“Beholding the divinity for the first time is like glimpsing the very essence of beauty and grace, an encounter that fills the soul with wonder and reverence.”

As the vibrant hues of temple festivities unfurled, a multitude of devotees found themselves entranced by the kaleidoscope of colours and the symphony of sounds emanating from the garbhagriha as the divine idols were unveiled. Amidst this sacred spectacle, one event shone with unparalleled beauty and fervour: the yajna, or fire sacrifice, blazing at the heart of it all. Towering flames reached towards the heavens, fuelled by generous spoonfuls of ghee, while a chorus of voices echoed Vedic mantras and prayers in harmonious unison. This recent prana pratishtha ceremony at the Ram Temple in Ayodhya ignited a wave of religious fervour across India, with homes illuminated, celebrations ablaze, and hearts brimming with joy as the deity was welcomed with boundless happiness. It underscored a profound truth: the installation of a deity isn’t merely a ritual; it’s the embodiment of divine presence, a sacred moment where the physical and spiritual realms converge, and the deity graces the temple with eternal sanctity, blessing devotees and sanctifying the sacred space.

But amidst the grandeur of temple construction and idol installation lies a poignant question: why do we need such rituals when God is omnipresent? The Vedic scriptures teach us that the Lord’s name, form, qualities, and pastimes are inseparable from Him. Yet, the installation process serves to formalize this divine manifestation, forging a sacred contract between the devotee and the Lord. Through installation, the devotee beseeches the Lord to be formally present, reciprocating with a prescribed standard of worship, as articulated in the Bhagavad-gita (4.11), where Krishna declares, “As all surrender unto Me, I reward them accordingly.”

Delving deeper into these rituals, we encounter the rich tapestry of the Pancharatra tradition, where belief in the tangible presence of the deity in their representations is deeply ingrained. This belief intertwines with the deity’s five modes of existence, particularly the arcavatara, fostering an intimate bond between deity and devotee. Elaborate rituals associated with temple construction and idol installation are hallmarks of South Indian Vaishnava cults like Vaikhanasa and Pancharatra, aiming to create a perfect abode for the divine. Yet, despite meticulous adherence to these rituals, everyday temple practice can face challenges, with impurity or damage compromising the sanctity of the sacred space.

In response to such challenges, texts delineate meticulous procedures under the heading ‘jirnoddhara’ or reconstruction of the damaged, offering practical methods for addressing impurity or damage within temple premises. These methods blend theoretical, theological, and practical considerations, reflecting the craftsmanship of Indian artisans honed over centuries. The tradition of temple renovation, spanning epochs and empires, underscores the enduring significance of these sacred spaces, transcending mortal constructs and echoing the eternal presence of the divine.

Renovation of temples and sacred images transcends mere material repair; it entails meticulous ritualistic procedures that imbue these sanctuaries with divine potency. One such ceremony, known as kumbhabhishekam, involves temporarily transferring the deity’s divine essence to vessels of water called kumbha during temple renovation.

Sacred texts like the Saiva agamas and Pancaratrika meticulously detail the rituals and processes of renovation and consecration. From the removal of old images to purification rituals, these texts provide a blueprint for preserving divine sanctity. For instance, according to the Pancaratrika text, if a clay idol is damaged, its components should be recreated using clay or upgraded to stone. Similarly, a stone image should be repaired with metal or stone, while a jewel-encrusted image requires restoration with gold or silver. The Vishnusamhita elaborates on the protocol for addressing various damages to idols. While minor damages may warrant repairs, severe deformities or ruptures necessitate discarding the image altogether (Drozdzowicz 2014).

In the event of temple damage, the deity’s main idol (murti) should be worshipped in a provisional temple along with attendants. However, if both the main idol and the idol for daily offerings are destroyed, other gods should not be relocated. If the temple is decayed but still has regular puja, it can be said in a good state. But if there are no puja-s, then it is said to have fallen into a bad state. If jirnoddhara or renovation is performed, it bestows the highest results on the karta. This is because, both the performing of worship and not performing of worship at a decayed temple result in ill effects. Therefore, for general welfare, renovation should be performed according to the sastra.

Over time, the external world surrounding temples, once governed by kings and kingdoms, has undergone significant transformations, marked by invasions, colonization, and the rise of modern democratic governments. Consequently, the management of temples has transitioned from local monarchs to invading rulers and chieftains, then to imperial company agents, and finally to the control of state governments. Despite these shifts in administrative authority, temples persist in adhering to agamas both in their literal prescriptions and their underlying spiritual essence in daily religious practices. Historically, based on the celebrated poetry of Alvars and Nayanars, the renovation of brick temples in stone took place from the tenth to twelfth centuries in the context of the expansion of Chola authority over the wider Tamil region. In the later Nayaka period stone undoubtedly replaced stone, but on this occasion, there is clear evidence for the updating of the design. Sixteenth-seventeenth-century renovations do not replicate the design of the buildings they replaced. The tradition of remaking Tamil temples, not just by adding new structures to the periphery but by the wholesale replacement of the main shrine, has continued into the more recent past. One striking era of temple construction and renovation was between the 1870s and 1920s when many of the major Saiva pilgrimage temples of the Tamil region received the architectural patronage of the Nakarattar (Nattukkottai Chettiar) community. At some of the temples, new corridors or mandapas within or enclosing existing structures, but at many of these sites the existing shrines, halls, corridors and walls, up to a thousand years old, were wholly replaced leaving no trace of the earlier temple (Branfoot 2013).

As the world outside temples undergoes seismic shifts, from monarchies to democracies, and from colonizers to state governments, temples remain steadfast in their adherence to agamas, embodying spiritual essence amidst administrative flux. Through centuries of renovation, these sacred sites bear witness to the evolving tapestry of faith, where punya (good karma) and architectural splendour converge, sanctifying the land on which they stand.