‘Where the Gods Dwell’: In temples, our multi-faceted history

Ishan Marvel

WHEN it comes to the subcontinent, matters of faith and culture are often rooted in an almost inseparable play between history and myth. The concept of ‘(hi)stories’ in the subtitle is thus akin to that of ‘itihasa’ in Sanskrit literature — a term now loosely translated as ‘history’, and perhaps wherefrom arises the confusion that leads some to make vehement claims about how we had aeroplanes and nuclear missiles in a bygone golden age.

Taking recourse to archaeological and historical research, scriptural texts and inscriptions, observations and memories, folklore and the wisdom of sundry tourist guides, ‘Where the Gods Dwell’ weaves together a mix of insightful and entirely pleasurable narratives. These describe temples as living monoliths of cultural identity, and their evolution over the course of ancient tribal practices, appropriation by institutionalised religions, invasions and annexations, renovations and destructions, and power struggles between rulers and priests, to our contemporary time of chasing Unesco heritage status, ticketed tourism, court orders and state jurisdiction. The 13 essays delve beyond faith, mythology, architecture and academic trivia into fascinating aspects of administration, alternative histories, socio-political dynamics and wealth management in order to sketch the (hi)stories of each temple.

Starting with the Padmanabhaswami temple and the Travancore kings, the second essay takes up the Cholas and the Brihadisvara temple at Thanjavur. Thereafter, we jump to the Kamakhya temple in Assam, tracing its appropriation from a Khasi creator goddess, Ka-Mei-Kha, into the grander Puranic narrative of being the place where Sati’s yoni fell as Shiva danced with her body.

The book moves on to Pandharpur in Maharashtra before heading north to Somnath, addressing, among other things, its history of invasions and the controversial inauguration of its current avatar in 1951.

Nine essays later, we cross our political borders to arrive at a Shivratri celebration at Killa Katas in Pakistan, followed by Pashupatinath temple and its role in Nepalese politics and Indo-Nepal relations, and then Jaffna. We finally head north to Srinagar, where Siddhartha Gigoo leads us through intimate childhood memories amid the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits to the present, when he feels like a tourist in his own land and must agree with Google’s ‘Temporarily Closed’ description of the temple where his grandmother used to take him for prayer.

The judicious use of marginalised narratives and the lens of historical materialism shows that at its heart lies a deliberate and strong stance regarding the much-butchered idea of India — one that reaches far beyond the Hindi belt and the mainstream political narratives bent on polarising and pigeonholing our inherently multi-faceted (hi)stories.