Had an amazing day yesterday, hopping from one temple to another around Kozhikode with @sruthinlal, tracing their distinct histories (and stories), the transformations of their gods and legends, and simply staring in awe at some of these shrines.
We began at Puthur early in the morning. It is said that this is the temple where Vasco da Gama and his crew bowed to Bhagavathi, under the impression it was a shrine to the Virgin Mary. The image of the goddess looked exactly to me like the women we see in old Kerala murals.
Next we went to the Nanjundeswara temple. Stunning, very old, with two Sivas: one inside and one outside the compound. The priest is a young chap and very friendly.
Pallikara Sudarsana temple followed. The Sudarsana chakra is a round flat stone but is concealed behind a curtain, and a brass (or gold?) "face". There are other temples in the area to Vishnu avatars.
Next Balussery Vettakarumakan temple (with a Siva nearby--the dvarapala is from there). Story goes that the place was KurumbranadRajah's palace till the hunter god took up residence in the wall. Lovely murals. And unusually for a Kerala temple, a "Paradesi Brahmin" has a role.
Next came Kunnamangalam Bhagavathi (who watches over nearby hills). A once bloodthirsty goddess now turned "benign" (animal sacrifice etc long gone). Sanctum was closed but the priest gave us a bucketful of prasadam--our breakfast that morning!
The pillars in the temple are beyond repair and some conservation architects and experts are at work to preserve what remains. Nearby we also went and looked at a circa 940 CE inscription, dug up from the yard of a Nambeesan household some years ago.
Thiruvangayur Siva was next on the map. Quite a trek up to see him. Again, sanctum was shut because it was past 11am, but we admired the outer structures (practically built on rock) and the view.
Muchukunnu Siva is stunning. Fully enclosed by sturdy walls, very geometrical. It is also famous for the temple pond--apparently a favourite location for wedding photography and film shoots. There is a kavu (grove) around also.
Speaking of groves, there is a splendid one spread out over acres and acres around the Poyilkave Durga temple, which is where we went next.
At Thurayil Kavu Bhagavathi, we met the most famous residents of the temple complex: its monkeys. @sruthinlal bravely fed them peanuts. I non-bravely took pictures from 3 feet away. Again, magnificent kavu with some great old trees.
Ten temples covered in some 12 hours, ending by the seaside. It was hot, but tremendously enlightening and interesting. And in all the local stories there is much to discover, study, and think about.
Great day.
(@sruthinlal through @Arpo_IN is doing a lot to document local histories, collect songs and lore, help push restoration work at historically significant sites, and a lot more. Real privilege to be able to spend a whole day with someone so impressive.)
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Dr MS Valiathan, founder of the Sri Chitra Institute in Trivandrum, passed away today. A wonderful man, he had many stories to tell. One he told me was on how the institute obtained an iconic old palace as its headquarters. A small thread.
Satelmond Palace belonged to Senior Maharani Sethu Lakshmi Bayi who ruled Travancore 1924-31. She built the place in the 1910s and ruled the state from here in the 1920s. Her children and grandchildren were raised in this house.
Her great rival in the family was her sister, the Junior Maharani Sethu Parvathi Bayi. Though the Senior outranked the Junior, the latter in 1912 gave birth to the last maharajah. Her status rose.
Malik Ambar's is one of the most fascinating stories from the early modern Deccan, and he was a clear hero to the first Maratha Chhatrapati, Shivaji, whose court poet pays homage to Ambar in the Sivabharata (1670s).
Ambar began life as Chapu in Ethiopia, from where he was enslaved and taken to Baghad. In the 1570s, as a young man he landed in the Deccan which had a large number of African military slaves.
His master here, the peshwa (minister) of Ahmadnagar was himself a black man. When the peshwa died, Ambar became a free man, raised a small corps of his own, and became a freelance military entrepreneur.
This unsigned painting doesn't look like a Ravi Varma to me. Lacks his finish from that period. More likely a work by his sister Mangala Bayi or one of his students (whose works are often assumed to be by Ravi Varma because they belong to the same era). thehindu.com/news/national/…
The right side work is a Ravi Varma from the late 1880s. Way superior to the picture in the article: softness, the flow of fabric, etc. The subject also looks somewhat wooden in the painting on the left.
Works by several less well known artists from broadly the same period like Mukundan Tampi, Sekhara Warrier, the Naidus, etc. are periodically mistaken for Ravi Varma canvases. I suspect the picture in the article is a similar case.
At the Shri Bhavani Museum in Aundh, near Satara. It houses a remarkable collection, originally established in 1938 by Bhawanrao "Balasaheb" Pant Pratinidhi, the rajah of Aundh (also famous for giving his little state a 'Gandhian constitution').
The museum is a bit out of the way, atop a hill, but is a real gem. It house marble sculptures, bronzes, copies of Ajanta paintings, Pahari miniatures, photographs, antique weapons, besides a whole illustrated depiction of the Ramayana sketched by the rajah between 1911 and 1914.
@advsanjoy@amir19621962 A bit tired of this "breast tax=tax on upper garments" claim. First image is Cochin rani less than 100 years ago; second is a Brahmin family. People were topless in Kerala, across castes.
@advsanjoy@amir19621962 Avarna communities were sometimes charged a poll tax called Talappanam (head tax). In some places to differentiate between men and women, it was called head tax and breast tax. Beyond the name it had nothing to do with breasts or their covering.
@advsanjoy@amir19621962 The idea that women *must* cover breasts was largely a Victorian innovation in Kerala. Upper castes wore a shawl loosely, not as such to cover breasts bit as a caste privilege. So please criticise it on the basis of caste, but not because it had anything to do with breasts.
The man in this painting (from the amazing Kerala Museum, Kochi) is Visakham Tirunal of Travancore (1837-85) and one of the several maharajahs I cover in ‘False Allies’. On this part botanist, part industrialist, part planter, part writer nineteenth-century prince, a thread.
To begin with, he is dressed in everyday attire in the painting, though in the colonial era this was exoticised as ‘temple dress’. On formal occasions, the man would appear as in the photo below, in what we might call business attire.
Visakham Tirunal effectively became heir apparent to the throne of Travancore in 1860, aged 23. By the time his older brother died and he succeeded to power, another 20 years passed. An intelligent man, the rajah-in-waiting decided to put his time to better use than just wait.