symbolism, as has been shown above. There are some images of Śiva’s Gajāntaka form which show him dancing and holding the flayed hide of the elephant demon he has killed in a battle (Figure 88 above). Images such as these lend themselves well to an interpretation relating to a powerful deity who overpowered his rival and expressed this victory through dance. This symbolism was furher expanded in the third group of dance images of Śiva described below.

92 Lalāṭatilakam, Chidambaram

93 Woman dancer in Lalāṭatilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

94 Woman dancer in Lalāṭatilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

95 Woman dancer in Lalāṭatilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

96 Woman dancer in Lalāṭatilakam pose, Darasuram

97 Woman dancer in Lalāṭatilakam pose, Chidambaram Gopuram

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The above two groups of Śiva’s Nṛttamūrtis are an elaboration of the theme of Śiva’s dance at dusk viewed by Pārvatī. This idea was further evolved in the third group of sculptures of Siva’s dance represented by the form commonly known as Naṭarāja. To the narrative aspect was added the perception of Śiva as the creator, sustainer and destroyer of the universe through his dance (Sṛṣṭi, Sthiti, Samhāra, Tirobhava and Anugraha being the five stages of this cycle). The image of Naṭarāja in this sense does more than merely narrate the dance event – it uses the dance to install Śiva as the supreme divine power – the need for a trinity of gods is no longer valid since all the cosmic roles have been assigned to Śiva through the icon of Naṭarāja. The ‘Naṭarāja posture’ also called Ānanda Tāṇḍava is not included in the 108 Karaṇas of the Nāṭyaśāstra. Rather it is a combination of various postures described in that text. We have already seen that the combination of the hand postures of Gajahasta and Abhaya had already appeared at Kanchi and Olakkanesvara temple at Mahabalipuram as discussed in the first group of Nṛttamūrtis. To this was added the leg postures of the Bhujangatrāsa mudrā which forms the 24th Karaṇa of the Nāṭyaśāstra. These elements form the basic figure of Naṭarāja of the earliest phase. It was gradually perfected and elaborated through the Coḻa period. Apart from the Tyāgarāja and the Tripurāntaka images Naṭarāja was the third important icon that received extensive royal patronage and acquired the status of a symbolic ‘royal icon’. A whole paraphernalia of myths, iconology and ritual grew around it as it was the cultic image at Cidambaram, the most important Śiva shrine in South India and also one of the important royal centres as Coḻa rulers were crowned here. Chronologically according to Douglas Barrett the earliest datable and certain representation of Naṭarāja in Ānanda Tāṇḍava is on the ruined Sadaiyar temple at Tiruchennampudi from circa AD 920 that is from Parāntaka I’s region. There is a bronze icon of Naṭarāja from Okkur measuring only 25 cm exhibited in the Madras Museum. It is without the figure of Ganga and the fire is held in a pot. Barrett considers it as datable to AD 950; thus it is one of the earliest known bronze Naṭarājas.71 Another bronze from Tandantottam near Kumbhakonam is housed in the Natanapurisvarar Temple of the same place. It has the ‘Naṭarāja pose’ but the flying locks and sash are absent. It is datable to AD 960.72 Another bronze in the Madras Museum shows Śiva holding fire in his hand and a diminutive Ganga trapped in his locks (Figure 98). Another early bronze was unearthed along with a Somāskanda at Sivapuram in Tanjavur district. It is datable to about AD 970.73 After these early experiments the full-fledged, canonical form of Naṭarāja makes its first dated appearance in the devakoṣṭha on the Umā Māheśvara temple at Konerirajapuram built between AD 969 and 976 by Sembian Mahadevi. Thence on, every temple built by Sembian Mahadevi carries this image. The earliest dated Naṭarāja in bronze is the Vriddhachalam Kuttapperumal. In the Vriddhagirishvarar temple in South Arcott an inscription records that the Ṣrī Koyil was constructed by Sembiyan Mahādevī and also notes earlier gifts to Kuttapperumal and his consort.

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 175

98 Naṭarāja, Madras

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Both the bronzes still exist in the temple and may thus be datable to AD 981 (the date of the inscription) or a little before that.74 This bronze has Ganga’s hand in an uplifted position rather than in Añjali mudrā. Around the same time this image was being placed in the Ardhamaṇḍapa of the Śiva temples, examples being the Nagesvara temple at Tirunagesvara in Tanjavur district (last quarter of the tenth century AD) and the Apatsahayesvara Temple at Tiruvaduturai (circa AD 985). These images do not yet have the Prabhāvalī though they are complete in other respects. The Aduturai Temple has the dancing Goddess beside Śiva and some small figures observing the dance at the top, referring to the Linga Purāṇa legend. The Nagesvara Temple image has a Nāyanār and some Gaṇas paying homage to the dancing Śiva on both sides of the image in separate niches. The bronze from Kivalur in Tanjavur datable to the eleventh century AD is an evolved Naṭarāja, complete in all canonical features – except that the locks are not spread out and Ganga seems to sit almost on his shoulder. The Prabhāvalī is almost circular. The bronze from Jambuvanodai in Tanjavur datable to the eleventh century AD shows a more evolved icon. The whole image rests on a lotus pedestal. It shows all the canonical features of the image – spread out locks and Prabhāvalī with triple-point flames. Another bronze from Kivalur datable to the eleventh century AD is a more refined version of the image just described. The Prabhāvalī is almost a circle and has five-point flames. A third bronze from Kivalur is datable to the twelfth century AD and shows a double ring Prabhāvalī. Besides the usual features this Nataraja has a wheel-like object attached to each of the two upper hands apart from the usual drum and fire. Probably this reflects the image of Naṭarāja as the sustainer of the universe, ‘Sthiti’ being his second function as described earlier. Kivalur thus experiments with the image and adds to its symbolism. Several bronze images of this icon of Śiva are displayed in the Tanjavur museum (Figures 99–102). The Tiruvadutturai Temple in Vriddhachalam taluka in South Arcott district has a stone image of Naṭarāja flanked by Śivakāmī and a Gaṇa playing an instrument in separate niches. The back wall of the Nataraja niche shows faint carvings of a dancing Bhṛngī and a tiger-like figure, probably referring to the Vyāghrapāda legend associated with Tillai. These carvings are in extremely low relief and it is not possible to know whether they are contemporary to the Naṭarāja, Śivakāmī and Gaṇa images. One of the earliest low-relief images carved on a stone wall of a temple comes from Siyamangalam (Figure 103). The Ānanda Tāṇḍava images were made in Pandya country too. There is an early Pandyan bronze datable to the tenth century AD from Poruppumettupatti in Madurai district. It has all the features of Naṭarāja except that the position of legs, drum and the fire are reversed. It is significant that the processional deity of the Minaksi–Sundaresvara temple at Madurai is also a reversed form of Naṭarāja.75 This shows that the ‘reversed Naṭarāja’ had gained some popularity in Madurai region.

99 Naṭarāja bronze, Tanjavur

100 Naṭarāja bronze, Tanjavur

101 Naṭarāja bronze, Tanjavur

102 Naṭarāja bronze, Tanjavur

103 Naṭarāja, Siyamangalam

182 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

One of the earliest Pandyan paintings dates from the ninth century AD is from Sittanavasal and is a splendid representation of the Ānanda Tāṇḍava, showing an Apsarā executing the pose. Here the position is not ‘reversed’ and follows the direction of the Coḻa images. It was in Rājarāja I’s time that the image of Naṭarāja attained the symbol of the ‘royal icon’ when it was placed on the Bṛhadeśvara temple at Tanjavur (Figure 104). This image is more iconic than narrative and essentially projects Śiva as the supreme deity capable of controlling the cosmic cycle of creation, sustenance and destruction through his dance. The narrative details are kept at a minimum as we see only Gaṇas playing musical instruments on the outside wall of the niche. The Naṭarāja at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram is a more finely and elaborately carved conception of the dance of Śiva. This image combines the symbolic meaning of Śiva’s Tāṇḍava with various Puranic and Tamil narratives. The back wall of the niche shows Bhṛngī and Kālī dancing; the horizontal band below shows Karaikkāl Ammaiyār watching the dance and the Gaṇas accompanying on musical instruments; the left wall to Śiva’s niche shows a two-armed Goddess representing Pārvatī; and the right wall to Śiva’s niche shows Gaṇeśa and Kārttikeya on their vehicles and a four-armed god with another eroded figure behind him (probably representing Brahmā or Viṣṇu), all witnessing the dance (Figure 105). On one level this is an elaborate depiction of the Linga Purāṇa narrative discussed earlier that deals with Śiva’s dance to please Kālī – who dances on being satisfied, watched by the divine figures. It will be remembered that Pārvatī was prayed to by the gods in the end. The two-armed Goddess represents Pārvatī. On another level Tamil legends of Karaikkāl Ammaiyār and that of Bhṛngī being granted three legs by Śiva have been given a space in the panel. The final level, of course, deals with the evolution of Naṭarāja as the creator, sustainer and destroyer and the recreator of the universe. The subservient figures of Brahmā and Viṣṇu who watch these cosmic acts being performed through dance underline Siva’s supremacy, as two of these acts were traditionally in Brahmā’s and Viṣṇu’s domains. This panel thus represents the effort of the royal patron to project a narrative–iconic image as the converging ground for the multiple layers of meanings associated with the icon and the narrative as constructed by the society. There is another Naṭarāja carved on the upper two tiers of the Vimāna that is complete with a Prabhāvalī and Śivakāmī as in the bronze images. Incidently this Nataraja section has been given the shape of a shrine-like form, just as in the case of the Tripurāntaka image discussed earlier. On the right side of Naṭarāja stands Ganesa and on the band below, which is carved as the Adhiṣṭhāna of the ‘shrine’, stand the adoring figures – two of which look like Brahmā and Viṣṇu. This is probably a sculptural depiction of Naṭarāja being adored at Cidambaram (Figure 106). By giving space to such a sculptured ‘shrine’ on the Vimāna of the royal temple an attempt was being made to

104 Naṭarāja, Rajarajesvaram, Tanjavur

184 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

105 Naṭarāja, Gangaikondacolapuram

provide religious sanctity to the royal temple on one level, and to express the royal allegiance to the most prominent Śaivite devotional centre in South India on another level. The dancing pose of Ānanda Tāṇḍava is not restricted to Śiva alone but is also developed for Bhṛngī, who is said to have danced along with Śiva. The only difference is that he is accorded three legs, two out of which are bent and placed on the ground and the third (the left one) is lifted in the usual Bhujangatrāsa pose. There is a dancing Bhṛngī niche above the Naṭarāja panel discussed here (Figure 107). As noted earlier a dancing Bhṛngī also is carved on the back wall of the Naṭarāja niche (Figure 108), and there is a dancing Bhṛngī carved on a slab at Jvarahareshvara Temple at Tiruvarur probably of late Coḻa origins. The last is four-armed and seems to hold fire in his upper left arm (Figure 109). The Amritaghateshvarar Temple at Melakkadambur built by Kulottunga I has a finely carved bronze Naṭarāja, complete in all respects. This is technically superior to the other bronzes discussed earlier as the upper arms are not framed by Prabhāvalī but extend to its outer edge. The flying locks also do not extend up to the Prabhāvalī, thus not providing extra support to the image. There is no flying sash depicted either. This Naṭarāja thus is standing almost freely, his figure touching the Prabhāvalī only at the crown and slightly by his hands.

106 Naṭarāja, Gangaikondacolapuram upper tier

107 Bhṛngī in Naṭarāja pose, Gangaikondacolapuram, upper tier

108 Bhṛngī in Naṭarāja pose, Gangaikondacolapuram

109 Bhṛngī in Naṭarāja pose, Jvaraharesvara Temple, Tiruvarur

188 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

The above survey shows that the Tāṇḍava figures of Śiva started with thematically simple compositions of a dancing Śiva watched by Pārvatī and gradually acquired more complex dance poses with an elaboration of the narrative elements. Finally there evolved an iconologically distinct image which integrated into itself multiple layers of meaning. Though the concept of Naṭarāja may have arisen out of the dancing Śiva imageries it is iconologically different from all other dancing images of Śiva, since more than being just an image it is an integrative symbolic concept. It is not merely an image of the Puranic narrative of Śiva’s dance. Rather it combines the Puranic and Tamil legends and projects Śiva as the supreme divinity who controls time and space through his dance. Allegorically it underlines the royal patron’s control over his realm through his royal activity. Often the Naṭarāja wears the hero’s anklet, thus creating a parallel between the divine and the royal warrior who controls his realm and who can transform it at will. The evolution of the dancing Bhṛngī may be interpreted as the devotee’s/subject’s acceptance of the divine/royal lord as the guiding force and the sovereign. The Naṭarāja image in a ‘shrine’ on the Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram Temple has been discussed earlier. The underlying current of this icon is the attempt of the Coḻas to take the existing theme of the dancing Śiva and to transform it into a converging ground for multiple-layered social perceptions and to project the image of the royal creator of this icon as the patron of all these multiple-layered perceptions. We have already referred to the Linga Purana narrative of Śiva’s dance as also the Periya Purāṇam’s and Karaikkāl Ammaiyār’s references. As for the iconographic textual references it has been said earlier that out of the 108 Karaṇas of Nāṭyaśāstra, two hand poses and the Bhujangatrāsa pose of the legs have been combined to form this image. The Kāśyapaśilpam of the Amśumadbhedāgama has canonised nine out of the 108 Karaṇas. The first form of these is an elaborate iconographic and iconometric conceptualisation of Ānanda Tāṇḍava Naṭarāja, which sets down the most characteristic features of this icon in a standardised fashion.76 The image never stops evolving, however, as we have seen in the survey above. Accommodations, refinements, deletions and additions keep on taking place throughout the Coḻa period in both iconographic and narrative terms.

The Goddess forms In Chapter 1 the integrative process through which various forms of the Goddesses were merged with that of Mahiṣāsuramardinī was discussed. These forms represented the worship systems of various cults. The Goddess images of the early mediaeval period thus symbolised the underlying currents of all these cultic images. The Mahiṣāsuramardinī /Durgā was further identified with Umā the consort of Śiva. We have already seen that the Umā of the Somāskanda groups was the converging point for both Koṟṟavai and

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 189 Durgā. This integrative process is clearly evident in iconography if we survey Goddess images from the Pallava period onwards, between the seventh and eighth centuries AD. The earliest of these images are visual representations of Koṟṟavai who is depicted as the sacrifice-taking deity in the Draupadī Ratha of Mahabalipuram (Figures 110, 111, 112). The related Tamil textual references from the pre-Pallava period have already been discussed in Chapter 1. This Goddess is attended by devotees, one of whom is offering his head in sacrifice to her. Here she has no attributes of Mahiṣāsuramardinī. There are no Agamic or Puranic references to this kind of image. A similar image comes from the lower rock-cut Cave of Trichy. These are obviously attempts by the Pallavas to integrate the popular cults of Tamiḻakam under their patronage as they extended their sway from Toṇḍaimaṇḍalam to Coḻamaṇḍalam. The most striking evidence of the integration of the Tamil and the Puranic idioms comes again from Mahabalipuram from the Antarāla of the Adivaraha Cave. Here the Goddess stands on a buffalo-head, is eight-armed and carries in those arms various weapons. There is a lion on the top left hand corner and a stag on the top right hand corner thus combining the elements of Koṟṟavai and Mahiṣāsuramardinī/ Durgā identities. However here the popular idiom is slightly subdued as the attendant devotees are offering worship rather than sacrificing themselves. Another remarkable feature is the depiction of a linga on top, on the right side of the head of the Goddess showing that the cult of Goddess-worship had gotten assimilated into the folds of Śaivism. There is also a crescent moon carved between the head of the Goddess and the linga (Figure 113). In a somewhat later temple of the Pallava period from the village of Periya Venmani in the Madurantaka taluk of Chingleput district was discovered an image of a Goddess which answers to the descriptions of Koṟṟavai in Śilappadikāram.77 This image combines the features of the deer as the vehicle of Koṟṟavai and the sacrificial cults associated with the folk Goddesses. This is reflected in both the self-sacrificing devotee and the severed head of the buffalo on which she stands. The buffalo head is also reminiscent of the Mahiṣāsuramardinī aspect of the Goddess. Thus in this panel an attempt is made to integrate the Tamil and the Puranic idioms though the former is more strongly displayed. It is noteworthy that when Cālukya Vikramāditya II conquered Kanchi and decided to model his Pattadakkal Temple of Virupaksa after the Kailasanatha Temple of Kanch, the above-described motifs of the Goddess panel were carried to the Cālukya capital. Thus on the northern wall of the Virupaksa Temple below the main devakoṣṭha of Viṣṇu is a small panel of the Goddess that has almost all the ingredients of the panels described above. Here the Goddess suppresses the buffalo – his full form carved – with a foot and hand, has the full forms of a lion and a deer carved on the top corners and is attended by two devotees, one of whom is sacrificing his head. Again the identities of Koṟṟavai and Mahiṣāsuramardinī/Durgā are merged here and the zoomorphic buffalo forms the interface between the Mahiṣāsura and the sacrificial buffalo (Figure 114).

110 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

111 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotees, Mahabalipuram

112 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

113 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Mahabalipuram

114 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Pattadakkal

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 195 However the northward transmission of this composite Goddess panel stops at the Cālukya region as we do not have any representations of this kind at Ellora, the Rāṣṭrakūṭa capital. There are no Agamic prescriptions for the panels of any such type and hence they are based on the Puranic and Tamil myths and serve to converge them. A trend is evident in South India which subdues the popular idiom and highlights the Puranic idiom, which is later canonised in the Agamic form. This form of the Goddess often stands on the head of a buffalo in Tribhanga mudrā, is usually four- or eight-armed and holds a conch and disc when four-armed; and trident, bow, sword, bell etc when eight-armed. An early example of this comes from Singavaram in South Arcott district in Ranganatha temple. Here the Goddess is four-armed, holds a conch and disc and stands in tribhanga over a buffalo. The devotees adore her instead of sacrificing, and the stag and the lion are absent (Figure 115). On comparison, it becomes obvious that her pose and the postures of hand are modified versions of those of the Periya Venmani image. Thus the deer and the overt sacrificial aspects are absent but the posture is borrowed from Koṟṟavai. The Kailasanatha Temple at Kanchi represents a seated version of this form of the Goddess. She is eight-armed and holds several weapons apart from the conch and the disc Figure 116). Mahabalipuram has two images of the Goddess carved in this manner that are datable to the early Pallava period (Figures 117, 118). The Coḻa period has produced many images of this kind mostly standing straight or in tribhanga and either four-armed or eight-armed. In most cases she holds the conch and the disc primarily (Figures 119, 120). Amśumadbhedāgama’s iconographic portion, the Kāśyapaśilpam refers to the four-armed Durgā holding conch and disc and standing on a lotus base as ‘Viṣṇulakṣaṇam’.78 Some of the Goddess images of the Coḻa period are shown as standing on a lotus base. Uttarakāmikāgama and Pūrvakāraṇāgama provide for a number of attributes for the Goddess, four and eight arms, conch and disc and her standing on a buffalo head being included among them.79 The feature of her standing on her lion and having eight arms with several weapons in them is described in Suprabhedāgama.80 This is the full-fledged Puranic Durgā with the Agamic prescription. Her best example in sculpture is perhaps from the north wall of the Vimāna of the Kailasanatha temple of Kanchi (Figure 122). Another beautiful example is from the Kailasa of Ellora, where she is shown as standing in a lāsya form – though this image is badly eroded. The Durga temple at Aihole has a beautiful image of Durga which is earlier than the Kanchi and Ellora images (Figure 121). There is also a sculpture of Mahiṣāsuramardinī found in many places which is worth noting. This shows the Goddess riding on her lion during the fight and aiming her arrow towards Mahiṣa, who is anthropomorphic and in most cases holding a mace in hand. He seems to both fight and turn away from the Goddess through his posture. The earliest example of this is from a rock opposite the Atiranacanda Cave at Saluvanakuppam (Figure 123). The Mahiṣāsuramardinī Cave at Mahabalipuram (Figure 124) presents a more finely carved version of it.

115 The Goddess with the sacrificing devotee, Singavaram

116 The Goddess, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

117 The Goddess, Mahabalipuram

118 The Goddess, Mahabalipuram

119 The Goddess, Tanjavur

120 The Goddess, Gangaikondacolapuram

121 The Goddess, Aihole

122 The Goddess, Kailasanatha Temple, Kanchipuram

123 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Saluvanakuppam

124 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Mahabalipuram

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 205

From there, this depiction was carried with the Cālukyas to Pattadakkal, where it is seen on a Mahāmaṇḍapa bracket of the Mallikarjuna Temple (Figure 125). We see the final emergence of this panel at Kailasa of Ellora (Figure 126). Thus a visual narrative’s transmission of the Puranic legend can be traced from the Tamiḻakam to the Upper Deccan in this case. There are no Agamic prescriptions for this composition. The legend of the Mahiṣāsuramardinī is incorporated into the Varāha Purāṇa. It says that the Mahiṣa held a mace in his hand and he ‘sometimes fought and sometimes withdrew’.81 This description tallies with this representation and hence it seems that this text was the inspiration behind these panels, which are executed totally in the narrative form. The Purāṇa also says that the Goddess meditated on Rudra and by his grace she was able to gain victory.82 It is significant that all these panels are executed not on a Goddess temple but on a Śiva temple. This supports the idea that both the text and the visuals aim at incorporating the Goddess into the folds of the Śaivite pantheon with Śiva being assigned the primary position and not the Goddess. The Goddess sculptures of Ellora, Badami and Aihole that show her killing the Mahiṣa in his zoomorphic form with a trident, spear or sword probably derive from the Vāmana Purāṇa, which describes the Mahiṣa in zoomorphic form and says that the Goddess left her lion and climbed on the demon and

125 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Pattadakkal

126 The Goddess fighting the Mahisa demon, Ellora

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 207 cut off his head.83 Again there are no Agamic prescriptions that tally with this image exactly, and the image is also narrative in content and hence shows the Puranic narrative as its basis. The evolution of the religious iconography of various sectarian affiliations shows the various layers of socio-religious and political meanings that were instrumental in the iconographic evolution of peninsular India. Apart from many locally derived visual idioms many motifs were transmitted from one part of peninsular India to another – the direction of transmission being both from north to south and from south to north within the region studied. The local mythic and narrative influences, as also the cultic practices, help in the evolution of iconographic forms specific to a particular region. The evolving temple-centred Puranic–Agamic religious system in peninsular India in post Sangam centuries institutionalised and transformed the concept of religion itself, with Bhakti being an integral part of it. The iconic panels based on Puranic and devotional narratives were both an outcome and a sustaining factor of this religious process, since ideas were transmitted from the oral and literary texts to the visual texts and helped in creating a religious psyche in the participating audience’s mind – and then were transmitted back in a further creation of the oral and literary texts. When we attempt a comparison between the canonical injunctions and their sculptural representations a related question easily comes to mind: how much freedom did the artist have in the depiction of these images if the canon laid down the guidelines for their creation? Since the canons were themselves evolving throughout this period it appears that there was enough scope for artists to introduce their personal tastes in the way the images were delineated. Even where a correlation between the Agamic guidelines and the image is evident one can see the artist’s personal preferences emerging in the postures of the figures, though he does not deviate from the main iconographic attributes. An attempt has been made in the foregoing discussions to trace a common strand between the iconographic forms and the iconographic canonical injunctions for these forms. It has been observed that while many figures follow the canonical prescriptions there are many images which show extracanonical features; while yet others often combine the descriptions given for two or more forms in the treatises. Often the canonical description of an image is also based on more than one form found in the sculptures. Here it is necessary to keep in mind the fact that the iconographic texts were codified later than the time when the images began to be created. Hence it can be said that while rituals necessitated the creation of images, the social needs of religion and the political needs of the royal patron helped in iconographic multiplicity and proliferation. Agamic texts were set down to draw various iconographic strands already in practice together and to standardise iconographic creation. While the images drew upon these treatises they also kept on evolving in many cases, and the later treatises drew upon these images. Only towards the later centuries of the period studied do we find a clearly perceptible parallel

208 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

between the visual and the canonical texts. Hence this involved a circular process of textual creation: that is the text of one medium drawing from and redefining the text of another medium.

Notes 1 R. Champakalakshmi remarks that the Śayana form was not so popular in the north and was more popular in the Tamilakam; vide Vaiṣṇava Iconography in the Tamil Country, Orient Longman, New Delhi, 1981, p. 34. 2 P. Raghunatha Chakravarti Bhattacharya and M. Ramakrishna Kavi (eds), Samūrtārcanāprādhikaraṇa (Atri’s Vaikhānasa), Sri Venkatesvara Oriental Series, No. 6, Chapter 20, verses 2–4, 16. 3 Ibid., verse 14. 4 K. V. Ramesh and S. P. Tewari (eds), A Copper- plate Hoard of the Gupta Period from Bagh, Madhya Pradesh, Archaeology Survey of India, New Delhi, 1990, No.1, verse 3. 5 D. C. Bhattacharya, Pratimālaksaṇa of the Viṣṇudharmottara, Herman Publishing House, New Delhi, 1991, pp. 23–24, 47/8. 6 Upendra Mohan Sankhyatirtha (Ed.), Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇam and Rūpamaṇḍanam, Metropolitan Printing and Publication, Calcutta, 1936, p. 92, V/91–92. 7 T. Goudriaan (tr. and annot.), ‘Kāśyapa Jñānakāṇḍah’ – A Ritual Handbook of the Vaikhānasas, Mouton and Co, The Hague, 1965, Chapter 53. 8 Ibid., p. 159, Chapter 53. 9 Ibid., Chapter 53. 10 Ibid., pp. 159–60, Chapter 53. 11 P. Raghunatha Chakravarti Bhattacharya and M. Ramakrishna Kavi (eds), op. cit., verse 19. 12 Prayagadasa et al. (eds), Marīci Samhitā – Vimānārcanakalpa, Venkateswara Press, Madras, 1926, pp. 96ff. 13 R. Champakalakshmi (1981), op. cit., p. 70. 14 Ibid., p. 71. 15 Ibid., p. 70. 16 Prayagadasa et al. (eds), op. cit., p. 98. 17 Ibid., p. 99. 18 Michael Meister et al. (eds), Encyclopedia of Indian Temple Architecture – South India, Upper Dravida Desa, Plates Vol, American Institute of Indian Studies and Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1986, Plate 213. 19 D. R. Rajeswari, The Pallava Sculpture, Intellectual Publishing House, New Delhi, 1988, p. 52. 20 R. Champakalakshmi (1981), op. cit., p. 89. 21 Ibid., p. 88.

