There is an old Tamil saying that laments the impossibility of the marriage of Hindu Goddess Kamalambika to Lord Thyagaraja of the grand temple at Thiruvarur. Legend has it that she still stands in penance waiting for him. The verse is translated as:

If a stone chariot were to run
If a bull were to give milk
If the Kamalalayam were to dry
Only then will Kamalambika marry

Not only is the verse impressive for the Hindu deity’s unswerving fortitude, it is also indicative of the unshakeable faith in the awesome temple tank named Kamalalayam. This tank is a man-made wonder at the immense shrine in the Thanjavur delta of  India’s southernmost Tamil Nadu state. 

Looking Back

The Chola period (the mighty Chola kings ruled most of South India from the late 9th Century to the late 13th Century AD) of Tamil history witnessed the building of temples that are a subject of awe even today. They had refined architecture, soaring gopurams (towers), intricate stone, bronze, wood and silver work, inspiring dimensions, sacred traditions - and the most incredible tanks. 

Tanks are part of India’s highly evolved ancient irrigation systems. In areas where the rivers were not snow-fed and therefore not perennial, and this was particularly true of the lower peninsular regions, different kinds of tanks served multiple purposes - aesthetic, spiritual and practical. There were two main kinds of tanks: village ponds used as common property for a range of everyday chores like bathing or washing clothes, and temple tanks that were sanctified and served the vital purpose of recharging the ground water table. Documented history shows that tanks have been present since the advent of the Indus Valley Civilization (3,000 B.C. to 1,500 B.C.).

In South India, there is not a city or a village that does not have a temple and its tank - many have several. Typically, the tank falls within the temple’s property but is outside its boundary walls and near the main entrance to the temple, though this is not a must.

The temple tank has many historical and spiritual references. When a devotee comes to a temple, he is first required to wash his hands and feet in the temple tank. Very occasionally, in times of crisis, water would be drawn to irrigate the temple’s lands. Teppotsavams (float festivals) were conducted, an ancient ritual that serenaded the Lord with a tour of the temple tank. Even the daily abhishekam (ritual bath) given to the deity is performed with the waters of the temple’s tank.

In traditional communities, temple tanks were gathering places, their stone steps a temporary refuge where one could catch the breeze and a musical programme or two. By linking a natural resource to a divine objective, temple tanks were protected by a code of conduct that bound everyone in their vicinity. The waters remained safe, recharging the ground water table, ensuring that wells in an entire circular radius of several kilometers did not run dry even during the hottest summer. Temple tanks were no less revered than the temples themselves.

Tank Architecture 

The recently renovated Haridranadi tank at the Rajagopalaswamy Temple at Mannargudi Photo credit: Lalitha Sridhar

While all four of the Southern Indian states have temples with tanks, these structures assume special ecological significance in water scarce Tamil Nadu. Ingeniously, the layout would ensure that rainwater was harvested automatically by the temple tanks. Houses with sloping roofs were built facing the square or rectangular tanks to facilitate the saving of precious rainwater when it arrived in short, tempestuous bursts during the brief North East monsoons.  All run-off from the streets and residences of a substantial neighborhood would drain towards the tank that would be appropriately low-lying. 

Additionally, tanks were provided with endowments for maintenance by generous patrons of the temples. Farmers would desilt the tanks - this served the dual purpose of regular clearing of the tank bed, the inlet and outlet ducts, but also made available rich silt that worked as manure in paddy fields. 

Water in temple tanks was kept pure and well cared for. In the canal-irrigated delta areas, they were provided with inlet and outlet channels to keep the waters clean and hygienic.  The planning was such that water from the entire surrounding region would flow into the tanks via strategically placed inlets. Overflows could be channeled through outlets that winded their way back to the village’s canals. Thus water would flow without stagnation or the formation of moss.

In the upland and midland areas, not served by a preordained drainage system, tank waters were pumped out at regular intervals, and refilled with fresh water. Fish also helped maintain the tanks by eating moss and algae that would otherwise turn the waters green and slimy. Some tanks, like the enormous Haridranadi at the Rajagopalaswamy Temple at Mannargudi in the Thiruvarur taluk of the Thanjavur delta, have recently required major repairs to their boundary walls, embankments and steps, followed by replenishment with fresh water. Some other tanks, like the Kamalalayam at the Thyagaraja Temple in Thiruvarur itself, are perennially fed by underground wells.

