Radhika: The Gentle Mirror

In memory of my close friend Radhika, who left us so suddenly, in the first week of this year. 

It has taken me almost 7 months to build up the courage and look inwards - to try and understand what she meant to me or indeed what we meant to each other.

Some friendships announce their entry with a fanfare. Others creep in on you. With Radhika, it was neither. She walked into my life, strong and tall, with the quiet assurance that she was here to stay.
 
I first met her (Ms. Radhika Sridhar) when she interviewed me for a job at NIIT. I instantly sensed that we were different from the rest. Here were two sari-clad women, approaching forty, among a bevy of yuppies in western clothes and accented English. I also, somehow, knew she would select me. She had the ability to look beyond my age and my appearance. Instead of the routine questions, she asked me things that made me think. We seemed to connect almost instantly. At the end of the interview, she offered me the job with a firm handshake and a warm smile.
 
Two days later, she invited me for a private chat over a cup of coffee. Gently, she doused my over-enthusiasm and introduced me to the practical realities of the IT industry. More importantly, she planted a thought that would remain with me for years—that I should return to architecture, the profession I had trained for and my true area of competence.
 
The conversation was matter-of-fact. There was neither condescension nor patronising advice, only quiet honesty. Without even realising it, I found myself shedding my belligerence and beginning to look at things more calmly.
 
As it turned out, she was right. In less than ten months, I left the IT industry behind and returned to architecture—a decision I have never regretted.
 
Soon afterwards, she invited me home. It was there that I met Sridhar, for the first time and witnessed the effect he had on her. In his presence, she became a different woman. The less said about that, the better. As I walked out of her house that day, she quietly walked into my heart and took up permanent residence there. Even today, I can clearly picture her standing at the doorway with that slightly tremulous, almost apologetic smile that became so much a part of her.
 
From then on, we were friends. We still are.
Our friendship only deepened over the years. In many ways, it was effortless. Women of the same generation, background and aspirations, we had so much in common. We were professionals trying to balance careers with families, children, ageing parents and in-laws, financial responsibilities and, often, difficult spouses.
 
We could talk endlessly. Equally, we could sit in complete silence.
Once, I spent over two hours with Radhika, hardly uttering a word, yet returned home with my heart so full that it felt as though we had spoken about everything that mattered.
 
How does one encapsulate twenty-five years of friendship in a few paragraphs?
 
We journeyed together from our forties into our mid-sixties, sharing almost every phase that life placed before us. We watched our children grow, choose careers, fall in love, search for life partners and eventually find their own place in the world. We lost parents and in-laws, coped with our own health issues, progressed in our careers, celebrated a few recognitions, stepped into retirement, learnt to manage our finances differently and gradually discovered new interests in the second innings of life.
 
Those are the practical milestones.
 
But there were also the intangible moments—the fleeting joys, the disappointments, the uncertainties and, above all, the loneliness that visits all of us at different times. Even in those moments, I somehow always felt her presence beside me.
 
Radhika was patient by nature. Gentle, but never weak. Firm, but never aggressive. She was also someone who would often give in, if she believed it would restore peace. Those were qualities I lacked in abundance.
 
Looking back, there are perhaps three life lessons she taught me that changed me profoundly.
 
The first came after an incident I would rather forget.
One day, she arrived unexpectedly at my house to change before attending a wedding. Unfortunately, she walked straight into the middle of a bitter argument between Naren and me. It was one of those ugly fights where I came off the worst—raving, ranting and completely losing control.
 
A week later, she came to meet me in my office. There was no judgement in her voice, no attempt to lecture me.
She simply said,
"You can fight. You can raise your voice. You can put your point across—but never at the cost of your dignity. You are a wife, a mother, a professional, a daughter-in-law and, above all, a woman of substance, intelligence and grace. Never let circumstances strip you of your dignity."

"The other day, your anger was beneath you. Did it achieve anything, other than draining you emotionally—and perhaps physically?"
That was all.
 
She neither criticised me nor excused my behaviour. She simply held up a mirror and made me look at myself. Even today, whenever I feel myself slipping into anger, those words come back to me. More often than not, they succeed in quelling the hysteria before it overwhelms me.
 
The second lesson she taught me came after my father passed away suddenly.
 
Somehow, I was unable to come to terms with his death. For almost a year, I merely existed. I went through the motions of daily life, but nothing brought me any joy. I stopped going out. There was no shopping, no crosswords, hardly any television. Even reading, something I had always loved, became infrequent.
 
Radhika gently helped me see the reality I was refusing to accept. She reminded me that our parents would have wanted us to live our own lives, not remain imprisoned by grief. She made me understand that accepting reality was not disloyalty, nor did moving on mean forgetting those we loved. It simply meant allowing life to reclaim its rightful place. Those conversations stayed with me.
 
Years later, when my mother also passed away suddenly, I grieved deeply. But this time, grief did not consume my reality. There were no regrets over words left unsaid or moments missed because, as Radhika had once pointed out, not every emotion needs to be spoken aloud. Some relationships transcend words. The love between parents and children often resides in a silent understanding that neither side feels compelled to constantly express.
 
That insight became one of the greatest gifts she ever gave me.
 
The third lesson came through Suriya.
Like every parent, I navigated his turbulent years of adolescence, academics, teenage emotions, first love and the long journey into adulthood, with a lot of confusion, anxiety and frustration. My reactions, most often were emotional rather than rational.
 
Radhika invariably encouraged me to step back before stepping in.
 
She had an ability to remove herself from the emotion of a situation and look at it with remarkable balance. Her gentle words helped smooth over many moments that had seemed impossible at the time. More often than not, she made me realise that children sometimes needed understanding more than intervention. Looking back today, I know those conversations made me a better mother.
 
