It had been a long standing dream of mine to visit the temples of Tamil Nadu. I had heard much about them over the years and what little I had seen in pictures and TV had sparked a deep interest in them. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to visit them when I was living in India, and after I moved out of India in 2012 I could not get a chance to do so either. So, when we were planning a trip to India with my family in the December of 2023, Tamil Nadu was one of the first options that came to my mind. And as it fortunately it matched with the rest of our plans, a long standing dream was finally about to be realized. This post is going to be about the temples we visited in Tamil Nadu during our trip and my experiences there.
We left Berlin on the morning of 5th December. After arriving in India and having rested for a couple of days, we reached Chennai on the evening of 8th December, from where we took a taxi to Mahabalipuram. It is an hour’s drive from Chennai, and we arrived at Mahabalipuram later in the evening. We had booked our stay for 3 days at a resort called Marutham. After reaching there and getting our rooms, we had dinner and strolled around here and there, just getting used to the place. The weather was warm and humid, even in December, but overall it is a very nice place to spend a few days, especially if one is traveling in a family. The rooms are simple and clean, the staff is genuinely friendly and helpful, and the resort offers leisure activities such as bullock cart rides, archery, pottery, visits to the gaushala (cowshed), petting animals, etc., some of which can be very enjoyable for children. All in all, it was a good base for us to explore the heritage of Mahabalipuram.
Mahabalipuram is most famous for the so-called shore temple, along with some other memorable structures. Unfortunately we were really tired to undertake any major explorations on the very next day, so we decided to take it easy. In the early afternoon we took a taxi to a beach behind the Radisson Blue hotel and walked along its length, stopping every once in a while to collect sea shells. Except for the occasional passerby, the beach was mostly deserted. After having walked for about half an hour, we happened to enter a busier part of the beach. Many houses and buildings were located here and the beach took on a bustling appearance as well. We also came across several boats standing on the sand, which were probably used for fishing. In any case the smell of fish was stark here. We were hungry by now, so we looked around for a restaurant and finally found one called Searock Restaurant, where we decided to have our lunch. It specialized in sea food, but fortunately for me they had a few vegetarian dishes as well.
There was a bookshelf in the restaurant close to where we were sitting with a nice collection of books, most of it related to India. One of which caught my interest was a book called The Great Hindu Civilization: Achievement, Neglect, Bias and the Way Forward by Pavan K Varma I flipped through it and found it quite interesting, although I had never heard the author’s name before.
After lunch we again leisurely walked back to where the taxi was waiting. The air had become windier and the sea choppier. On this return walk I saw something that made my heart jump with joy. It gave me a taste of the things I was hoping to expect in this trip. There, in the sand, out of reach of the waves and yet close enough to the water, someone had carved out a beautiful Shivalingam.
No grand temple, no grand sculpture carved in stone, just a pair of hands lovingly carving out this symbol of eternity with perhaps the most well-known symbol for the temporary nature of life: the sand by the sea. It would be wiped out, it was sure to be wiped out in a few days, maybe even a few hours, yet here it was for the time being for me to take in with my eyes and to remind me, for a few minutes at least, of my own immortality in my mortal shell and of the eternal shivatattva present in every temporary, transient being in this universe, and beyond them and independent of them as well. Many years ago I had written a poem on a spiritual experience I’d had on the ghats of the river Ganga in Benares, and what I experienced here was also along similar lines.
As we were going back in the taxi, I was struck by the presence of innumerable shops along the roads engaged in making and selling stone sculptures of Hindu deities. For someone like me, for whom the last few years in Germany had been a time of intense spiritual starvation, these shops were a soothing sight indeed.
The next day we planned to visit the most famous sights of Mahabalipuram; namely the shore temple and the other sights in its vicinity. We hired two taxis and a guide for this purpose. The first place we visited was the place of the five rathas, or chariots. Each was dedicated to one of the five Pandava brothers of the Mahabharata. They were all built in stone. After that we visited a place called Krishna’s Mandapa.
