This house reverberates with history. The etchings of Appar’s (a Nayanmar) profound poetry on the yellow walls add to its quaintness. We are hosted at the Mangala Heritage Retreat, a home in an old agraharam and a property of the Prakriti Foundation, as part of a Nayanmar story trail organised by the Foundation.
Women dressed in colourful saris, with bindis dotting their foreheads, wait with an aarti and lamp to usher us in. The breakfast whipped up by Manimeghalai akka , a local from the village, includes sambar, poriyal, pesarattu, narthanga chutney and tomato thogaiyal , made of fresh and local produce. Involving the local community in tourism through hosting travellers and history enthusiasts is one of the visions of Mangala, tells Aroul, the manager. There are just five rooms in the heritage house, apart from the nadumuttam , with low roofs, and brass decor.
I have been told that Thiruppugalur was the favourite haunt of some Nayanmars, devotees of Lord Shiva, who lived between the 5th and 9th Century. There is every possibility that the staunch Saivite and wandering minstrel, Appar, who spent his last days cleaning the vegetation at the temple, and nurturing the groves, could have set foot here. The stories of Karaikal Ammaiyar, shunned by her own husband, and the fussy Azhakuni Siddhar who cried adamantly to Parvati that she finally asked Lord Shiva to grant him mukthi , are engaging and funny. Go to any temple here, and you will hear these tales being recounted by everyone, from the priests to devotees, and those begging for alms.
The best part of this trail was exploring the lesser-known temples. It takes around 45 minutes to drive to Kayarohaneswarar temple in Nagapattinam, named after Pundareeka Maharishi, who is supposed to have attained mukthi from his body when Lord Shiva hugged him. Inside the temple, the cinematic paintings on the ceilings and walls tell many mythical stories. It is interesting to note that the local trade also blends with the mythology of the place. Nagapattinam, being a fishing town, the Nayanmar worshipped here is a fisherman! “So, if any fisherman dies here, the body is brought to the temple,” says Padmapriya Bhaskaran, our guide and a heritage enthusiast.
The Karaikal Ammaiyar temple in Karaikal is the abode of Karaikal Ammaiyar, an ardent devotee of Shiva, who is said to have climbed Mount Kailash on her head! Karaikal also has a strong Muslim presence. At the roadside bazaar, just outside the premises of the temple, Muslim women shop for aluminium vessels and Muslim traders sell paruthi halwa , made of cotton seeds, a speciality here.
In the evening, we visit the nearby Thirumarugal Rathnagiriswarar temple, Seeyathamangai Ayavantheeswarar temple, Thiruchenkattankudi Uthrapatheeswarar temple and Tirupugalur Agneeswarar temple; all lesser-known small temples, surviving due to benefactors. Credit also goes to some priests who are quite savvy. For instance, Muthukumaraswamy Gurukkal at Seeyathamangai temple convinced one of the devotees to dedicate solar bulbs to the temple because the area suffered from acute power shortage. From Thiruppugalur, you could also drive across the Tanjore delta and explore Senganoor, Thiruvavaduthurai and Nachiarkoil in a van, all half an hour distance from each other. The lush green paddy fields, trucks carrying fresh batches of hay and the flowing rivulets and tanks are a welcome break from the arid and parched waterways in Thiruppugalur. At Nachiarkoil, do not forget to buy the famed brass lamp, and antique artefacts available for a steal.
Our final destination is Thyagarajaswamy temple at Thiruvarur, with its mighty pillars, characteristic of Chola architecture. Here we are handed mirrors to follow the Muchukunta murals on the ceiling of the Devasraya mandapam, restored by Prakriti Foundation. The paints are natural dyes and many of the panels are on the verge of extinction. Thiruvarur is also home to the trinity of Carnatic music; Muthuswami Dikshitar, Shyama Shastri and Thyagaraja. As we exit, I see the house of Thyagaraja and I imagine the man composing many melodies as he sat with his tambura in the verandah of his house, now repainted and renovated.
In the night, the group gathers for a discussion. “Do you believe in these stories?” one participant asks. I tell him, that it is the imagination behind them that appeals to me, while another staunchly believes that all these stories could be possible. This is, of course, followed by a debate. But, each of us packs our bags and leaves this heritage town, feeling touched, by the overwhelming presence of epic and history.