Not all her gifts came in the form of life lessons.
 
We both came from a generation of women who rarely felt confident about their appearance. As we grew older, increasing weight and advancing age certainly did little to improve that confidence. Yet Radhika belonged to that rare group of people who loved me enough to genuinely believe I was beautiful.
 
She never saw me by my physical appearance alone. She looked beyond it—at my expressions, my mind, my enthusiasm, my intellect or may be my intentions. Whenever I dressed up for an occasion, she would invariably exclaim, "Wow! You look so nice!"
 
Those few simple words had an extraordinary ability to brighten my day. They made me feel seen, valued and loved. They allowed me, however briefly, to see myself through her eyes rather than through my own relentlessly critical ones.
 
Did I have complaints about her? Of course I did.
A few were trivial. A few were not.
 
I could never understand why she treated personal visits almost like professional appointments. "I'll come at two o'clock and leave at three," she would announce with military precision. It irritated me no end. Friendships, I believed, were meant to overflow time slots.

The irony, of course, is unforgettable.
The very last time she came home, she arrived completely unannounced. I wasn't there. She made herself comfortable, made herself a cup of coffee, found something to eat and spent time chatting with my mother-in-law as though she had lived there all her life. By the time I returned, she was ready to leave.
 
But before she did, she smiled and said that we would meet again soon—with no agenda and no time slots. That was one promise she never got the chance to keep.
 
Another thing that often puzzled me was her apologetic attitude.
She apologised for things that were never really hers to apologise for—her figure, her weight, her failing eyesight, sometimes even her children and, of course, Sridhar the Great!
I would often tell her to stop apologising, to accept reality and confront it head-on.
 
But perhaps it is always easier to advise than to live another person's life. Every individual understands the complexities of their own circumstances better than anyone else. She knew why she accepted so much. She knew why she stayed. She knew what her marriage meant to her. As close as we were, I never felt I had the right to question the most private decisions of her life. Friendship, after all, also means respecting another person's silences.
 
Looking back, I realise that the most enduring aspect of our friendship was the quiet positive influence we had on each other.
 
I, somehow, always reminded Radhika of her own worth—professionally and personally. I encouraged her to recognise the intelligence, competence and strength that others saw so easily, but which she often failed to see in herself. She valued that immensely. She also knew that, whatever the circumstance, she could count on me. I would be there for her.
 
For me, Radhika was the gentle mirror I needed to soften the harsh glare with which I so often viewed myself. She constantly reminded me to go easy on myself. She made me feel good about who I was. She celebrated every achievement of mine, however small, with genuine pride. More importantly, she made me feel loved, cherished and valued by someone whose opinion I respected deeply.
 
Even today, I find it difficult to believe that she is no more.
I still catch myself looking at her name on WhatsApp and wondering.
Some part of me still expects a message or a call.
 
I know, for a fact, that she valued romance in life. She often encouraged me to cherish it in my own marriage, even during difficult times. It seems particularly poignant that she left us so quietly, without even a whisper that would have allowed those who loved her to gather around her one last time.
 
She achieved so much in life. She built a successful professional career, raised two beautiful gifted children, weathered more than her share of personal storms and, even in the later years of her life, continued to learn. I remember with great affection her enthusiasm for drawing classes and her delight in discovering line, colour and composition.
 
I have often wondered what she might have accomplished had life been gentler with her, had circumstances been more nurturing and encouraging.
 
But perhaps that is an unfair question.
None of us lives the life we might have lived.
We live the one we are given. And Radhika lived hers with quiet courage, immense dignity and unfailing grace.
 
If she taught me how to live, she also taught me how to face loss.
She taught me to leave regrets behind, to accept what cannot be changed and to understand that love does not end with a goodbye.
 
Life moves on.
It always does.
Radhika was not merely a part of my life; she became part of the person I slowly grew into.
 
She never judged me. Perhaps that is why there were never any real secrets between us. We did not always speak openly about everything. In fact, many of the most important issues in our lives, remained unspoken. But our hearts always knew what lingered there.
 
Today, she lives in those quiet chambers of memory where time cannot intrude. She is there in the perfumes and jewellery she lovingly gifted me, in the many conversations we shared, in the comfortable silences we treasured and, above all, in the countless moments when she quietly helped me become a better version of myself.
 
And every time I choose dignity over anger, acceptance over regret or kindness over judgement, I know that somewhere, the gentle mirror she once held up before me still reflects the person she believed I could become.

Radhika, wherever you are, may you finally find all that eluded you here, and may you forever hold close the few things you truly cherished.

Mandagapattu - The Courage to Build for Posterity...

Anybody who steps into the arena of Temple Art and Architecture (especially with reference to Tamil Nadu), comes across Mahendra Pallava's Cave temple at Mandagapattu, in the very first chapter.

So did I, when I ventured into this subject almost 4 years back. However it wasn't just the seemingly simple and basic structure of the cave, (apparently a prototype for the fascinating Pallava pantheon of building works that followed) that intrigued and mesmerized me.

It was the inscription on the front wall, that evoked feelings in me, I found difficult to articulate then.

Earlier this week, a few of us were out on a temple tour, with a flexible itinerary. On the last day, post lunch, when I was almost beginning to doze off, imagine how I felt when I heard Gopu say - Get down! We are at Mandagapattu!

Intrigued ... Yes! Perhaps Thrilled.... Also Yes! But I didn't realise then that this could be an epiphanous moment for me.

The Cave and its structure...

First glimpse as you approach....

The Mandagapattu Cave Temple, built in the 7th century under Mahendravarman I, is perhaps the earliest Pallava rock-cut shrine. The pillared façade, triple sanctum concept, and restrained ornament show an experimental phase of Dravidian temple design, which went onto serve as a prototype for the fully developed Pallava monuments that followed.

