Meenakshi Temple

Take off your shoes, and the stone floor greets you first. In the morning it is cool and slightly damp. By afternoon it holds the heat of the Tamil sun. Around you, bells ring from somewhere deep inside. There is the smell of jasmine, camphor, and burning ghee. Women pass with strings of white flowers in their hair. Above it all rise the towers, crowded with painted figures, climbing toward the sky in tier after tier.

This is the Meenakshi Amman Temple, the beating heart of Madurai. It sits on the south bank of the Vaigai River, in one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in southern India. The temple is dedicated to two deities. One is Meenakshi, a form of the goddess Parvati. The other is her husband, Sundareswarar, a form of Shiva. Unusually for a Shiva temple, it is the goddess who comes first. Locals often call it simply Meenakshi's temple.

The name Meenakshi is usually translated as fish-eyed. In Tamil poetry, eyes shaped like a fish are a mark of great beauty. Some also explain it another way. A fish never closes its eyes, the saying goes, just as the goddess never stops watching over her devotees. Look for her in the paintings and carvings. She is often shown with green skin, and a small green parrot perched on her hand or shoulder.

Her story belongs to legend, not to recorded history. According to the temple tradition, she was born as a princess to a Pandya king of Madurai. Legend has it that she had three breasts at birth. A prophecy said the third would vanish when she met her destined husband. She grew into a warrior queen and marched north in conquest. On Mount Kailash, she came face to face with Shiva — and the third breast disappeared.

Shiva then came to Madurai to marry her. That divine wedding is the emotional centre of this place. Every year, in the Tamil month of Chithirai, which falls around April and May, the city celebrates it in a great festival. Huge crowds fill the streets. Temple chariots are pulled through the old town by hand. For many families in southern India, coming to Madurai for the wedding is a lifelong ritual.

Now lift your eyes to the gopurams. These are the gateway towers, and the temple has fourteen of them. The four largest stand at the outer walls, one facing each direction. The tallest rises on the southern side. Each tower is shaped like a stepped pyramid, narrowing as it climbs, and topped with a rounded crown. From a distance they look textured. Up close, you see why.

Every level is covered with sculpted figures. There are gods and goddesses, demons, animals, dancers, and guardians. They number in the thousands. The figures are made of stucco, a kind of plaster, built over the brick core. They are painted in bright pinks, blues, greens, and yellows. The colours do not survive the weather forever. So the towers are repainted from time to time, often during the great renovation ceremonies held every few decades.

Here is something many visitors do not realise. The temple you see today is not ancient in all its parts. A shrine has stood here for a very long time, and Tamil literature links Madurai with the goddess for many centuries. But much of the complex was damaged in the early fourteenth century, during raids by armies from the Delhi Sultanate. Most of the great halls and towers were built or rebuilt later.

That rebuilding came largely under the Nayak rulers, who governed Madurai in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Thirumalai Nayak is the best-remembered of them. His era gave the temple many of its grand pillared corridors. The Nayaks also shaped the city around it. Old Madurai is laid out in rings of square streets with the temple at the centre. Several of those streets carry the names of Tamil months, linked to the festivals held on them.

Inside, find the Golden Lotus Tank. It is a stepped pool of water, surrounded by a colonnade, and a golden lotus rises from its centre. Pilgrims sit on the steps to rest and pray. Locals say this tank was once a test for Tamil poetry. According to one popular tale, manuscripts were placed on the water. Worthy works floated. Poor ones sank. Whether true or not, the story shows how closely this temple is tied to the Tamil language.

Then there is the Hall of a Thousand Pillars. The name is a slight exaggeration — the actual count is a little under one thousand. Stand at one end, and the rows of carved columns seem to line up in every direction. Many pillars show mythical creatures called yalis, part lion, part elephant, part something else entirely. Today the hall holds a small museum of temple art, which needs its own ticket.

Walk slowly through the corridors and you may find the musical pillars. These are clusters of thin stone columns carved from a single block. When struck, each one gives a different note. Please do not tap them yourself, as they are protected. Look also at the painted ceilings. Many show mandalas and scenes from the life of the goddess. In the dim light they are easy to miss.

The temple is not a museum. It is a living place of worship, busy from early morning until late at night. Priests chant. Families bring offerings of coconut and flowers. Each night, in a ceremony, the image of Sundareswarar is carried in a procession to Meenakshi's chamber, so the divine couple can rest together. The inner sanctums are open only to Hindus, but the corridors and halls hold more than enough for every visitor.

Before you leave, pause in one of the outer corridors. Listen to the bells and the slap of bare feet on stone. Watch the light fall through the gaps between the pillars. When you walk back out through a gopuram, turn around once. Look up at the crowd of painted figures above you. They have watched this city come and go for centuries, and tonight they will watch the procession again.