By Thulasi Muttulingam Continued from last week… The Nallur phenomenon There are hundreds of temples dotting the Jaffna Peninsula now and more coming up every day. While there are a few temples that vie with Nallur for iconic status, the fact that many Tamils – not just locally but also in the Diaspora – view it as their cultural emblem to the extent of reproducing the temple and its festival in their own climes is a unique phenomenon. Why Nallur, and not any other temple? There are differing theories as to why, depending on whom you ask. Some say it’s due to the historical memory of an ancient citadel of a long ago Tamil kingdom, worshiped by kings and queens of Jaffna. Therefore, it’s heavily romanticised in folkloric memory. Others attribute it to the prevalence of Muruga worship in the Peninsula. Jaffna’s Tamils identify as mainly Saivite (worshippers of Shiva) yet worship of Murugan is much more prevalent. As in South India, he’s seen as an accessible God by the masses. Of the two temples built when the Dutch eased regulations, the first to be built was the Vannarpannai Sivan Kovil, which was much grander and ambitious in scale. It was strategically set to be the primary temple in the region. Nallur, by contrast, was a small temple, and in the subsequent century, fell afoul of the most influential Hindu revivalist of the period, Arumuga Navalar, who objected to its non-agamic style of worship, including worship of the vel instead of a statue of Murugan with his co-wives. By this time, the Dutch had been driven out and the British were in power. While they were not as authoritarian as the Dutch and Portuguese colonial governments in repressing Hinduism, they had employed missionaries to convince people to convert. Many people, by this time, were at least nominally Christian due to centuries of enforced colonial rule, and Navalar was working to turn back the tide. Even people nominally Hindu had apparently lost much of their understanding of the religion due to two centuries of colonial repression – so Navalar felt the need to proselytise Hinduism to them. The folk Hinduism being practiced at the time worshipped tridents and vels instead of statues (primarily due to the aforementioned intolerant colonial repression), was not even remotely agamic, and employed practices like animal sacrifices and nautch girls. The Sivan temple, being agamic, did not follow these practices; the Nallur Kandaswamy Temple, being non-agamic, did. Such practices were mocked by British and American missionaries of the time as uncouth, which enraged Navalar – so he proselytised Agamic Saivism, which he held to be refined enough to escape missionary ridicule. Nallur’s temple authorities at the time catered to popular worship forms and wouldn’t accept his position on the matter, and so for nearly his whole life of decades-long proselytisation, Navalar, despite being a resident of Nallur himself, proselytised against the Nallur Kandaswamy Temple and for the Vannarpannai Sivan Kovil. Despite his famed prowess as an orator and writer though, the temple remained popular. If anything, the deeply held convictions for and against non-agamic folk religion only flamed passions further. In time, the nautch girls and animal sacrifices did disappear. But not because Navalar said so. It is so historically distant now that many in the current generation are not even aware that this was once the case. Contemporary belief is to fast during the festival and partake only vegetarian food on the days of visiting the temple. It is held to be a sin to enter the temple after consuming non-vegetarian food. The only reason we even know animal sacrifices once took place at this temple’s festival is because Navalar expounded on it in three long treatises. He was so enraged by it that he pursued court cases against the temple management and Sir Ponnambalam Ramanathan, his protégé, and eventually another stalwart leader of the Jaffna Tamils joined him. The temple management won the cases. In the 1930s, yet again a group of brahmins tried to wrest the temple from the family that owns it citing irregular worship and temple management – and they too lost. The modern Temple Currently, the Nallur Kandaswamy Temple is associated in people’s minds with history and traditions of the region, but interestingly, it’s also known for its modernity, creativity, and trendsetting. The temple structure keeps evolving, and in doing so, regularly flouts conventional temple architectural traditions of the region. The traditionalists grumble, but there is no doubting that it captures popular imagination and fascination. Jaffna’s citizenry fancy themselves traditional and conventional – and they no doubt are, in many respects. Yet, they are also obsessed with keeping up with modernity. The temple taps into this dichotomous nature rather well. It harks back to an ancient temple, but as a relatively new structure, does not feel obliged to preserve itself in perpetuity as a monument – other than for the original vel which still holds pride of place despite all attempts by agamic supremacists to remove it. As such, the temple keeps reinventing itself with ever new structures