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 209 22 Prayagadasa et al. (eds), op. cit., p. 366. 23 D. C. Bhattacharya, op. cit., p. 202, 79/2. 24 Upendra Mohan Sankhyatirtha (ed.), op. cit., p. 89, V/74. 25 T. Goudriaan, op. cit., p. 243. 26 Bhṛgu’s Vaikhānasa Samhitā, Microfilm of handwritten manuscript in Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts, New Delhi, p. 56. 27 T. Goudriaan, op. cit., pp. 242–243. 28 P. Raghunatha Chakravarti Bhattacharya and M. Ramakrishna Kavi (eds), op. cit., Chapter 58, verses 28–29. 29 R Champakalakshmi (1981), op. cit., p. 21. 30 Ibid., p. 107. 31 Skanda Purāṇa, I/1/ 18–19; also quoted by Deborah A. Soifer, The Myths of Narasimha and Vāmana, State University of New York Press, New York, 1991, p. 261. 32 Deborah A. Soifer, op. cit., pp. 296–97. 33 Matsya Purāṇa, Chapter 246; also quoted by Deborah A. Soifer, op. cit., p. 214. 34 Prayagadasa et al. (eds), op. cit., p. 374 (For Marīci Samhitā); P. Raghunatha Chakravarti Bhattacharya and M. Ramakrishna Kavi (eds), op. cit., verses. 59–61 (For Atri’s Vaikhānasa). 35 Bruno Dagens, Mayamatam, Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts, Delhi, p. 825, Chapter 36, verses 20–21. 36 SII, XIV, Nos. 1 and 2; EI, VIII, pp. 317 ff. 37 R. Champakalakshmi (1981), op. cit., p. 99. 38 EI, III, p. 11, verse 7. 39 Bruno Dagens, op. cit., Chapter 36, p. 824, verse 19; n 14 for a quotation from Rūpamaṇḍanam, 3/25. 40 Deborah A. Soifer, op. cit., p. 168. 41 D. C. Bhattacharya, op. cit., pp. 195–198, 78/3–10. 42 Kāmikāgama Uttarabhāga, Che Svaminatha Sivacharyas Publications, Madras, 1988, Chapter 54, p. 206. 43 Ibid., p. 206. 44 Ibid., p. 206. 45 R. Champakalakshmi, “Symbol and Metaphor in South Indian Temple Iconograhy” in a paper read in the Seminar on Relationship of Stone Sculpture to Temple Architecture, National Museum, New Delhi on 11/9/98 (Unpublished). 46 Ibid. 47 Vide Endnotes to Introduction, n. 25. 48 D. C. Bhattachrya, op. cit., pp. 143–144, 71/3–6. 49 Kāmikāgama – Uttarabhāga, op. cit., Chapter 47, verse 16; Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), Kāśyapaśilpam, Anandasrama Sanskrit Book Series, Vol. 15, Pune, 1926,

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Chapter 62, verse 30; Suprabhedāgama, I/34, verses 86–91, quoted in Ajitāgama, French Institute of Indology, Pondichery, p. 49, n 1. 50 Ajitāgama, op. cit., Chapter 63, p. 51. 51 Bruno Dagens, op. cit., p. 848, Chapter 36, verse 119 (For Mayamatam). 52 See Endnote 15 to Introduction. 53 Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), op. cit., Chapter 66, verse 6. 54 Ibid., verses 7–8. 55 Ibid., verse 11. 56 Ibid., Chapter 67, verse 40. 57 Ibid., verses 41– 46. 58 Ibid., verses 24–25. 59 Ibid., verses 35–36. 60 P. A. Mankad (ed.), Aparājitapṛccha of Bhuvanadeva, Gaekwad Oriental Series, Oriental Institute, Baroda, 1950, p. 545, 212/17–20. 61 Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), op. cit., Chapter 65, verses 94–96. 62 T. A. Gopinatha Rao, Elements of Hindu Iconography, Vol. II, Part II, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1914, p. 259. 63 Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), op. cit., verses 89–90. 64 Venkata Narayana Swami et al., Taṇḍavalakṣaṇam, Munshiram Manoharlal, New Delhi, 1991 (1st edn 1936), p. 98, verse 111. 65 Ibid., verse 125. 66 S. Sasivalli, Karaikkāl Ammaiyyār, International Institute of Tamil Studies, Madras, 1984, pp. 3, 32, 54, verses 15, 25, and 80. 67 Ibid., p. 58, Mūtta Tiru Patikam, verses 2–8. 68 G. Vanmikanathan (Condensor) and N. Mahalingam (General Editor), Periya Purāṇam by Sekkizhaar, Ramakrishna Math, Madras, 1985, p. 537. 69 I am grateful to late Dr. F. L. Hernault, Director, French – Ecole, Pondicherry and late Mr. N. Sethuraman, Director, Raman and Raman Co, Kumbhakonam who agreed with my opinion and gave me the conviction that I was following the right track of analysis. Mr. Sethuraman also pointed out that classical dancers as far as he knew, did not subscribe to the concept of ‘immodesty’ associated with this pose. 70 J. L. Shastri (ed.), Linga Purāṇa, Vol.6, Part II, Motilal Banarasidass, New Delhi, 1990 (Reprint), p. 581. 71 Douglas Barrett, “The Dancing Siva in Early South Indian Art,” The Sixth Annual Mortimer Wheeler Archaeological Lecture, Proceedings of the British Academy, Vol. LXII, 1976, p. 25. 72 Ibid., p. 24. 73 Kamil V. Zvelebil, Ānanda Tāṇḍava of Śiva – Sadānṛttamūrti, Institute of Asian Studies, Madras, 1985, p. 27. 74 Ibid., p. 26.

puranic pantheons and their iconography (ad 600–1200) 211 75 Ibid., p. 22, n20. 76 Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), op. cit., Chapter 65, verses 1–71. 77 R Champakalakshmi and A Swamy, “Pallava Antiquities in Periya Vanmani” in Journal of the Madras University, Volume XLI, Nos. 1 and 2, Jan – July, 1969, pp. 129–139, fig. 4. 78 Krishnarai and V. G. Apte (eds), op. cit., Chapter 49. 79 Kāmikāgama Uttarabhāga, op. cit., Chapter 44, verses 36 ff; Pūrvakāraṇāgama, quoted by T. A. Gopinatha Rao, op. cit., Vol. I, Part II, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1914, p. 106. 80 T. A. Gopinath Rao, op. cit., p. 106. 81 J. L. Sastri (ed.), Varāha Purāṇa, Part I, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1985, 95/44; 95/52–53. 82 Ibid., 95/48–50. 83 A. S. Gupta (ed.), Vāmana Purāṇa, Kashiraj Trust, Varanasi, 1968, 21/45, 21/46.

3 Heroic discourse: concepts and images in literature and iconography (early historical and early mediaeval periods)

In Chapter 2, we have seen the process of iconographic evolution in early mediaeval peninsular India and also how this iconographic evolution derived from, influenced and gave rise to literary textual creations. The iconography of the region and the period discussed in Chapter 2 often borrowed motifs and idioms employed in the imageries of early historical Tamil literature. The early historical texts reflect an overlap between the images of the hero and the divinity and the Aṟṟuppaḍai songs depict the chief at the centre of his realm. In this manner there are many symbolisms that are used in a rudimentary form in the early historical texts – a more complex form of which, created to suit the changing needs of the contemporary period, are found in the early mediaeval imageries that are the theme of discussion in various chapters of this work. This is not to suggest that the early mediaeval symbolisms are a continuation of the earlier Tamil symbolisms. Rather what is implied here is that the existence of a similar imaging system facilitated the creation, transmission and assimilation of the early mediaeval imageries. What follows is an attempt to show the nature of early historical Tamil symbols and to explore the manner in which they had linkages or were transformed in the early mediaeval period. This provides an insight into the ways in which visual/verbal imageries can get transfixed in the minds of the audience.

Imaging the hero and the divine Sangam Tamil literature tends to create an overlap between the images of Murugan and the Tamil heroic warrior. Often the hero is described as the ruler of the hills who has the capacity to enchant women – a description directly taken from the verbal imagery of Murugan. In Naṟṟiṇai we have the reference of a heroine’s friend making fun of Murugan, who has come to possess the diviner Velan (who is in turn treating the heroine for her lovesickness for the hero who is a lord of the hills).1 She says that Murugan knows that this sickness is not of his making and still he has come. The hero and the

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deity are imaged here as having the same power over women. The Aṟṟuppaḍai songs from the later Sangam period make this imagery more explicit. For example Karikālan, Ilayan’s son, is described as having a victorious spear and possessing anger which is like Murugan’s ire2. Even an early work like the Puranānūru describes a chieftain of mountain tribes as having a deadly spear and wearing a wreath of red glory lilies on his head.3 Symbolically these are motifs used to describe the image of Murugan. The hero and the deity here are imaged as having the same form. The most explicit imagery merging the identity of the hill chief with that of Murugan is described in Kuriñcippāttu, which describes a hero standing with the heroine clasped to his chest. He is the noble lord of the high hills and praises and worships Murugan, who lives on the mountains. She, clasped to him, looks like a peacock who has drunk the toddy and staggers in the hill like a dancing girl.4 The chief resembles Murugan here not only in being the lord of the mountains and for his power of making the girls behave as though they were under the spell of Murugan; rather, the imagery of the girl clasped to him resembling a peacock projects a verbal iconography of Murugan/ Skanda holding his peacock in his arm. The seducing aspect of the deity that was associated with Murugan in Sangam poetry was used later by the early mediaeval hymnists to describe Śiva and Viṣṇu. A very good example is the image of Śiva as a beggar who goes from house to house begging for alms and in the process seduces the women of these houses. Appar’s decad on Amattur describes the women becoming enamoured of Śiva who used his songs, speeches and glances to attract them and arouse their passion.5 Sambandar gives a similar depiction of Śiva in his decad on Sirkali.6 The culmination of this metaphor was achieved in the Dārukavana legend in which Śiva seduced the sages’ wives. This legend was incorporated in the Linga Purāṇa later.7 We have very similar references in the Divyaprabandham depicting Viṣṇu as the seducing god. Nammāḻvār in his Tiruvāymoḻi refers to his daughter as smitten by Viṣṇu.8 Elsewhere, he refers to a young girl as ‘possessed’ by Viṣṇu.9 Here women are exhorted to stop their traditional exorcist dance and sing the praises of Viṣṇu. It is significant that Viṣṇu has been imaged by the early mediaeval hymnists exactly on the pattern of Murugan’s image. Another feature that creates the contiguity between the Sangam hero/deity and the early mediaeval deity is their depiction as wearing the kaḻal or the warrior’s anklet.10 This was not just an ornament but a symbol of bravery and military prowess. By using this motif the Sangam hero/deity and the postSangam Puranic deities were depicted as having the skills of warfare – an essential part of the heroic discourse. We have seen in Chapter 2 that various images of Śiva are shown as wearing this anklet. The Tevāram also frequently refers to Śiva as wearing an anklet.11 We also have many images of Kṛṣṇa that depict him as wearing the kaḻal.

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Sangam poetry has some references that depict a chief in an image that was associated with Viṣṇu. For example Puranānūru has a poem in which Auvaiyār describes her patron Aṭiyamān Netumān Añci as having valorous shoulders bearing the wheel weapon.12 Similarly Porunārāṟṟupaḍai says about Karikālan that he bore his kingdom on his shoulders,13 thus showing a strong resemblance to the image of Varāha holding the earth on his shoulders. Metaphors of this kind – especially the latter one – became very frequent in the early mediaeval eulogies to describe the monarch as we will see in Chapter 4. The above references show that even in the Sangam verbal imagery there is a tendency to create a parallel between the depictions of the hero and the divinity. This tendency to create this iconographic parallel was not new in the early mediaeval period. What was new was the successful attempt to draw from this base to create a political iconography which suited the transformed milieu of the early mediaeval period. The iconographic symbolism of Sangam poetry was closely related to the nature of the social context and the kind of heroism that this context generated. The pre-Pallava society of Sangam literature was a kin-based society centred around and bearing allegiance to the muvendar, that is the three crowned rulers of the Coḻas, Ceras and Pandyas. Their basic source of resource-generation was war booty and the plundering of rival villages. Hence the heroic discourse that we find in the Tamil anthologies glorified not only the chiefs and the rulers but also legitimised the culture of plunder associated with war. Also poets and other artists acted as the agencies for the partial redistribution of the resources thus gathered, as is evident from the Aṟṟuppaḍais and other references in Sangam anthologies. Sangam poetry is divided into two genres: Ahamor that can be narrated only in the private situations (referred to as ‘interior themes’ by the scholars), and Puram or, that can be narrated in public situations (or ‘exterior themes’ as referred to by the scholars). The heroism of the warriors is the characteristic subject for the depiction of the Puram genre as this genre is related with the descriptions of battle situations.14 However the heroic discourse is by no means restricted to the Puram genre and envelops the Aham themes too, for often these are based in the context of the woman waiting for the hero who has gone to war or who is desirable because he is a valorous warrior. Heroes in Ahanānūru, which is essentially an Aham work, are often depicted as ready with a bow and arrow, dressed in the warrior’s garb and pursuing a wild animal for the hunt.15 Hunting was a necessary component of the warrior’s image as it prepared him for the real game, that is battle. In a society oriented towards battles and raids for subsistence such imageries in literary narrative art acquire a special significance. Similarly Ainkūrunūru, another collection of the Aham genre, depicts the wife of a chief brightening up because her husband – the ‘tiger of the long battle-fronts of victorious war’ – has come back.16 In other words the hero is desirable because he is valorous and can win battles and chase wild game dauntlessly. This correlation between the

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desirability and valour of the hero was located in the needs of the society that required its youth to have these qualities for survival. This feature of the desirability of the hero because he was valorous was used later by the Āḻvārs in their poems to Viṣṇu and his incarnations, which belong to the Aham genre but focus on the heroic exploits of the deity. The royal eulogies of the early mediaeval epigraphs used this feature too, in which the king is espoused by the Goddesses as he is victorious in war. Since the Goddesses are often Ṣrī and Bhū an analogy with Viṣṇu is explicit here. However the context of the early mediaeval imagery of a valorous king is very different, as in this period the success in war was associated with territorial sovereignty rather than commanding the allegiance of a group of people. The depiction of the valorous chief/king is contiguous in the two periods but the social context of the depiction differs. The existence of the Aham and Puram depictions facilitates a similar depiction used by the Āḻvārs and their epigraphic eulogies. The redistributive aspect of war-related plunder is frequently described in Sangam poetry. Puranānūru refers to Kiḻḻi Valavan as giving away chariots in broad daylight.17 Patiṟṟupāttu also says about a ruler that his armies love massacre, he loves war; yet gifts flow from him ceaselessly.18 The intertwining of the images of success in war and the giving away of gifts that were often of military utility underline the redistributive aspect of war booty. From the seventh to the thirteenth centuries AD, in contrast to the above the basis of the heroic discourse is no longer appropriation of resources for redistribution to kin but rather territorial ambition. The ideas related to heroic discourse in the Sangam period and the nature of an ideal ruler existed not simply in a latent, unstated form but there was an attempt to formulate a regulated code of conduct that idealised a ruler or a warrior. The Tirukkural is a very good example of this. It creates a set of normative standards for the ideal person in several chapters divided into sections dealing with all aspects of human behaviour. Thus the section dealing with rulership called Araciyāl says that a king should be endowed with the qualities of patronage to supplicants, fearlessness, wisdom and courage.19 In another verse of Araciyāl Tiruvalluvar says that an ideal ruler should be endowed with the qualities of the protection of his people, sweet words, good administration and charity.20 While the first instance enumerates the qualities that are necessary for a heroic society centred around war-based plunder and raids and redistribution to kinsmen, the second instance shows that rulership was likened more to the idea of the ruler’s protection of his people than his territory. Tirukkural eulogises the redistribution of spoils to supplicants as an honourable act of charity which can earn the ruler a desirable world through his fame. A ruler should carry the duty of protection through charity.21 The significance associated with redistributive charity is reflected in a verse from a section devoted to fame (pugal) based on charity. It says that the productivity of

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crops declines when the earth carries the burden of a person who has not earned fame (through charity).22 Ideas such as these facilitated the land-grant system of the early mediaeval period that worked on the Sanskrit notion of dāna bringing religious merit. However it is necessary to point out that the context and the basis for charity were very different in the two periods. The notion of pugal thus created an agency to redistribute spoils of war to one’s kinsmen and supplicants that brought honour and fame to the ruler. The early mediaeval grants were given to institutionalise the Brāhmaṇa donees and Puranic temples, and imparted religious merit to the king who had territorial sovereignty. The Kural depicts an ideal hero with warlike qualities in the section called Padaiyiyāl. These references show that military valour was essential to the survival of the Sangam society – to the extent that death in battle was considered better than defeat. Hence it is said that a true hero counts his days as wasted if he was not wounded on those days.23 Kaḻal the anklet worn by the warriors is said to suit those who desire not life but fame through military prowess.24 This is of special significance as the early mediaeval iconography uses the motif of kaḻal as the attribute of a royal warrior who can control and defeat his enemies in a war of territorial contest. The symbolism of military prowess is the same in the use of kaḻal in the two periods but the goal of the military prowess changes. Death in war is further eulogised in the Kural when it says that it is worth asking for and accepting the death of a hero that brought tears to the eyes of the ruler.25 The early mediaeval eulogy changes this language significantly even while describing the death of a king, who is usually said to go to heaven to protect the divine world. We can see that death in war is a glorious attribute for a hero in both the cases, but it is necessary for the survival of the society in one case while it is used as a motif for stressing upon the protective ability of the ruler over his realm in another case. Another important motif related to the heroic discourse of the Sangam period is the idea of a chief’s or deity’s occupation of a hill. This motif has often been used to symbolise aggression and authority. Both the deities related to war and victory – that is Murugan and Koṟṟavai – are associated with the mountainous tracts. The hill is the natural abode of Murugan. On the other hand, Pālai (the desert land) is a transitory zone in Tamiḻakam. The hilly tracts became parched when the rains failed and were converted to Pālai, temporarily, the abode of Koṟṟavai. The Kuruntokai refers to her as residing on the cracked, caverned ranges.26 The images of a heroic chief are intertwined with his resemblance with (or his authority over) hills.27 Paṭṭinapālai depicts a Coḻa king adorned with blossoms as looking like a hill while his enemies fall before him.28 The motif of the hill becomes a theme for depicting heroic and divine aggression and thereby a venue for the interchange of the images of the two. The metaphor of the hill as a symbol of authority was continued in the early mediaeval period. In the Āḻvārs’ poetry we get a depiction of Viṣṇu, who is likened to a hill and also occupies a hill in the form of Venkatesa

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at Tirupati. The deity is exalted here not only by his great acts but also by his association with the mountain. The Śaiva sect used this symbolism in the theme of Rāvaṇānugraha, eulogised in Tevāram and visually projected in sculpture. There are numerable depictions of this image at Ellora as discussed in Chapter 1. At Pattakkal there is a beautiful image of this theme (Figure 127). At Darasuram there is a panel of the Goddess killing the demon on the outer wall niche. This panel is surrounded by other images watching the event. On one side is the Rāvaṇānugraha image (Figure 128), thus counter-balancing the power of the Goddess with that of Śiva. This theme emphasises Śiva’s control over the Kailasa Mountain. It is also significant that the Śikhara (‘the peak’) of a Drāviḍa temple resembles a hill, the mountain symbolism predominating in royal temples. As Sangam heroism was oriented towards raids, violence in battle and the generosity of the hero involving redistribution of the military exploits, violence in battle and plunder of the defeated people were eulogised in Sangam poetry. The supplicants who received this redistribution sang bardic poetry to eulogise the aggressive and violent aspects of heroism. This further strengthened the aggressive aspect of the heroic discourse and sustained it. Hence it was a self-replicating cycle that sustained the culture of war and heroic valour. Patiṟṟuppāttu describes the army of Kutakko Ilanceral Irumporai as surging ahead with murderous bull-elephants, rows of shields and chariots – this being a great pleasure to the onlookers. However it spells evil for the rival lands which it overruns to bring back booty and ornaments.29 Sometime before the Pallavas came to rule a long poem of the ‘paraṇi’ genre was composed by Poikaiyār to celebrate Cenkaṇṇān Coḻa’s victory over Ceramān Kanaikkāl Irumporai. Known as Kaḻavali this was probably the earliest paraṇi composed in Tamil. This poem uses the motif of the violence in war to eulogise the military prowess of the Coḻa ruler. Imageries of elephants bathed in blood,30 birds feeding on corpses31 that were floating in the running blood32 etc were used in this eulogic poem to celebrate the heroism and the victory of Koccenkaṇṇān. Most of the verses in this poem end with the mention of the Coḻa ruler who killed those who failed in their duty’33 or who would not be his friends.’34 Here the ‘duty’ of the rivals refers to accepting the overlordship of the Coḻa ruler. The violent idiom in this poem hence justifies and celebrates the victorious destruction of the rivals of the Coḻas. This concept of accepting the overlordship of the king became very important in the early mediaeval period – in the beginning of which Kaḻavali was composed. Verbal imagery of this nature created a psychological basis for the acceptance and for the perpetuation of the culture of warfare which was an integral part of Sangam society. Continuing the tradition started by Kaḻavali in the period of Kulottunga I, Jayankoṇḍan composed the Kalingāttupparaṇi to celebrate the Coḻa victory over Kalinga under the command of Coḻa general Karuṇākara Pallava in the last phase of the eleventh century AD.35 This poem gives graphic details of the destruction caused by the Coḻa army; houses being set on fire, even the Gods trembling at the sight of the army and the people fleeing away.36

127 Rāvaṇānugraha, Pattadakkal

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128 The Goddess with various narratives including the Rāvaṇānugraha, Darasuram

The slaughter was so complete according to this eulogic poem that ’of the seven Kalingas none remained but the men painted on the walls of the houses’. Having planted a pillar of victory Toṇḍaimān seized heaps of wealth and laid them with pleasure at the feet of Abhaya (Kulottunga I) who owns the sacred sword.’37 The spirits feasted on the corpses in the battlefield and being satisfied, they sang the praises of the Coḻa and his mighty army.38 In the later Coḻa period Kulottunga III’s inscription datable to AD 1209/10 uses a more heightened form of this imagery to describe the Coḻa victory over the Pandyas. It describes the defeated army commanders as being secured by ropes to tall male elephants and being made to march shaking in every limb and being accompanied by their women. The victorious army destroyed everything on its way, had the coronation hall of the Vāḻudiyār ploughed with asses yoked to the plough and sowed wild grass and wild millet. Kulottunga III abolished the name Madurai and gave it the new name Mudikoṇḍacoḻapuram (the city of the Coḻa who captured the Pandyan crown); he inscribed on the Maṇḍapam of the Vāḻudiyār his name as Cera-Pandyan Tāmbiran and ordered that the Pandyan ruler should thereafter cease to be called as Pandyan and conferred this title on the Pāṇan who sang the praises of the Coḻas.39 We can see the underlying symbolism of the humiliation that was meted out to the defeated party. This was a case not only of asserting one’s victory but a complete appropriation of the identity of the defeated and an annihilation of their image. While the Sangam imagery uses the violent idiom to perpetuate a culture of heroism based on bravery in war, the early mediaeval period

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uses the same idiom to assert the suzerainty of the victorious ruler over the defeated one. This assertion is located in the context of territorial conquest. Hence we find a strong symbolic imagery underlying the ambition of the defeated rival. This kind of imagery is characteristic of a number of major inscriptions from the early mediaeval period, though the degree of violent idiom varies. A common example is of more than one Coḻa ruler claiming to have hung the defeated Pandya ruler’s head on a pole in the Coḻa capital. What is significant is not whether it was actually carried out by all of them but the psychological impact created by such imagery on the subject–audience. As Chapters 4 and 5 will show, the allegorical layers of meaning associated with the visual narrative art created a parallel between the ruler and the deity. The exploits of the deity depicted in art alluded to the military prowess of the royal patron who was instrumental in the creation of this art. There was a merger of the powerful imageries of the royal and divine sovereigns, achieved through the visual image and its associative narrative eulogy as will be shown in Chapters 4 and 5. As the ideas of power and sovereignty were transformed from the image to the ruler; in the same way the idea of military prowess was also transferred from the image to the ruler. This ultimately helped in building the image of a powerful and dominant monarch. It is not of little significance that the art of the early mediaeval period focuses on the theme of the conquest of the deity over the demon. This reflects on the valour and on the military prowess of the deity and by allusion, of the ruler. The eulogies of the epigraphs of the court literature in the Coḻa period provide the references to the image of a valorous, aggressive and powerful ruler. Thus they often refer to the king as placing his foot on the crowns of his rival rulers,40 as having a sharp glance like a sword and as having carried Śiva on his head (by the weight of whose great toe Kailasa together with the ten-faced Rāvaṇa sank into pātāla, thus implying that he is more powerful than Rāvaṇa) etc.41 The last of these references may be related to the extensively carved images of Rāvaṇānugraha in South India and the Deccan as referred to above. These references allude to the strength of the ruler that could surpass the strength of Rāvaṇa in carrying a great god on his head. In Sangam literature the chief was glorified not only through his brave image in the battlefield but he was also symbolically conceived as the centre of his realm. This is most evident in the Aṟṟuppaḍai genre of poems in which a supplicant bard guides other supplicants to go to his patron for gifts. The format of the Aṟṟuppaḍai gives the impression that one is being led from the frontiers of the ruler’s realm across his lands through the capital and into his palace and finally to the presence of the ruler himself. Thus the Perumpānāṟṟupaḍai begins by introducing the Coḻa lineage of Thirayan and goes on to describe the Kuriñci, Pālai, Mullai (both pastoral and forest regions), Marutam and Neytal tiṇais that lie in the realm of Thirayan. Crossing these one has to pass through the Brahmadeya villages, the port towns and finally reach Kanchi, the town of the Viṣṇu shrine where the royal palace is located. Entering the palace one comes to the royal presence and on praising him receives the lavish gifts.42

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In effect the king is placed at the centre of the whole cosmos known to the Sangam world. He controls all forms of human activity and various ecological forms of subsistence. The bard directs the supplicants to traverse all the ecozones, towns, ports etc. to reach the capital city of the patron and enter into his presence. This is the format followed by all Aṟṟuppaḍais in larger or smaller measure, whether the patron is one of the three crowned kings or some other chief. The cosmic symbolism of the king or the deity (especially Viṣṇu) being the centre of the universe was extensively used in the early mediaeval period, especially in the symbolism of the temple as we will see in Chapter 5. The Sangam imagery symbolically stresses that the realm of the ruler, though consisting of various ecological zones, towns etc., still encompasses the demographic spread of the ruler’s people. On the other hand early mediaeval cosmology stresses the various forms of spatial zones which the divine (and allegorically the royal) sovereign controls – the minor deities ruling various directions and worlds are important in this context. The different nature of political power in the two periods changes the definition of the military prowess itself. Political power depended on victory or success in a contest for territory in the early mediaeval period. The visual and verbal narrative art of the period reflects a celebration of the ideology of warfare. This happened because this art was created in an atmosphere where political conflict was a regular feature of the life of the ruler. Hence the images became both the receptors and the social transmitters of the ideology of warfare. The language of this violent metaphor was borrowed from the Sangam narratives, but the context and the requirement of this metaphor were very different.