Plan (Wikepedia) and the Front View

The shrine, called the Trimurti Temple, was commissioned by Mahendra I in the early 7th century on a 100ft hillock. Steps at the end of a wide stone courtyard lead up to an uncovered porch before a simple rectangular mandapa with four massive equidistant pillars. The pillars of the mandapa facade have square bases, octagonal central sections and square capitals with curved corbels. Inside, another row of similar pillars divides the mandapa into three aisles. The aisles lead to the Trimurti shrines, deep plain niches cut into the rear wall.

The Pillars and the Central Shrine...

Carved on the northern face of a large rock overlooking the irrigation tank to the west of the Mandagapattu village, the cave is cut fairly deep, measuring 4 feet from the ground and 2 feet in the top. There are 2 pillars and 2 pilasters on the northern and inner faces with 2 recesses at the extreme ends of the facade housing 2 Dwarapalakas, mismatched, yet complimentary in design.

The Dwarapalakas...

Supposed to be representing the Mahakala (Shiva's Dwarapala) and Garuda (Vishnu's Vahana), these earliest attempts to carve sculptures in Granite give us a glimpse into the marvelous Pallava aesthetics and the abundance of sculptural beauty that was to follow.

Anatomically refined, perfect compositions within the niche space available, minimally ornamented, it is evident these are experiments of idioms in art, craft and material understanding.

The absence of idols within the shrines, is also explained by scholars that, at that time, either only painted images on cloth were worshipped or sculptures were made of impermanent materials that did not survive. 

Discovery and Documentation...

Earliest (modern) reference of this monument is found in 1882, in the list of antiquarian remains of the Madras Presidency1, where Viluppuram is mentioned as an important taluk.

In 1918, Dubreuil mentions this cave temple among the Pallava antiquities.

Although the inscription of this cave-temple was copied in 1905, it was studied and documented only in 1923 -24 by T A Gopinatha Rao, who proposed that it was Mahendravarman I who introduced the rock-cut shrines in southern India. 

Even A H Longhurst, who took up the study of Pallava architecture in detail, did not explicitly mention the cave-temple as the pioneering landmark of Pallavas.

It was only in 1958 that K R Srinivasan identified this as the beginning of Pallava creations with specific markers like the typical pillars and of course the inscription. This landmark study is considered to be the source material for all scholarly studies on, not just Pallava Architecture, but even Temple Architecture in Tamil Nadu as a whole.

The Inscription ... 

Estampage (Wikepedia) and the actual carving

The earliest known rock-cut Sanskrit inscription written in Grantha script and attributed to the Pallava king Mahendravarman I (600–630 CE), is located on the first pilaster on the extreme right of the facade.

The inscription reads:

Etadniṣṭakaṃadruṃ[malo]- 
hamasudhaṃ [vicitraci]ttena 
nimmarpitannrupe[ṇa] brahme– 
śvaraviṣṇula[kṣi]tāyanaṃ

Transliteration into Devanagari:

एतदनिष्टकमद्रु[ममलो]
हमसुधं [विचित्रचि]त्तेन
निम्मार्पितन्नृपे[ण] ब्रह्मे
श्वरविष्णुल[क्षि]तायतनम्

Translation:

"This temple dedicated to Brahma, Siva and Vishnu was excavated by Vichitrachitta without using brick, timber, metal and mortar."

As architects, we are trained to dream in space, light, and material. Yet the reality of practice often pulls us in another direction — budgets tighten, clients calculate returns, and the lowest bidder quietly becomes the loudest voice in the room. Somewhere between intent and execution, creativity risks becoming a negotiable commodity.

On that day, when I encountered history, these were the thoughts that clouded my mind, questioning my professional identity as a whole. 

And then in that inscription, I saw him. Mahendravarman I, and realised what it is that he has been whispering to me, ever since I read his inscription.

This 7th-century Pallava king did not merely build a temple — he made a declaration about architecture itself. The Mandagapattu inscription proudly records that the shrine was created:

“without the use of brick, timber, metal, or mortar.”

In other words, this was not just construction. It was an ideological shift. A conscious move toward permanence. Toward architecture that would resist decay, politics, and time.

I could just visualise the king, standing before a rock face and choosing not convenience, but conviction. His inscription does not read like a technical note — it reads like a manifesto:

One can imagine the pride behind those words, the refusal to build something temporary. The insistence that architecture could be an idea carved into time itself.

When I read that line, something in me stirred — not nostalgia, but recognition. The same impulse that still exists in all of us today: the desire to make something that will outlast approvals, budgets, and us.

Along with the  surge of admiration was also envy. Here was a ruler who saw architecture not as a contract, but as a cultural statement. Not as a product, but as a legacy. What stood out was the clarity of intent. Mahendravarman was not reacting to market forces or competing tenders. He was responding to a deeper question: What should endure?

For all of us, contemporary architects, that question is all that matters. Even in a commercial landscape dominated by cost comparisons and rapid turnover, the Mandagapattu inscription reminds us that architecture has always been more than a transaction. It is an act of belief — belief that the built form can outlast us, speak for us, and represent what we value as a society.

Of course we cannot be our own clients, nor can we build in stone or always win against the economic compulsions or spreadsheets, for that matter. But we can still design with the same aspiration: to make something honest, thoughtful, and worthy of posterity.

I think that is the real lesson I learnt that day - that architecture begins the moment we decide something is worth making permanent.

Gopu reads out the inscription and my epiphanous moment... (Sridhar Ganapathy)

 

As Gopu read out the inscription and explained what was written - an epiphany washed over me. Years seemed to slip away and I realised times may change, society  and even values may change. But Human Aspiration has by and large been the same. 

