The Temple As Infrastructure

Out of several magnificent traditional innovations that have enriched life in India for millennia, two of the most interesting are in water management and in the use of the temple as a centre of social interaction. These days, as the country reels from an El Nino-related drought, the roles of both these in preventing periodic droughts from turning into famines have come into focus. Every temple had an associated water body like a pond, and agricultural lands that it managed. It was an important part of infrastructure.

Similarly, the system of interconnected tanks, canals and dams—such as the eri system and the Grand Anicut dam built by Karikala Chola almost 2,000 years ago in arid Tamil Nadu—increased agricultural productivity, conserved water, and alleviated drought. Unfortunately, both temples and water networks were damaged by imperialists, and India should reconstruct both as we head into an uncertain future with global warming and water wars.

The link between temples and water was brought to my attention when I lived in Chennai. When a student, I found the tank of the Kapaliswar temple bone-dry. Much later, there was a rainwater harvesting effort, and now the tank, and the surrounding water table, are full, thus showing the interconnectedness of these, as well as of the now-vanished paddy fields. There is still a racial memory of water conservation as demonstrated by Tarun Bharat Sangh in reviving the rivers of the Aravallis by building check dams as suggested by local elders.

The temple played a major role, of course, not only in water management but in most other aspects of traditional life, both rural and urban. In fact, one could suggest that “temple + raja” was the Indian model, not “church vs state” as in Europe: the temple did not attempt to capture temporal power, whereas the Vatican did, intriguing, engaging in warfare and running empires.

The difference shows in the physical manifestations of temples and churches. Churches are typically forts, with high walls designed to withstand sieges. Temples are open, with the offerings being elemental, including fire, water, milk, fruits and vegetables, and in some cases, the rearing of cows. There was typically a harmonious relationship with the raja, and so all sorts of famine relief, flood relief, public works (such as building dams) were done by committees attached to temples (and also to Buddha viharas).

It was considered a matter of civic pride for wealthy citizens to donate to public works managed by the temple or vihara, and for their names to be inscribed in stone. Notably, it was not only wealthy merchants, but even courtesans who sponsored the building of dams and so on. In passing, that shows accomplished courtesans were not considered criminals, but, perhaps like the geishas of Japan, were cultured ladies who could debate with their guests, and entertain them with music and art. Conversely, devadasis, though demonized by prudish imperialists, were probably like the vestal virgins of Greek and Roman temples.
The temple lives on in the racial memory of the Hindus as the place that does civic works, and that explains why rajas, merchants and common folk donated so much in the olden days (which unfortunately made temples the targets of looting), and we still do today. It’s in our DNA to expect a major role for the temple in daily life. In addition to the flood and famine relief works that saved us from natural and man-made disasters (I read an estimate that in 2,000 years there were 13 major famines, but in 200 years of imperial British rule, there were 33), they managed grain storage and also served as centres of education

Many Kerala temples also have koothambalams, spaces where art forms such as Koodiyattam and Kathakali were developed and performed. Some of these forms may be intended to instruct the lay audience in dharma and correct conduct.
But beyond that, look at the major temple towns: they are buzzing with commerce and are massive centers of activity of all sorts, especially non-religious. You go to Madurai, or Chidambaram, or Guruvayur (and I assume this is true in North India as well), and you see entire classes of people who are dependent on pilgrim traffic, offering everything from weddings to tonsures to funerals, and boarding and lodging to guided tours.