Territory as woman, woman as territory: metaphors of conquest The early historical pre-Pallava polity concerned itself more with control over a ‘realm’ which constituted a group of kinsmen and other people having a personal allegiance with the ruler. In contrast to this the early mediaeval metaphors used – verbally and visually – motifs that acted as signifiers for royal control over a territorial space. This was because the early mediaeval narrative (both visual and verbal) was born out of a political context which defined the ‘realm’ of a ruler in terms of a territory. However the narrative of both the periods uses a language that establishes a symbolic parallel between woman and territory. The term ‘territory’ here signifies not only an expanse of land but also the extent of the ruler’s control over his realm, with the definition of ‘realm’ changing from the early historical to the early mediaeval period. In early historical Tamil literature depictions of violence and agrarian imageries are intertwined together. These imageries again interchange with the symbolic parallel between woman and territory and the ruler’s image as the protector, the sustainer and the controller of his realm.

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The process of cultivation (owing to its association of fertility) is often used as a simile for femininity in the Eṭṭuttogai (as in all poetic literature). Also the process of cultivating a tract of land is compared to battle and subsequent conquest. As a farmer cultivates a tract he also acquires control over its fertility potential. There is a sense of conquest associated with it. In the same way an army which vanquishes a rival army controls its resource-harnessing potential. Out of cultivation also emerges new creation. This complements the fertility–femininity association. Puranānūru has poems in the Kāñcitiṇai that compare a chief’s daughter – decorated with and possessing the rare treasures taken as war spoils by her father – with a town surrounded by expansive fields full of tilling ploughs, its crops spread over watered areas and its houses richly stocked with paddy and with a town full of rich fields of paddy where potters draw honey from beehives.43 This reference shows that not only were the women symbolic of fertile tracts and agrarian produce but they were also repositories of war spoils and hence an index of the ruler’s conquest in war. The Patiṟṟuppāttu has a poem in which the poet compares the surging reddish waters of the Periyar River’s flood over stretches of fertile tracts to the grimness of warfare.44 Also Puranānūru has a poem by Auvaiyār in praise of Elini, the Aṭiyamān chief who ‘daily performs the ploughing action of war on big fields of battle wet with the flood of flesh and blood...’45 The imagic merger of agrarian and military activities is clear in these references. Cultivating a field was likened to waging a war on the battlefield, and since women were symbolically imaged as a fertile territory conquest in the battle had a symbolic parallel with the possession of a woman. An allied concept related to the above is the notion of power associated with nourishing elements like blood and milk in early societies. This is because these elements had an important role to play in the procreation process; they were seen by the people as powerful and therefore malefic and threatening. As George L. Hart III has shown, ideas of danger and malefic powers were associated with women during their heightened fertile stages as suggested by the Sangam literature.46 This was because the procreation process itself was looked upon with fear. Hart gives the evidence of Ahanānūru to prove that because of this concept of power and danger attached to women in these stages there was felt a need to protect and circumscribe them.47 The symbolic overlap between women, the cultivation process and war was derived from the above concept as this overlap essentially underlined the parallel between fertility and violence – with blood playing an essential role in both. As we have mentioned, in Hart’s argument women needed to be circumscribed and protected because of the notion of danger associated with their procreative abilities. The early historical and early mediaeval imagic parallels between control over a territory and control/protection of a woman is further derived from this felt need to protect and restrain the woman and the overlap between the woman, fertility and violence.

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As these images of war, cultivation and the possession of a woman were overlapping, winning a woman or giving her away was often a matter of conflict between the rulers. Woman thus became the venue for the expression of power and control, often through aggressive means. Thus the Kāñci poem mentioned earlier says that since the chief’s daughter is like a town surrounded by fields and possesses his war spoils, he will not give her in wedding to those who will not bow to him (thereby respecting him in line with his own worth) even if the three crowned kings came to him seeking her hand.48 Another Kāñci poem in Puranānūru says that the king seeking the hand of a chief’s daughter wipes the sweat off his forehead and speaks harsh words while the girl’s father also does not bend to the king’s wishes.49 The language used highlights the power struggle and the aggression involved with the issue of giving away or taking possession of a woman. The possession of a woman or the right to give away her possession often was contiguous with ideas of the possession of a ruler’s realm and any attempt at its violation by another ruler. Puranānūru makes this symbolism explicit in another Kāñci poem in which Earth laments the impermanence of kings and says that because of this impermanence she has to be wedded to many rulers. This particular motif of the earth becoming wedded to the human or divine sovereign became very important in the early mediaeval period as will be shown in the later passages of this section. The protective ruler who sustains his subjects has been likened to the nourishing aspect of a fertile territory in Sangam poetry.50 The image of the ruler as a nourishing agency is also reflected in another poem of Puranānūru which says that neither grains of rice, crops nor water can be said to be the life-support of men, for it is the king who constitutes their life.51 This idea is further expanded in another poem by Auvaiyār on the occasion when the three crowned rulers met together and she blessed them. Auvaiyār compared the three rulers to the three Vedic fires kindled by the dvijas and advised them that since only good deeds go with a person after death the rulers should shower golden flowers and coins as gifts to supplicant Brāhmanas and they should give lavishly to the gift seekers.52 It is significant that Auvaiyār elaborates the image of a nourishing ruler to include Brāhmanas and constructs their image as symbolic of the Vedic fires, their image as upholders of Vedic rites being implicit in it. It is also remarkable that amongst these three rulers the Coḻa ruler Irācacūyam Veṭṭa Perunārkilli has the epithet ‘Irācacūyam (Veṭṭa)’, the Tamil equivalent for Sanskrit ‘Rājasūya’ attached to his name. This suggests that he asserted the claim for having performed the Rājasūya Yajña. We are obviously by the age of this poem in an era when the ruler reflected an ambition to have control over other rulers’ realms. However how far it reflected actual territorial control over spaces outside one’s own cannot be said. Probably it reflected the Coḻa ruler’s symbolic superiority over the other two crowned kings of Tamiḻakam. The function of the ruler involving giving support to the Brāhmaṇa donees and Brahmanical rites had become very important in the early mediaeval period.

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The metaphors associated with the ruler’s conquest over his rivals and his protective image towards his own people as described above are allied to the metaphors used in the narrative art of the early mediaeval period. The ideas remain very similar though their form, expression and context change. It was remarked in Chapter 2 that the images of Viṣṇu, Varāha and Trivikrama propound the idea of the Earth Goddess being made into Viṣṇu’s consort and also Viṣṇu’s control over the earth. Viṣṇu was the divine sovereign of this vast territorial expanse. The iconographies of Viṣṇu and Varāha specifically employ the motif of a visual personification of territory in the form of woman. This has emerged from the Sangam parallel between woman and territory as a result of their associative procreative values. The divine sovereign’s control over territory was symbolic in the earth being made into a consort of Viṣṇu in visual and verbal narratives. Similarly the Varāha images emphasise the prowess of the Varāha and also his control /protection of the earth through the depiction of his lifting the earth from the Kali waters. He holds the earth in his arm or on his shoulder while his foot rests on the hood of the Ādiśeṣa signifying the waters of the nether world. Thus a powerful imagery is created of a divine protector who is capable of dissociating the terrestrial region from the nether region. This establishes his prowess in terms of terrestrial and spatial control. Here it needs to be mentioned that the earth, the water and the Nāga are all motifs which also have associative meanings of fertility. The overlapping symbolism of woman and territory is implicit here through the common binding factor of fertility. In Chapter 2, it was stated that the Gangādharamūrti in the Trichy Cave called Lalitankura has been interpreted by scholars as an allegorical image of Mahendravarman Pallava and there is also a parallelism drawn between Ganga and Kaveri. This creates a comparison between Mahendra’s extension of control over the heart of the Kaveri valley to the control of Śiva over the flow of the Ganga. Ganga here (as in other Gangadhara panels) has been carved in the personified form of a woman following the texts which envisage most rivers as Goddesses. If we consider the Ganga–Kaveri parallelism and the political allegory in this image then the river depicted as a woman symbolises the territory conquered by the ruler. This is hence a symbolic personification of territory as a woman under the control of its ruler through its associated river. The message of the control over this territory personified as a woman is highlighted by the Gangādharamūrtis in general. The Ganga in the form of a woman emphasises the sense of control of Śiva over the river. This visual language underlines the spatial control of the ruler through the symbolism of woman, whose circumscription signifies a territory under control. Another example of this nature is the triple-shrine of the river Goddesses at Ellora where the rivers stand on a pedestal in the personified form of women (in Lankesvara Cave 16). It is the scholarly view that this cave was excavated after Dhruva’s successful campaign in the Ganga–Yamuna Doab against Dharmapāla. An inscription by Karkka II of the Gujarat branch of the

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Rāṣṭrakūṭas from AD 812/13 says that Dhruva placed Ganga and Yamuna on his door in the form of a visible sign.53 Here again a ruler’s conquest over a riverine territory is visually depicted by imaging the territory’s rivers in feminine form. Here instead of making the conquered woman diminutive she is placed in the form of an attendant-deity in the cave excavated by the ruler. This is symbolic of a visual transplantation of the conquered woman (signifying territory) in one’s own domain. In yet another example it is worth noting that Aihole – the Cālukyan commercial and political centre surrounded by fertile agrarian tracts and based on the bank of Malaprabha River – has an image of Gangādhara in the Ravulaphadi Cave. As described in Chapter 2, this image has three women descending on Siva’s matted locks instead of the usual one woman. It is significant that the tract of Raichur Doab where this image is located has three major rivers – Krishna, Tungabhadra and Malaprabha. Probably this image allegorically reflects the Calukyan control over this portion of the Doab. The Trivikrama narrative too is explicit in depicting the prowess of the divine by conquering all the three regions by simply lifting his one foot. Chapter 2 discusses the symbolic meaning of the level to which Trivikrama’s foot is raised. Thus the iconographic precepts have been formulated to depict the level of spatial conquest that the divine image has achieved. It was mentioned in Chapter 2 that most of the Trivikrama images in peninsular India show him lifting his foot above his chest level, thereby showing his conquest over the three realms. Allegorically this image symbolises the whole world under royal control. Though an explicit symbolism between woman and territory is obliterated here this image emphasises the idea of the divine (or the royal) sovereign being the lord of the earth, who is his consort. The Tripurāntaka narrative is a Śaivite parallel of the Trivikrama narrative as far as the parallel between the sovereign’s control over a spatial expanse is concerned. According to the Tripurāntaka legend the three demons had built three cities in the nether world, the terrestrial region and the heavens. Śiva had to use a single arrow to destroy these cities to vanquish the demons. As discussed in Chapter 2, Tripurāntaka is invariably depicted with a bow and frequently with an arrow. Iconic images of the Cola period reflect a largescale familiarity with the legend, and also the figures depict the deity in the image of a conqueror ‘after the victory is attained’. This is a special feature of the royal temples of Rājarāja I and Rājendra I. It is obviously reflective of the stage when these two rulers had expanded, consolidated and powerfully controlled their territories to the extreme limits. The Tripurāntaka images of Kanchi and Ellora were also executed when the Pallavas and Rāṣṭrakūṭas were at the height of their might respectively. Śiva has never been depicted along with the earth in the form of a woman. But he is associated with the fertility cult that the earth symbolises. Besides earlier we had referred to the Sangam imagery of the sustaining act of a ruler being compared the fertile fields of his kingdom. Symbolisms of fertility, protection and territorial control have merged together in the Tripurāntaka

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image that establishes control over all the realms protecting the world from the demons. Of course these symbolisms are very subdued here and the idea of control is paramount in this image. The most import icon of Śiva that successfully uses the motif of territory as woman under the control of a powerful divine sovereign is the Naṭarāja. As we have mentioned in Chapter 2, Naṭarāja elaborates the concept of Śiva as the controller of the cosmic cycle including creation, destruction and recreation. As we have seen in Chapter 2, Naṭarāja icons include a diminutive image of Ganga in the spread out locks of Śiva. She is shown in an obeisance pose and is virtually trapped in Siva’s locks and thus rendered completely powerless. Concepts of power, procreation, destruction (and therefore, violence) and territorial control are imaged powerfully in this icon to depict an omnipotent deity who embodies all these concepts. The absolutely powerless woman here enhances this omnipotent image of the deity who has complete control over all universal space. The river symbolising territory is hence naturally rendered powerless. Due to the parallel symbolism between territory and woman, the appropriation of the defeated ruler’s women by the conqueror was projected in the royal eulogies as a symbol of conquest. Practically every significant inscription of the early mediaeval period had this feature, but only two examples will be given here to illustrate this point. The Tiruvalangadu Copper Plates of the sixth year of Rājendra Coḻa I say about his father Rājarāja I that the women of the defeated rulers who were taken captive during his digvijaya rendered their service to this victorious monarch by making chowries of his fame.54 Similarly a Tamil inscription from the Pudukkottai region says that after Kulottunga III defeated the Pandyas he caused the young and beautiful queen of the Pandyas to enter his velam – that is the captive camp for women of high rank who formed part of the superior servants to the palace establishment.55 Appropriation and control over a territorial space often was contiguous with control over the feminine space that was synonymous with the territorial conquest. This simultaneous invasion of the feminine space along with a conquest over a rival’s territorial space is also reflected in the corresponding symbolic epigraphical references. The Karhad Plates of Kṛṣṇa III refer to Dantidurga as plucking out the creeper of Lakṣmī (Lakṣmīlatā) of the Cālukyas and planting it in his own family.56 The symbols of royal power such as fortune, victory and territorial space were personified as deified women and regarded as the consorts of the rulers. Any description of a conquest invariably included an appropriation of these motifs in the feminine form associated with royalty. While territory was personified as woman, women were regarded as territory in the possession of a ruler – they were appropriated by the conqueror and the appropriation was projected in the relevant eulogy as a metaphor for conquest. The appropriation of territorial space always coincided with an appropriation of the corresponding feminine space.

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From the images of power transmitted through visual and verbal narrative certain political messages were transmitted to the audience. The most obvious message was that of the dominance over the rivals by the ruler. By extension this sense of dominance was psychologically appropriated by his people. The humiliating treatment meted out to the rivals as depicted in the verbal and the visual narratives was a means of psychologically appropriating the defeated by the victorious. These eulogies were constructed to give a powerful image to the ruler. Hence they always omit the negative details of the warfare. For example the narrating side may have lost ground during the conflict but it was never reflected in the narration. Similarly the demons who fought against the gods might have had a positive image, but this was never reflected in iconographic art. Bali is a good example of this. If we read the literary narration of the legend we find that Bali’s rule is described as a just and righteous rule. Skanda Purāṇa says that Bali made his sovereignty on earth as if it were heaven. The chief of gods was continually pleased with Bali’s sacrifices. There was no war between the gods and the dānavas. The entire world, standing and moving, had a friendly disposition.57 According to Padma Purāṇa Bali was the best of those who knew the law, a faithful ascetic and the beloved devotee of Hari, delighting eternally in virtue. In his reign all men were devoted to their prescribed duties (Svadharma) and free of evil, Hṛṣīkeśa noted in praise. Thus Bali achieved sovereignty by means of Dharma and Indra and gods became his servants.58 As he did not cause evil to his subjects he was not really ‘evil’. But it was considered righteous to snatch away his authority because he had upset the prescribed world order in the sense that he was enjoying the rights and the authority that only the gods were supposed to enjoy.59 Hence in the Puranic narrative the positive aspects of Bali are overshadowed by this insistence on Bali’s part on upsetting the world order. In the visual depiction too Trivikrama is given a prominent place as compared to Bali, who is given a subordinate position visually. The divine image and the royal image are interlocked with each other in art. Hence a panel where a deity is seen as vanquishing a demon allegorically refers to the ruler as being capable of vanquishing his rival kings in battle. On another level it also conveys the image of a deity and allegorically a monarch who kept the society in order according to the prescribed norms. The feature described above regarding the subduing of negative elements of war/conflict and highlighting the positive image of the contest (as told by the narrating side) was a means of transmitting the image of the ideal contest among the people. For eulogies were meant to be recited, and the visual narrative art was meant to be seen. In this manner the image of the ideal war – in which the narrating side never lost and was always justified – was transmitted to the audience. The aggressive imagery was an expression of political conflict and also its justification. Much of the language of aggression, dominance and protection used by the early mediaeval visual and verbal narrative was borrowed from the

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Sangam imageries as we have seen in this chapter. However it would not be appropriate to say that the early mediaeval depictions were a continuation of the Sangam depictions. Rather the early mediaeval period used the motifs and metaphors already in existence from the Sangam period and changed them to suit its own transformed context.

Notes 1 Shu, Hikosaka and John Samuel (eds), Tamil Poetry Through the Ages (Eṭṭuttogai), Vol. I, Institute of Asian Studies, 1997, pp. 154–55. 2 J. V. Chelliah, Paṭṭupāttu – Ten Tamil Idylls, Tamil University, Thanjavur, 1985 (Reprint), p. 69, lines 157–160. 3 A. K. Ramanujan, Poems of Love and War, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1985, p. 140. 4 J. V. Chelliah, op. cit., p. 211, lines 182–185, 189–194; p. 213, lines 211–212. 5 Indira Viswanathan Peterson, Poems to Śiva – The Hymns of the Tamil Saints, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1991, pp. 124–125. 6 Ibid., p. 140. 7 J. L. Sastri (ed.), Linga Purāṇa, Part I, MotilalBanarasidass, New Delhi, 1990 (Reprint), pp. 115–117. 8 Srirama Bharati and Sowbhagya Lakshmi (trs), The Tiruvāymoḻi of Nammāḻvār Rendered in English, Tyaga Bharati Music Education Mission, Melkote 1987, IV/ 2, IV/4 etc. 9 Ibid., IV/6. 10 Hikosaka and Samuel (eds), op. cit., pp. 93, 283. 11 Indira Viswanathan Peterson, op. cit., pp. 107, 122, 132 etc. 12 Hikosaka and Samuel (eds), op. cit., p. 321. 13 J. V. Chelliah, op. cit., p. 7, Ahanānūru 82. 14 I am grateful to Mr. G. Viswanathan for pointing out this distinction between the Aham and Puram themes to me. 15 A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 7, Ahanānūru 82. 16 Ibid., p. 82, Ainkurunūru 491–493, 495–500. 17 Ibid., p. 128, Puranānūru 69. 18 Ibid., p. 131, Patiṟṟuppāttu 60. 19 Mu Go Venkatakrishnan (tr. and ed.), Trukkural, Shakti Finance Publications, Madras, 1988, p.124, Araciyāl/ 39 / 382 (Iraimātci). 20 Ibid., p. 126, Araciyāl/ 39/ 390 (Iraimātci). 21 Ibid., p. 125, Araciyāl/ 39 / 387 (Iraimātci). 22 Ibid., p. 74, pugal/ 24 / 239 (ilarviyāl). 23 Ibid., p. 243, Padaiyiyāl/ 77 / 776 (padaimātci).

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24 Ibid., p. 244, padaiyiyāl/ 78/777 (Padaic-cerukku). 25 Ibid., p. 245, padaiyiyāl/ 78 / 780 (Padaic-cerukku). 26 A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 58. 27 Ibid., pp. 9, 12, 81 etc. 28 J. V. Chelliah, op. cit., p. 43, lines 284–286. 29 A. K. Ramanujan, op. cit., p. 118, Patiṟṟuppāttu 83. 30 V. Kanakasabhai Pillai, “Tamil Historical Texts”, IA, Sept 1889, p. 262, verses 2–3. 31 Ibid., verse 5; p. 263, verse 20. 32 Ibid., p. 262, verse 18. 33 Ibid., p. 262, verses 1, 5. 34 Ibid., p. 262, verse 4; p. 263, verses 10–12. 35 V. Kanakasabhai Pillai, “Tamil Historical Texts”, IA, Nov 1890, p. 338. 36 Ibid., p. 334. 37 Ibid., p. 336. 38 Ibid., p. 336. 39 K. R. Srinivasa Aiyyar (ed. and tr.), Inscriptions from the Pudukkottai State, Part II, Pudukkottai, 1946, No. 163, pp. 136 ff. 40 IA, III, pp. 305–6, line 7; “Bahur Plates of Nripatungavarman,” EI, XVIII, pp. 5 ff., verses 1, 9 etc. 41 E. Hultzsch (ed.), SII, Vol. I, (New series Vol. III), No. 18, p. 4, verse 3. 42 J. V. Chelliah, op. cit., pp. 107–133. 43 Hikosaka and Samuel (eds), op. cit., p. 337, No. 338; p. 339, No. 349. 44 Ibid., p. 493, No. 28, Third Decad. 45 Ibid., p. 415, No. 392. 46 George Hart III, “Women and the Sacred,” in Kumkun Roy (ed.), Women in Early Indian Societies, (B. D. Chattopadhyaya (General Editor), Readings in Early Indian History Series), Manohar, New Delhi, 1999, pp. 229–250. 47 Ibid., p. 230. 48 Hikosaka and Samuel (eds), op. cit., p. 337, No. 338. 49 Ibid., p. 341, No. 349. 50 Ibid., p. 397, No. 175. 51 Ibid., p. 429, No. 186. 52 Ibid., p. 411, No. 367. 53 IA, XII, pp. 156 ff., lines 22–23. 54 SII, Vol. III, parts III and IV, No. 205, verse 74. 55 K. R. Srinivasan Aiyyar (ed. and tr.), op. cit., No. 163, p. 138, n. 37; the text corrected and completed with the Vol. I of the same source, No. 166 and SII, Vol. III, pt. II, p. 217.

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56 EI, IV, p. 282, verse 9. 57 Deborah A Soifer, The Myths of Narasimha and Vāmana, State University of New York Press, New York, 1991, p. 271. 58 Ibid., p. 245. 59 For a more elaborate discussion of this aspect, see Wendy O’Flaherty, Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology, University of Chicago, Chicago, 1980.

4 Imaging royal power in visual and verbal narratives

In the previous chapter we have explored various concepts related to the changed political context of the early mediaeval period, in which military success was important not because of kinship allegiance to the ruler but because of his territorial ambitions. We have seen that these notions can be traced to the heroic discourse of pre-Pallava Tamiḻakam but they manifest in a transformed nature in the early mediaeval period. The royal image-making process of the early mediaeval period involving iconography and architecture utilised various ideas discussed in the previous chapter and attempted to create an image of the royal patron. This involved his depiction as a protective, dominant and powerful ruler who was at the centre of all human activity in his realm. It also resulted in a latent discourse on the forms in which royal power sought to validate itself through verbal and visual texts, that is via eulogy and art. These ideas will be explored in this chapter. Here it is to be remembered that the language of this discourse is very subtle and latent.