To do ones best, without compromise and leave the rest to history. 

Our Group at Mandagapattu
as each of us dreams of leaving our own bit of History behind! (Sridhar Ganapathy)

Gangadhara Murthy

When I started studying Hindu Temples and their evolution, I was naturally drawn to their sculptures almost as much as, or even more than their Architectural aspects.

The multitudes of representations of various Gods and the mythological stories associated with them is astounding. Be it the main Gods Siva, Vishnu, Shakti, Karthikeya or Ganesha or the minor Gods, they all have multiple, varied and amazing representations.

As most of us are aware, Shiva the supreme God is represented in 64 forms artistically (both in paintings and sculpture). These 64 forms of Shiva represent the manifold aspects of the Supreme Being, illustrating the various divine activities, qualities, and attributes that Shiva embodies, from the formless absolute to fierce manifestations and benevolent interactions with devotees and the cosmos. Each form, signifies a different cosmic or spiritual principle, emphasizing Shiva's role as a creator, preserver, and destroyer, as well as the ultimate source of grace and liberation.

The major Symbolisms reflected in Siva's Forms include

• Different Divine Activities and Attributes  
• Cosmic Principles representing the eternal cycle of creation and destruction
• Form and Formlessness  
• Benevolence and Wrath (Anugraha Murthys and Samhara Murthys)
• Grace and Liberation 

One of these forms of Shiva is Gangadhara Murthy  - which literally means one who is bearing Ganga, which then becomes one of the attributes on his head/ hair along with the Moon, Datura flower, a skull etc.

Gangadhara - Puranic Representation and Painting in Lepakshi (The net)

I specifically noticed (for the first time) a Gangadhara Stone Sculpture in the Vimanam Portion (Karna koodu) of the Valisvara Temple at Thiruvaliswaram – a hidden Chola Gem (10th Century), standing in the Pandya land in the Tirunelveli District. This was part of  a Thenkasi tour with Culture Circuits, in 2022. It was a beautiful sculpture - the grace, the proportions, the expressions and of course the intimacy, romance and dynamics between Siva and Parvathy – an all too human and familiar concept, immortalized in stone.

Gangadhara in the Vimanam of the Valisvara Temple (me)

Gopu, our docent, explained about the Legend behind Gangadhara and the different styles of depicting Him.

The Legend...

The story of Gangadhara is the climax of a long tale which starts when a powerful king named Sagara performed the Ashva Medha yaga, sacrificing 100 horses. However God Indra hid the 100th horse, as he didn't want the Yaga to be completed. 

The King sent his 60.000 sons in search of the horse. They followed its trail to where a great sage, Kapila, was meditating. They concluded he must be the thief and disturbed his meditation. The heat of Kapila’s anger burned the 60.000 sons of king Sagara to ashes. They became roaming ghosts as no funerary rites were performed for them.

Several generations later, one of the King's descendants Bhagiratha, was told, the water of the heavenly river Ganga would purify the ashes of his 60.000 ancestors and would liberate their souls from their wandering. Hence King Bhagiratha wanted to bring Ganga, the celestial river, to earth. After a long penance, Brahma granted him the boon. 

But Ganga warned him that the force of her descent from heaven could destroy the earth. Bhagiratha then prayed to Lord Shiva who stepped in to help — first by breaking the force of the Ganga’s descent from heaven by capturing her in His hair, and second, by reducing it to a manageable and non-destructive flow and only then allowing Ganga to touch the earth. 

The story of King Bhagiratha bringing the river Ganga to Earth is primarily recounted in the Ramayana, specifically in the Bala Kanda, and also appears in the Mahabharata and the Narada Purana. 

Because Shiva captured Ganga in his locks and holds her there, He got the name Gangadhara.

The Great Penance Panel at Mahabalipuram showing Bhagreethas tapas (me)

The Iconography ...

According to Gopinath Rao, in classical śhilpa tradition, as Gangadhara

• Śiva is usually standing with his right leg straight and left leg slightly bent.
• He has four hands (rarely eight).
• The upper right hand lifts a lock of hair (holding Ganga). Ganga appears seated or descending within his matted hair (jāṭā), often shown as a small female figure above the crown.
• The lower right hand is in abhaya hasta or embracing/placating Parvati, if she is there.
• The lower left hand may embrace Parvati or rest on his hip and the upper left hand typically carries a deer (mṛiga) or a hatchet (paraśu),
• Parvati may stand to his left, her posture often complementary to him facing towards or away from him.
• Bhagiratha may be there near his right leg.
• Ganesha, celestials and other devotees may be present.

Pallava Gangadharas ...

Pallavas have created several Gangadharas, of which the important ones are at -

Tiruchirappalli – Lalitankura-Pallavesvara-Griham -

Although this temple is more famous for Mahendravarman I's inscriptions, on the western wall, is a large bas-relief of Shiva as Gangadhara, often termed the masterpiece of the Mahendravarman I period. 

The base (adhisthana) of this panel has a railing with lotus patterns, similar to Buddhist stupas.

Shiva himself is standing in tribhanga with one leg firmly on the ground and the other leg resting above the head of a gana. The left hand of the gana supports the ankle of Shiva’s leg while his right hand is carrying a snake. Shiva has four hands, upper right hand is holding a tress of his hair, upper left hand is holding a deer, lower right hand is carrying a snake and lower left hand is on his hip. 

On his right is shown Ganga, depicted in a female form, descending on to his tresses. On his jata makuta, he is also wearing the moon to the left and a skull to the right.

On the top corners are shown two flying vidyadharas with their one hand raised in adoration and the other hand on their waists. At the bottom corners are shown two devotees kneeling on their feet and raising one hand in admiration. Behind them are two rishis.