that fascinate the people. It doesn’t follow trends that other temples by and large follow in Jaffna, whether they be ancient or modern. It sets it. After griping at the vastu shastra (traditional architecture) conventions Nallur is flouting, many of the other temples then followed suit. The recently deceased owner of the temple, Kumarathas Mudaliyar*, who helmed its management for nearly 60 years, is credited with most of these innovations. According to Dr. T. Sanathanan, an art academic at Jaffna University, Mudaliyar engaged in the same type of innovations with his temple in the North as Sri Lanka’s famed architect Geoffrey Bawa in the South of Sri Lanka; constantly breaking rules and reinventing them, redefining local architecture in the process. Despite the initial cribbing of traditionalists, many of the innovations reflect a grandeur that the locals aspire to, and has thus found much favour among them. The temple’s famed villu mandapam – the frilled, bow-shaped arch – at its primary entrance, for example, was blasted as an unorthodox innovation by vastu shastra exponents. Yet, it is primarily responsible for giving the temple its iconic appearance that has become emblematic to it, and when the Sri Lanka Tourism Promotion Bureau started putting out postcards of Jaffna in the 1970s, it became emblematic of Jaffna too. It was unique and stood out from every other temple in the area, mostly still sporting colonial European architecture. Dutch-style Doric columns, Anglican church-inspired bell towers, and various other colonial architectural styles still grace many of the temples in Jaffna. Nallur used to have elements of these too; it still does – instead of one bell tower, however, it now sports six. As Jaffna’s academic and art historian P. Ahilan put it: “The temple structure is an eclectic mix of Dravidian, Mughal, and colonial European architecture.” Alongside this, as Dr. Sanathanan points out, it was also the temple owner cum manager’s aspirational Jaffna architecture taking new forms not seen before, yet quickly copied by others, to become regular features of the region. Despite the temple regularly flouting conventions much to the chagrin of traditionalists in this conservative community, it keeps growing in popularity and is seen as a major trendsetter. It appears to effectively tap into Jaffna citizens’ psyche as to what they want represented before they can cognise it themselves, and then they are enchanted and follow suit en masse. The temple also sports contrasts aplenty to cater to differing temperaments. From the outside, set in a sylvan setting of white sand and sturdy trees with its trademark red and white striped boundary wall, the temple has a majestic yet soothingly simple appearance. Many other temples in Jaffna, by contrast, are flamboyantly multi-hued. Inside the temple, though, there is gilt and glamour aplenty including clusters of chandeliers on the roof catering to a unique Jaffna fascination with gilt. Even the priests doing puja carry out their traditional aarti ceremony (flame waving around the deity) with a multi-tiered candelabra of flames which outshine the chandeliers above. Timing is scrupulously observed at the temple. Its pujas at fixed times are carried out on the dot at the specified time. In a population lackadaisical about punctuality and used to temple pujas as and when priests decide to show up, this rigid adherence to time is hugely appreciated. People from far and near know the exact time to show up for puja, and so are regular patrons of the temple. Busy professionals pointed to this as one of the reasons they prefer to frequent this temple above others in the area; they don’t need to waste their working time waiting for the puja, or show up at the appointed time only to realise it has already taken place as the priests decided to do it early – all common issues of grouse in other temples. Archana tickets are sold for Rs. 1 – an almost meaningless amount in Sri Lanka now. This price has remained fixed for years in an apparent bid to keep it open to the masses – which the masses do indeed appreciate. While people of all castes and classes do access the temple, however, it isn’t usual to see anyone of too humble an appearance at Nallur. People feel obliged to deck themselves in their finest clothes when visiting Nallur. The resident deity there is known as something of a fashionista; “Alangara Kandan” in local lingo. As one commentator put it: “The Murugan there is alangaram (decked up) and so are the people visiting him.” This is not necessarily the temple management’s intention, however. In recent years, they have put out rules cautioning against excessive displays of fashion, as a tendency was developing for budding fashionistas to use the temple as a vantage place for flaunting their trendsetting clothing. From deliberately humble origins and wishing to retain folk elements of worship and thus accessibility to the masses – all that the vel still represents – the temple is steering currents of elitism even as it works to keep itself accessible and relatable to everyone. The fashion scene likely sprang up thanks to its long-running festival and