Then just next to it was a giant rock relief known as Arjuna’s penance, which depicted various events from the Mahabharata and other Hindu scriptures. We thereafter visited what is known as Krishna’s butterball, a massive rock held in place naturally.
Unfortunately it was all rushed, as our family comprised a sizeable group, and the guide wanted to show us as many things as possible; hence it was impossible to experience any specific place in sufficient depth. Moreover, I was hoping to make purchases of some small stone idols from one of the numerous shops I have mentioned, but it was just impossible in the rush; so I just gave it up. Thereafter we went to the most famous monument of Mahabalipuram: the famous shore temple. The temple grounds are spread over a vast area and we had to walk a considerable distance to reach the temple complex. Innumerable Nandis stood on the wall forming a perimeter to the temple. The temple walls were filled with sculptures carved into the stone. Judging from what I saw, the sculptures must have been at one time dazzlingly beautiful. But I noticed with sadness that the contours had lost their sharpness and had started fading away. The relentless wind, humidity and rain across the centuries slowly but surely had made their effect felt.
The guide told us that at one time there had been seven such temples, called the seven pagodas by ancient travelers, but they were all by now submerged into the sea, and that this was the only one visible. He mentioned also that just before the tsunami of 2004, when the sea, before unleashing its fury, had receded for a short time by several meters and revealed the other submerged temples in the process. Later on while searching for this topic online, I came across the following article which confirms the statement made by the guide: https://htschool.hindustantimes.com/editorsdesk/knowledge-vine/the-shore-temple-of-mahabalipuram-how-many-structures-are-there-actually
The next day we left Mahabalipuram by taxi for Pondicherry, which we reached in the early afternoon. Pondicherry is famous for the main ashram of Sri Aurobindo, a prominent philosopher and Yogi from India. It was a French colony and has a considerable French population. I was curious about visiting Pondicherry, as the school which I had studied at was affiliated to the Aurobindo Ashram in Delhi. As a result we used to hear a lot about Pondicherry, and Sri Aurobindo’s photo adorned every wall in our school. We also used to hear many quotes from him every day in the morning assembly. Of course, as a child and later as an adolescent, I was least interested in Sri Aurobindo or his works. The focus was on getting good marks in the examinations, getting a good rank in the entrance tests for engineering institutes, and so on - the ubiquitous fate of nearly every schoolkid in India - instead of engaging with any deep philosophy. It was only later, when I started developing an interest in Yoga and Hindu philosophy that I developed an interest in his works. Hence visiting Pondicherry was like establishing a connection with a part of my childhood in a totally different setting.
We stayed at the Seaside Resort. Our rooms were on the ground floor and afforded a spectacular view of the ocean, with only a promenade separated it from our rooms. The balcony was facing east, so we had a glorious view of the sunrise as well. Just next to the resort was Aura, a shop selling merchandise and books on Yoga and Hindu philosophy. We had lunch at a nearby restaurant, after which I went to Aura and did some purchases. I was especially happy as it is quite difficult and expensive to acquire these books in Germany. After this I took a walk alone to the main Ashram of Sri Aurobindo, about 15 minutes from the resort and to my surprise ran into my parents, who had independently decided to go there as well. We walked back together and decided to rest for a while on some rocks on the beach. We sat there for half an hour, mostly in silence, looking at the waves breaking on the shore in the gathering twilight. The next day I again went to the Ashram, this time with my wife as she had not been there on the previous day. After lunch at the Seaside Resort and after having settling our bills, we set out on our way to Kumbakonam in two taxis which we had booked in advance.
The way to Kumbakonam was lined with bumpy roads and construction sites, so the going was at times slow. But this gave me the time to stare at the old houses, buildings and small temples that lay along the way, and it brought to my mind memories of picturesque, rural India known to me from childhood and from the paintings my maternal grandfather (who was an artist) used to paint. However, by the end the houses had become really decrepit and the road had become really narrow. We had begun wondering where on earth we were, when suddenly a large, solid, wooden gate loomed on our right. This was the entrance to Mantrakoodam, the resort where we were to stay.