The narrative panel and relief style, balance of composition, scale and stance of Shiva and the fluidity makes this a beautiful piece of art in granite.

Pallava Gangadhara Panel (From the Net...)

Kailasanathar Temple, Kanchipuram-

There are 2 beautiful Gangadharas in this temple, attributed to Rajasimha and built between 685-705AD.

The first is found as a Koshta murthy in the main temple.

Shiva stands in a heroic pose, receiving Ganga, to his left, in his hair. One of his left arms is raised to hold up the hair while the other is in a welcoming gesture. His left foot is raised and His consort Parvati lovingly holds his raised knee, while standing somewhat bashfully on his left side.  

The uniqueness of the sculpture lies in the fact that both Ganga and Parvathy are on the same side, creating an unusual composition and of course in the beautiful smile and expression of Shiva, which is a Pallava signature and speciality.

This sculpture truly depicts Thirugnanasambandar's words

" கடுத்து வரும் கங்கை தன்னைக் கமழ் சடை ஒன்று ஆடாமே தடுத்தவர்"

Shiva blocked Ganga with minimal effort. Not even a single hair was dishevelled in the process. 

Koshta Murthy (Net and me)

The 2nd relief panel is found in one of the mini shrines. A lot of its original beauty is lost in restoration

Shiva receives Ganga, again to his left, by holding up his hair with one of his 8 arms. His left foot rests on the shoulder of a kneeling figure. Parvati holding the same, looks adoringly at him. Ganga holds her hands in anjali mudra (folded hands), offering her prayers. Her lower body flows as the river, behind Shiva’s head and down his right side. A chamara bearing gana stands on the right. Two dogs, one high up above Ganga’s stream, and one low on the right side, almost hidden in a corner, are framing this mythological scene.

The unique features of this composition is the presence of the 2 dogs, which some say, represent the 2 constellations Canis Major and Canis Minor (The Greater Dog and the Lesser Dog). These two constellations are found on either side of the Milky Way. Thus the fact that Ganga also known as Akasha Ganga is descending all the way from outer space (Heaven) is symbolically shown.

One of the Mini Shrines... Me

Chola Gangadharas ...

Cholas not only popularised the Gangadhara, by placing him in many of their temples, as Koshta murthys, they also added a unique dimension by including a miffed Parvathy next to him and creating a new dynamic between them.

The Gangadhara I saw in Valeeswaram comes under this category.

At GKC, Thillayadi, Tanjore Museum - Suresh Priyan and Net.

In Chola Gangadharas, Parvathy is not merely Shiva's consort but a focal point of the sculpture, dominating one half of it. She complements Shiva in stance and posture and is responsible for the aura of romance here. 

The Chola panels focus on the story that Parvathy was not too happy or pleased to have Ganga in Her husband’s hair, literally. And hence they depict an annoyed or petulant Parvati with a body language that conveys Her strong disapproval of the whole ‘arrangement’ of Shiva and Ganga. Usually Parvati’s body is curved away from Shiva, even as He reaches out to placate and reassure her, using his right hand to turn her face towards him.

Although there may be minor variations in the sculptures, they uniformly depict romance, intimacy and humanlike emotions between the Gods, the entire composition, one of grace, balance and fluidity not repeated all that often in our temple sculptures.

At Thiruvattatturai, Mayiladuthurai and Melakadambur - Suresh Priyan and Net

The Pinnacle of Chola Beauty...

The most beautiful Chola Gangadhara belongs to the Lalithambigai Temple at Thirumeeyachur.

Thirumeeyachur - Sudhagee

The artistic merit of this sculpture comes from

• The relative placement of the 2 idols, their superimposition and counterbalancing.
• Parvathy, though, she is facing away from Shiva, seems to give him a surreptitious sideways look.
• Shiva's stance as he balances Ganga with one right hand and placates Parvathy with the other. Both his left hands are almost hidden.
• Parvathi's body language. If you view from the right, she appears miffed. On the other hand, if you look from the left, she seems to be coyly smiling at Shiva.
• Last but not the least, is the expressions of both with a slight smile (புன்முறுவல் / குறுஞ்சிரிப்பு), which captivates the viewer's heart.

In the blowups below, one can appreciate the nuanced sculptural details that make this a masterpiece,

Relative Placement of the idols, Angles and expressions, Hand movements and Ganga

The beauty of this sculpture is best encapsulated in the verse of Thirunavukkarasar (Appar) 

சூடினார் கங்கையாளைச் சூடிய துழனி கேட்டு அங்கு

ஊடினாள் நங்கையாளும் ஊடலை ஒழிக்கவேண்டிப்

பாடினார் சாமவேதம் பாடிய பாணியாலே

ஆடினார் கெடிலவேலி அதிகை வீரட்டனாரே.

When Parvathy came to know that Shiva was adorning himself with Ganga, she was miffed and upset. To placate her he sang the SamaVeda and danced to match his tune.

A few other Gangadharas...

Kailasanathar Temple, Ellora-

This sculptural Panel has many unique features.

• At the top left, Bhagiratha is depicted standing on one leg, performing a rigorous penance. 
• Below him, Ganga is portrayed with folded hands, bowing to Shiva in reverence. Her tail-like lower body artistically symbolizes the flowing river, emphasizing its grace and vitality. 
• Shiva has loosened one of his matted locks to receive the river, significantly reducing its force.
• Shiva stands poised on the Apasmara Purusha (a dwarf symbolizing ignorance), with the divine mother Parvati gracefully positioned by his left side. His expression exudes a sense of tranquility and control.
• From Shiva’s locks, the river cascades into the hands of Rishi Janhu, who gives it the name Jahnavi. The river then flows down the mountains, depicted with vibrant details of fish and other aquatic creatures swimming in its sacred waters.
• Wild animals such as elephants and horses are shown gathering to partake in the celestial waters, symbolizing the river’s life-sustaining power. 
• As Ganga strikes the mountains, it splits into seven streams, represented by seven saluting women at the base of the sculpture. These streams are named Hladini, Pavani, and Nalini, which flow eastwards; Suchakshu, Sita, and Sindhu, which flow westwards; and Ganga herself, who flows southwards under the guidance of Bhagirath.