Imaging the king as the upholder of social order As discussed in the Introduction this work deals with the allegorical aspect of iconography. Puranic iconography had a political content to it besides its religious content. The religious aspect complemented the political one, as the political content derived its validity from the sacrality of the image. There was a subtle correlation between the notions of divine power and royal power. This derived from the fact that the ruler was often compared to divine forms and was also the patron of this art. Hence the parallelism between the royal and the divine was implicit in the idea conveyed through the image. In a sense royal power was validated through divine power. This brings us to the question of power and legitimacy. Power is legitimate to the extent that it can be justified as coming from a valid source of authority. Such validity is secured if the structure of power is seen to serve a recognisable general interest. The authority of the ruler thus was validated through political

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allegory in art since this royal image also focussed on the issue of the royal concern for the welfare of the people and for keeping the social order intact according to the norms of the prescriptive canons of the Puranic religion. The imaging process that involved the allegorical reference to the ruler through the divine image partly emphasised the protective role of the ruler. His protective role included both protecting the people and protecting the social order. This imaging process was carried out through both epigraphical eulogies and visual narrative panels from the temples of the region. The eulogies that contain allegorical references are normally in Sanskrit while the statement of the land-grant may be included at the end of the Sanskrit eulogy and the vernacular section gives the details of the grant. The eulogies are a device to create a grand image of the king. This grand image derives as much from a description of his great feats as from the references to his prowess in maintaining the society according to the prescribed Dharmic ideals. In order to create the protector image of the ruler the eulogies resorted to two methods – they made a direct reference to the ideal rule of the ruler often stressing the Dharmic ideal and to the king’s ability to rescue the world from the evils of the Kali age. The second method was an advance over the first one in the sense that this image of the ruler incorporated a comparison of the ruler with iconographic details of the Varāha lifting or rescuing the earth from the Kali waters or the evil nether world (or simply Varāha carrying the earth on his arm or shoulder). Often this comparison was made in the inscriptions of the seventh to the ninth centuries AD in an oblique manner, but the description of the ruler makes the iconographic comparison explicit. On the outside wall of the main shrine of the Rajasimhesvara temple at Kanchi (i.e. the Kailasanatha) there is an inscription which says that like Puruṣottama (i.e. Viṣṇu), king Atyantakāma was born to rescue from the ocean of evil the sinking people who were swallowed by the monster (called) the Kali age.1 Though Varāha is not mentioned by name the nature of the reference and a direct comparison with Viṣṇu evokes in the minds of the audience an allegorical comparison between the ruler and the Varāha. The Vunne Gurava Palem Plates of Parameśvara I refer to him as constantly engaged in protecting and nurturing his subjects (‘prajāsamrakṣaṇaparipālan anityayuktah’)2 and always engaged in removing the evils of the Kali age and in carrying the Dharma ideal, rescuing it from the evil Kali (‘Kali yugadoṣāva sannadharmoddharaṇanityasannaddhah’). These references at once delineate his image of a protector of the Dharma from Kali thus giving an oblique allegory with the Varāha and Kalki images. The Kasakkudi Plates of Nandivarman II describe him as having strong shoulders that bear the whole Earth.3 This imagery tallies directly with the iconongraphy of the Varāha. In the case of the Cālukyas this imagery takes a special significance since they had adopted the Varāha as a part of their royal signatorial emblem called ‘Varāhalāñchana’. This emblem is carved on a pillar of the Konti Gudi temple in Aihole (Figure 129). Many of their eulogies refer to the feature of their

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bringing the Earth under their control under the banner of Varāhalāñchana.4 The royal insignia in their case underlines the allegory between the Varāha and the ruler’s occupation of the Earth. The fact that the image of the ruler was consciously made to tally with that of the Varāha becomes clear in a reference from the Bhandak Plates of Kṛṣṇa I describing the Pralaya Mahāvarāha as lifting the Earth which had become anguished on being submerged in the Kali waters.5 The language employed in the eulogies to describe the ruler’s exploits is the same as the language employed in this grant to describe Varāha’s exploits. The Siddhasami inscription of Karka II of the Gujarat Branch, datable to the Śaka year 734, describes Karka I as equivalent to Viṣṇu in protecting his subjects and relieving them of their troubles.6 This comparison plays on the concept of Viṣṇu as the protector of the world, thus bringing a parallel between the royal and divine sovereigns. In Chapter 3, mention was made of the tendency in narrative art to subdue the negative elements of the narrating side’s divine protagonist and also to obliterate the positive elements of the rival group. The example of Bali was cited to illustrate this. The Kavi Grant of Govindarāja uses the just image of Bali in an interesting manner. It says: ‘when a dispute about good judgement incidentally arose it was formerly (the custom to cite) the kingdom of Bali as an instance …. Now we give an example on earth (the kingdom) of this ruler

129 Varāhalāñchana, Aihole

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that is Govindarāja.’7 This reference highlights the king’s exploits. However it does not draw a parallel between the ruler and Bali. Rather it projects the ruler as enveloping Bali’s fame because of his abilities. In this sense an allegory is established linking the ruler’s image to that of the divine who also enveloped Bali’s fame, but the allegory is disguised and not explicit if not read closely. Again the Sangli inscription of Govinda V refers to him as the valorous Nārāyaṇa in relieving the grief of the earth and in protecting it.8 Here a direct parallel is drawn between the divine and royal sovereigns. Similarly in the Velvikkudi grant Māṟavarman Pandya is referred to as ‘Bhūsundarī Vallabho’9 or the lord of the beautiful earth. In Chapters 2 and 3, the idea of the earth being wedded to Varāha/Viṣṇu and to the kings has been discussed. Hence a reference of this kind in the royal eulogy carries within itself the multiple meanings of the association of the earth with Viṣṇu and the king. The idea related to the protector image of the ruler as discussed above existed not only in the Sanskrit eulogies but often also in the Tamil eulogies of the inscriptions. Thus the larger Sinnamanur Grant says that Parāntaka Sadaiyan’s conduct followed the rules prescribed by Manu; he gave many gifts of devadāna and he restored many Brahmadeya Grants.10 The smaller Sinnamanur Grant states about Māṟavarman that he protected the Earth without a flaw, expelled the sins of the Kali age and averted the misery of the gods of the Earth (i.e. the Brāhmaṇas) by giving them great wealth.11 It is worth noting that apart from the usual insistence on following the prescriptive canons for code of conduct and relieving the Earth from the Kali waters; giving devadānas and supporting Brāhmaṇas was included in the ambit of the Dharmic ideal. The definition of a protective ruler thus included all the features of the Brahmanical vision of an ordered society by the end of ninth century AD – so much so that a royal image of this nature could be transmitted across the social space through the language of the people. In the Coḻa period we find that such comparative metaphors become more direct in bringing the royal image closer to the divine image. In the Anbil Plates Sundara Coḻa describes Vijayālaya Coḻa as bearing the marks of the conch and the disc on his hands like Viṣṇu (enemy of Naraka), who carries these attributes in his hands.12 The reference here is more direct and not oblique like in earlier Grants. Similarly the Larger Leiden Plates of Rājarāja I refer to Parāntaka I as equal in prowess to the destroyer of the three cities (i.e. Siva).13 The imagery of the king bearing the weight of the earth on his arm has become crystallised by now and appears as a standard form for the kings.14 We have discussed in Chapter 2 the implicit parallelism existing between Ganga and Kaveri in the context of Gangādharamūrti. The significance of Kaveri as a manifestation of Ganga is made explicit in the Tiruvalangandu Copper Plates of the sixth year of Rājendra Coḻa I. It refers to Rājendra’s ancestor Citraratha who having learned about the great feat of bringing down the Ganga by Bhagīratha also brought Ganga to his realm under the name of Kaverakanyakā (i.e. Kaveri).15 The reference to the legend of Gangāvataraṇa is especially important in an epigraph of Rājendra Coḻa I because of his

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victorious campaign against the Pāla ruler on the banks of Ganga after which he is said to have brought the water of Ganga to his kingdom. The above mentioned copper plates go on to mention this feat of Rājendra who is said to have laughed at Bhagīratha’s feat and brought the Ganga water to his kingdom through the strength of his own arm.16 The significance assigned by the Coḻas to this campaign is evident from the fact that eleven verses have been dedicated to this campaign in the epigraph. Here the emphasis is not only on the king’s control over a river valley but also on his ability to control a sacred symbol. The direct non-oblique parallel between the royal and the divine imagery is most evident in the reference to Rājarāja I in the copper plates mentioned above. The epigraph says that Madhurāntaka Coḻa installed Rājarāja I as the heir-apparent, having ascertained by the marks on his body that he was Viṣṇu himself, the able protector of the three worlds that had incarnated himself on earth.17 The case of an earlier latent imagery becoming an explicit reference in the Coḻa period shows the extent to which this visual–verbal communication gained ground across time and space. The oblique message transmitted by the visual and the verbal symbols was not only received by the audience, it was overtly expressed and further transmitted to subsequent groups of audience, so that in a much later century we get a direct version of the message. This also shows that the earlier comparison between the ruler and the deity is oblique but undeniable. The above references show that a process was evolving in the epigraphic writings through which an attempt was made to create an image of the ruler which drew from the image of the deity and emphasised upon the ruler’s ability or potential to keep the social order in control according to the Dharmic ideal. The iconography and the narrative of the Varāha legend play a very significant role in this. The creation of this royal imagery was a case of the psychological transmission of an idea through the visual medium; to strengthen an image which has already gained currency through the agency of oral and literary narratives. Here it is not meant that the Varāha images were labelled as the replica of a ruler’s image. In the context of the society we are studying it would be naïve to look for such direct equations. Rather we refer here to the psychological perception of an image by the viewing audience that serves to underline the parallel drawn between the royal patron and the divine image. From the above it follows that the image of the god who was victorious in defeating the demons who attempted to disrupt the prescribed social order reinforces the image of the king who asserts his ability to keep his kingdom in order. Here the image of the divine protector merges with that of the royal protector. This brings us to the question of the general interest of the people playing a vital role in providing legitimacy to power. Here it reflects the king’s attempt to communicate a protector’s image of himself to the people. The protective

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image of the ruler aimed at and was instrumental in building the legitimacy to royal authority by creating the image of a benevolent monarch.

Imaging the king as a dominant monarch The iconography created by the royal patrons transmitted the idea of not only a protective monarch but also a dominant monarch whose power was unquestioned and who had subjugated all elements of dissent. Iconography thus attempted to define power by highlighting its two basic characteristics – it was an authority which laid the claim to protect its territory and its people and it derived a dominant position from this protective image. The protective image of the ruler thus validated his dominant image. The latter demanded total subjection to the nucleus of power without a space for dissent. One way to achieve this kind of imagery was to commission a work of art that re-created sacred symbols through the visual medium. When the king executed a work of art that created a semblance of a scared symbol it worked to attribute to the king an aura of power as it highlighted his potential to perform monumental feats successfully. The gigantic rock-panel at Mahabalipuram (Figure 130) is the most characteristic example of this. The Mahabalipuram rock-sculpture is variously identified as ‘Arjuna’s Penance’ and ‘Gangāvataraṇa’or ‘Bhagīratha’s Penance’. The reason for the first identification is that an ascetic is shown as performing penance on the left side of the central cleft containing Nāga figures while a figure of the trident-holding Śiva stands by. On the other hand the reason for the second identification is the cleft itself, identified as the descending Ganga, while the sage doing the penance is regarded as Bhagīratha, with Śiva agreeing to receive Ganga on his matted lock. The main feature of this rock was first pointed out by A. H. Longhurst. He noted that on the back of the rock there are traces of a staircase carved to carry water manually to the top of the rock where a cistern was carved to receive this water right above the natural cleft. From the bottom of the cistern the water flowed down the cleft (in which some Naga figures were carved and some inserted). The flowing water collected in a tank below. Thus the semblance of a stream flowing down a mountain slope was re-created. Longhurst suggested that this rock represents an attempt by the Pallavas to re-create the scene of Ganga flowing down the Himalayas. From the viewpoint of our study it is important that such an attempt was made by the Pallavas to create such an imagery. Longhurst suggested that on special ritual occasions water was passed through the cistern which created this imagery of Ganga flowing down the Himalayas.18 It is logical to believe that on these festive occasions a gathering of people watched this charismatic visual. The ritual and the art were instrumental here in transmitting the idea of power to the audience. This power was assigned to the royal creator of the monument.

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Chapter 3 discusses the river-Goddess shrine in the Lankesvara Cave at Ellora carved after Dhruva’s successful campaign in the Ganga–Yamuna Doab area and Karkka II’s epigraphical reference to Dhruva placing the two rivers at his door in a visible form. Though not on the gigantic scale of the Mahabalipuram rock sculpture this river-Goddess shrine also transmits the message of a powerful monarch who has brought the two rivers at his door after a successful campaign. In the previous section of this chapter reference was made to Rājendra Coḻa’s attempt at glorifying his campaign against Dharmapāla. Here his powerful imagery derived from not only his victorious campaign but also from his latent comparison with Gangādhara, because he had caused the waters of the Ganga to be brought to his realm. Psychologically this motif assigns power to the king because he managed to control a sacred symbol. The visual manifestation of this was the Coḻagangam tank which Rājendra I built near Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram and filled with Ganga water. Here he not only re-created a scared symbol in his realm but assigned to it the value of victory in war (though in reality this campaign might not have left any significant impact on the Pāla kingdom. Nonetheless it served to enhance the powerful image of the ruler.) The above illustrations show that the idea of power manifested itself through the successful completion of such monumental feats. The idea that the king was capable of bringing a sacred symbol amidst the people provided him with a powerful image capable of commanding social obeisance.

130 Gangāvataraṇa, Mahabalipuram

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131  Śiva’s hand in varada mudrā without Brahmā’s head, Gangāvataraṇa, Mahabalipuram

K. V. Ramesh has made an interesting study of the dancing Śiva panel in the Ravula Phadi Cave at Aihole. He relates the dancing Sapta-Mātṛkās along with the dancing Śiva to the reference in the Cālukyan eulogies ‘sapta-lokamātṛbhihsaptamātṛbhihparirakṣitah’ describing the Cālukyan rulers and says that the dancing Siva carved here is a deified image of a Cālukyan ruler since Śiva is accompanied by the seven mothers. For the identification of this ruler he refers to the label inscription engraved in the sixth and seventh century characters on the rock altar beneath the dancing Śiva panel, which he says had been wrongly read as ‘kaṇamiñci’ (mistaken as the name of a sculptor). K. V. Ramesh reads this inscription as ‘Raṇavikrā….’ and restores it as ‘Raṇavikrāntan’, the second name for Mangaleśa. According to him

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Ravula Phadi is a corruption of Rājakula Pratimāgṛha’ and was conceived by Mangaleśa as a royal portrait gallery and he got his image portrayed as the dancing Śiva and gave it a dynastic touch by flanking it with the Sapta-Mātṛkā images.19 Perhaps it would not be plausible to give such a forthright interpretation to this Aihole panel and the label inscription below. However the basic argument of K. V. Ramesh – that there is a parallel between the dancing Siva and Mangaleśa – seems perfectly tenable in the light of our argument regarding the creation of an allegorical iconography. ‘Raṇavikrānta’ is an epithet of Śiva referring to his victory over the Tripura demons; Mangaleśa adopted this epithet to allude to his military prowess. Carving this epithet below the image of Śiva refers to the dancing Śiva as the victorious deity in war and at the same time allegorically coincides the image of the royal patron (Mangaleśa) and the image of the deity. The sculpture and the label inscription here reinforce the image of a valorous king that draws upon the image of a valorous deity in the eulogy. Narasimhavarman I Pallava (AD 630 to 668) who conquered Vatapi and assumed the title ‘Vātāpikoṇḍa’ is believed to have carved the small image of a four-armed Narasimha on the crown of the eight-armed Viṣṇu in Cave 3 of Badami to signify his conquest. There is an inscription by him on the rock outside which compares him to Narasimha.20 Kuram plates of Paramesvaravarman I from the Kanchipuram Taluk describe Narasimha I as the god Narasimha himself reincarnated in the form of the king (named) Narasimhavarman.’21 Here the ruler not only identifies himself with the deity but relates his military conquest to divine power by merging his identity with the deity and also by carving an image; this on one level signifies the deity, but on another level, emphasises the Pallava conquest over the Cālukyas as it is carved over a gigantic Cālukyan image of Viṣṇu. The creation of the visual text here echoes the creation of the verbal text. Also the eulogic verse quoted here shows that the parallelism drawn between the royal and divine figures is no longer allegoric in nature but has become explicit and direct – probably in the light of the growing power of the ruler who is the focus of the eulogy and the image. The eulogy also employed the common means of comparing the ruler with a deity whose military prowess was a well-known feature. Thus an inscription on the Rajasimhesvara temple at Kanchi (i.e. Kailasanatha) compares Atyantakāma with Kumāra/Skanda. It says that just as Guha took birth from Śiva (Parameśvara) the destroyer of the war-like (demon) Pura, from the lord Ugradaṇḍa the destroyer of the city of Raṇarasika (Vatapi), there took birth a Subrahmaṇya Kumāra (pious prince) – namely the illustrious Atyantakāma who crushed his foes with his Śakti (power/spear).22 The play on the words here highlights the integrated image of Murugan–Skanda– Subrahmaṇya (the reference to spear is important) as son of Śiva and at the same time brings in a convergence between the ruler and the deity. It is significant that this inscription is found on the Kailasanatha Temple,

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which practically institutionalises the Somāskanda concept by housing this image in a multitude of shrines. This verse thus provides the allegory for the royal family’s identification with the divine family. The Somāskanda image (as said in Chapter 1) integrates various cultic practices and their followers on one level and it also provides the converging point for creating an image of sovereignty for the royal patron and his family on another level. The above convergence of royal and divine images is further underlined in another inscription from the same temple that says about the Pallava queen that she was the beloved of her husband the supreme lord, who was famed by the name of Kālakāla whose sign was the bull and whose bow had destroyed cities – just as the mountain king’s daughter is the beloved of her husband the supreme lord Śiva whose sign is the bull and whose bow had destroyed Pura.23 The comparison between the royal and divine families is explicit here. The Aihole Praśasti of Pulakeśin II also refers to him as ‘Purabhit Prabhe’, that is radiant like the splendour of the destroyer of Pura (or, Śiva), thus replicating the allegory of the Ravula Phadi Cave. In the Madras Museum Plates of Jaṭila Varman Pandya it is said that just as Kumāra holding the Śakti (weapon/power) was born from the destroyer of Tirpura, in the same way Jaṭila Varman was born from Māṟavarman Pandya.24 It has been suggested that the majority of the Pandyan rock-cut cave temples were excavated during the reign of this king in the eighth century AD.25 It is significant in the light of the above reference regarding a convergence of the images of Tripurāntaka and Māṟavarman Pandya that the rock-cut cave at Kalugumalai has, (on the second tier of the Vimāna), a seated Śiva on the northern wall. He is four-armed and the upper left arm is pulling out arrows suggesting the Tripurāntaka incident.26 In the cave temple at Tirupparankunram beyond the later structure of the Nāyaka period there are two cells facing each other, one of which houses Skanda, the Goddess and Gaṇeśa.27 It was stated in the epigraphical references quoted above that Neduñjaḍaiyan (Jaṭilavarman) Pandya was compared to Skanda/Kumāra. The iconographic programme of the Tirupparankunram achieves a psychological–symbolic convergence of the royal and divine families. Apart from Narasimha, Tripurāntaka and Skanda another image that played a significant role in achieving a symbolic convergence between the royal and divine figures is the Trivikrama. The Karda Plates of Karkka III (Amoghavarsa III) refer to him as repelling the circle of armies with his might. The verse is constructed to carry a second meaning that refers to Viṣṇu subduing Bali with his power.28 The Pullur plates of Nandivarman II describe him as having the splendour of ‘Baliripu’ (Trivikrama).29 Here a ruler’s potential to dominate and control an expansive space including various kinds of resource bases is highlighted through the comparison with Trivikrama encompassing three regions of vastly varied natures. Another motif that the royal eulogies frequently use to depict a dominant image of the ruler is to describe him as having his feet radiant with the rays of the gems in the crowns on the heads of the kings who pay obeisance to him.

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This is a very common motif that has been used across peninsular India and also probably outside this region. The Bahur Plates of Nripatungavarman use this motif to construct a very interesting allegory. This eulogy first describes Madhusūdana (i.e. Viṣṇu) whose feet are being touched by the crowns of thirty gods as he relieves the world from ferocious Rākṣasas. After a few verses Dantivarman is described in the same form with the defeated kings bowing to his feet.30 In this case a motif that had crystallised by the date of this inscription (i.e. AD 877) was used to draw an allegory between the ruler and the deity. Here the eulogy nowhere says that Dantivarman was a form of Viṣṇu but the similar description used both for the king and the deity creates a psychological contiguity between the two imageries and serves to establish a parallel between the ruler and the deity. Though the Coḻas continued to use iconography for allegorical purposes this process manifested itself in a transformed nature in the Coḻa period. By this period, references to Varāha and the king lifting the earth on his arm had become a crystallised norm. References to the king in parallel form to Trivikrama, Narasimha and Skanda are not very frequent. We have seen in Chapter 2 that Naṭarāja, Tripurāntaka and Gangādhara were among the most important images to be carved on the temples. Amongst the images of Viṣṇu, his Śayana form was most frequently represented prominently on the temples. In the previous section of this chapter mention was made that Parāntaka I was compared to the Tripurāntaka in the Coḻa eulogies. Rājendra I’s comparison with Gangādhara has also been mentioned before. The Karandai Copper Plates use the parallel imagery of Gangādhara for Rajaraja I in a different manner. It is said that just as Śiva received and controlled the Ganga rushing down from the heavens in his matted hair, in the same way Rājarāja sent back his own army and faced the onrushing rival forces (which looked like the surging ocean at the end of the kalpa) alone.31 Here Rājarāja I’s military prowess has been compared to the deity’s power of controlling the course of a river – the allusion is to their control over their realm through using their might. Rājendra I uses this parallel to reinforce his own comparison with Gangādhara a few verses later when his campaign over the Pāla region is described.32 In Chapter 2 we had referred to the symbolism of Naṭarāja’s five acts that control the cosmic cycle. Out of these five acts the third one, Samhāra, refers to destroying the universe by Siva at the end of the time-cycle. The Karandai Plates use this imagery to eulogise Rājarāja I, who is said to destroy the rival armies just like Śiva destroys the souls at the end of the Yuga.33 This oblique reference creates a psychological–symbolic parallel between the destroyer king and the destroyer deity to create the king’s dominant image. Here what is also significant is the fact that the souls whom Śiva destroys are referred to as ‘Prajā’ I, that is ‘subjects’. This converges the images of royal and divine sovereigns. As shown in Chapter 2, the cult of Śarabha gained popularity in the Coḻa period and royal patronage was extended to it. Rājendra I is imaged as Śarabha

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in his eulogy and it is said that when he conquered Jayasimha he became a Śarabha to the lion of Jayasimha.34 This shows that even in Rājendra’s time the legend of Śarabha was popular – and the Coḻa ruler used it not only for his imaging process by comparing himself to the ‘victorious deity’ of the two divine rivals, but through this use extended support to the growing Śarabha cult. A reference was made to the Bhogāsana Mūrtis of Viṣṇu in Chapter 2, that are placed on the Rajarajesvaram temple at Tanjavur. We have many inscriptions in Tamil from across South India that virtually make it a rule to refer to Rājarāja being pleased with the fact that the Earth Goddess and Ṣrī had become his consorts. This motif is later followed in the inscriptions dating to the reigns of Rājarāja’s successors. One of these inscriptions comes from the base of the shore Temple at Mahabalipuram and is datable to the twentyfifth year of Rājarāja I. Another inscription datable to the twenty-ninth year of Rājarāja I comes from the second tier of the south wall of the Tanjavur temple itself. Similarly an inscription datable to the nineteenth year of Rājendra I containing this reference is engraved on the first and second tiers of the south wall of his royal temple at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram.35 The iconographic convergence between the Bhogāsana Viṣṇu with his two consorts and the reference to the ruler having the same two divine consorts brings the imagery of the ruler and the deity closer to each other. The placement of this icon on the royal temple reinforces this imagery. There is evidence that the dissemination of this allegoric message was received and overtly expressed by the audience. The inscription from the base of the Shore Temple referred to above describes Rājarāja I as resplendent to such an extent that he was always worthy of being worshipped.36 The Tamil portion of the bilingual epigraphs often state – about the owners of the Brahmadeya to whom the concerned charter was sent – that seeing the royal order coming they ‘went in advance, worshipped the charter, placed it on our heads, took it and read it and according to the royal order and defined the boundaries etc.’37 The respect shown to the royal character evidently issued from the convergence of the divine and the royal imageries that had been created in their verbal and visual forms. This is further supported by the fact that the royal character is referred to in the Tamil portion as ‘Tirumugam’’38 or the ‘scared word’. From the period from Kulottunga’s reign onwards we have not come across any bilingual copper plates – though finding them in the future is not precluded. The survey of the images in Chapter 2 shows that there was a proliferation of bronze icons in the Coḻa period. It is well known that the Utsavamūrtis used in the festive procession are invariably bronzes. The proliferation of bronze images in this period points to the fact that these images were used in processions during festivals when they were taken around the temple with pomp and fanfare, watched and followed by the common people. The spectacle of a deity riding a chariot and going around the temple created a psychological parallel with the royal sovereign going on his chariot to survey