After a friendly welcome and reception, we were assigned our rooms. The rooms were nicely furnished, simple but comfortable. The surroundings were clean and well maintained with much greenery. There was a Sri Krishna shrine inside the reception. There were some other temples on the resort grounds: a small Ganesha temple, a Devi temple and on the way to our room a snake temple with a bell, which I religiously rang each time I passed by. We even heard Vedic chants coming from somewhere, but I do not know if they were recorded or real. It appeared that an attempt was made to recreate the Bharatavarsha of the old times, maybe it reminded me of the atmosphere from the Adi Shankaracharya movie. In all it matched well with the temple excursions I had in mind.
We did not have a fixed plan in mind regarding which temples to visit. The next day we learned that most of the temples remained closed from about 12 noon till 4 PM. I made a rough outline in the afternoon by collecting the coordinates of the temples from Wikipedia and also learning about them a bit in the process. Most of the temples were clustered together in a direction northeast of the Airavateshvara temple. Our resort and the Airavateshvara temples formed the northeast and southwest ends of a diagonal, with the cluster of temples lying somewhere in between.
The Airavateshvara temple seemed to be the most prominent, so we decided to visit it first, and then visit the others on the way back. The Airavateshvara is a temple dedicated to Lord Shiva built in the 12th century CE. We hired two autorickshaws to go there. The driver of one of them had a deep knowledge of Hindu Puranic texts and the temples of Kumbakonam. It was evident that he was a devout and simple person. Upon asking it turned out that he came from a family of Shiva bhaktas, which one could also have guessed from the white smear on his forehead.
The ride to the temple was typical of Indian traffic: loud, noisy and dusty. We had been riding for quite some time now when, from the cacophony of the streets and the chaos of the traffic, the temple’s huge stone edifice suddenly loomed into view to my right, like a fable from the past magically brought to the present. It was quite surreal to see a structure like this in the midst of all the honking vehicles and busy streets.
We left the main road and entered a big lawn just outside the temple complex via a smaller road. Alighting from the autorickshaws here, we walked a few steps towards the temple. The first thing that caught our attention was a massive statue of a bull sculpted in stone staring at the temple entrance. This was Nandi, the Bull, the vehicle of Lord Shiva. Magnificent, strong as the rock out of which the statue had been built, and capable of tremendous destruction, seething with reserves of raw fury. After all, he is the mount of Lord Shiva, the one who broke the flow of the Ganga with his tresses, held the halahala poison in his throat, who presides over the final dissolution of the cosmos, and who goes around riding on Nandi with the pramathas. And yet, in spite of this wild strength and fury hidden behind the surface and invoked when need be, Nandi, the Bull, is at the same time graceful, calm, gentle and filled with selfless devotion to Shiva, his Lord and master. Such were the thoughts which came to my mind as I beheld the statue.
(I later came to know that the figure of Nandi is found also in Hindu temples in other countries in South East Asia. It is found, for example, in the Prambanan temple in Indonesia.)
In front of Nandi was the entrance of the temple with a gopuram on top filled with elaborate carvings of celestial beings. The moment we entered, we appeared to be transported into another world. A sprawling complex tiled with stone slabs, elaborate carvings of the most intricate kind depicting events from Hindu scriptures on the walls wherever one happened to cast ones eyes, elaborately built pillars, and statues of yakshas, apsaras, gods and goddesses inside the temple itself with eyes half closed, so that they appeared to be in a semi-meditative state. I lost sense of time as I went from one place to the other, trying to take it all in, the mystery and the silence, which seemed so tantalizingly close to opening the doors into the eternal secrets; and basking in the invisible radiation which the stones seemed to be giving off, so soothing and healing, as if they were absorbing rays from another dimension and radiating them back here on this earthly realm and covering me in their protective grace. Going inside the main shrine, we offered our obeisance to the deity and partook of the prasadam which was offered to us.