Cave 1, Elephanta Caves -

One of the few panels, whose lower portion is still intact. A masterpiece in composition, the sense of rhythm here binds the two figures together in a harmonious whole. The depth and relief make it a visual treat.

Shiva, with 4 hands, is standing tall and slim,  with a reclining right leg and the left leg bent at the knee.

Parvati stands gracefully in the tribhanga pose. Her diaphanous lower garment is held in place by a girdle. She wears a simple crown and a few select ornaments. Shiva and Parvati’s posture makes a very unique curve, within which a Gana has been sculpted. Parvati is shown moving away from Shiva and Shiva tries to hold her hand from the top. Parvati’s expression and the whole scene generates a theatrical concept

1. Here, Ganga is being depicted as 3 busts (Goddesses), with her robe flying denoting that she flows in the three worlds.  She is called Mandakini, Bhagirathi and Bhogvati when she flows in heaven, earth and the underground respectively.
2. Baghiratha is shown kneeling down on the lower left corner.
3. The background contains an amazing collection of minor sculptures, which include Brahma and Vishnu.

Temples in Aihole -

Ravan Phadi Cave and Durga Temple - Net and me.

The Ravan Phadi panel shows Shiva in Samabanga, holding his hair out with 2 hands, on either side. Ganga is again depicted as 3 busts, all in Anjali Mudra. Bhagiratha is to his right and Parvathy to his left. The relative proportions and expressions and the simple composition within the available space, makes it a beautiful composition representative of Chalukya art.

The Gangadhara in the Durga temple is a Rishabhantika, with 8 hands, holding a strand of his hair out with his uppermost right hand. There is no Ganga, Parvathy or Bhagiratha here, but Shiva's expression and posture make it a sculpture of rare beauty.

Modern Depictions -

Raja Ravi Varma and other modern depictions - Net

While almost all the ancient sculptures seem to follow the agamas and weave their creativity around the mythological story, in contrast, modern depictions (starting with Ravi Verma), completely ignore these idioms.

The extreme grace, fluidity, emotions and sentiments captured in the Chola and Pallava compositions are completely absent here, leaving you wondering all over again, why Modern Indian Art wants to dissociate from its roots and thrive in a vacuum. Not wanting to adhere to our ancient principles of Art and  representation and not creating a fresh grammar to replace the same, results in cheap imitational art entirely devoid of context or aesthetics.

This contrast only emphasises the fact that Indian Art through the ages had a very well defined context and grammar, whose essence we may need to recapture and reinvent, if we are to produce modern Indian Art which is not merely a clone of the west.

The Pallava 'Mahishasuramardhini'

Over 2 weekends in September 2024, we visited Mamallapuram, as part of the Tamil Heritage Trust's Docent Training Practical sessions. Although, over the years, I've visited Mallai, at least 20 times, on my own and with my friends, this was an entirely different experience.

Badri, Gopu, Ravi, Vallabha and Shivshankar Babu of THT, gave an all too new and additional dimension to the monuments and the sculptures within. What I gained in the process, is not just a fresh insight or a different perspective but an entire additional layer of information, analysis and inference that completely changed my perception of these monuments so far.

Viewed from this fresh angle, what struck me the most, filling me with amazement at Pallavas creativity, is the plethora of Mahishasuramardhinis at Mamallapuram.

Artistically, they are heads and shoulders above most of the Mahishasuramardhinis elsewhere. Over and above the perfect anatomy, grace and rhythm of the Devi and her entourage, or the dynamic quality of the panels including the Asura and his men - these sculptures seemed to whisper to me, something that we are struggling to understand and come to terms with even today.

The identification that I feel with these depictions is so complete, that I was forced to look into the Puranic, Iconic, Historic and sculptural attributes of this form of the Devi, before I could articulate my own personal findings here.

Ellora Cave 16 and Ekambareshwarar Kanchipuram - Harihara Subramanian(Shutterbug Iyer) 

One of the most magnificent and formidable Goddess of the Hindu pantheon, Mahishasuramardini

is worshipped as a supreme power under the Shaktham sect of Hinduism.

Endowed with incredible cosmic super powers, her mission is to destroy evil and establish Dharma. It is her epic battle against the bull-demon Mahishasura that gives her the name. Mahiṣāsuramardinī is an epithet of Durga, literally meaning, "the slayer of the demon Mahisha"

Among Puranas, she is referenced in Agni Purana, Markandeya Purana, Matsya Purana and Vishnu Dharmottara Purana. Among Agamas she is mentioned in The Shakta Agamas, also known as Tantras, that focus on the goddess Shakti or Devi, and include the Tripura Upanishad and the Devi Upanishad. She is also mentioned in the epic Mahabharata.

Her most prominent reference is in Devi Mahatmiyam, a portion of the Markandeya-purana, written around 5th Century CE. It is the first such text that revolves entirely around the figure of the Goddess (Devi) as the primary deity.

The work has been passed down as a self-contained text that is memorized and recited, word for word, as part of the religious practice of those Hindus who worship Devi as the highest divinity.

The Legend...

Mahishasura, the demon, was born as a union of Rambha and a she buffalo (Mahishi) and consequently was a half man and half buffalo. The mighty demon was rendered more powerful as a result of a boon from God Agni, according to which he could be killed only by a woman. He managed to wreak havoc in heaven by chasing away all Gods from there. 