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his realm. The visual impact of this ritual helped in the reinforcement of the parallel between the divine and royal sovereigns. We have evidence that these festive occasions were a significant part of religious life and that the rulers patronised the celebration of festivals. Epigraphs give innumerable instances of the Coḻa rulers making grants for instituting festivals on some important astrological dates that were often related to the life of the royal donor. The Tirumalavadi Temple – sung about in the Tevārams as Malapadi and converted into stone during Rājarāja I’s time – received a special offering of flaked rice to the image of Gaṇeśa during the reign of Āditya I on the Tiruvādirai day.39 The third-year inscription of Uttama Coḻa (AD 973) records the offerings of Tiru-amudu on the day of Tiruvādirai every month,40 this day being the day of Śiva. In the twenty-sixth regnal year (AD 1044) of Rājādhirāja I the Perunguri Mahāsabhā made arrangements for celebrating the festival on Tiruvādirai day every month, since Tiruvādirai was the natal star of Rājendra I.41 These records show how a religious festival acquires special significance when that astrological date is related to both the deity and the king. This creates a symbolic parallel between the two through the ritual paraphernalia of the temple. To make this royal and divine correlation more explicit there were festivals and endowments on royal asterism dates.42 The Tiruvalankatu Plates refer to Madhurantaka Coḻa as directing his subjects to regularly perform Śiva’s festive processions.43 Kulottunga III instituted the Cittirai festival at Madurai in commemoration of his victory and the Vaikāsi and Āvani festivals at the Tribhuvanam temple, which he had built in the memory of his victory.44 Vikrama Coḻa gifted a temple car to carry the Naṭarāja Utsava Mūrti in the procession at Cidambaram during the great festival instituted and named the Peyum Peyar Vilā after the king and the laying of a street was also named after him.45 The emphasis on the festivals and their processional rituals as also an attempt to institutionalise the royal asterism dates and the days associated with royal victories in war shows the psychological significance of the festivals and processional rituals in creating a parallel between the ruler and the deity. A related development in the Coḻa period was the evolution of the Tamil literary genres called Ūlā, Paraṇi and Pillaittamiḻ in the form of court literary genres. These texts described the activities of the royal patron of the literary productions, and in doing so they replicated the sacred literature belonging to the same genres that described the exploits of the deity. For example the religious Ūlās describe the festive procession of a deity being observed by the people and also the people’s participation in it. In the Mūvar Ūlā, Ottakūttan, the court poet of three successive Coḻa rulers (i.e. Rājarāja II, Vikrama Coḻa and Kulottunga Coḻa II) describes the festive procession of the ruler in which the ruler rides on the processional path and his subjects gather to observe his procession. It is significant that the religious Ūlās describe the deity in the form of a divine ruler going out in a procession to survey his realm. On the other hand the courtly Ūlās describe the ruler going out in a procession like a god on earth while his subjects follow him. The religious Ūlās used the poetic imageries to create the image of the deity as desired by his devotees and as

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‘enchanting’ to the women spectators watching the procession. This idiom obviously drew from the Sangam poetry that depicted the hero or the deity (especially Murugan) as enchanting to women; and from the early mediaeval Bhakti poetry that depicted Śiva or Viṣṇu as enchanting to women and to the devotees. Establishing contiguity with the religious Ūlās, the courtly Ūlā of the Coḻa period also depicted the royal patron going out in a royal procession as being greatly desired by the women subjects who were enchanted by his charms while watching the procession. The Mūvar Ūlā is a very good example of this.46 The literary narrative in this sense coincides the symbolisms of divinity and royalty, there being an overlap between the imageries of the ruler and the god. We also have the evidence of the Rājarāja Nāṭakam being performed in the Tanjavur temple.47 A mention is made in Chapter 3 about the victory-poem called ‘Kaḻavali’ composed to celebrate the victory of Coḻa Cenkaṇṇān over Ceramān KanaikkālIrumporai by the poet Poikaiyār. The court poets of the Coḻas used this genre to further celebrate the victory of their patrons. Ottakūttan wrote Takkayāgapparaṇi to describe Vīrabhadra’s destruction of Dakṣa’s sacrifice. This was overtly a celebration of a deity’s victory over his rival. However latently it can be read as the symbolic dominance of Rājarāja II, who built the Darasuram temple (as will be described in Chapter 5). Jayankoṇḍan wrote Kalingāttupparaṇi to celebrate Kulottunga I’s victory over Kalinga. This genre converges the military prowess of the deity and the ruler just as the Ūlā genre converges their grand images. Just as the Ūlās depicted the royal patron as being desired by the female subjects because he had a grand image, in the same way the Paraṇis depicted the women as being enchanted by the royal patron who possessed great military prowess. In the process they used a poetic imagery in which war was described as an amorous act. For example Kalingāttupparaṇi uses the word ‘Kalinga’ both as the region defeated by Karuṇākara Pallava (the prime minister of Kulottunga I) and as the waistcloth worn by the women. The pun on this word creates a symbolic contiguity between war and loveplay.48 Chapter 3 has discussed at length the symbolic parallel between the feminine realm and the realm of war as reflected in the Sangam poetry. In the Kalingāttupparaṇi of the Coḻa period we find the symbolic parallel being used to eulogise a major territorial conquest of Kulottunga’s army and to establish a powerful imagery of the Coḻa ruler. Kalingāttupparaṇi, following the tone of the Coḻa epigraphs, creates a direct convergence of the images of the royal patron and the deity. Kulottunga I is described as Viṣṇu who was born on a banyan leaf and again as in the sacred womb of Rājarāja’s daughter.49 Again Kulottunga I is said to have learnt the four Vedas even though he had already studied them in his incarnation as the Vāmana who begged for a piece of land.50 These references explicitly overlap the identities of Kulottunga I and Viṣṇu. This Paraṇi also describes Kulottunga I as wearing the ornament on which were marked the five weapons of Viṣṇu, ‘to make it clear that he was the Kṛṣṇa of old times.’51 This reference converges

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the royal and divine identities by using their image as the warrior. We are reminded here of the Anbil Plates’reference regarding Vijayālaya’s comparison with Madhusūdana as mentioned earlier in this chapter.The third genre that achieved this convergence symbolism was the Pillaittamiḻ. This was originally a genre which depicted a deity in the form of a child and sang to the child deity his/her exploits. A good example of this is the Minātcippillaittamiḻ in which songs are sung to the Goddess Mīnākṣī who has been depicted as a child. In the Coḻa period this genre was used to compose Kulottungacoḻappillaittamiḻ that sings the glory of Kulottunga II’s exploits addressed to his child-form.52 The above evidence points towards an attempt to totally depict the royal image in the deified form. There was no distinction left in the royal and the divine forms as far as the manner of depiction is concerned – both in the visual and the verbal media. These literary creations and festive processions were also psychological mechanisms for the popular internalisation of the deified royal image in the mass psyche. The foregoing discussion in the above two sections relating to the creation of the image of the ruler as both as a protector and a controller of his domain leads us to the following thoughts. The image of the royal upholder of Dharma complemented the image of the dominant monarch, as the former validated the latter. Here it is necessary to point out that these two categories of the imaging process were not strictly disjuncted from each other;rather they form overlapping zones with nebulous and fluid identities. The Varāha who protected the earth from Kali waters was also the Varāha who was powerful enough to control/hold the earth and therefore he also had a dominant side to his image. The royal/divine consort of the earth/territory was both its protector and controller. Similarly Śiva who killed the Tripura demons did so because his aim was to protect the social order prescribed by the Dharma ideal. The underlying unstated messages were transmitted to the audience through the psychological perception of the simulated motifs in the visual and verbal texts. As far as this discourse on power through the visual and verbal medium is concerned, the narrative art can be said to be political in nature as it played a significant role in the creation of the royal image in the minds of the audience.

Notes 1 E. Hultzsch (ed.), SII, Vol. I (New Series, Vol. III), Archaeological Survey of India, New Delhi, p. 13, verse 8. 2 T. V. Mahalingam, Inscriptions of the Pallavas, Indian Council for Historical Research and Agam Prakashan, New Delhi, 1988, No. 45, lines 7–10; EI, XXII, pp. 91–98. 3 T. V. Mahalingam, op. cit., No. 77, lines 47–48; SII, II, No. 73. 4 For example, “Copper Plate Grant of Pulakeśi II, dated Śaka year 534,” IA, VI, pp. 72 ff.

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5 EI, XIV, pp. 121 ff., verse 23. 6 IA, XII, pp. 156 ff., line 8. 7 IA, V, pp. 144 ff., verse 32. 8 IA, XII, pp. 247 ff., lines 37–38. 9 EI, XVII, pp. 291 ff., lines 37–38. 10 SII, Vol. III, Part IV, No. XVII, pp. 461, lines 115–122. 11 Ibid., p. 464, l.23. 12 EI, Vol. 15, No. 5, p. 60, verse17; Same reference is made for Sundara Coḻa in “Truvalangadu Copper Plates,” SII, Vol.3, pts III and IV, p. 419, verse 61. 13 EI, Vol. 22, verse 24, p. 256. 14 For example, Ibid., verse 30, p. 257. 15 SII, Vol. 3, pts III & IV, No. 205, verse 35, pp. 416–17. 16 Ibid., verses 109–119. 17 Ibid., verse 70, p. 420. 18 A. H. Longhurst, Pallava Architecture, Part II, Cosmo Publications, Delhi, 1928, pp. 40–41. Longhurst though, identifies this panel as the Brahmakapālam narrative, which is not tenable since there is no skull in Śiva’s hand (Figure 131). It should be identified only as the Gangāvataraṇa scene. 19 K. V. Ramesh, Chalukyas of Valapi, Agam Kala Prakashan, Delhi, 1984, pp. 71–72; plate XI; for Badami Cave inscription of Mangaleśa, IA, pp. 59–60. 20 K. V. Soundara Rajan, Cave Temples of The Deccan, ASSI Memoirs, No. 3, Delhi, 1981, See Chapter on Badami Cave 3. 21 T. V. Mahalingam, op. cit., No. 46, line 14. 22 SII, Vol. I (New Series Vol. III), No. 24, verse 5. 23 Ibid., No. 29, verse 1. 24 IA, XXII, pp. 57ff., verse 6. 25 C. Sivaramamurti, Kalugumalai and Early Pandyan Rock-Cut Shrines, Bhulabhai Memorial Institute, Bombay, 1961, p. 17. 26 Ibid., p. 24. 27 Ibid., p. 32. 28 IA, XII, pp. 263 ff., lines 39–40, n. 30 (“sva-vikrama - calitava (ba) li-va-(ba) ndhaparāyaṇah Śri Vīra Nārāyaṇah”). 29 EI, XXXVI, pp. 143 ff., verse 5. 30 T. V. Mahalingam, op. cit., No. 155; EI, XVIII, pp. 5–15, verses 1, 9. 31 K. G. Krishnan (ed.,) Karandai Tamil Sangam Plates of Rājendra Cola I, Memoirs of the Archaeological Survey of India, No. 79, p. 196, verse 29. 32 Ibid., p. 200, verse 64. 33 Ibid., p. 196, verse 31 (“Arājatarsa Rājendra – samharaṇa – ari – vāhinīhyugāntasamayesarvaprajā – iva – Pinākabhṛta”).

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34 Ibid., pp. 199–200, verse 61. 35 For example, E. Hultzsch (ed.), op. cit., No. 40, p. 65; K. R. Srinivasa Aiyar (ed.), Inscriptions in the Pudukottai State, Part I, Pudukottai, 1941, No. 90, p. 61; E. Hultzsch (ed.) SII, Vol. II, Part I and II, p. 72; K. R. Srinivasa Aiyar (ed.), op. cit., No. 99; p. 102; p. 113; SII, Vol. II, p. 108. 36 SII, Vol. I, op. cit., p. 65. 37 For example, EI, Vol. 15, No.5, lines 130–136; EI, Vol. 22, p. 259 etc. 38 EI, Vol. 22, p. 259. 39 C. Mookka Reddy, The Tirumalavadi Temple, B. R. Publications, New Delhi, 1986, p. 126. 40 Ibid., p. 126; n. 58. 41 Ibid., p. 126; n. 59. 42 For the institution of a festival on the asterism date of Sadaiyan, see SII, II, No. 28. R. Champakalakshmi remarks that Sadaiyan was the star of Rājendra I, vide R. Champakalakshmi, Trade, Ideology and Urbanisation (South India 300 B.C to AD 1300), Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1996, p. 426. 43 K. G. Krishnan (ed.), op. cit., verse 71. 44 K. R. Srinivasa Aiyar (ed.), op. cit., Part II, p. 137. 45 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, Later Coḻa Temples, Mudgala Trust, Thomson Press, Faridabad, 1979, p. 186. 46 V. KanakasabhaiPillai, “Tamil Historical Texts – The Vikrama Coḻan Ūlā”, IA, June 1893, p. 149; Ottakuttar, MūvarŪlā, Kalakshetra, Madras, 1957. I am grateful to Mr. G. Vishwanathan for rendering Rājendra Coḻan Ūlā, Kulottunagan-Pillaittamiḻ and parts of Kalingāttupparaṇi in English for me despite an ailing eye. 47 SII, II, Part III, No. 67; Santosh Kumar Das, The Educational System of the Ancient Hindus, Gyan Publishing House, New Delhi, 1996, p. 404; n. 2455; R. Champakalakshmi, n. 42 above, p. 426. 48 V. KanakasabhaiPillai, “Tamil Historical Texts – Kalingāttupparaṇi”, IA, November, 1896, p. 330. 49 Ibid., p. 332. 50 Ibid., p. 332. 51 Ibid., p. 332. 52 T. S. Gangadharan (ed.), Kulottungan-Pillaittamiḻ, Saraswati Mahal Publication-154, Tanjavur, 1974.

5 Pantheons of power – the iconographic programme in royal temples

The cosmic symbolism displayed in the Aṟṟuppaḍai poems of the Sangam period has been mentioned in Chapter 3. We have seen that in these poems the king is placed at the centre of the whole cosmos known to the Sangam world.1 In the early mediaeval temples the cosmology employed by the temples’ layout and its iconographic plan placed the deity in the centre of the cosmos. There is a possibility of a comparable identification of the cosmic symbolism employed in the Tamil texts and the allegoric parallel created between the royal and divine sovereigns who stood at the centre of the cosmos. This is not to say that the cosmic symbolism of the temple was a direct continuation of the Aṟṟuppaḍai symbolism. Rather the idea that was familiar to Tamil society from an early period in an elementary form was expanded upon and transformed to suit the needs of a royalty attempting to validate its authority through the projection of a powerful image of the ruler who controlled all the ecological regions. In this sense the basic idea was not new but its needs and manifestations were different from the earlier age. In the early mediaeval period the layout and the iconographic plan of these temples virtually projected the deity as the supreme force controlling the cosmos. Various Parivāradevatās and their placement represented the subordinated beings while the main deity residing in the exalted shrine in the centre of the complex represented the omnipotent divine sovereign. This symbolism was employed in both Śaiva and Vaiṣṇava temples. The following sections survey and discuss various temples of the seventh to ninth centuries AD (the first section) and of the ninth to twelfth centuries AD (the second section), and attempt to show their cosmic symbolism.

I One of the significant designs that the Viṣṇu temples assumed in the early mediaeval period was that of a triple-storied Vimāna (the Sāndhāra Prāsāda) with each level representing a shrine vertically, one above the other

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housing the three forms of Śayana, Sthānaka and Āsana Viṣṇu. The earliest dated example of such a design is the Vaikuntha Perumal temple erected at Kanchi by Nandivarman II Pallava in the eighth century AD, about which Tirumangai Alvar composed hymns. The Kutalalagar Temple at Madurai (known as Iruntaiyur in the Sangam works) also belongs to this class of structure. Another such temple is located in Tirukottiyur in the same district. As has been interpreted by R. Champakalakshmi the three levels on which the shrines are placed may symbolise the three regions of the cosmos. She says that the Pallavas’ political power was derived from large areas of land, so that territorial supremacy replaced lineage claims to rulership. The deity in the confines of the temple was symbolic of the royal presence within his territorial limits, or conversely the king’s territory was an enlarged version of the temple with the former’s fluctuating limits being counteracted by the latter’s expanding reach.2 Reviewing the historical processes in the development of the Vaisnava pantheon and its relation to temporal power one may perceive the following pattern in the Tamiḻakam (as argued by R. Champakalakshmi). The early Sangam chieftain/king was a ruler of the people – a glorious hero whose authority was based on bravery, success in war and generosity to kinsmen. His legitimacy was derived from various symbols and myths associating divinities like Māyon/Netiyon or the cosmic Nārāyana with his person and his city. Bardic poetry sang the praises of such a ruler and also of the cultic deity and brought about a convergence of their images. This practice served as the basis for later Bhakti poetry, which sang the praises of a transcendental but personalised god and thereby enabled the king who patronised the Bhakti cult to become the visible symbol of that god. The relationship between god and devotee/king and subject served to establish an almost total identity between the spiritual and temporal lords and their spheres. The person of the Sangam chief was the object of adulation but it was more the office of the king that came to be venerated and hence equated with the deity in early mediaeval monarchy, with the god being the ‘transcendental reference point’ and the Brāhmaṇa priests the agents of legitimising temporal sovereignty.3 The dissemination of the concept of a dominant monarch who surveyed all the realms in his control was acheived by the design of the triple-shrine Vimāna. Before we discuss the structural Śiva temples it is worth mentioning the iconographic plan of the Ravula Phadi Cave at Aihole , which places the main deity in the garbhagṛha in a prominent light merely through its iconographic layout. As we enter the cave we find the Varāha and the Mahiṣāsuramardinī. In the inner antechamber we have Śiva dancing with the Saptamātṛkās and various other divinities. Harihara is also carved on the other side. Inside the garbhagṛha the linga is placed, watched over by the adoring gods who are carved on the ceiling. The placement of all other deities at once shows their subservient status to Śiva–Harihara and points to the concept of the merger of Viṣṇu with the other great god that is Śiva. The dancing Śiva presents a psychological reference

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point for the linga in the shrine. It suggests that this god, whose dance is the controlling act to subordinate all other divinities, is the same as the aniconic deity inside the shrine. The divine audience on the ceiling highlights this dominant image of the great god. Though executed on a small scale the Ravula Phadi Cave elaborated the image of the divine sovereign in control of his realm eloquently, using only images as its language. Chapter 4 has already discussed the allegorical parallel between Mangaleśa and the dancing Śiva in this cave as suggested by K. V. Ramesh. The Ravula Phadi Cave can hence be visualised as a symbolic presentation of the cosmos controlled by the royal/divine sovereign. The triple-shrine Vimāna was not used for Śiva temples. Hence the royal structural Śiva temples used the concept of cosmic symbolism in a different fashion from Viṣṇu temples. Temples like the Kailasanatha at Kanchi, Mallikarjuna at Pattadakkal and Kailasa at Ellora had many similarities in their plans. They elaborated the concept of Śiva as the supreme deity who surveyed the activities of other gods and whose protective form was manifested through his Anugrahamūrtis and whose dominant, valorous form was manifested in his Samhāramūrtis. The Kailasanatha at Kanchi had various forms of Śiva carved on the exterior walls of the Vimāna. The various exploits of Śiva, Viṣṇu and the Goddess are also carved in the niches of the Pradakṣiṇā of the temple. The shrine itself is placed on a raised jagatī and houses the linga. The Somāskanda images have been carved in relief in the main shrine and in numerous niches along the Pradakṣiṇā and in separate shrines built into the outside wall, with a linga in front of the Somāskanda panel carved on the back wall of the niche. It may be said that the temple has been conceptualised with the deity in the shrine being the centre of the divine world with various gods being given a subsidiary position along the Pradakṣiṇā. The outer walls of the Vimāna and the Pradakṣiṇā also elaborate the concept of the protective and the omnipotent deity. This basic pattern is followed at Pattadakkal in at least three temples – Virupaksa and Mallikarjuna built by the sister-queens of Vikramāditya II Cālukya, and Vijayesvara (now called Sangamesvara) built by Vijayāditya. The Somāskanda shrines understandably are absent at Pattadakkal as they were used by the Pallavas as a basis for integrating various social groups and ecological zones in the society. On the other hand Pattadakkal introduces epic scenes on the Virupaksa temple, including the battle scenes from the epics. In Chapter 3, it has been observed that the battle scenes were aggressive imageries that served to transmit the idea of power and military prowess. At Ellora these scenes have been used on a more magnified scale. In the case of the Virupaksa and Mallikarjuna Temples at Pattadakkal it should be mentioned that the two queens who got these temples constructed were married to Vikramaditya II Cālukya, who had defeated the Pallavas three times. There are two interesting Kannada inscriptions engraved on the eastern gateway of the Lokesvara (Virupaksa) Temple – one on the front face

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of a pilaster on the right of the north side of the doorway, and the other on the front face of a pilaster on the left or south of the same doorway. The right-side inscription states that Guṇḍan–Anivārit–Ācāri was the architect responsible for the construction of the northern side of the temple, that is the Virupaksa of the king Vikramaditya. The second inscription sings the praises of the architect responsible for the construction of the southern side of the temple and says that he was three times felicitated for constructing the Lokesvara (i.e. Virupaksa) temple of the senior queen Lokamahādevī, the queen of Vikramāditya who had three times taken the city of Kanchi. According to K. V. Ramesh this is the only reference to Vikramāditya conquering Kanchi three times, and this too seems to have been included more for the sake of rhyme than as a historical fact.4 Kirtivarman II Cālukya’s inscription on the pillar in the precincts of the Virupaksa Temple refers to ‘Kāñcipura–vimardana–Ṣrī Vikramāditya Satyāśraya…’5 and his three conquests over Kanchi are not mentioned. It appears that Vikramāditya II’s conquest over Kanchi was internalised in the popular psyche and was also magnified. In Chapter 3 we have referred to the aggressive imagery facilitating a psychological appropriation of the defeated rival by the conqueror, and by extension by his people. The above evidence is an example of this – more so because these epigraphs are not royal eulogies. The epic battle scenes on the walls of this temple serve to accentuate the aggressive imagery of the royal epigraphs as reflected in the inscription mentioned above. At Ellora too Kailasa was excavated by Kṛṣṇa I after he consolidated his power. Hence the epic battle scenes here too underline his military prowess which led to his territorial conquests. The elaborate Pradakṣiṇā (with various forms of the major deities carved on its wall) that encloses the central shrine is placed on a high jagatī and its larger than life sculptural panels all serve to highlight the dominant image of the divine sovereign. It has been observed by most scholars6 that the royal temples mentioned above reflect allegorically the dominant and powerful image of the royal patron of the temples identifying his image with the image of the deity in the main shrine. While on one level these temples institutionalised the ritual paraphernalia and elaborated the pantheons of the Puranic religion, on another level, they glorified the image of the royal patron of this religion by means of this allegorical eulogy and iconography (as shown in Chapter 4). The temple was an extension of this process as it projected the image of a dominant ruler who was at the helm of his realm.

II The Coḻa period was a period of harnessing the major resource-bases of South India and of Ceylon to some extent, and of channelling these resources to the centres of political authority in the Coḻa kingdom. The gigantic royal

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temples of the Colas could not have been constructed without the potential of the Coḻa monarch to channel the resources of his land to the centres of his authority. This does not mean that the fortunes of the Coḻa state were static throughout the period; there were naturally fluctuations in the Coḻas’ authority across the centuries. However it is somewhat possible to see parallel developments in the consolidation and the expansion of the kingdom, and in the accent on the iconic representation of its royalty. It is beyond the scope of this study to explore the extent of Coḻa authority over the kingdom and the people as it would form a research work of substantial propositions in its own right. However a rough trajectory of the most rudimentary nature of the expansion of the Coḻa power has been followed in this work while discussing its allegorical art and iconic process. As has already been discussed in Chapters 1 and 2, the Coḻas participated in the furtherance of the temple-oriented religion and iconography by patronising and overseeing the apotheosis of the Tamil saints, the standardisation of the devotional literature in Tamil, the conversion of the existing Bhakti shrines into stone, and the iconic representation of images like those of Tyāgarāja, Naṭarāja and Tripurāntaka. The temple-building activity of the Coḻas also reflects the elaboration of mythological images by both placing them on the upper tiers of the Vimāna and by multiplying the number of niches on the outer walls of the garbhagṛha. To this was added the building of the royal temples from Rājarāja I’s period onwards. The Anbil Plates of Sundara Coḻa mention that Āditya I built Śiva temples along the banks of the Kaveri river. S. R. Balasubrahmanyam was the first to take this remark seriously and he was of the opinion that there were at least 48 temples in the Kaveri valley which could be considered to be of Āditya I’s time. If this assessment is true then it is possible to say that in the early years of Coḻa rule (when the ruler was occupied in consolidating his position in the core of the Coḻa territory that is the Kaveri valley), the ruler’s control over this region was symbolically expressed visually by building temples in the area (though of smaller size than the royal temples of the later age). In many cases these were brick structures erected in centres associated with the devotional poems in Tevaram; these were subsequently taken over by the Coḻa rulers and converted into stone. S. R. Balasubrahmanyam gives the evidence of the Dandisvarar temple in Velachcheri, old Saidapet Taluk, Chingleput District, now in Chennai. He says that this temple was not taken up by the early Coḻa rulers for renovation.7 Hence we can consider the iconographic programme of this temple as that followed by in the Śaiva Bhakti shrines conventionally, that is before they were renovated by the Coḻa rulers. A look at the iconographic programme shows Gaṇeśa on the south wall and the Goddess on the north wall of the Ardhamaṇḍapa, Dakṣiṇāmūrti on the south wall, Lingodbhava on the west wall, and Brahmā on the north wall of the garbhagṛha with Dakṣiṇāmūrti on the south face, Viṣṇu on the west face, Brahmā on the north face and Śiva on the east face of the Grīva. As compared to this, when we look at the temples renovated by