Thereafter we kept on roaming around inside the complex, examining the architecture and the artwork. Soon we found that we had spent here much longer than intended, with the result not much time was left for the other temples. We decided we could visit just one other temple, and upon the autorickshaw driver’s suggestion decided for the Adi Kumbeshwara temple.
Upon entering, the first thing we saw was a huge elephant on the premises of Adi Kumbeshwara. A tall gopuram of another temple reared itself from the courtyard of Adi Kumbeshwara. Curious, I asked someone which temple it was. I was told that it was the Sarangapani temple, which I remembered from my online searches earlier. It looked quite impressive, so I made a mental note to visit it the next day. Since it was getting late we could not spend much time here, and also because we were still feeling overwhelmed by the experience of Airavateshvara temple. So we just decided to return to the resort. On the way back the autorickshaw drivers took us to the Mahamaham tank. This is the venue of one of the biggest Hindu festivals, celebrated every 12 years, where devotees from all over come to take a dip in the sacred tank, much like the famous Kumbh mela held every 12 years in Prayagaraj in north India. However, we could not see much, as the lake was closed at this time of the day. The sun had also almost set by now and the light was fading very quickly, so we went back to the resort.
The next morning after breakfast we resumed our tour of the temples. However this time it was only my parents and me, as the others decided to relax at the resort itself. As it happened, my parents had not been with us the previous day, hence we decided to start with the Airavateshvara temple again, which made it my second visit to the temple. The bright light of the morning sun imparted a different quality to the stone carvings compared to the previous evening: they looked more vivid, the contours were clearer and well defined, and the contrast between light and shadow was accentuated more strongly.
After having spent some time at the Airavateshvara, the next temple we went to was the Sarangapani temple; the same temple whose gopuram I had seen from the Adi Kumbeshwara the previous day. This was a temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu. After passing through the gopuram we first entered a spacious courtyard. In front of us and beyond the courtyard was a pillared hall leading inside to the main temple. As we were crossing the courtyard, I caught sight of a latched gate to my right which led on to a small balcony like structure. My parents had gone ahead, but out of curiosity I stayed back and turning to the gate, unlatched it and entered a small hall open on all sides with the roof supported by pillars. On one of the walls was a painting of Lord Vishnu reclining on the serpent Shesha. Looking up, I saw fresco-like paintings of different forms of the Devi arranged in a circular array on the ceiling. I spent some time here, looking around and taking pictures. It is difficult to say why it was affecting me so much. This hall, these paintings, Vishnu reclining on the serpent. I knew all this from childhood, but seeing all this here, in these settings, made me feel, from the deepest spot inside me, as if I had reached home.
I left that place and made my way to the temple, where my parents had already gone. Just outside the entrance to the hall were paintings of Vishnu, Hanuman, and other deities on the walls. I was particularly struck by some of these paintings.
I took my time looking at them and taking photographs, and after a while entered the main hall. It was large and I had to walk a considerable distance to cross it. The door on the opposite side led to yet another hall in the interior of the temple, which in turn led to other halls. The first impression one got upon entering these was the feeling of space and size. The ceilings were high, the Shivalingams and the Nandis made out of stone, placed inside small rooms behind grilled doors at various spots, were heavy and massive, and so were the statues of the other deities. I walked around, looking at the sculptures and the carvings, and entered the more interior parts of the temple. Here, sunlight came from above, from small openings in the ceilings, and mixing with the while fluorescent lights inside imbued it with a strangely underground atmosphere, as if we were inside a deep, underground vault. There was a feeling of suspense and awe in the air which emanated especially from the giant Shivalingams. Finally after having walked in the various halls, we left the temple and walked back to the courtyard, where we spent some time looking at the intricate carvings on the tall gopuram, and finally went back to the autorickshaw waiting for us.