All the Gods then approached lord Vishnu and lord Shiva who were aware that only a woman could kill Mahishasura. They decided to create a Goddess out of the collective powers or 'Tejas' of all the Gods  

Radiant energy emanated from all of them and this dazzling energy coalesced into a brilliant whole which seemed like a never-ending mountain of fire. The mountain of radiant energy transformed into the feminine form of the incomparable Devi – the Adishakti (the primordial being and/or energy).

She was endowed with all divine weapons including the conch (shankh), the spear, the wheel, the lotus, the arrow and the mace. Her trident came from Shiva, Sudarshana Chakra from Vishnu, the Lotus and the kamandlam of Holy water from Brahma, the Lion from Himalayas and bows and arrows from Vayu. The Goddess, filled with combined power and anger of all the Gods, was fierce to behold and her very sight scared the demons. 

Mahishasura waged a valiant fight against her and assumed the form of a buffalo, a lion, a man carrying a sword, an elephant and lastly again a buffalo. The battle raged for 9 days and finally the Goddess was able to pin down Mahishasura and chop off his head. The Gods, rid of the demon, showered the Goddess with innumerable praises and with reverence, prayed her to appear every time they were in need of her. Granting the same to the Gods, she disappeared to appear again when called with devotion.

Folk Art representations across India - From the Net

The Iconography...

Mahishasuramardini is normally depicted as a warrior figure with elaborate jatamukuta and her legs spread out on either side of the lion, similar to a horse rider with either 8 hands or 10 hands, and is mostly shown to be fighting the Mahisha.

Baijnath temple - Himachal Pradesh, Baital-Deul temple - Odisha, Aihole - Karnataka 
Harihara Subramanian(Shutterbug Iyer) 

According to silpasastra, especially from the Vishnumahottara, the Goddess should have ten hands and three eyes, she should wear jata-mukuta on her head with a Chandra-kala (moon). The colour of her body should be like Atasi- flower and eyes should resemble nilotpala. She should have high breasts and in her waist, there should be three bends. In her right hands she should hold Trisula, Chakra, Khadga, bow etc and in her left hands pasa, ankusa, parashu, bell etc. The lion should be at her feet and a severed buffalo demon head should also be there. The right leg of devi should be on the lion and the left leg on the injured but terrified looking Asura who is coming out of the severed body of the buffalo. 

However, normally she is depicted with 8 or 10 arms, with other variations of 4, 6, 12 or more arms. In the eight arms of the Goddess are seen in a clockwise direction, disc, trident, arrow, sword, darjani mudra, the tuft of the hair of the demon, shield and a bow. 

Art Historians have noted that the no of arms is often dependent on the iconography of the Mahishasura and the dynamic composition thus formed.

Mahishasura himself is depicted in 3 major forms. 

• As a hybrid, where his body is human and head that of a buffalo;
• Where he himself is emerging from the severed head of a buffalo;
• A demon in complete animal or theriomorphic form.

From simply killing the demon, specific details emerged over a period of time, like thrusting a trident or lance into his body, squeezing his head or lifting his rear half by his tail etc.

This development of the iconographic portrayal of the Mahishasuramardhini with her lion vahana and the Mahishasura saw a marvelous development in the sculptural art across India, moving from earlier static images to animated dynamic forms which were stand alone or part of narrative panels.

 

Earliest depictions...

Mahishasuramardinis found in Nagar (1stc. BCE – 1stc.CE ), Mathura (c.200CE) L.A County Museum.Gurajala in Guntur district, Andhra Pradesh (4thc CE) - From the net.

In the pre Kushana and Kushana era, Mahishasuramardinis are simple in form and lack the complexities of the ‘Devi Mahatmya’ iconographic descriptions.  The devi wears the typical Kushana era styled dhoti and girdle, and carries a sakti (spear) and trisula. The important aspect here is that, the fight between the Devi and the Mahisha is more bare handed with less use of weapons. The Devi has no attendants and even her vahana simha is absent some of the times.

One can also easily trace the evolution of the sculptural form right here, although the core idea is borrowed from the Puranas.  

Later Developments...

Udayagiri Caves, Gupta Period (401 CE), Nalanda, National Museum (600-700 CE),

Chandra Gupta II Coin (375 CE) - From the net

Beside stone representation, there were depictions in Bronze and Gold coins too. In the Nalanda representation, one can see  an iguana below her, which got associated with the Devi in Sakta worship, followed in the Mauryan-Sunga period figures of Mother Goddesses seen with alligators.

The late Gupta period also show her as the Simhavahini where she is four armed, sitting on a lion in Padmaasana.

A few famous Depictions... 

1. Betal Deul Temple in Odisha - The Mahisasuramardini sculpture here is depicted with eight hands. The goddess is seen to be piercing the theomorphic demon with trisula. Her other hands hold weapons like sword, shield, snake etc. A fierce lion is seen to be biting the demon on his hand.  

The Mahisha in the front hiding the lower part of the Devi, her proportions, grace, detailing and the expression on the Devi's face make this one of the best artistic representations through the ages.

2. Durga Temple in Aihole, Karnataka - A full relief panel in classic tradition, this 8 armed Durga is mesmerizing in her grace. Statuesque in her dignity and unperturbed in her demeanor, her face is glowing with peace and contentment. She is not only a young lady, full of charm with high breasts and wide hips, wearing ornaments but also a warrior on battle ground as seen by the weapons and intricately carved armour in her hands. The valour depicted here is truly one of a kind. 

3. Rani ki vav, Gujarat - One of the most exquisite of all Mahishasuramardinis, Goddess Durga in this Solanki sculpture is killing the Mahisha demon in both animal and human form. She is the most ugra of forms and has sixteen hands, yet her expression reveals her innate calmness and inevitable acceptance of her intent and purpose. 