Ancient temples often had one tank inside the temple premises and one outside, the latter usually being the bigger one. At the centre of the tank would be a small mandapam (shelter), with up to 16 pillars. This was called the Neerazhi Mandapam. It sometimes had even a small shrine to which the priests would arrive every day by a boat. The boat could be pulled with the rope that tied the vehicle to the structure permanently. The average tank depth of 15-20 feet was meant to ensure access for easy maintenance.

Present Imperfect

Today, many temple tanks have fallen into a state of disrepair. Rampant encroachment by a burgeoning population of homeless dwellers has blocked the network of inlets and outlets that nourished the tank. An entire people distressed by drought have used up the waters for washing clothes and bathing. There has been a total change in the civic layout in many areas, be it those around the heritage temples of Kapaleeshwarar in Mylapore and Marundeeshwarar in Thiruvanmiyur (both in Chennai city), or the Mahamaham tank of the Adi Kumbeshwarar temple in Kumbakonam, heart of the Thanjavur delta. 

Saline seawater has entered some tanks in the vicinity of coastal areas that have over-exploited ground water. With unchecked withdrawal of water by private bore wells across the state, the water has literally been sucked out of the once full tanks. Ground water tables are under such stress that even rains have not succeeded in replenishing the beautiful tanks. In areas where open space is scarce, dried out tanks have become the favorite haunts of hooligans, or have even been used as public toilets. The sustained destruction of structures that had such a lofty, even divine, intent and purpose is the subject of great despair.

It is a sign of the times that we live in that the Mahamaham tank at the Adi Kumbeshwarar temple, which witnessed the ‘Mahamaham’ festival recently, does not have any water itself. Yet, hundreds of thousands of devotees thronged to the tank and its twenty springs, each dedicated to a different God or river. In an astronomical occurrence that happens only once in twelve years (when the planet Jupiter enters the zodiacal sign of Leo), a bath in this holy tank is a matter of faith. This time, however, the already dry tank was cleaned and filled with water brought from outside, and hardly adequate to meet the needs of half the tank. 

A Shining Example

A few rare and shining examples of revival have provided new hope to Tamils. At the Sankara Temple tank in the outlying suburb of Pammal, near Chennai, a lovely expanse of water greets parched eyes. Not particularly extraordinary, the temple is nevertheless testimony to a rare and vital achievement - the revival of its large tank. Beyond locked grill gates, gently rippling wavelets rush by the 5½-acre expanse of fresh, precious water. Yes, it can be done. A temple tank can be renovated! 

The small temple that abuts the tank is under the control of the Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Act. Permission was sought, and secured, to commence work on the tank renovation. The most daunting challenge was the raising of funds. Mangalam Balasubramanium, retired from the social service sector recently, roped in friends and residents in her neighborhood to achieve what no one had attempted before. They raised five hundred thousand rupees door-to-door from small but valuable contributions. Help came from generous donors. Even children of the local school pitched in. 

Work began. The defunct tank had become a favorite retreat for lawlessness and filth. Hooliganism was banished and the accumulated garbage removed. Desilting began and 7,000 truckloads of soil were excavated. The tank was connected to fifteen inlets of water from all sides to enable the drain-off from the hillsides and neighboring areas to be collected. When it rained, they were ready. Today, the tank is a shining example of what can be achieved with the right kind of effort. The community is already experiencing the benefits of its hard work. Wells in a five-kilometer radius have not dried through the last summer. Residents have also been reporting softer potable water in an area that had none.

Looking Ahead

Throughout history, our heritage has bequeathed us visionary architecture that combined visual aesthetics with thoughtful amenities. We only need to conserve and manage them properly.  The Government of Tamil Nadu has initiated projects to clean up all the 38 temple tanks in Chennai, the capital city. Earlier this month volunteers began efforts to clear garbage from the 160,000 square feet Marundeeshwarar Temple tank in Thirvanmiyur. The Hindu Religious & Charitable Endowments Department has invited tenders for carrying out major repairs. At Thiruvanmiyur there is a proposal to connect the Storm Water Drain network from the nearby East Coast Road national highway for rainwater collection. It can eventually go on to become a source of water for the locality itself. 

These are, however, city-centric efforts. The population is substantial and the temples are well patronised. In the villages, however, where the vast majority of the extraordinary temple heritage exists, funds are difficult to come by.  Revival efforts are hampered by an economy that is reeling from the water crisis that has crippled even the fertile Cauvery delta region, home to some of the grandest temples in the state. In the meanwhile, one can only hope that Kamalambika’s patience will last forever.

Lalitha Sridhar is a Chennai-based freelance journalist keenly interested in development issues. Your emails will be forwarded to her by contacting the editor at: ScienceTech@islam-online.net

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