The next temple we visited was the Chakrapani temple. This is also a temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu. The autorickshaw driver was telling me how this temple came to be built. I could not understand him fully, but I gathered that this temple was built by the sun god. The first thing we saw after entering the hall were two big statues of Lord Vishnu. A flight of stairs led up to the upper storey where the garbhariha, a small enclosure housing the deity, was situated. Here we paid our obeisance to the deity and took the prasadam. Then I walked among the halls and pillars of the temple, looking at the various sculptures, carvings and paintings, and a spell seemed to weave itself around me. Although at first glance the temple was not as big or as eye-catching as the Airavateshvara or the Sarangapani, it was here that the feeling that I have spoken of earlier – the feeling that the stones were radiating something – was really intense. A silent music seemed to be playing the whole time, echoing and emanating from the walls, and I felt enveloped in its serenity and grace. On one or two occasions I believe I was quite close to tears. The feeling of being at home, which I had had in Sarangapani, solidified here even further.
One thing I would have missed, but which was brought to my attention by my mother, was a square shaped carving with certain symbols on the ceiling. From the fact that there were 12 symbols, each set inside a smaller square within the big square, she immediately made out that it represented the 12 zodiac signs.
It was now close to midday, the time when most temples close in Tamil Nadu before reopening in the evening. So we went back to the resort where we had our lunch. In the evening my parents went on another round of temples while I helped myself to an ayurvedic massage at the resort. This was our last day in Kumbakonam. We had booked two taxis for Tiruchirapally for the following day.
The next day we set out after breakfast. We were regretting that we had not been able to visit the Brihadeshwara temple in Thanjavur, about 60 km from Kumbakonam, which is the biggest and perhaps the most well known temple in the area. But fortunately it lay on the way to Tiruchirapally, and the taxi drivers suggested that they could make a stopover in Thanjavur. We reached Thanjavur after traveling for about an hour and the drivers parked the taxis in a parking lot near the temple, where we alighted in front of a busy road which we had to cross in order to reach the temple. The road was very busy, and visitors to and from the temple thronged both sides, so that it was more of a game trying to cross it without getting hit by a vehicle. It was a bit of a harrowing experience for us, being accustomed to the less exciting German traffic, but we managed it finally. We entered the temple complex and went through one giant arch after another. I could see that even compared to Airavateshvara these arches were big. There were again the two female figures with the fanged teeth on the arches, which I had seen in Airavateshvara.
We reached the spot where we had to take our shoes off before proceeding. The shoes had to be deposited at the end of a passage. As we walked along this passage I saw various shops on either side of this passage selling puja items, children’s toys, religious and scriptural books. I got really curious about the books, but since it was quite crowded, I just decided to check them out on the way back.
Having deposited our shoes, we entered the huge sprawling grounds of the temple, and what I saw took my breath away. The ground was surrounded by a perimeter of made of stone, decorated with intricate carvings, pillars, and statues. We walked towards the center of the ground, where sat an absolutely gigantic Nandi of stone, whose nostrils seemed to be flaring and snorting. And further away was the magical structure which is perhaps one of the most iconic sights of the temples of Tamil Nadu: the grand Brihadeshwara temple, whose pictures I had so often seen without knowing what it was. The word brihat in Sanskrit means huge, and the structure did ample justice to the name. But it was not just the size or the skilled sculpture that was so impressive. All throughout this edifice, the sculptures, the statues, and the carvings, ran the same simplicity of feeling which I had felt upon seeing the sand Shivalingam on the beach in Mahabalipuram. It was in fact the same feeling which I had had also in the temples we’d seen earlier. The feeling which put your soul in resonance with frequencies from a more ethereal realm, the same inexplicable call to the soul, the same silent appeal to an eternal principle which always stays, although everything else comes and goes around it in a never ending play.