the tendency of people to dress their best for it, but it was aggravated by visiting Diaspora members who always put Nallur on their must-visit list when visiting home and show up decked in their best too, sporting varying fashions from across the world. The locals, not to be outdone, soon started sporting outlandish fashions in temple precincts in competition, which the temple felt a need to put a stop to eventually. Men have to walk in shirtless, women are required to dress culturally appropriately in modest clothing. A lot of glitter can still be seen to rival the glitter of the Kandan and his palatial splendour inside, but the tendency to treat the temple as a modelling ramp has declined. As of now, partly due to historical memory and association to the old kingdom, partly due to the popularity of Murugan worship, and partly due to creative and strategic leadership, the Nallur Kandaswamy Temple is considered foremost among the emblematic temples of Jaffna. Sociologists and religious scholars attribute a few other reasons too for its primacy over other temples in the region. For instance, it has the longest-running festival in the country, running for 25 days. For well over a month, including days leading up to and after the festival, hawkers set up stalls all around the temple, giving it a carnival atmosphere. In the war-torn region of Jaffna where social events are few and far between, it’s a rare opportunity for families and friends to enjoy a festive atmosphere. So deeply ingrained is this cultural aspect in people’s lives that Diaspora Jaffna Tamils across various western countries try to reproduce their own Nallur festival complete with hawkers, palmyrah products, peanuts, and other Jaffna-based regional snacks to relive their nostalgia. It’s a much looked forward to event on the annual calendar in Jaffna and draws not only locals but also pilgrims and tourists from around the world including many in the Diaspora who return every August to take part in the festival. All of Jaffna’s hotels and numerous guest houses get booked out at this time. Traffic for a month will have to circumnavigate around a wide cut off swathe around the temple with police posts put up to accommodate the surging crowds. Some hawkers became so popular that they became permanent businesses around the temple, leading again to make it a happening area to visit for youths and business people alike. Iconic hang out centres like Rio and Lingams Ice Cream are situated right outside the temple. Likewise, many of Jaffna’s most famous restaurants and cultural centres surround the temple. Another attributed reason is that Nallur attracted several well-known saints to its precincts. One of Jaffna’s most well-known yogis of the 20th Century, Yogar Swami, his guru Chellappa Swamy, and a lady ascetic called Chadayama, all preached the greatness of Lord Murugan of Nallur in its vicinity. Some of them occupied the area for years. Chellappa Swamy’s tomb is situated opposite the temple and still draws crowds. Yogar Swamy meditated under a bilva tree near the temple for years and the crowds he drew came to associate his memory with Nallur. The temple’s popularity spiked in some scholars’ estimation due to the association of these venerated ascetics. Alongside this, Jaffna’s well-known aesthetic exponents like Veeramani Iyer composed songs in praise of the temple that gained mass popularity – again immortalising the temple and Nallur Kandan. In the locality, people have differing opinions – if they have an opinion at all – as to why they so revere this temple. Many are just stumped by the question. Veneration for Nallur Kandaswamy is just something that runs in their bloodstreams apparently; and so, apart from their daily or weekly visits to the temple, they will wend their way there on foot every August, decked in their best for the festival, chanting arohara (victory) to Lord Murugan by the various names he’s known by: “Kandanukku Arohara, Murganukku Arohara, Vadivelanukku Arohara, Sivabalanukku Arohara…” They transform the area of Nallur with their fervour in the times of festival, often engaging in exorbitant worship forms such as thooku kavadi (affixing hooks to their bodies and being transported via tractors to the temple, hanging horizontally) and kavadi attam, a type of dance dedicated to Murugan. Through thick and thin, despite the vicissitudes of life visited upon them in this war-torn region, their devotion to the Nallur Murugan runs deep. Long after the kings and queens who ruled alongside his reflected power are gone, he continues to rule over the people of Jaffna. A deity in tune with the masses. Royal and resplendent yet also approachable and accessible. That’s his draw, according to Jaffna’s public. A God and his temple, emblematic of who they are, as a people. *Kumarathas Mudaliyar passed away last month at the age of 92. He had helmed the management of Nallur since 1964 and is primarily credited with its modern innovations and current appearance. (An edited version of this article was published in “Where the Gods dwell” by Westland Books, India, tracing the history of 13 famous Hindu temples in the South Asian region)