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the early Coḻa rulers we find that these temples have a tendency towards a multiplication of the number of niches and an elaboration of the iconographic programme of the temples. The double-temple complex at Kilaiyur – datable to Āditya I’s reign according to S. R. Balasubrahmanyam8 – is one of the earliest examples of such a renovated temple. The southern shrine (known as Agastyesvaram), a dvi-talakaṟṟāḷi, has Brahmā on the north face, Subrahmaṇya on the east face and Dakṣiṇāmūrti on the south face. The Grīva has a seated Śiva on the west face and Dakṣiṇāmūrti on the south face. We can see that the conventional iconographic plan of the Śiva temple was not drastically changed by the Coḻa renovations. However even at this early period of the evolution of the Coḻa temple there is an attempt to multiply the numbers and forms of the images placed on the temple faces. A more evolved temple renovated by the early Coḻas (most probably in the days of Parāntaka I) is the Tiru-Ālandurāi Mahādevar temple of Kilappaluvur. This centre had a significant place in the devotional network created by the Tevāram saints. The existence of the present stone structure goes back to the days of Parāntaka I. There is an inscription from the fifteenth year of a certain Parakesarivarman that mentions that a chief called Paluveṭṭaraiyan Māravan Kaṇḍan built this temple of Tiru-Ālandurai Mahādeva.9 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam speculates that Parakesarivarman could be Parāntaka I or Uttama Coḻa, the former being more probable on the basis of the Lingodbhava image on the central shrine’s west wall and the earlier inscription dating from his reign.10 The most important inscription of Parāntaka I dates from his twelfth regnal year and relates to a gift donated to the temple of TiruĀlandurai Mahādeva in Kunrakkunram in order to celebrate the great Coḻa victory won by Paluveṭṭaraiyan Kaṇḍan Amudanār against the Pandyas and their allies the Ceylonese in the battle of Vellur, which was a turning point in the Pandyas’ fortunes. The Pandyan ruler Rājasimha II remained in exile for the rest of his life, first in Ceylon and then in Kerala. The inscription is recorded on the west wall of the central shrine.11 These inscriptions show that the renovation and patronage of this temple were closely linked with the concept of the visual expression of the consolidation of Coḻa territory and a Coḻa conquest over a major rival. It is also significant that the centre which was chosen for their visual expression and patronage lay not only in the core of the resource-base of the Coḻas but was also a major node in the devotional pilgrimage network created by the hymnists in the early centuries of the early mediaeval period. Besides it is also a chiefly/royal centre from where political authority was exercised. In this sense the icons on the temple provide a visual metaphor for expressing the political power into which this centre had emerged. The images of this temple are datable to the period of Parāntaka I. This temple shows an elaborate iconographic programme suggesting that by the conversion into stone of a shrine associated with the Bhakti cult the royal patron also dictated its iconographic arrangement. He elaborated the

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narratives represented by multiplying the number of niches and by placing additional figures on the upper storeys of the Vimāna. The Ardhamaṇḍapa has Kālāntaka, Ardhanārīśvara, Kalyāṇasundara and Bhairava embedded on the east wall. The inner Prākāra has a tirucuṟṟālai that has images of the Goddess, Caṇḍeśa, Sambandar, Appar and Dakṣiṇāmūrti. The inclusion of the Nāyanmār, especially Caṇḍeśa, along with the deities points to an early apotheosis of the hyminst saints and of Caṇḍeśa – who was accepted in the Coḻa temples as a surveyor of all donations and related transactions made to the temple. The garbhagṛha walls contain Dakṣiṇāmūrti (south face), Lingodbhava (west face) and Brahmā (north face). The Ardhamaṇḍapa has Gaṇeśa (south face) and the Goddess (north face). Here the conventional iconographic programme of the main shrine and the Ardhamaṇḍapa has remained intact. The elaboration is done in other places in the temple. Some kudus have images of Tripurāntaka and linga worshippers. These images take a significant form in the subsequent Coḻa periods. The toraṇas have images of the dancing Śiva, Yoga Narasimha, Gajāntaka and the Śayana Viṣṇu. The Coḻa signature here is evident in the multiplicity of the iconographic forms that have been introduced in this temple, in contrast to the simpler programme which existed earlier. Douglas Barrett argues that most of the temple-building activity in the early Coḻa period between AD 866 and 1004 can be dated on stylistic and iconographic grounds in clusters around certain political events or military campaigns.12 The above mentioned example supports this view as this temple was renovated in commemoration of the Coḻas’ victory over the Pandyas. Barrett maintains that by AD 940 Parāntaka I had begun to have trouble with the Rāṣṭrakūṭas. In AD 949 the Rāṣṭrakūṭas defeated the Coḻas at Takkolam. Parāntaka’s son and heir Rājāditya was killed and Kṛṣṇa III assumed the title ‘conqueror of Kanchi and Tañjai’ and regained much of the lost ground, including control over Toṇḍaimaṇḍalam. Barrett says that from this period onwards one can again see an upsurge in temple-building activity, which received an extra fillip because of the patronage of Sembian Mahādevī (the queen of Gaṇḍarāditya and mother of Uttam Coḻa). Probably the most important temple renovated by Sembian Mahādevī was at Konerirajapuram, because of the earliest datable Naṭarāja image carved here as discussed in Chapter 2. On the south wall of the Vimāna of this temple is an inscription carved below a small sculptured panel saying that Sembiyan Mahādevī got this temple built in the name of her dead husband.13 Building a sacred structure in the memory of a deceased warrior/hero/king is ideologically related to the Sangam hero cults – though the scale, needs and the meaning of the sacred monument have changed in the Coḻa period. The devakoṣṭhas contain Brahmā (north), Lingodbhava (east) and a late Dakṣiṇāmūrti (south) that is probably a replacement for the original one. The south wall of Ardhamaṇḍapa contains Naṭaraja, Gaṇeśa and Agastya and the north wall contains Bhikṣāṭana, the Goddess and the Ardhanārīśvara. Sembian Mahādevī evolved an iconographic programme that was followed closely in most of the temples renovated or constructed by her.

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At the village of Sembian Mahādevī, named after her, she built the temple of Kailasanathasvami. Here, characteristic of most of her temples, the devakoṣṭhas are nine in number, including Bhikṣāṭana, Ardhanāri, the Goddess and the Naṭarāja. Thus she brought about a standardisation in the evolving temple iconographic programme that was being elaborated throughout the period. The Naṭarāja and Tripurāntaka had appeared on the Vimāna walls. The narratives were becoming multiplied to accommodate various forms of Śiva – a practice first adopted by the Pallavas and then carried on by the Deccan rulers. However these were largely narrative panels while the Coḻa temples use iconic images, suggesting a culmination of the process through which an image was used as an icon. The narrativity of the visual text is expressed only in the form of epic scenes on the walls (though not on the main shrine) of the Nagesvarasvami Temple at Kumbhakonam. This was taken up later by the royal temples of the Coḻas but the prominent images associated with the important visual spaces of the early Coḻa temples were largely iconic. The stage was now set for experimentation into the making of the royal temples in subsequent reigns that were not affiliated with the Bhakti centres but were rather the creations of the rulers. In the early Coḻa period therefore the renovation of a shrine was invariably linked to the royal assertion of power and control over the territory. However this assertion invariably came by extending royal patronage to a traditional Bhakti centre with the concept of royal expression of power through patronage of a shrine. This royal temple-building activity thus reflected royal power because of its potential to protect and extend the ruler’s territory and also to channel its resources to protect the centres of religious activity. These centres further integrated various social groups within their religious systems. The concept of the ruler’s potential to create a centre of religious activity in its own right in the form of the independent royal temple was yet to emerge in the early Coḻa period.

III With Rājarāja I comes the age of kings who, apart from patronising the shrines associated with the Bhakti centres, expressed their powerful authority and control by building temples that were completely royal creations. A considerable proportion of the resources was channeled into building these monuments and in creating and maintaining the entire ritual and administrative paraphernalia associated with a temple. The Rajarajesvaram temple of Rājarāja I at Tanjavur (the Coḻa political centre) begins this process. It has been argued by a long array of authors that this temple was a visual statement of the dominant authority of the Coḻa monarch – who had expanded his kingdom to its widest reach, who had succeeded in exploiting and channelling the major resource-bases of his kingdom, and who had consolidated the political authority of the Coḻass inside and outside his core area of political activity (that is the Kaveri Valley). Rājarāja’s kingdom comprised the whole of the Tamil region, Andhra, parts of Karnataka and the island of Sri Lanka; his military achievements included

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victory over the Kerala rulers as well. All these campaigns, apart from bringing economic benefits from the inland, enabled him to have effective control over the inland trade routes feeding the parts of the Coḻa country. The maintenance of a naval force provided a great advantage over the control of the overseas trade with China and other far-Eastern countries. Thus the stage was set (both economically and politically) for his undertaking the gigantic project of giving South India her tallest temple.14 Hence the scholarship relating the grandeur of this temple with royal power is justified. If we look at the conceptualisation of the Rajarajesvaram we find that it has been conceived as a grand abode for the supreme lord Śiva. On the garbhagṛha walls the central image with traditional directional symbolism has been discarded in favour of an opening into the Pradakṣiṇāpatha. Śiva is installed in the south, Naṭarāja in the west and a Goddess on the north.15 The sixteen remaining images on the northern, western and eastern faces of the first storey of the Vimāna all portray aspects of Śiva. Among the sixteen Vimāna images there does not seem to have been a conscious effort made to install the traditional directional deities. One expects to see Dakṣiṇāmūrti in the south, Brahmā in the north and Lingodbhava, Harihara Ardhanārīśvara or Viṣṇu in the west. Of these only Harihara and Lingodbhava in the west are present. The royal creation here not only elaborates and multiplies the legends and portrays Śiva as the omnipotent deity engaged in the protection of his devotees and the destruction of the ‘ignorant’ dissenters, but it also redefines the iconographic organisation of the temple in many ways, departing from its traditionanormative organisation. It reflects the royal potential to transform what has been crystallised by the normative tradition. A study has interpreted the images on the northern and the southern walls as reflections of what has been called ‘the paradox of Śiva the erotic ascetic’. According to this study the north wall faces the Himalayas, the home of Śiva’s consort. Hence on this wall are images expressing Śiva’s erotic/householder nature such as the Ardhanārīśvara, Gangādhara, Umālinginamūrti, and an image tentatively identified as Vīrabhadra. The south wall faces the land of Yama the god of death. Hence installed there are Bhikṣāṭana, Bhairava, Kālāntaka (mistakenly identified in the study referred to above as Kankālamūrti), and Naṭarāja.16 If this is true then it shows the royal patron’s attempt at reinterpreting the alignment of the images on his political/religious monument. A number of authors have interpreted the Tripurāntaka images on the second tier of the Vimāna as a convergent image of Śiva (the conqueror of the asuras and the restorer of order) and Rājarāja the military conqueror and empire builder.17 The political symbolism of the Tripurāntaka as an allegorical image of Rājarāja the warrior is only a part of the multiple-layered meanings of this image, as has been argued by R. Champakalakshmi. She says that the legend of Tripurāntaka subordinates all other cultic deities, since in the narrative they help Śiva in various ways by becoming his weapons and running his chariot etc. to kill the three demons. Hence by using this narrative in a dominant iconic form in the temple’s iconography Rājarāja achieved his aim of consolidating Śaivism and subordinating other faiths.18

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The iconographic programme of Tanjavur was the political iconography of Rājarāja, whose reign saw the most significant efforts at centralisation of power through various measures like revenue surveys, assessment, redefining nāḍus and introducing valanāḍus etc. The Tanjavur temple itself was the recipient of revenues from several villages located not only in Coḻamaṇḍalam but also in Jayankoṇḍacoḻamaṇḍalam, Gangapadi, Nulambapadi, Malaināḍu, Pāṇḍināḍu and Ilamaṇḍalam. The economic reach of the temple was impressive as it covered the whole kingdom.19 Rajarajesvaram thus represents the universal macrocosm in the visual form with Śiva as the controller, protector and the dominant divine ruler of this macrocosm. The monument allegorically and through its functional and visual impact reflects the grandeur which its royal patron enjoyed. Thus a convergence is created between the divine and human sovereigns through the cosmic symbolism of the temple. Rājarāja’s son and successor Rājendra I made his military power felt more strongly. There was at least an attempt by him to gain a stronghold in the Eastern Archipelago as all his praśastis mention his expedition against South East Asia, though the actual extent of his control over the region is doubtful. He defeated the Pāla ruler on the banks of Ganga – though this only expressed his military might and did not lead to any annexation of the northern territories into his kingdom. The fact that his northern expedition took largely a coastal route may not be without any significance considering his stake and interest in the maritime trade of his times. His expedition to Sri Vijaya and Sumatra seems to have been motivated by the same object of establishing the commercial interests of his country with China and other Far Eastern regions. In the first decade of the eleventh century AD he subjugated Cālukya Satyāśraya and conquered Idituraināḍu, the extremely fertile region in the Raichur Doab between Krishna and Tungabhadra rivers.20 He led a second campaign against Cālukyan Jayasimha21 in AD 1021–22 and defeated him at Maski22 though Jayasimha managed to retain a portion of Raichur Doab as is evident from his Miraj grant of AD 1024.23 Rājendra I established his own son in Madurai as his viceroy with the title Coḻa Pandya and also built a palace in Madurai.24 This viceroy was soon after placed in charge of the Kerala country as well. He was Jaṭāvarman Sundara Coḻa Pandya, to whose time belong the largest number of Coḻa–Pandya inscriptions. This shows that while Rājendra I made his presence felt in the outlying regions and managed to check the Cālukyan inroads into Raichur Doab, he directly controlled the Pandyan and Cera territories rather than merely establishing his supremacy over them. The resources acquired from their fertile tracts and maritime commercial activities and from his successful military campaigns were effectively channelled into the functioning of the Coḻas’ administrative apparatus. A considerable portion of the resources went into the construction of the second royal temple of the Coḻas, the Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram. This temple was constructed to commemorate Rājendra’s victory on the banks of the Ganga (hence the name). In this sense it is a visual expression of the Coḻa

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monarch’s military might and his territorial conquests. If we look at the cosmic symbolism of the temple and relate it to Rājendra’s dominant authority, this temple is as much an expression of the dominant and powerful monarch as its predecessor at Tanjavur. We have some epigraphical evidence from the temple itself that shows that most of the lands gifted to the Tanjavur temple by Rājarāja were transferred as a gift to Rājendra’s temple within twenty-five years of the original gift.25 This shows that Rājarāja’s temple was created as a visual form of the administrative apparatus of the Coḻa state authority, and hence its importance did not last long – unlike a Bhakti shrine that drew support from the social base and could sustain itself for centuries. With the focus shifting to the new ruler and his royal temple-city the support system was also transferred from the old structure to the new one. The northern site of this centre could also strategically control the northern areas of the Coḻas’ territory more conveniently. The iconographic programme of the temple closely follows the one at Tanjavur – though the sculptures may have been executed in a more refined manner and the narratives may be more elaborate (as has been shown in Chapters 1 and 2). Like the Tanjavur temple this temple is built according to the canonical prescriptions. It has the Aṣṭadikpālas and the eleven Rudras carved on the upper tiers at the appropriate places. Unlike the Tanjavur temple, however, Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram shows a greater conformity with the cardinal associative deities on its Vimāna walls. The west wall shows Lingodbhava, Viṣṇu, Viṣṇu-anugrahamūrti – all narratives relating to Viṣṇu. Apart from these Gangādhara and Subrahmaṇya have been added; the latter again appears on some Śiva temples traditionally. The north wall shows Durgā and Brahmā (the traditional deities associated with this wall) besides including the Bhairava and Kālāntaka forms of Śiva. The south wall has Gaṇeśa, Dakṣiṇāmūrti and Naṭarāja – again traditional icons associated with this wall. Ardhanārīśvara and Harihara have been introduced here. The iconographic innovations on the upper tiers of the Vimāna have already been explored in Chapter 2. These include an enshrined Tripurāntaka and Naṭarāja (probably a depiction of Cidambaram), dancing Bhṛngī above the Naṭarāja panel, and Viṣṇu and other deities depicted as subsidiary figures. This temple also iconises the position of Caṇḍeśa by providing a major shrine for him. The visual impact of the Caṇḍeśa shrine here is much greater than that of Rajarajesvaram (Figure 132). From being a deified Nāyanār he is transformed into a guardian deity. In elaborating the Tamil narrative aspects of the images this temple diverges from the iconographic format of the Tanjavur temple. In this sense the royal expression of power at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram is reflected not so much in imposing the canon but in diverging away from it. This temple replicates the cultic subordination of other deities, elaborates the Śaivite narratives thus emphasising his image as the omnipotent god and allies itself to Cidambaram, the most important devotional Śaivite centre and also a Cola political base. It also standardises the directional deities on the Vimāna walls while also introducing other forms and works out the cosmic

132 Caṇḍeśānugraha, Gangaikondacolapuram

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symbolism as efficiently as the Tanjavur temple. In terms of acting as the visual statement of the authority of the Coḻa state it is more eloquent than the Tanjavur temple, though the latter is more majestic and bolder.

IV The reign of Kulottunga I (AD 1070–1120) marks a watershed moment in Coḻa history. Kulottunga I did not belong to the direct line of Vijayālaya and was really an eastern Cālukya prince whose mother was a daughter of Rājendra I. The Kalingāttupparaṇi says that he was born and brought up at Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram and also made the crown prince of the direct Coḻa line.26 Thus at the end of nearly a century of dubious subordination to the Coḻa kingdom Vengī now became a province of the Coḻas resuscitated by the placement of its own ruler at the helm of power.27 Kulottunga I followed the policy of avoiding unnecessary wars and this paid off in the reigns of his successors, under whom the kingdom held together for about a century. A part of this policy was to drop the earlier Coḻa ambition to extend the kingdom beyond the Tungabhadra. Though he lost the Ceylonese province during his reign when Vijayabāhu was crowned as the ruler of Ceylon,28 he defeated the Pandyans decisively29 – and his major military achievement of course was his victory over Kalinga, in the memory of which the celebrated victory poem Kalingāttupparaṇi was composed by Jayankondan. We know of two invasions of Kalinga by Kulottunga I’s army30 and K. A. Nilakanta Sastri says that the second invasion was the subject of this Paraṇi.31 He also describes Kulottunga I’s loss of control over two important resource-bases towards the end of his kingdom, namely the northern half of Vengī and Gangavāḍī.32 This shows that the kingdom had started disintegrating towards the end of Kulottunga I’s rule, but for greater part of his rule he was able to hold sway over a considerable part of the kingdom he inherited and added Kalinga to it, though he conceded the loss of Ceylon and did not press his claim on any territory beyond the Tungabhadra. Kulottunga I did not build any royal temple of his own but he started a style in temple architecture which was followed by all his successors who engaged in architectural activity. Thus in his own way Kulottunga directed future Coḻa architecture with a political symbolism, even though his preoccupations with keeping his kingdom intact pre-empted any possibility of his building a fullfledged gigantic royal temple. The architectural style started by Kulottunga I was used to renovate the old temple at Melakkadambur. This place is about 20 miles by road from Cidambaram and 4 miles from Kattumannarkoyil, a town founded by Parāntaka I and named after him as Vīranārāyaṇacaturvedīmangalam. The praises of this temple were sung by Appar. He called this place Tirukkadambur and the temple here Karakkoyil. A fragmentary inscription found on the pavement of the Prākāra of this temple gives Kadambur the alternative name of Uttama Coḻa Caturavedimangalam.33 The location and the antecedents of the temple show that its place in the devotional pilgrimage network and its proximity to the great Śaivite centre of Cidambaram made it an easy choice for political activity. It is

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significant that early Coḻa rulers too created a Caturvedīmangalam at this place. These royal attempts at socio-religious integration and the reorganisation of the socio-economic structure were facilitated by the religious importance attached to a centre. It is also to be remembered that Cidambaram was a major political centre where the Coḻa rulers were crowned. Hence when Kulottunga I came to power in a troubled kingdom it was only expected that he choose a temple of such religious and political significance for renovation besides extending his patronage to Cidambaram. His architectural activity validated his accession to the Coḻa throne. Presently this temple at Melakkadambur is referred to as the Amritaghateshvarar temple. On the eastern wall of the Ardhamaṇḍapa is found an inscription from the forty-third year of Kulottunga I beginning with his many historical introductions-‘pugal-mad –viḷanga.’ It is very likely that this temple was rebuilt using stone sometime before this date. The sculptural and architectural styles too point to Kulottunga I’s reign. The south wall of the main shrine contains another inscription from the forty-third year of Kulottunga I. On the basis of these features S. R. Balasubrahmanyam assigns the date for the renovation of the temple at around AD 1113.34 This is the first temple ever built that is planned in the shape of a chariot with two wheels on each side drawn by caparisoned horses in a prancing posture. It is this feature of a temple shaped in the form of a chariot that was a dominant influence on the architecture of the successive periods, as will be shown in the subsequent discussion. The temple renovated by Kulottunga I consists only of the garbhagṛha and the Ardhamaṇḍapa. There are three Devakoṣṭhas on the main wall of the shrine. The images follow the traditional cardinal alignment. We have Dakṣiṇāmūrti (south), Viṣṇu (east) and Brahmā (north). On the outer walls of the Ardhamaṇḍapa there are two more Devakoṣṭhas, adorned with porches and resting on pillars, similar to those of the garbhagṛha and the Ardhamaṇḍapa. These are covered with sculptures in bas-relief. Here the traditional deities on the north and the south walls are joined by additional images narrating the various exploits of Śiva in the iconic form. Thus Gaṇeśa and Agastya flank the Ardhanārīśvara niche on the south wall. Bhikṣāṭana, Alinganamūrti, Gangādhara and the Goddess are found on the north wall. Not only have Śiva’s forms been included but they also eclipse the traditional deities on these walls. The base has miniature sculpted panels of Lalāṭatilakam (without Kālī), Lingodbhava, the Periya Purāṇam narratives of Caṇḍeśa, Kaṇṇappa Nāyanār or the narrative of Kunkiḷikkalaya Nāyanār. The choice of narratives shows that the focus is on the inclusion of the Goddess cult (as discussed in Chapter 2) and the subordination of other deities of the trinity to Śiva, giving a space to the mūlabhṛtya of the koyil as designated by the previous Coḻa rulers (though there is no separate shrine for Caṇḍeśa) and inclusion of folk rituals in the worship system of Śaivaism. This temple shows the tendency of royal patronage to give a standardised iconographic pattern to the main shrine according to the

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normative tradition while introducing innovations in other parts of the temple in order to create the image of Śiva as the supreme deity. It also reveals the tendency to give space to folk cultic practices thus attempting to bring them into the Śaivite fold. Even within its limited area it shows all the features of the earlier Coḻa temples besides introducing an innovative architectural plan. The chariot-shaped plan of this temple set forth a profusion of shrines with Maṇḍapas shaped in the form of a chariot that continued till the end of the Coḻa rule and even later. There is the evidence of the Tyagarajasvami temple, Tiruvarur (Figure 133). Also there are two such structures at Cidambaram; one is the Maṇḍapa called Nṛtta Sabhā on the south side close to the second Prākāra and opposite the shrine of Naṭarāja. S. R. Balasubrahmanyam dates it to Kulottunga I’s reign,35 while Vidya Dehejia dates it to Kulottunga III’s reign.36 The other is the sub-shrine of Subrahmanya now called Pandyanayakam again dated by Dehejia to Kulottunga III’s reign while generally dated by Balasubrahmanyam to the last Coḻa phase of AD 1070–1270. Either way it is obvious that both these structures at the Naṭarāja temple took their inspiration from Melakkadambur. The two royal temples subsequent to the Amrtaghatesvarar again have Maṇḍapas shaped in the form of a chariot. The Rajarajesvaram at Darasuram built by Rājarāja II (AD 1146–1173) has an Agramaṇḍapa portrayed as being drawn by elephants and another Maṇḍapa drawn by horses, while the Kampaharesvara temple at Tribhuvanam built by Kulottunga III (AD 1178–1216) has a Maṇḍapa depicted as being drawn by the horses. (Figures 134, 135). The Nagesvarasvami temple also has a chariot shaped Maṇḍapa (at Kumbhakonam) datable to the last phase of the Cola period or later. It has been argued by scholars that these Maṇḍapas depicted the deity as the all-surveying divine sovereign riding on a chariot and supervising all human activity.37 In the case of the Śiva temples built with a chariot-shaped Maṇḍapa attached to them (or with the temple itself in the form of a chariot as in Melakkadambur) the concept seems to have derived its origin from the legend of Tripurāntaka, in which Śiva rode a chariot to kill the Tripura demon. Thus the chariot-shaped structure is comparable to the narrative and iconic Tripurāntaka panels and images from the pre-Kulottunga I period. They emphasise allegorically the all-surveying monarch who supervised his territory riding on a chariot. This allegory was possible only because the metaphors of eulogy and iconography developed over the preceding centuries had created a convergence of the images of the rulers and the deity (in this case Tripurāntaka). The Amritaghateshvarar temple in this sense sets the norm for the conceptualisation of the shrine as a vehicle for the divine sovereign and brings together the images of the ruler and the deity. Though small in size this temple has a significant vision as it redefines the symbolism of a temple.

