Somapalle Temple

SOMAPALLE TEMPLE
(Near Madanapalle)

Vijayanagar temples are in a class by themselves. To no Hindu king or noble would it ever have occurred to build temples in defiance or neglect of the agama texts. But the prescriptions were followed in accordance with the local genius. If the sculptural exuberance of the Hoysalas may be attributed to the cry of exultation that rings out in many of the inscriptions of Vishnuvardhana, the founder of their greatness, the baroque magnificence of Vijayanagar art is due to the perilous circumstances in which the political power developed.

Nobody who spends even a careless hour at Hampi can fail to be struck by the contrast between the starkness of the landscape and the florid art of the temples. But that is not all. Vijayanagar times were the most dangerous southern India had experienced till then. Muslim armies were ever at the gates. Harihara and Bukka had founded the kingdom at a time of extreme peril, and there could scarcely have been a year in later times all through the existence of the dynasty when the danger really receded. It was a kingdom always in arms, always obliged to be prepared to defend itself. We know what happened when the guard failed at Rakshas-Tangadi. Hampi and the provinces of the empire always stood in danger of rapine and massacre.

Art is sometimes an escape from reality. More often it reflects it. But there are occasions when it represents the ideal state, the pleasant condition as far removed from the stark reality as possible. Much of Vijayanagar religious art is “escapist”; not indeed in any derogatory sense, but in the justifiable one of an ethos in which one can work out one’s destiny unhampered by hideous reality. While Vijayanagar art is in one sense a development of Hoysala exuberance, itself a child of the Kalyana Chalukyan genius, in another it is a protest against the violence and turbulence of the times in which it was made. Hence those mazes of intricately carved pillars, that involved sculpture, those soaring Gopura in the Tamil province, and that general magnificence. The times were dangerous; nobody could know what peril the morrow would not bring. But at least the House of God would be a work of magnificence and splendour.

The Rayas and their nobles were not art historians. But it is remarkable to find that instinctively they followed the spirit of their times. While in the Kannadiga and Andhra provinces, they gave full expression to the exuberance, that lay underneath the surface, in the Tamil province they built few new temples, but added magnificently to already existing ones. The layman in the Tamil region, to this day, calls every towering Gopura he sees the “Rayagopura.” He believes that it was the Rayas of Vijayanagar alone who could have built such gigantic structures. Original Vijayanagar temples are scarce in this region. When one was identified near Mamallapuram a few years ago, it was found to be a plain, almost a severely plain, structure.

But even near the heart of the empire there are a few variations in the style. The temple of Chennakesava in Somapalayam is notable in many respects. Its Vijayanagar origin cries out from every line of it. There cannot be the slightest doubt, not even in the minds of the most hypercritical art historians, that it was built in Vijayanagar times. It carries no foundation inscription. But there is no need.

On the ceiling of the Mukhamandapa there are remains of paintings of “Ramayana” scenes. Only a pitiful remnant has survived and even that is in deplorable condition. Some fifty years ago that sympathetic art historian, Dr. James H. Cousins, drew attention to the paintings; apparently for the first time. Though the Archaeological Survey has performed wonders in restoring the temple which had been attacked and pillaged in the troubled eighteenth century, it can do little about the paintings. Rather, tribute is due to it for having done what it could.

The temple is notable for its comparatively plain architecture. The village of Somapalayam, which lies in Chittoor district of Andhra Pradesh, some twenty miles from Madanapalle, is in a stark countryside, much of it barren and arid. It is remarkable that the temple harmonises with this spirit. Perhaps its builders realised instinctively that a second Vittala temple in Somapalayam would be out of place. Therefore, they fashioned a plain building.

Plain, except for the “Kalyanamandapa.” Obviously the spirit of Vijayanagar times could not be fully denied. It has insisted on its pound of flesh, so to say. This Mandapa is truly gorgeous. A creation in black stone, it gleams and glistens like the pillars the Kakatiyas erected. The pavilion in the centre will be admired even in Hampi.

Besides this remarkable Mandapa, there are a few other aspects what may be called artistic sportiveness. There is a small stone chariot before the “Mukhamandapa.” It may not bear comparison with the celebrated chariot of Hampi or even that of Tadipatri, but it is notable in its way.

Further, outside the temple proper, there is a magnificent stone “Dhvajastambha.” Rising to a height of fifty-two feet, it is a real work of art. Then, by the side, there is a tall narrow Mandapa in which the image of the Lord used to be placed on a swing. Thirdly, there is a broader Mandapa abutting the temple’s eastern wall which contains five portrait sculptures.

But all these are concessions to the essential spirit of Vijayanagar art. The temple, as a whole, marks a departure. In keeping with the bare countryside outside, it is a plain structure. In the typical Vijayanagar temple sculpture swamps architecture. Not so here. It is the architecture that claims most attention. The sculpture, in the “Kalyanamandapa”, the portraits, and the stone column, do deserve study. But this temple is that of an architect.

There is a fine clarity about it, restored though it is today. Set in a small “Prakara”, the sanctum faces east. The “Mukhamandapa”, which carries the paintings on its ceiling, leads to a small “Ardhamandapa” and thence into the sanctum. To the right of this structure, and not to the left as is usual in Vaishnava temples, stands the shrine of the Thayar. This too is a plain building. It is to the left that the “Kalyanamandapa” blazes away in its ornateness.

This brief description shows how vastly different it is from the typical Vijayanagar temple. There are no ornate Mandapas here, with jewelled pillars, with prancing equestrians, with stone rings and the other features that distinguish a Vijayanagar production. Instead, here is a plain building which the architect can admire. But, to add variety, there are some aspects of sculptural floridness.

May we not deduce from a study of this temple that Vijayanagar art could adapt itself to the surrounding ethos, make itself receptive to the local influences?