On a personal note, this is perhaps one fundamental difference between European architecture and Hindu architecture. While the former is undeniably grand and beautiful, as evinced in the structures in Rome or Paris, yet they do not seem to complete the circle; they do not seem to take the final step, the final step which must lead you to yourself, make you go inward; rather, one is left staring at them with awe at the exterior structure. The temples we had seen so far were, on the other hand, like a scaffolding for you to climb somewhere higher than just experiencing mere awe for the skill and craftsmanship of the artists; they are like a vehicle for you to connect with your deepest self, which is the same as the universal Self (paramatman), or the brahman (परमात्मेति चाप्युक्तो देहेऽस्मिन्पुरुष: पर:). At that stage, the external grandness of the structure no longer matters, it is not the main component of the experience; just like the simplicity and the transitory nature of the Shivalingam made of sand at the beach in Mahabalipuram did not matter. The Shivalingam in sand may stand for a few hours, these temples may stand for a few centuries, but in terms of time there is not much difference between the two: both are just tiny blips in the vastness of eternity (आब्रह्मभुवनाल्लोका: पुनरावर्तिनोऽर्जुन). But what makes them so precious is that they both point to the same eternal principle, the same eternal tattva that stands beyond the reach of Time (मामुपेत्य तु कौन्तेय पुनर्जन्म न विद्यते) and upon attaining which you as a localized, individual entity in space and time no longer exist; you have dissolved away into it, just like the wave dissolving into the ocean no longer exists but becomes the ocean itself.
Anyway, coming back to the Brihadeshwara temple after this personal observation: we really did not feel like leaving the temple complex, as there was so much to see and experience. But the taxis were waiting and we had to get on with our journey. So with much reluctance we left the sprawling grounds. My mother and I made our way back to the place where we had deposited our shoes while the others waited. Having collected our shoes, we paused at the shops and I had a look at the books which I had noticed earlier. Most of the books were in Tamil, but some were also in English. There were books on the temples of Tamil Nadu, or were Hindu scriptures, or biographies of the famous Vaishnava and Shaiva saints of Tamil Nadu. I saw my chance and stuffing all fears about flight restrictions regarding luggage weight to the back of my mind, again went on a buying spree – not least because these books would not be available in Germany in the first place, and even if I could order them online the shipping costs would be very high.
(I’ve been reading these books after our return to Berlin, especially the book on the Alwar saints. It is said that the Alwar saints were reincarnations of Lord Vishnu’s different items, such as the bow or the conch, etc. Reading their biographies, it is clear that these saints had reached the pinnacle of Bhakti, and were no less than the Gopis of Vrindavana or Uddhava, the devotee of Krishna after whom the Uddhavagita is named. It is no wonder the temples and the very land on which they were built felt so hallowed. No wonder that there was so much sanctity issuing from the temples. Even reading about these saints now, whenever time permits, and long after our India trip, transports me to a different place, where the fever of worldly desires seems to abate and only the cool breeze of a languid contentment, filled with a gentle yearning, seems to blow through the soul. I have been thinking since quite some time that bhakti is the end goal, the endpoint of all sadhanas and spiritual practices, as it is the state where one wants nothing, not even enlightenment…)
After everyone had their shoes on and after we were done resting a while and getting ourselves together, we walked back to the waiting taxis. It took about another hour or so till we reached Tiruchirapally, where we checked into our hotel. A big Christmas tree bedecked with imitation bells and plastic gift boxes stood in the lobby. Next to it was a baby Jesus, also made out of plastic, reclining in the cow shed. The atmosphere was full with the “festive spirit” and “season’s greetings”. It was clear that with Tiruchirapally the temple tour was to a great extent over, and I felt a tinge of sadness at the realization. The stay in Tiruchirapally was for the most part uneventful. The only major incident was my visit to the Ranganathaswamy temple, which I visited with my mother. But it was really crowded and raining on that day, and we could not manage to enter the Garbhagriha. So we just made some purchases from the shops in the temple premises and returned to the hotel.
We left Tiruchirapally the next day and with this our trip of Tamil Nadu ended. The rest of the stay was spent in catching up with relatives and resting, and we returned to Berlin just before New Year.