133 Thyāgarāja Shrine, Tiruvarur

134 Chariot shaped maṇḍapa, Darasuram

135 Chariot shaped maṇḍapa, Tribhuvanam

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It has been mentioned before that although Kulottunga I was able to keep much of the Coḻa territory intact the kingdom had started disintegrating towards the end of his reign. K. A. Nilakanta Sastri says that towards the close of Kulottunga I’s rule the kingdom’s extent became greatly circumscribed by the success of the Hoyasalas and the western Cālukyas. He says that the most characteristic feature of the period from the last years of Kulottunga’s reign onwards was the growth in the power of the local chieftains. Further by the end of Rājarāja II’s rule the administrative system was weakening even at the centre. Assessing the spread of the kingdom Sastri says that it included the Kongu and eastern Ganga territories definitely. In the Telugu country Rājarāja II’s suzerainty is clearly attested to by a fair number of stone inscriptions found throughout the Vengi region, even up to Draksarama – though the feudatory chiefs of Velanāḍu were becoming increasingly powerful. According to Sastri the strength of the centralised bureaucratic administration so laboriously planned and built up by Rājarāja I and his successors was gone, as the feudatory chiefs – while acknowledging the nominal suzerainty of the king – were playing a more important role in conducting the affairs of their territories than the king was.38 Rājarāja II built his Airavatesvara temple at Darasuram (5 km from Kumbhakonam), another political centre of the Coḻas, in such troubled circumstances. As mentioned earlier its Agramaṇḍapa is shaped like a chariot being pulled by elephants. The Maṇḍapa too is shaped like a chariot, this one being pulled by horses. Hence this temple explicitly employs the chariot allegory described above. The Periya Purāṇam friezes and the Śarabheśa shrine here are very important in the light of their religious context and political patronage. The former reflects the deification of the cult of the Nāyanārs and the latter shows the role of royal patronage in supporting a Śaivite cult which grew in conflict with the rival Vaisnavism. Apart from these the Rājagambhīra Maṇḍapa base has miniature panels of the Tripurāntaka on his chariot (thus emphasising visually the chariot allegory employed by this temple), Kālāntaka repelling Yama, Śiva burning Kāma and the destruction of Dakṣa’s sacrifice by Vīrabhadra, all in narrative form. It has been argued that Ottakkūttan the court poet of three successive Coḻa rulers took the Tamil literary genre of Paraṇi (victory poems) to the level of political allegory through his Takkayāgapparaṇi, which narrates the destruction of Dakṣa’s sacrifice by Vīrabhadra that is really an allegorical reference to the dominant image of Rājarāja II. Śiva, who destroyed the sacrifice, is imaged as the deity of the Darasuram temple constructed by him.39 The narrative panels on the maṇḍapa base depict Śiva as the omnipotent destroyer of evil and the protector of his devotees and the order on one level, but on another level they establish an allegorical convergence of the royal and the divine images. Above these narrative panels in five niches are Agni, Indra, Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Vāyu standing with hands in the attitude of reverence to Śiva. This at once subjugated the other cultic deities to Śiva, and if we look at it allegorically it images the king in a dominant position vis-à-vis his chiefs.

pantheons of power – the iconographic programme in royal temples 269

Like the other Coḻa temples this temple has a Caṇḍeśa shrine on the north of the main shrine. In the north-western portion of the cluster are carved one-hundred-and-eight Pāśupataācāryas in a row fixed in the wall, with their names and short inscriptions inscribed below. This shows the extent of the apotheosis of the saints associated with Śaivism and also the role of royal patronage extended to this apotheosis. By this time the Pāśupata cult had gained a significant presence in the Coḻa region. The Devī shrine of this temple is coeval with the main shrine, suggesting the inclusion of Goddess worship into Saivism and its canonical ritualisation. The back wall of this shrine contains a beautiful image of Mahiṣāsuramardinī piercing a fully anthropomorphic Mahiṣa with her trident. Various divine figures stand on the wall outside the niche with folded hands. Interestingly there is the legend of Rāvaṇānugraha carved on the wall to the right of the Devī. This legend uses the continuous narrative mode, with the story progressing from bottom to top layers; in total four layers are used. While the central niche glorifies the power of the Goddess, the narrative on the sidewall highlights the supremacy of Śiva and a total inclusion of the Goddess into the Śaivite fold. For in this legend Pārvatī is frightened when Rāvaṇa begins to shake Kailasa and holds Śiva for support, thus showing an identity totally opposed to that of the independent and powerful Mahiṣāsuramardinī. The main shrine’s niches have the traditional cardinal deities on the central niches in addition to various forms of Śiva. Thus while the canonical tradition is maintained various innovations and additions have been used to suit the religious and political needs of the sect and the royal patron of the twelfth century AD. While the visual impact of Airavatesvara conveys a grand image of the royal patron and the allegory too supplements this grand image, we have to relate it to the political context in which this temple was built. If we take the assessment of Nilakanta Sastri as correct then it seems that the concept of ritual polity works for Rājarāja II though not for his predecessors up to Kulottunga I. Probably it would not be wrong to argue that in the case of the two Bṛhadeśvara temples there is a convergence of the imageries of a powerful ruler and a powerful deity and the political context supports this convergence, as a centralised state with royal influence pervading all aspects of authority existed to support this image. In the case of Kulottunga I (though he did not build a temple of his own) his architectural activity again coincides with the assertive presence he had in the Coḻa region for the major part of his reign. Also he redefines the normative concepts for building a temple and his definition becomes the dominant trend for successor temples. As for Darasuram the allegorical imagery utilised here seems to be more of a device to maintain a dominant image of the ruler than a case of a parallel between royal power and imaged power. As we know the monarch was no longer an all-pervasive powerful figure in the twelfth century AD; hence the need to use this device was greater. The last Coḻa royal temple was built by Kulottunga III at Tribhuvanam and was called the Kampaharesvara temple. In his time the forces of opposition

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had become quite strong. The greatest adversaries of the Coḻas, the Pandyas, were raising the flag of independence in his time. Kulottunga III had to wage three campaigns against them and when he finally vanquished them he built this temple to commemorate his victory. The humiliating treatment meted out to the Pandyas has already been discussed in Chapter 3 in another context. This temple hence is a symbol of the king’s power and a testimony to his potential to vanquish the enemy. His empire may have shrunk in size but this potential to defeat a major adversary helped in adding to the glory of the royal image. The Kampaharesvara temple’s Maṇḍapa (as described earlier) has been shaped in the form of a horse-drawn chariot and hence uses the symbolism associated with the chariot-shrine. The main shrine uses the traditional cardinal deities and the elaborate multiplication of images on the upper tiers of the Vimāna. What needs to be mentioned here is that by carving so many forms of Śiva on the upper tier the deity and (allegorically) its royal patron were imaged as the omnipotent sovereigns. Here it is remarkable that the traditional placement of images on various walls of the shrine has not been disturbed but innovation is introduced by placing more narrative icons on the upper tiers. This temple also has a Somāskanda / Tyāgarāja shrine. The Utsavaberas of Tyāgarāja were kept in such shrines. We know that the Tyāgarāja cult was consciously patronised by the Coḻas as an important cult next only to Naṭarāja. The Utsavaberas of Tyāgarāja were taken out around the temple streets on a wooden chariot during festivals. This created the imagery of a victorious deity going out to survey his realm. This was the overt expression of the chariot-temples. At Tribhuvanam the chariot symbolism emphasises the various aspects of the royal patrons and equates it with that of the deity victorious in war. The basis for this image of power comes from the king’s success in vanquishing a formidable rival. The foregoing discussion shows that in the seventh to the ninth centuries AD the cosmic symbolism of the temple defined the king as a dominant monarch who had attained his status through successful campaigns to establish territorial control over his rivals. The temple in the seventh to the ninth centuries is more a symbol of the victory of the king who had acquired dominance over a wide geographical space by integrating various forms of resources. However in this period there were several nuclei of power across peninsular India. Though there were efforts by the ruling powers of one centre to invade into the realm of another power-centre the balance between these nuclei was more or less maintained throughout the seventh to the ninth centuries AD. The symbolism of the temple of this period thus refers to the potential of the monarch to retain the balance between his own centre of power and rival centres which might try to encroach upon his own territorial sovereignty. The Coḻa period saw not only an attempt to harness the various forms of resource-base by the ruler but also an endeavour to transcend the territorial limits of his own centre of power and to acquire control over his rival’s powers.

pantheons of power – the iconographic programme in royal temples 271

This transcendence required both the defeat of and accession to the rival territories, and a proclamation of submission from the rival powers across peninsular India. It also involved a harnessing and channeling of the resources of this expanded area of political influence towards the nucleus of power in the Coḻa region. It is because of this potential for political transcendence the Coḻa rulers had that it is possible to read the powerful cosmic symbolism in the language of their temples. Over the time-span of the Coḻa dynasty we also see a transformation in the symbolism of their temples. As we have mentioned before Darasuram’s imagery conveys the message of royal power, but probably this image relates more to a ritual polity than to the actual image of an omnipotent monarch as Coḻa power was on the wane during Rājarāja II’s time. The Tribhuvanam temple attempts to recapture the image of a transcendental Coḻa polity as it symbolises the Coḻa victory over a major rival. However during this time Coḻa power was in reality consistently on decline; hence an all-pervasive image of the sovereign is not possible to read into this temple.

Notes 1 The most characteristic example of this is found in J. V. Chelliah (ed.), Paṭṭupāttu – Ten Tamil Idylls, Tamil Univeristy, Thanjavur, 1985 (Reprint), p. 69. 2 R. Champakalakshmi, “The Sovereignty of the Divine – The Vaiṣṇava Pantheon and the Temporal Power in South India,” in H. V. Srinivas Murthy et al. (ed.), Essays on Indian History and Culture (Felicitation Volume in Honour of Professor. Sheikh Ali), Mittal Publishers, New Delhi, 1990, p. 56. 3 Ibid., p. 64. 4 K. V. Ramesh, Chalukyas of Vatapi, Agam Kala Prakashan, Delhi, 1984, pp. 161–162. 5 EI, III, p. 4, line 9. 6 For this concept, one may see Carol Radcliff Bolon, “Two Cālukya Queens and Their Commemorative Temples” and R. Nagaswamy, “Innovative Emperor and His Personal Chapel,” both papers in Vidya Dehejia (ed.), Royal Patrons and Great Temple Art, Marg Publications, Bombay, 1988. 7 S. R. Balasubramanyam, Early Coḻa Temples, Orient Longman, Delhi, 1971, Section on VelacheriDandisvarar Temple. 8 S. R. Balasubramanyam, Four Coḻa Temples, N. M. Tripathi Pvt. Ltd., Bombay, Sponsored by Bhulabhai Memorial Institute, 1963, p. 16. 9 Ibid., p. 28. 10 Ibid., p. 32. 11 See note 8 above, p. 31. 12 Douglas Barrett, Early Coḻa Architecture and Sculpture (866–1014 A.D.), Faber and Faber, London, 1974, pp. 43 ff. 13 SII, III, No. 146.

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14 H. Sarkar, The Kampaharesvara Temple at Tribhuvanam, Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamil Nadu, Madras, 1974, p. 3. 15 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, Middle Coḻa Temples, Thomson Press, Delhi, 1975, p. 30. 16 Ann L. Detweiler, The Rajarajsvara Temple, Unpublished Thesis, University of Michigan, Ann Arbour, 1978, pp. 119–20. 17 Some prominent writings on this theme are: Vidya Dehejia, Art of the imperial Coḻas, Columbia University Press, New York, 1990, pp. 51 ff.; K. R. Sirnivasan, “An Interesting Sculpture in Tanjavur” quoted by Gary J. Schwindler, “Speculations on the theme of Siva as Tripurāntaka as it Appears During the Reign of Rājarāja I in the Tanjavur Area, A.D. 1000”, Ars Orientalis, 1987 (Pub. 1989), Vol. 17, pp. 163–178; Sivaramamurti, Royal Conquests and Cultural Migration in South India; Calcutta, 1955, p. 29. 18 R. Champakalakshmi, Trade, Ideology and Urbanisation in South India, 300 BC– 1300 AD Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1996, p. 431. 19 Ibid., P. 432; SII, II, nos. 4 and 92. 20 EI, XII, p. 295–96. 21 EI, IX, p. 233. 22 SII, II, pp. 94–95, n. 4. 23 IA, VIII, p. 18. 24 “Tiruvalangadu Copper Plates” SII, Vol. III, Parts III and IV, No. 205, pp. 383 ff. 25 R. Nagaswamy, Gangaikoṇḍacoḻapuram, State Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamil Nadu, Madras, 1970, pp. 40–41. 26 Ibid., p. 57. 27 K. A. N. Sastri, The Coḻas, University of Madras, Madras, 1955, p. 301. 28 EZ, II, p. 207. 29 EI, V, pp. 103–4. 30 SII, III, p. 72. 31 K. A. N. Sastri, op. cit., p. 321. 32 Ibid., pp. 325–330. 33 See n. 8 above, p. 47. 34 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam (Four Cola Temples), op. cit., p. 48. 35 Ibid., p. 55. 36 Vidya Dehejia (Art of the Imperial Coḻa), op. cit., p. 100. 37 Ibid., pp. 104–5; Dr Gerd Mevisson also forwarded this argument at the Seminar on the Relationship of Stone Sculpture to Temple Architecture, National Museum, New Delhi in Sept. 1998. He however, implied that this allegory is more symbolic than realistic as the Cola power was waning at this time. 38 K. A. N. Sastri, op. cit., pp. 352–353. 39 S. R. Balasubrahmanyam, Later Coḻa Temples, Mudgala Trust, Madras, 1979, pp. 231–232.

Reflections

In the creation of early mediaeval iconography the socio-religious currents of peninsular India had a major role to play. The findings in Chapter 1 trace the important evolutionary elements of these currents spanning the period covering the compilation of Sangam poetry to the end of the Coḻas’ rule. The integrative religious currents contributed towards the making of the earlymediaeval iconography. The Bhakti poetry of the early mediaeval period picks up these integrative currents and merges them with the Puranic ideal and propagates an emotional devotion towards a personal deity. This notion of personal devotion towards a transcendental deity was instrumental in creating a parallel between the divine sovereign (who received obeisance from his devotees) and the human sovereign (who received submission/ loyalty from his subjects). We have seen that the worship–ritual system of the temple-oriented religion reinforced this parallel between the human and the divine sovereigns. The religious network that was created by the Bhakti poets further helped in the transmission of the idea of this imagic parallel across the social space spanned by Bhakti poetry. The royal intervention in the textual construction – in both the literary and the visual media – added another dimension to the image of the royal patron of the temple religion, whose identity had a symbolic parallel with the divine identity. The redefinitions, accommodations and the metaphors used in these texts created under royal patronage highlighted the control that the ruler had over religious space. Further this religious space that the ruler patronised reinforced the imagic parallel between the ruler and the deity. The extensive iconographic survey in Chapter 2 with its correlative readings into the technical treatises of iconography, shows the integrative socio-religious processes that went into the making of these images. It also underlines the instances (or rather, iconic forms) that carry folk elements along with the Sanskritic–Puranic elements. The creation of early mediaeval temple iconography involved bringing together all these currents in the visual forms. created The spatial survey also shows the extent to which these iconographic forms with multiple meanings travelled across a geographical space. The direction of this transmission was both from north to south and vice-versa.

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Another issue that has engaged the survey in Chapter 2 is the question of the extent to which the iconographic creation follows the prescriptions in the technical treatises, which may or may not have been canonised and collated at the time of the making of the images (an oral dissemination of the knowledge and an unwritten awareness of the details is a possibility though). The observation of the minute details of the images became a necessity for this purpose, though a little cumbersome as well. While making this comparative analysis what emerges is that the creation of the visual and the verbal texts of iconography went on simultaneously, and that the texts of both media draw from each other and mould each other constantly. That is why it is not possible to establish a one-to-one parallel between the iconographic details as reflected in the verbal and the visual forms. This process has been termed in this work as the circular process of textual creation, in which the text of one medium both draws and moulds the text of another medium. Chapter 2 also partially forms the basis for some of the arguments which have been propounded in Chapter 3. Chapter 3 explores the ideational currents from the pre-Pallava literature that were utilised in the imaging process of the early mediaeval period. However it has also been stressed that the context and the needs of the two periods were very different – one was a kin-based heroic society in which the person of the chief was an object for adulation while the other saw the evolution of a territory-based kingship in which the office of the king came to be venerated. An attempt has been made to explore the symbolic parallel between the perceptions of the territory and woman, and to locate this symbolic parallel in the context of the notions of conquest and possession that made it explicit. It has been shown that this is again an idea that has its precedent in pre-Pallava society. This parallel formed an important undercurrent in the making of early mediaeval images as we have discussed in this chapter. The iconographic details surveyed in Chapter 2 provide the evidence for the expression of hierarchical equations with a stress on rendering woman (or conquered territory) powerless; this is reflected in these early mediaeval images. This woman–territory symbolism helps to build the image of a divine conqueror who is allegorically equated with the royal conqueror. This allegorical equation between the ruler and the deity has been made explicit in the eulogies of the early mediaeval period as we have discussed in Chapter 4. This equation constructs the image of the king as both an upholder of the social order according to the Dharma ideal and as a dominant monarch. However these two categories overlap and there is no sharp distinction between them. Chapter 4 shows the ways in which early mediaeval iconography makes this imagic parallel between the ruler and the deity explicit. The Puranic forms that have most prominently reflected this have been discussed. We notice that the eulogies produced employ different forms of the deities in the pre-Coḻa and Coḻa periods. It is also remarkable that the forms that are most frequently used in the Coḻa eulogies are also the ones that became popular in Coḻa temple art. This points towards a psychological transmission of the

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latent idea of this allegoric parallel from the visual to the verbal text and viceversa. Another form in which this allegoric parallel becomes explicit is in the court literature of the Coḻa period, which draws from the idiom of the sacred literature and images the ruler on the pattern of the image of the deity in the sacred literature. This has its visual parallel in the architecture of the later Coḻa period that extensively uses the symbolism of the god (and allegorically, the ruler) riding on a chariot to survey his realm. This is also the imagery employed in the courtly and the sacred Ūlā. The architectural expression of this aspect has been discussed in Chapter 5. Chapter 5 also discusses the cosmic symbolism of the temples created by these early mediaeval rulers. This symbolism places the main deity in the centre of the universe, implying the subordination of other cultic deities around him. Allegorically it reflects the royal patron’s control of his kingdom with the subordination of his subjects and other minor chiefs. Apart from this the temple was invariably a symbol of victory and of the consolidation of the territorial sovereignty achieved by its royal patron. This is reflected in the location and the moment of construction of each particular temple. This again underlines the military prowess, the territorial sovereignty and the power of the ruler. The iconographic programme of the temple further highlights it. In the case of the Coḻas we can see that the powerful symbolism of the temple coincides with the fluctuation in Coḻa power. While all Coḻa royal temples convey an image of power, when we correlate it with the actual level of political control exercised by the creators we find that the symbolism of a powerful monarch analogous to the omnipotent deity can be interpreted up to Kulottunga I’s time, while Darasuran and Tribhuvanam do not lend themselves to this interpretation completely. It will be pertinent here to discuss the various ideas of the meanings behind a visual image that have been propounded by different scholars. Roland Barthes stresses the weakness of an image that is a representation. Thus the variability of readings is no threat to the ‘language’ of the image if it be admitted that the language is composed of idiolects, lexicons and sub-codes. The image is penetrated through and through by the system of meaning in exactly the same way as man is articulated to the very depth of his being in distinct languages. The language of the image is not merely the totality of utterances uttered; it is also the totality of utterances received. This language must include ‘surprises’ of meaning.1 Boris Uspensky says about mediaeval European painting that one may legitimately approach a work of ancient art as an object to be deciphered and attempt to decipher its particular language of artistic devices – that is the specific system used to convey one or other content on the picture plane. The difficulties involved in such an attempt at decipherment are caused by the fact that in most cases we lack sufficient knowledge not only of the expressive devices but also of the very content of ancient pictures. In view of these difficulties works of icon-painting occupy a place of cardinal significance in the decipherment of the language (or languages of mediaeval painting); they serve as the keys to deciphermentt. There are several reasons for this –

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above all, the very canonicity of icon-painting, the strict limitations in subjects and composition, their iconographical definiteness and the availability of models according to which subjects were painted from age to age. Precisely because the ancient icon painter so faithfully followed the relevant model a convention was established once and for all that sought to avoid innovations in the treatment of content, and any change in the language of artistic devices used by the painter thus becomes obvious. Naturally he was not always obviously attentive to this language, and frequently no doubt was quite unaware of the fact that his language differed somewhat from that of the model he was copying. The numerous compositions on the same subject become akin to translations of one and the same content into different languages. It is appropriate to mention in this connection that in the terminology of iconpainting a composition was actually called a ‘translation’. Icons are directly associated on the one hand with works of mural art such as frescoes and mosaics that are distinguished by the unity of composition stipulated by the general content of the entire pictorial complex as a whole; on the other hand they are linked with miniatures that are distinguished by the absence of a mandatory attachment to iconographic subjects and consequently by the greater freedom of the artists. The connection between these three forms of pictorial art is obvious. Thus for example frescoes and miniatures are linked by their common illustrative tendency – both are illustrations in the broad sense of the word, of some sort of text – that is, either they are already established (in the case of frescoes) or given by the immediate context (in the case of miniatures) they are both illustrative complexs united by a single narrative plot. It should be noted that the similarity between the fresco and icon is manifested not only in the similarity between common principles of pictorial composition but also in the techniques involved in the processing of the material. The expression ‘the language of icon painting’ represents something substantially more than a mere metaphor. When one speaks of the language of icon-painting he/she usually has in mind some sort of special system of symbolic representational that is specific precisely to the icon. In the broader semiotic sense however it is advisable to designate by the word ‘language’ (as applied to painting) the general system for conveying information employed in a pictorial work. It is obvious that with such an approach certain characteristics of the language of icon-painting will prove to be common to mediaeval painting in general and not specific just to the icon. It is natural that such characteristics include, in the first place, the most general principles of the language of a pictorial work. When considering such characteristics one may legitimately allude therefore not only to works of icon-painting but also to various works of art in general – to the extent to which they are linked to icons by common representational devices. At the same time a number of distinctive features of pictorial structure are indeed exclusively characteristic of and specific to works of icon-painting (such features may to a certain degree be connected with the pragmatic

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function of the icon); it is precisely these features that formally differentiate icons from works of secular painting.2 On the other hand E. H. Gombrich maintains that the crucial difference between the textual and the visual lies of course in the fact that no verbal description can ever be as particularised as a picture must be. Hence any text must give plenty of scope to the artist’s imagination. The same text can be illustrated in countless ways. Thus it is never possible from a given work of art alone to reconstruct the text it may illustrate. The only thing we can know for certain is that not all of its features can be laid down in the text. Which are, and which are not, can only be established once the text has been identified by other means.3 While these writings were mainly intended for European art forms it is remarkable that to a great extent they apply to Indian art, though we must remember that these passages are only extracts from the more extensive writings of these scholars. If taken in totality Indian art also differs substantially from European and and hence these theories propounded for the latter will not entirely work, since the context and the parameters for understanding the visual language of art and for aligning meanings with these images were very different in India. It is imperative then to use these ideas cautiously and only as far as they make sense in an Indian context rather than applying them wholesale to the material under study here.

Notes 1 Mark Gottdiener, Karin Boklund-Lagopoulou and Alexandros Ph. Lagopoulos (eds), Semiotics Volume III, Sage Benchmarks in Social Research Methods, Sage, London/Thousand Oaks/New Delhi, 2003; Roland Barthes, Rhetoric of the Image pp. 153–166. 2 Ibid., Boris Uspensky, General Premises for a Semiotic Consideration of the Ancient Icon, pp. 167–189. 3 E. H. Gombrich, Symbolic Images, Phaidon, London, 1972, p. 3.

Glossary

Abhaya Mudrā

Hand gesture which shows granting of fearlessness.

Adhiṣṭhāna

Platform on which the temple structure rests.

Āgamas

Ritualistic canons prescribing the norms for the construction of the temple, the worship procedure and the philosophical exposition related to the temple worship system.

Agamikas

Experts in the Agamic tradition.

Aham

Tamil poetry describing themes related to personal life.

Ainkūrunūru

One of the Sangam collections in the Eight Anthologies (Eṭṭuttogai).

Ālīḍha

Leg position showing the ‘climbing’ posture, with one leg planted straight on the ground and the other one bent at the knee.

Āḻvārs

Tamil Vaiṣṇava saints.

Añjali mudrā

Hand gesture showing hands joined together, denoting obeisance.

Anugraha Mūrtis

Iconographic forms showing the benevolent nature of the deity.

Apasmāra Puruṣa

The figure under the feet of the dancing image of Śiva, denoting ignorance.

Aṟṟuppaḍai

Bardic poetry which guided the audience towards the residence of the patron.

Āsana Mūrti

A sitting image of a deity, one of the three ways in which Viṣṇu is depicted.

Aṣṭadikpālas

Divine guardians of the eight directions.

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Asuras

Demons, opposite forces to the gods.

Avatāras

Ten incarnations of Viṣṇu.

Āyudhapuruṣas

Anthropomorphic depiction of Viṣṇu’s weapons.

Baliripu

‘Bali’s enemy’ i.e., Viṣṇu.

Bhakti

‘Devotion’ religious practice focused on the devotion for a personal god.

Bhujangatrāsa

Leg posture showing one lifted leg as if frightened by a snake, used for the Naṭarāja images of Śiva.

Bhūtam

‘Spirit,’ the guardian deity for four quarters referred to in Śilappadikāram.

Brahmadeya

Land granted to the Brāhmaṇas.

Cakra

Wheel weapon held by Viṣṇu.

Daitya

Demon.

Dakṣiṇā

Pledge to give something in charity.

Dānavas

Demons.

Devadāna

Land granted to the temple.

Devakoṣṭhas

Niches on the temple walls containing images of various deities.

Devayānī

One of the two spouses of Skanda/Kārttikeya, who belonged to the gods’ stock.

Devīsahita

Śiva shown in accompaniment with the Goddess.

Digvijaya

‘Conquest of the four directions,’ refers to the royal expedition aimed at subduing the rival rulers.

Divyadeśams

Sacred centres related to Vaiṣṇavism.

Dvijas

‘Twice born,’ the upper caste, often the Brāhmaṇas.

Eiynārs

Tribes of hunters and robbers.

Eṭṭuttogai

Sangam poetic collection of eight anthologies.

Gajahasta

Hand gesture showing the elephant’s trunk.

Gaṇas

Śiva’s attendants.

Gangāvataraṇa

Legend of the descent of Ganga from the heaven.

Garbhagṛha

Sanctum sanctorum of a temple.

Gopurams

Gateways of a south Indian temple.

Grantha

Script devised to write Sanskrit texts in south India.

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Jagatī

Base on which the vimāna of the temple rises.

Kaḻal

Anklet worn by the heroes in ancient tamil region as a sign of valour.

Kalañju

Measure for gold.

Kālikoṭṭam

Kālī/Goddess shrine.

Kalingāttupparaṇi

Poem of the paraṇi genre describing Kulottunga I’s victory over the Kalingas.

Kallittogai

Post-Sangam Tamil poetic collection.

Kāñci tiṇai

The genre in which the ephemerality of life, youth and possessions is emphasised.

Kaṇḍu

Sacred pillar used for worship.

Karaṇas

Poses acquired during the process of dance.

Kevala

Image of a deity depicted alone.

Koṭṭam

Shrine.

Koyil

Temple.

Kṛttikās

Constellation of six stars (Pleiades); personified as six divine maidens who brought up Skanda (therefore his name, Kārttikeya).

