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On the banks of the Amaravathi
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The hoary past of the Sellandi Amman temple, in Sanapiratti, near Karur, would interest the layman and the religiously inclined alike. PREMA NANDAKUMAR dwells on the greatness of the divine abode.
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A sad picture of neglect...Kothandarama Swamy temple.
WE HAVE beautiful names for the rivers in Tamil Nadu. One of the most enchanting is Amaravathi, which invokes the greenery and Kalpavriksha tree of Lord Indra's heaven. Streams in the Anamalai area of the Western Ghats twine together to form the river that flows for more than 200 km to meet the Cauvery, near Karur.
Historically famous as the possible capital Vanji of the Cheras, Karur is today well known for its textiles. But it has always been famous for its devotion to agriculture and temple culture. Travelling along the Amaravathi can be joy, if only to watch the fields of sugarcane and groundnuts and to walk into any temple and lave in the peaceful atmosphere glowing with the faith of simple village folk.
Some of the pleasure seems to be missing now at the recently renovated Sellandi Amman Temple, in Sanapiratti, near Karur. The temple is right on the riverbank but the river is no more than a spread of sand.
A friend who resides in Sanapiratti village explains how the returns from the land have gone down inexorably because of the drought-like condition. For the past several months there has been no rain. The textile industry has brought prosperity to Karur but it has also destroyed the purity of the underwater resources. The water is sweet no more and is polluted with chemicals. Yet, the friend holds on to his land and ancient house, since for more than 300 years his family has been residing in the area with total faith in the presiding deity, Sellandi Amman. "All we need is floods. A single flood can restore the purity of our water sources." The enthusiasm with which a group of people connected with Sanapiratti have begun to renovate their temple is deeply moving. We first go to Sellandi Amman temple, whose two-tiered gopuram gleams with new paint. "What does Sanapiratti signify?" I ask. "It is actually Chennappa Reddy who was a Revenue Officer in Rani Mangammal's regime. She gave him all this land, which was then full of overgrowth. He renovated existing temples and formed the seven villages that make up Sanapiratti. The original name seems to have been Narasimha Samudram. That is why we have named the renovation committee, Narasimhan Samudram Narpani Mandram," says the president, R. Jayaraman.
As you enter, you see a small swing hanging from a stone arch. Atop the entrance are several figures of goddesses along with two siddhas, Karuvurar and Bhogar. One can imagine the siddhas sitting in yogic silence here facing the waters of Amaravathi millennia ago. The huge ardha mandapam has a newly installed electric drum that activates two brass bells as well. Figurines of Ashta Lakshmi gaze at the devotees indicating prosperity to all those who enter the temple. Since Sellandi Amman is also considered Lakshmi (Selva Nayaki Amman), this addition seems in tune with the holiness of the temple. Vinayaka and Subramania are at the entrance to the sanctum, flanked on either side. Within is Sellandi Amman with the lower hands betokening the abhaya and varada mudras. She is the guardian deity of the area, which includes the villages of Sanapiratti, Pasupatipalayam, Ramagowndanur, Vellalapatti, Narikkattiyur, Mulakattanur and Kolandagowndanur.
Legends say that she gave the final ruling with regard to the borders for the lands of Cheras, Chozhas and Pandyas, 2,000 years ago. Though the three dynasties were often at loggerheads, it is obvious that they somehow maintained peace in these parts because of Sellandi Amman's presence, so close to the point where Amaravathi joins the Cauvery.
Going round the prakaram is a pleasant exercise. The scorching sun above is forgotten while contemplating on the associate divinities installed in separate niches. Madurai Veeran is an image of controlled strength and so is Santhana Karuppannan. There is also an attractive sculpture of the Sapta Matrukas.
The guardian deeity of the villages around...Sellandi Amman, in Sanapirati.
A large piece of land adjacent to the temple has been bought and efforts are on to build a hall there, which can be utilised for marriage and religious discourses. "Chennappa Reddy had done well to give a new life to these ancient temples," you tell the secretary K. Balasubramanian, as you come out and stand gazing at the river that has not a patch of wet.
"It is true. But he also built a temple himself," he replies and as we walk a few yards on the road, he stops at a pillar, which appears to mark the end of an agraharam. But where is the temple?
Presenting a contrast to the gleaming Sellandi Amman temple, the Kothanda Ramaswamy temple is dilapidated and seems to have sunk a little into the earth. "That is because the level of the road was raised sometime ago," the secretary says. "The pillar could be the dhwajasthambam or was perhaps used for Kartikai Deepam."
Memories have grown dim because of neglect in the intervening decades since he was a little boy. However, the legend of Chennappa Reddy lives on. He had a dream of building a temple for Rama since he had been told that this was part of Dandakaranya and Rama had tarried here awhile.
In any case, the Nayaks of Thanjavur and Madurai with their Telugu antecedents had particular love for Lord Rama. Reddy built the temple and installed Rama, Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman, and arranged for worship according to the Vykhanasa Agama.
It is the glory of India's culture that no temple fails to surprise us in some way or the other. The pillar at the entrance has Hanuman, Garuda, the discus and the conch carved on its four sides. We go past a tiny but lovely Garuda image into the front hall, which has now opened up to the skies since the tiles have all fallen. There is a tiny bali peetam in the open courtyard.
Within, we have a well-proportioned, spacious, bat-roofed (vavval mandapam) ardha mandapam. The huge pillars are cracked because the walls have sunk. Expressive images of Nammazhwar, and Kulasekhara (who is a familiar azhwar in Rama temples as he was the first one to sing the Ramayana in its entirety as the Angannedumathil decad), Vishwaksena and a serpent helix can be made out in the shadows close to the walls. The next turn would take us to the sanctum. But as elsewhere, here one comes across one of those rare moments of joy in such temples. The Jaya and Vijaya guards are marvellously formed stone sculptures.
Within the Moolavar images of Rama, Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman appear bright enough in the dim light, but literally glow when the priest waves the lighted camphor. Since the secretary had said that in his boyhood all festivals including the Lord aiming the arrow on Vijaya Dasami, were observed in this temple, you wonder aloud about the utsava vigrahas. Surely they must have been there at one time? You are relieved to know that they do exist, but are right now kept in safe custody elsewhere. A story one hears so often in South Indian temples depriving one of gazing at some magnificent bronzes of bygone days. In the course of the day's wanderings you learn that about the same time as Chennappa Reddy, a group of Dikshitars who had specialised in the Mrit-sanjivini Mantra (which brings dead persons back to life) were brought here from Vriddhachalam, probably to perform puja in the temples. They retained the memory of their race by installing Lord Vriddhagireeswara in a temple. This temple has also been recently renovated and the priest was getting ready for abhishekam for Vriddhagireswara represented in Lingam form.
The dhwajasthambham outside the main entrance is slightly on the side of Nandikeswara. It is said that on one day in the year, the sun's rays bathe the Lingam in the sanctum. Going round the temple, I tarry for quite sometime watching Dakshinamurthy, an evocative sculpture. Other niches have Vigneswara, Subramaniam as the Mendicant of Palani and Chandeswaramurthy.
As you prepare to take leave, Sanapiratti flings yet another surprise . In the front portion of the Vridhagireeswara temple, there is an Anjaneya in black stone.
A newly installed deity, he stands in the shade of two huge trees, one peepul and the other neem. Indian tradition has always considered the togetherness of these trees very auspicious.
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