Final Thoughts:
Here I’d like to jot down a few final thoughts.
It is a matter of wonder and extremely good fortune that South India still has so many ancient temples left intact, and that they for the most part escaped the miserable fate of temples in in North India, where almost all the original structures were razed down and destroyed by Islamic invaders from Arabia and Persia.
With our India trip, a long standing dream of mine of visiting the temples of Tamil Nadu finally came true. I am really grateful to the generations of brave souls who fought relentlessly to preserve this heritage for posterity. What we saw was akin to just scratching the surface, as there are countless such temples in South India. One lifetime is not enough to visit them all. I know I will go there again and again to dive into their sacred architecture and atmosphere. And till such time, I will try to build my own personal temple within my own self with the memories I brought back.
Final Final Thoughts
Needless to say, I believe that Hindu temples are an integral part of Hindu culture and civilization. Traditionally they have served as centers of culture and learning. Many art forms such as music , dance and drama were cultivated in temples. They were also centers of education. The so-called Bell and Lancaster system of education, introduced by Andrew Bell and Joseph Lancaster in schools in England in the early nineteenth century, was practiced originally in South Indian temples and was copied and passed off by them as their own invention. Not just the arts, but even mathematics and astronomy: the Kerala mathematicians such as Madhava and his disciples Nilakantha, Parameshvara, Narayana Bhattathiri, Jyeshthadeva, etc., famous as the inventors of calculus, were closely associated with the Guruvayur remple in Kerala. The linguist Narayana Bhattathiri, who also belonged to this lineage, is famous as the composer of the Narayaniyam. Thus, I firmly believe that it’s of the utmost importance to protect, preserve and foster these temples for future generations, and to keep alive the tradition that has continued since centuries. Failing to do so would be a tragedy and disservice to the coming generations.
However, the fact is that instead of protecting Hindu temples, the current political dispensation has broken so many temples in the name of “development”, so-called “beautification” drives, and for building so-called “corridors”. The biggest example of this is the Kashi-Vishvanath corridor in the city of Benares (Kashi), in which hundreds of historically important temples were torn down. This has been documented by Shivam Mishra in the following article: https://pragyata.com/catastrophic-kyotoisation-of-kashi/. A similar destruction of temples is feared in the Kamakhya region in Assam as well (https://swadharma.in/modi-pushes-kamakhya-divyalok-pariyojana-amid-devotees-concern/).
Another sad fact is that almost all Hindu temples in India are within tight financial and administrative control of the state, which often is only interested in the temples as a source of revenue. Hindu temples in India are run by government bodies which tightly manage the finances and administration of the temples. The temples are not allowed to run their own education institutions. The control by the government of finances means that temple funds are utilized for government projects while the temples themselves have little funds for their own maintenance or for running cultural, service or relief activities. The situation is in stark contrast to churches and mosques, whose administration and finances is carried out exclusively by the respective religious bodies, who are free to run their own education institutions as well. The situation is well described in the following snapshot, which has been taken from the article The Constitutional Subjugation Of Hinduism: A Hindu Cry For Equal Rights by M. Nageswara Rao (https://swarajyamag.com/ideas/the-constitutional-subjugation-of-hinduism-a-hindu-cry-for-equal-rights).
The current political dispensation in India which is supposedly, if major media outlets are to be believed, a “Hindu Nationalist” organization, has also done precious little to free temples from government control. They do raise this issue just before elections, but drop it soon afterwards. Apparently the strategy is to keep the issue alive among public perception, raise it during election time to garner votes from the Hindu community, and at the same time milk the revenue which the temples have to offer. Similarly, a certain white-bearded fellow can be sometimes seen walking in the temples, performing puja and arati. In fact, visuals of this fellow visiting the Guruvayur, Ramaswamy, Ranganathaswamy and other temples were splashed all over the place in January. It is interesting that such visits also occur just before elections. Will he do something to free Hindu temples from government control? I don’t know; the smell of money is sweet, and the temples do come in handy for political charades.