Kumāra Koṭṭam

Shrine for Murugan–Kārttikeya.

Kuriñci

Hilly ecological zone in Sangam poetry.

Kuriñcippāttu

Part of the collection of ten long poems (Paṭṭupāttu).

Lalāṭabimbas

Upper middle portion of the doorway which often contain some figure.

Lalāṭatilakam

A dance pose which shows the dancer lifting one leg and marking his/her forehead with a tilaka.

Lalitāsana

An image shown in a sitting posture with one leg dangling and another resting on the seat with knee raised.

Māṟavar

Tribe of hunters.

Marutam

Ecological zone of fertile cultivable tracts in Sangam poetry.

Mokṣa

Liberation from the cycle of births and deaths.

Mudrā

Pose.

Mūlabhṛtya

Chief attendant, often used for Caṇḍeśa in Śiva temples.

282 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

Mullai

Ecological zone of the forests and pastoral tracts in Sangam poetry.

Nācciyār Tirumoḻi

Composition by Āṇḍāl, a Vaiṣṇava female saint.

Nakar

A shrine.

Naṟṟiṇai

Part of the collections in the Eight Anthologies.

Naṭukal

Hero stones, considered sacred and worshipped.

Nāyanmār

Śaiva saints.

Neital

Ecological zone of the coastal tracts in Sangam poetry.

Nivandakkarār

Temple executives.

Nṛttamūrtis

Dancing images, often of Śiva.

Pālai

Ecological zone of the desert tracts, which were formed in the drought situation, when the hilly and forest tracts became parched.

Pāṇan

Bard.

Paraṇi

A victory poem composed to celebrate a king’s conquest over a rival.

Paripāṭal

Post-Sangam poetic composition.

Parivāra devatās

Subsidiary deities in a temple.

Pātāla

Netherworld.

Patiṟṟupāttu

One of the Ten Long Poems.

Paṭṭinapālai

One of the Ten Long Poems.

Paṭṭupāttu

A collection of ten long poems in ancient Tamil.

Periya Purāṇam

A Hagiographic collection narrating biographies of the 64 Śaivite saints.

Perumpāṇāṟṟuppaḍai

One of the Ten Long Poems.

Piḍārī

The Goddess shrine in a temple.

Pillaittamiḻ

Tamil poetry which depicts a particular deity as a child and sings the exploits of this divine child. This was also used for the Coḻa rulers.

Pīṭha

Seat or pedestal (‘back’).

Porunārāṟṟuppaṭai

One of the Ten Long Poems.

Prabhāvalī

Circle of halo or flame, often used to surround the Naṭarāja images.

the

glossary 283

Pradakṣiṇā

Circumambulation; the path for circumambulation.

Prākāra

The surrounding wall of a monument.

Praśasti

Eulogy.

Pratimālakṣaṇa

‘Description of images,’ the iconographic chapter in a canonical text like the Āgama which details the various iconographic forms.

Pugal

Fame acquired by charitable acts in ancient Tamil society.

Puram

Poetic theme describing the details of public life.

Puranānūru

A collection from the Eight Anthologies.

Rājakula Pratimāgṛha

The sculpture gallery for the royal family portraits.

Rasātala

Netherworld containing primeval waters.

Rāvaṇānugraha

Legend/image narrating the legend of Rāvaṇa trying to shake Kailasa and Śiva vanquishing his pride and thereby granting him grace.

Samhāra Mūrtis

Images of a deity showing his/her vanquishing the rival.

Śankha

Conch.

Śayana

Sleeping form, one of the three forms of Viṣṇu.

Śilappadikāram

Ancient Tamil epic.

Śivamaṇḍaladīkṣā

Initiation into Śaivism.

Snāpana Mūrti

Image used for worship rituals in the shrine.

Sṛṣṭi

Creation, one of the five acts of the dancing Śiva.

Sthānaka

Standing image, one of the three forms of Viṣṇu.

Sthiti

Maintenance, one of the five acts of the dancing Siva.

Talapurāṇas

Also Sthalapurāṇas,texts narrating the exploits of a deity associated with a sacred place.

Tamiḻakam

The Tamil region in the ancient period.

Taṇḍava

A dance form, often associated with Śiva.

Tarjanī mudrā

Hand gesture showing the index finger with other fingers folded.

Tevāram

Collection of hymns for Śiva composed by the first three Nāyanmār.

284 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

Tiṇais

Ecological zones in ancient Tamil poetry.

Tirobhava

Enveloping the destroyed universe, one of the five acts of the dancing Śiva.

Tīrttham

Sacred place of pilgrimage.

Tirudaśāngam

Ten royal insignia, also associated with Śiva in Tiruvācakam.

Tirumurugāṟṟupaṭai

One of the Ten Long Poems.

Tiruppāḷḷiyelucci

The Vaiṣṇava hymn of Toṇḍaratippoṭi.

Tiruvācakam

Composition by Maṇikkavācakar expounding the Śaivite philosophy in verse form.

Tiruvāymoḻi

Composition by Nammāḻvār as a part of Nālāayiradivyaprabandham (Four Thousand Sacred Hymns).

Tribhanga

Standing posture with three bends in the figure.

Ūlā

Genre of poetry describing the god/deity riding in a chariot and going out in a procession with the devotees/subjects watching.

Utsava Mūrti

Image of a deity meant for taking out during festive processions.

Vaikhānasa

Āgamas of the Vaiṣṇava tradition, from the sage Vikhanasa.

Vajra

Weapon made with bones.

Valli

One of the two consorts of Skanda/ Kārttikeya, who belonged to the hill tribe.

Vāḻudiyār

Title of the Pandyan ruler.

Varada Mudrā

Hand gesture showing the act of granting blessing.

Varāhalāñchana

Emblem of boar, used by the Calukyas.

Vātāpikoṇḍa

Conqueror of Vatapi.

Vimāna

Superstructure of the temple.

Viṣṇulakṣaṇam

‘Having the symbols of Viṣṇu,’ used for the Goddess holding conch and wheel.

Vyākhyāna Dakṣiṇāmūrti

Form of Śiva expounding the teachings of the Vedas sitting under a Banyan tree, often depicted on the southern wall of a Śiva temple.

Yūpa

Sacrificial altar.

Bibliography

Primary sources sanskrit works Agnipurāṇa, Anandasrama Sanskrit Book Series No. 41, Pune, 1900. Ajitāgama, N. R. Bhatt (ed.), Institute of Indology, Pondicherry, 1964–67. Aparājitapṛccha of Bhuvanadeva, P. A. Mankad (ed.), Gaekwad Oriental Series, Oriental Institute, Baroda, 1950. Bhṛgu’s Vaikhānasa Samhitā, Microfilm of Handwritten Manuscript in the Collection of the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts, New Delhi. Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇam and Rūpamaṇḍanam, Upendra Mohan Sankhyatirtha (ed.), Metropolitan Printing and Publications, Calcutta, 1936. Kāmikāgama – Uttarabhāga, Che Svaminatha Sivacharyas Publications, Madras, 1988. Kāśyapajñānakāṇḍah – A Ritual Handbook of the Vaikhānasas (Kāśyapa’s Vaikhānasa Samhitā), T. Goudriaan (translator and annotator), Mouton and Co., The Hague, 1965. Kāśyapaśilpam (The Pratimālakṣaṇa Portion of Amśumadbhedāgama), V. G. Apte and Krishnarai (eds), Anandasrama Sanskrit Book Series, Vol. 15, Pune, 1926. Linga Purāṇa, J. L. Shastri (ed.), Motilal Banarasidass, New Delhi, 1990 (Reprint). Marīci Samhitā – Vimānārcana Kalpa (The Pratimālakṣaṇa Portion of Marīci’s Vaikhānasa), Prayagadasa et al. (eds), Venkatesvara Press, Madras, 1926. Mayamatam, Bruno Dagens (ed. and tr.), Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts, New Delhi, 1994. Pratimālakṣaṇa of the Viṣṇudharmottara, D. C. Bhattacharya (ed. and tr.), Herman Publishing House, New Delhi, 1991. Samūrtārcanādhikaraṇa (The Pratimālakṣaṇa Portion of Atri’s Vaikhānasa), P. Bhattacharya, Raghunatha Chakravarti and M. Ramakrishna Kavi (eds), Sri Venkatesvara Oriental Series, No. 6. Skanda Purāṇa, Nag Publishers, Delhi, 1986. Taṇḍavalakṣaṇam, Venkata Narayana Awami et al. (eds), Munshiram Manoharlal, New Delhi, 1991 (1st ed. 1936).

286 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

The Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa, F. Eden Pargiter (ed. and tr.), Bibliothica Indica – A Collection of Oriental Works, Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1904; Indological Book House, Delhi/Varanasi, 1969. For Devī Māhātmya, see pp. 465–523. The Matsya Purāṇa, Jamna Das Akhtar (ed.), Oriental Publications, Delhi, 1972. Vāmana Purāṇa, A. S. Gupta(ed.), Kashiraj Trust, Varanasi, 1968. Varāha Purāṇa, J. L. Shastri (ed.), Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1985.

tamil works and their translations Bharati, Sriram and Sowbhagyalakshmi (trs), The Tiruvāymoḻi of Nammāḻvār Rendered in English, Tyaga Bharati Music Education Mission, Melkote, 1987. Chelliah, J. V. (tr.), Paṭṭupāttu – Ten Tamil Idylls, Tamil University, Tanjavur, 1985 (Reprint). Danielou, Alain (tr.), Śilappadikāram by Ilāngo Aḍigal, George Allen and Unwin, London, 1967. Gangadharan, T. S. (ed.), Kulottungan Pillaittamiḻ of Ottukūttar, Tanjore Saraswati Mahal Publication No. 154, Tanjavur, 1974. John, Samuel and Shu Hikosaka (eds), Tamil Poetry through the Ages (Ettuttogai), Vol. I, Institute of Asian Studies, 1997. Ottakuttar, Mūvar Ūlā, Kalakshetra, Madras, 1957. Peterson, Indira Visvanathan (ed. and tr.), Poems to Śiva – The Hymns of the Tamil Saints, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1991 (For translations from Tevaram). Ramanujan, A. K. (ed. and tr.), Hymns for the Drowning, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1981(For translations from Divyaprabandham). Ramanujan, A. K. (ed. and tr.), Poems of Love and War, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1985 (For translations from Aham and Puram poetry). Richman, Paula and Norman Cutler (eds and trs), A Gift of Tamil – Translations of Tamil Literature, Manohar and AIIS, Delhi, 1992. Sasivalli, S. (ed. and tr.), Karaikkāl Ammaiyār, International Institute of Tamil Studies, Madras, 1984. Seshadri, K. G. (Tr.), Paripāṭal, Institute of Asian Studies, Madras, 1996. Shulman, David Dean (ed. and tr.), Songs of the Harsh Devotee, University of Philadelphia, Philadelphia, 1990 (For translations from Sundarar’s poetry). Sundaram, P. S. (tr.), The Poems of Āṇḍāl (Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi), Anantacharya Indological Research Institute, Bombay, 1987. Vanmikanathan, G. (Condensor) and N. Mahalingam (General Editor), Periya Purāṇam by Sekkizhaar, Ramakrishna Math, Madras, 1985. Vanmikanathan, G. (tr.), Pathway to God through Tiruvācakam, Sri Kasi Mutt, Tiruppanandal, Tamil Nadu, 1980. Venkatakrishnan Mu Go (tr. and ed.), Tirukkural, Shakti Finance Publication, Madras, 1988.

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epigraphical references Aiyyar, K. R. Srinivasan (ed. and tr.), Inscriptions from the Pudukkottai State, Pudukkottai, 1946. Diskalkar, D. B., Selections from Sanskrit Inscriptions, Classical Publication, New Delhi, 1977. Hultzsch, E. (ed.), South Indian Inscriptions, Vol. I (New Series, Vol. III). Hultzsch, E. (ed.), South Indian Inscriptions, Vol. II, Parts I and II. Krishnan, K. G., Karandai Tamil Sangam Plates of Rajendra Cola I, Memoirs of the ASI, No. 79. Mahalingam, T. V., Inscriptions of the Pallavas, ICHR and Agam Prakashan, New Delhi, 1988. Sewell, R., Historical Inscriptions of South India, University of Madras, Madras, 1932. Venkataramayya, N. and P. V. Parabrahma Sastri (eds), Epigraphia Andhrica, Vol. II, Government of Andhra Pradesh, Hyderabad, 1974.

Besides the above mentioned specific volumes a more extensive survey has been carried out on the basis of the following: Annual Report on Epigraphy (ARE), all relevant volumes. Epigraphia Indica (EI), all relevant volumes. Epigraphia Zealanica (EZ), all relevant volumes. Indian Antiquary (IA), all relevant volumes. South Indian Inscriptions (SII), all relevant volumes.

Secondary works Aiyangar, P. T. Srinivas, History of the Tamils, Asian Educational Services, New Delhi, 1982. Altekar, A. S., The Rastrakutas and Their Times, Poona Oriental Series No. 36, Oriental Book Agency, Poona, 1934. Appadorai, A., Economic Conditions in Southern India (1000–1500 AD), Madras University Historical Series 12, University of Madras, 1936. Aravamuthan, T. G., “Early Pallavas of Kanchi,” Transactions of the Archaeological Society of South India (TASSI), Silver Jubilee Volume, 1962 (63). Asher, Catherine B. and Thomas R. Metcalf (eds), Perceptions of South Asia’s Visual Past, AIIS, New Delhi, Swarajya Dharma Sangha and Oxford and IBH Publication, New Delhi, 1994. Asher, Frederick M., “Historical and Political Allegory in Gupta Art,” Bardwell L. Smith (ed.), Essays on Gupta Culture, Motilal Banarasidass, Delhi, 1983. Auboyer, Jeannie, Sri Ranganatha Swami – Art and Architecture, Venkatesvara University Historical Series No. 8, Tirupati, 1967.

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Balambal, B., Feudatories of South India (800–1070), Chugh Publications, Allahabad, 1978. Balasubrahmanyam, S. R., Four Coḻa Temples, N. M. Tripathy Pvt. Ltd., Bombay, 1963, Sponsored by Bhulabhai Memorial Institute, Bombay. Balasubrahmanyam, S. R., Early Coḻa Art, Asia Publishing House, Bombay, 1966. Balasubrahmanyam, S. R., Early Coḻa Temples, Orient Longman, Bomabay, 1971. Balasubrahmanyam, S. R., Later Coḻa Temples, Mudgala Trust, Madras, 1979. Balasubrahmanyam, S. R., Middle Coḻa Temples, Thomson Press, Faridabad, 1975. Banerjea, Jitendra Nath, The Development of Hindu Iconography, Calcutta University Press, Calcutta, 1956. Barrett, Douglas, Early Coḻa Architecture and Sculpture (866–1014 AD), Faber and Faber Ltd., London, 1974. Barrett, Douglas, “The Dancing Siva in Early South Indian Art,” The Sixth Annual Mortimer Wheeler Archaeological Lecture, Proceedings of the British Academy, Vol. LXII, 1976. Beetham, David, The Legitimation of Power, Macmillan Education Ltd., London, 1991. Berkson, Carmel, Ellora – Concept and Style, Abhinav Publication and IGNCA, New Delhi, 1992. Berkson, Carmel, The Divine and the Demoniac – Mahisa’s Heroic Struggle With Durga, Oxford university Press, Delhi, 1995. Bharati, Sriram (tr.), The Sacred Book of Four Thousand (Nālāyira Divya Prabandham Rendered in English with Tamil Original), Sri Sadagopan Tirunarayanaswami Divya Prabandha Pathasala, Chennai, 2000. Biardeau, Madeleine, Hinduism – The Anthropology of a Civilisation, Tr. Richard Nice, French Studies in South Asian Culture and Society III, Oxford University Press, Delhi/Oxford/New York, 1994. Biddulph, C. H., Coins of the Coḻas, Numismatic Notes and Monographs 13, Numismatic Society of India, Varanasi, 1968. Brown, Percy, Indian Architecture, D. B. Taraporevala Sons and Co., Bombay, 1965 (Reprint). Burghart, Richard, “Hierarchical Modes of the Hindu Social System,” Man, Vol. 13, 1978, pp. 519–36. Champakalakshmi, R., and A. Swamy, “Pallava Antiquities in Periya Vanmani,” Journal of Madras University, Vol. XLI, Nos. 1 and 2, Jan–July, 1969. Champakalakshmi, R., “Growth of Urban Centres in South India – Kudumukku– Palaiyarai, The Twin Cities of the Coḻas,” Studies in History, Vol. I, No. 1. Champakalakshmi, R., “Ideology and the State in South India,” Mamidipudi Venkatarangaiya Memorial Lecture I, A.P. History Congress, XIIIth Session, Srisailam, 1989. Champakalakshmi, R.,”New Light on the Tanjore Frescoes,” Journal of Indian History, Golden Jubilee Volume, 1973. Champakalakshmi, R., “Patikam Patuvar – Ritual Singing as a Means of Communication in Early Mediaeval South India,” Studies in History, New Series, Vol. X, No. 2, Jul–Dec. 1994.

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Index

Ādivarāha image 79 āgamika 37 Aihole Praśasti 242 Airavatesvara Darasuram 161, 218 Ajitāgama 105, 122, 210 Āḻvārs 6, 23–31, 60, 216, 252 Ananku 18, 19, 52 Anbil Plates 45, 236, 247, 255 Aparājitapṛccha 141, 210 Araciyāl 216, 229 Atpūtat-Tiruvantāti 167 Atri’s Vaikhānasa 62, 69, 86, 93, 208 Auvaiyār 215, 223, 224 Āy chief 16 Āyudhapuruṣas 72, 96 Bahur Plates 243 Balasubrahmanyam, S. R. 8, 255, 264 Baliripu 242 Barrett, Douglas 174, 210, 257, 271 Barthes, Roland 275 Bhagīratha’s Penance 238 Bhandak Plates 235 Bhūtam 20 Brahmadeya 20, 23, 24, 36, 44, 221, 236, 244 Caṇḍeśa 49, 257, 261, 269 Centil 21 Cevvel 21 China 259 Coḻagangam tank 239 Coomaraswamy, Ananda 5 Citraratha 236

dancing Śiva 150 Dandisvarar temple 255, 271 Darasuram 60, 105, 141, 218, 246, 265 Deccan 6, 23, 38, 60, 74, 85, 105, 122, 150, 205, 221, 258 Devatāmūrtiprakaraṇa 62, 69, 85, 208 Devayānī 22 Devī Māhātmya 41 devotional religion and Aham 28 divyadeśams 17 Draksarama 268 Durgā vs. Koṟṟavai 19 Dvi-talakaṟṟāli 256 Eastern Archipelago 260 Eiynārs 14 Ellora 38, 41, 60, 79, 85, 93, 109, 122, 134, 150, 195, 205, 225, 253 first chariot-shaped temple 265 freedom of artist 207, 276 gajahasta 151, 174 Gangādhara 6, 122, 134, 225, 236, 243 Gangavāḍī 263 Goddess 188 Gombrich, E. H. 277 Guṇḍan – Anivārit – Ācāri 254 Guruvapalem plates 36 Harihara 37 Hart, George L. III 51, 223 Hudson, Denis 6

298 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

human shrine 17 Huntington, Susan 48 Ilan Kumāran 31 Ilinkapurāṇakkuruntokai 26 Irācacūyam (Veṭṭa) 224 Jaṭila Varman 242 Jayankoṇḍan 246, 263 Kaccippeḍu 44 Kaimal, Padma 47, 48, 58 Kaḻavali 218, 246 Kālidāsa 8 Kallittogai 19 Kampaharesvara Tribhuvanam 269 Kanchipuram 6, 41, 134, 241 Kāñci tiṇai 223 Kaṇḍu 16, 43 Kapālamokṣa 31 Karaṇa 161, 174, 188 Karandai Copper Plates 243 Karda Plates of Karkka III 242 Karhad Plates of Kṛṣṇa III 227 Kāśyapaśilpam 117, 141, 151, 188, 195 Kattumannarkoyil 263 Kāṭukiḻāl 25 Kāverippaṭṭinam 21 Kavi Grant of Govindarāja 235 Kilappaluvur 256 Kiḻḻi Valavan 216 Konerirajapuram 45, 257, 174 Koṭṭam 17, 44 Kṛttikās 23 Kulottungacoḻappillaittamiḻ 247 Kundavai 47 Kunrakkunram 256 Kuram plates 241 Kuravai dance 22 Lakṣmīlatā 227 Lalāṭatilakam 161 Lalitānkura Cave 6, 225 larger Sinnamanur Grant 236 Linga pedestal with seven horses 39 Linga Purāṇa 168, 176, 182

Lingodbhava 25, 44, 104, 140, 167, 255 Lockwood, Michael 6, 10, 57, 122 Lokamahādevī 47, 254 Lokeśvara 7, 253 Madras Museum Plates 242 Mahabalipuram rock sculpture 238 Mahendravadi 32 Mahiṣāsuramardinī 19, 32, 37, 41, 72, 188–9, 195, 205, 252, 269 Maṇikkavācakar 27 Māravar 19 Mārgali 29 Mattalam 43 Mayamatam 94, 96, 104, 117 Minātcippillaittamiḻ 247 Miraj grant 260 mūlabhṛtya 264 Mūvar Ūlā 245, 246 Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 29, 54 Nambi Āntār Nambi 42 Nanaghat Caves 46 Natanapurisvarar Temple 174 Naṭukal 14, 16 Nāṭyaśāstra 151, 161, 174, 188 Nāyanmār 23, 38, 43, 49, 257 Nediyon 18 Nilakanta Sastri, K. A. 55, 263, 268, 269 Nivandakkarār 46 Okkur Naṭarāja 174 Ottakūttan 245 Padaiyiyāl 217, 229–30 Palaiyarai 75, 94, 96 Pāḻani Hill 22 Paluveṭṭaraiyan Māravan 256 Pancāyatana 38 Pandyan Naṭarāja 176 Pānkunī Uttiram 43 Paramesvaravarman I 241 Paraṇi 245, 246, 263, 268 Paripāṭal 19, 20, 21, 117 Pāśupata ācāryas 269 Periya Purāṇam 43

index 299

Periya Tirumoḻi 6 Periya Venmani 189, 195 Perunguri Mahāsabhā 245 Peyum Peyar Vilā 245 Piḍārī 44 Pīṇimukam 21 Poikaiyār 218 Pralaya Mahāvarāha 235 Pralaya Varāha 79 Pudukkottai 227 pugal 216 Pullur plates of Nandivarman II 242 Purabhit Prabhe 242 Radcliff Bolon, Carol 39 Raichur Doab 226, 260 Rājakula Pratimāgṛha 241 Rājarāja I 7, 42, 140, 182, 226, 236–7, 243–5, 255 Rājarāja Nāṭakam 246 Ramesh, K. V. 10, 39, 208, 240, 253 Raṇavikrānta 240 Rāvaṇānugraha 41, 167, 218, 221, 269 Ravula Phadi Cave 6, 60, 85, 150, 240, 252 religious network 22, 24, 273 reversed Naṭarāja 176 Reyuru Plates 36 royal portraits 46 sacrifice 4, 15, 17, 37, 86, 87, 189, 190–96, 268 Śakuntalā 7 Śālinī 17, 19 Saluvanakuppam 37, 109, 195 Samūrtārcanādhikaraṇa 62 Sangli inscription 236 Sapta-Mātṛkā images 240 Śarabha 104, 243, 244 Sembiyan Mahādevī 257 Sengodu 21 Siddhasami inscription 235 Śilappadikāram 15, 37, 189 Singavaram 37, 72, 195 Śiva maṇḍaladīkṣā 39 smaller Sinnamanur grant 236

Sri Vijaya and Sumatra 260 Śukra 86, 93 Tala Purāṇas 168 Tamiḻakam 21, 32, 37, 44, 72, 109, 122, 189, 205, 217, 224, 233, 252 Tartakov, G. M. 39 Tevāram 24, 42, 214, 245, 255 three forms of Viṣṇu 60 Tiṇai 14, 37, 221 Tīrttham 27 Tirukāmakoṭṭam 44 Tirukkadambur 263 Tirukkural 216 Tirumankai Āḻvār 6, 56 Tirumuṟai Kanta Purāṇam 42 Tiruppāḻḻiyelucci 46 Tirupparankunam 21 Tiruppāvai 29 Tiruvācakam 27, 28 Tiruvādirai 245 Tiruvalangadu Copper Plates 227 Tiruvallarai 75 Trailokeśvara 7 Tribhuvanam 60, 105, 141, 161, 245, 265, 269, 275 Tripurāntaka 20, 38, 134, 167, 174, 182, 226, 242, 255 Trivikrama 20, 32, 86, 225, 242 Tungabhadra 226 Tyāgarāja 255, 270 Ugrakaliamman temple 123 Uspensky, Boris 275 Uttama Coḻa Caturavedimangalam 263 Utukkai 43 Vaikuṇṭha Perumāl 6, 36, 40, 48, 86, 96, 252 Vāliyon 18, 20 Valli 22, 117 varṇa 20 Vātāpikoṇḍa 241 Vaṭukar 24 velam 227 Velan 15, 30

300 temple imagery from early mediaeval peninsular india

Velanāḍu 268 Velvikkudi grant 236 Vengī 263, 268 Vijayabāhu 263 Vimānārcanakalpa 74, 208 Viṇṇappam Ceivar 43 Vīranārāyaṇacaturvedīmangalam 56, 263 Viṣṇudharmottaram 62, 85, 104, 117, 208 Viṣṇu incarnation images 75

Viṣṇulakṣaṇam 195 Viśvarūpa 25 Vunne Gurava Palem Plates 234 woman and territory 222, 225, 226 women dancers lifting their leg 167 Yajña Varāha 79 Yoga, Bhoga, Sukha and Vīra 69