Temple Architecture That Reveals An Eclectic Past

A view of the Yoga Narasimha Swamy Temple in Melkote from the base

Bangalore: Travel on the Bangalore-Mysore highway can be likened to the motion of a spacecraft – the moments before which the craft breaks free from the earth’s atmosphere is akin to the agonisingly slow, bumper-to-bumper traffic between Bangalore and Kengeri, a distance of about 20 km; the craft’s easy travel in outer space can be approximated to the vehicle speed once past Kengeri and Jnana Bharathi, when drivers realise that their vehicles have more than one gear. Only in my case, the spacecraft was a KSRTC Volvo bus, and I was journeying to the Sri Cheluvaraya Swamy temple in Melukote – whose presiding deity shares its cognomen with more Kannadigas than any other, the Dharmasthala Manjunatheshwar Temple being an exception.

The bus conductor is kind enough to wake me up at Srirangapatna where I alight and cross the road; my skin is sensitive enough to record the difference in temperatures in and out the comfy bus. A private bus from Mysore to Nagamangala comes my way; I ask him whether the bus will lead me to my destination. He informs that I can get down at Jankhalli Cross, 6 km from the shrine, from where I can get an auto. Decision making could never have been quick as, before I can realise, I find myself seated inside the crowded bus, equipped with a TV, DVD player and a rudimentary audio system playing a Shankarnag hit movie. The bus takes a detour from the state highway and leads me into an undulating road via Pandavapura and Kirangur with the landscape interspersed with sugarcane fields, sugar factories and more sugarcane fields, irrigated by an intricate network of canals from the river Cauvery. So lush is the landscape that I wish my eyes turned into Polaroid cameras. I get down in a tearing hurry when I am informed that my destination has arrived. The bus leaves, kicking up a cloud of dust, which when cleared, reveals a fleet of autorickshaws standing in an opposite road. An auto driver deposits me at the Pushkarini (holy water tank) adjacent to the hill-top Yoga Narasimha temple (ideally, they should not charge more than Rs60 plus inflationary charges).

A procession underway at the Pushkarni adjacent
to the Yoga Narasimha Temple

I am informed that the Sri Cheluvaraya Swami Temple is closed and would open only after two hours. I decide to take a fitness test and clamber up the flight of steps leading to the Yoga Narasimha Temple. One needs to scale the steps carefully, as this author learnt the hard way, because although not numerous, they are of uneven sizes and heights. Halfway through I could have used an oxygen cylinder, but I climb, somehow. A fresh wind hits my face as I reach a particular level; my efforts yield fruit when I reach the top; the view of the surroundings from here is spell-binding, to say the least; even the route that I had traversed to get to the temple seems so insignificant from here! (I am reminded of the Uchipillaiyar temple in Tiruchirappalli.)

Its closing time here too, and importantly, its prasadam time! A priest offers me in a banana leaf akkaravadasal (a variant of sweet pongal that uses sugar in lieu of jaggery) and coconut rice. I question him about the history of this temple, when he says in a hurry that Lord Vishnu meditated here for about a century and that the temple was constructed by King Vishnuvardhana of the Hoysala dynasty, before he waves me off. I trudge out of the shrine and sit on a hillock beside the Gopuram (temple tower), as the cool breeze soothes my body. The toll of a shrine bell below signals that the Cheluvaraya Swamy Temple is open. I begin my downward trek to the shrine located about a kilometre away.

One needs to be careful while
scaling these steps leading to the
Yoga Narasimha Temple

So goes the history of the temple: the Vaishnavite philosopher Ramanujacharya, unable to bear the persecution of the then Chola emperor Kulothunga II, a Saivite fanatic, had to flee from Srirangam in Tamil Nadu, which houses the Ranganathaswamy temple – that has the second largest temple complex in the world. As he came along the banks of the Cauvery, he arrived at this spot, which was then covered with anthills, when he received a premonition that a temple was located. King Vishnuvardhana joined in the saint’s  endeavour and the temple was reconstructed in early 12^th century. The temple is known for two other objects of worship that have interesting tales of their own – the Vairamudi, or diamond crown, and the Utsavamurthy, or the metallic image of the lord used during processions. Legend has it that the Vairamudi was presented to Anirudha, grandson of Lord Krishna, at the time of his marriage, when it was stolen by a rakshas (demon), and not to be found. It was left to Garuda, the mount of Lord Vishnu, to retrieve it and when he encountered the idol of Lord Cheluvaraya Swamy, he placed the crown on the idol, which proved a perfect fit. The Vairamudi has been with the temple ever since. The Utsavamurthy was stolen by a Muslim invader from Delhi, who had then given it to his daughter to play with. Ramanujacharya, when he got to know of this, met the ruler and persuaded him to return it to the temple. The ruler is said to have mockingly replied that “you can take it if it comes with you”, when the saint beckoned to the idol saying, “Chella pillai varaai (Won’t you come with me?).”  Lo, behold, the idol walked to Ramanujacharya, who promptly brought it back to the temple. However, the ruler’s daughter, Bibi, could not bear the separation from the idol and is said to have come all the way back to the temple, where she died. Even today, there is an idol of Bibi Nachiyaar (Naachiyaar being the title for feminine devotees of Lord Vishnu) at the temple.

A Sanskrit college is located in the temple’s periphery. In fact, had it not been for the board, I would have mistaken it for a temple accounts office; curious, I decide to peep inside. The college houses a few terminals at one end, and some rare ancient manuscripts – treatises on different forms of philosophy – which were said to have been written by Ramanujacharya himself. The college principal says that the college was established about 150 years back by then rulers of Mysore, the Wadiyars, as they felt that a dedicated place for instruction was needed. “These are some of the scholars who passed through the institution’s hallowed portals,” he says, pointing to a large number of photographs nailed on the wall. The college received the Wadiyars’ patronage, and after independence, was taken over by the Government of India.

My darshan and my tryst with history complete, I hail an auto, who after turning on the ignition, plays the same Shankarnag hit number that I had to listen to while making my way here.

Demi-gods, after all, seem to be more omnipresent than the actual gods!

by Rajagopalan Venkataraman