The Pallavas...

Some of the most exquisite Mahishasuramardinis have been created by Pallavas not only in Mallai, but in Kailasanathar Koil in Kanchipuram and other temples as well.

Kanchi Kailasanathar Koil (me) and Panamalai Durga (Rajavel)

Epitome of anatomical grace and beauty, the Pallava Mahishasuramardhini, is personification of a woman, in her head gear, her ornaments, her posture and her expression. In her dynamism and animation, she does not imitate her male counterpart. Her stance, her pose and her battle is her own , fought on her terms.

The sculptural beauty ofcourse peaks with the the 2 narrative panels in Mallai.

Mahishasuramardhini Mandapam, Mallai (me)

This most majestic and well-preserved panel with its fluidic movement and detail, is almost like an animated presentation.

One of the best examples of Pallava art, in the war scene, the goddess appears with eight hands riding a fierce-looking lion. She is holding a khadga(sword), dhanush(bow), bana(arrows), ghanta(bell) in her four right hands. Her four left hands display pasa, sankha, and dagger. An attendant holds a chatra (parasol) over Durga's head. 

She is in the battlefield with her army of female warriors and ganas (dwarfs). She is shown attacking, with arrows, the demon Mahisha, causing him to retreat with his followers. Mahishasura is armed with a gada (club). 

This image of Mahisasuramardini is also unique because, unlike in the majority of the images, the asura appears in his anthropomorphic form, which is his only depiction. There is no decapitated body of the buffalo. On the other hand, he is given equal weightage in the composition, with his stance, a clear indication of retreat and impending defeat.

She is clearly the aggressor, the one charging forward, sitting astride her lion. Her hands are in action, pointing the sword, holding the bow and pulling out arrows and managing all her other weapons. Yet even in this path of destruction and mood and ethos of anger and aggression - her feminine qualities are all too evident. In her attire, demeanour and expression, there is no attempt to imitate the male. She is unique and different and that is displayed in every chisel stroke that has shaped her.

Panel outside Athiranachanda Cave Temple, Mallai (me)

On a separate boulder in front of the Athiranachanda cave temple is this magnificent panel depicting Durga as Mahishasuramardini. One of the best specimens of Pallava art for its aesthetic, dynamic and vivid portrayal of the fight scene and its partcipants, this is considered by Art Historians to be next in sequence, to the Panel above, as here the Goddess has completed annihilation of the demon army, dismounting from her mount over to a lotus pedestal. 

Here the Goddess has 6 arms, carrying all her weapons and she is in the process of alighting from her lion mount. The asura has accepted defeat and is retreating and his demon army is being chased and vanquished by her army of Ganas. Again her feminitity, her prime trait, is supreme. While almost every other figure in the panel is charging or retreating in a violent pose, she is calm. Her mission accomplished, she is sure and secure in her skin.

What is unique about the Pallava Mahishasuramardhini ?

A question that is bound to haunt any art connoisseur is - 'what is it that makes the Pallava depictions of this Goddess unique?' They have something extra, something special, that sets them apart from the hundreds of other depictions all across India, through the ages.

Thorough scrutiny of the sculptural details and attempting to understand their essence, led me to realize that for Pallavas - Durga is a Devi, a Goddess, a woman first and foremost. 

Circumstances may have led her to take on a man's role and don his mantle. She may, well be, out of a traditional womans's role here; not a nurturer, but a destroyer. Her modus operandi is that of the men around - after all she is vanquishing a male prototype - an able bodied, strong, asura - no less. But even in these contradictory circumstances where the ethos is fully male, her femininity, is intact. She is innately a woman - a dignified, graceful, charming entity. She is capable of rising to any occasion, to win her battle in a male dominated scenario without compromising her identity.

The Pallavas thus have embodied the principles of the Puranas where  Mahishasuramardini is the formless divine (nirguna) who assumes form (saguna) to re-establish Dharma or the moral order. In  her saguna she is feminine, she is independent, and she is timeless. As Adishakthi, she feels no need to either merge or compromise her persona, with that of her counterpart.

Only in the Pallava depictions, do we see this very clearly, not only in her physical and anatomical attributes, but her charm, grace and expression of calmness bely her actions. Through the actions of violence, aggression and destruction, she is timelessly embodied as this quintessential woman. Her femininity is her main trait and that is what sets the Pallavas creations apart.

Reiteration of the feminine form - Mallai (me)

It is this essence that makes Pallava Mahishasuramardhini, a role model for the modern woman. Shorn of  her safe physical boundaries and traditional roles, the modern woman finds it very difficult to hold on to her identity.

I have repeatedly questioned myself, both about the way I dress and project myself and about the adoption of a competitive, aggressive non feminine attitude. On one hand, am I thrusting my femininity in the face of others? Do i need to be more unigender in my representation? On the other, am I too loud, too fierce, too male in my stance and attitude? Am I losing my identity in the process?

These are questions faced by every modern woman, trying to come to terms with her ethos and find her true identity and hold onto it, no matter where she may work, or with whom or for that matter, the very nature of her work.

We may well have entered the male bastions and taken on, at least, some of their roles, but in our overall equation with them and society at large, we are women and would like to remain so.

This total acceptance of my persona, my identity, is what the Pallava depictions were urging me to do with their whispers. To be who I am, with no apologies whatsoever. I am a woman, first and foremost. Where I perform or what I choose to do, can not alter this basic fact. I need not always celebrate my gender, but I dont need to hide it either, nor apologise for it.

Timeless art can, not only enhance our aesthetic sensibilities, but at times, also teach us basic life lessons.