The Great Living Chola Temples: Our Designer's Journey

FIELD NOTES FROM TAMIL NADU · UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE

A designer's journal from the Great Living Chola Temples, three of the most extraordinary monuments of the Chola empire: observing form, proportion and the stories carved in stone.

Seeing the Great Living Chola Temples Through a Designer's Eyes

I began this journey with an excitement I hadn't felt before. This was not going to be another temple visit where I trailed after my parents, my dad on his usual rounds and my mom narrating history while I quietly drifted off. This time I came with a purpose. I wanted to see the Great Living Chola Temples as a designer: to observe, to decode, and to carry what I saw back into ideas for sarees.

FIRST TEMPLE · 1003 TO 1010 CE

Brihadeshwara Temple, Tanjore

Built by Raja Raja Chola I · Also known as Rajarajeeswaram or Dakshinmeru

Originally called Rajarajeeswaram, and also known as Dakshinmeru, this temple was completed in an astonishing seven years, between 1003 and 1010 CE. Raja Raja Chola's empire reached far beyond South India, to Sri Lanka and parts of Southeast Asia, and the temple felt like a reflection of that ambition: a grand vision made to immortalise Lord Shiva.

As I walked in, the first things I noticed were the moat and the unexpected colour of the granite. Instead of the usual grey, the stone had a warm, yellowish tone. I learned that the temple was once covered in yellow lime plaster and decorated with natural dyes, and traces still linger in the inner praharam. I found myself imagining how vivid it must have looked in its prime.

Past the first enclosure, rows of Nandis stood in rhythm, almost like a procession in stone, until a grand doorway guarded by imposing dwarapalakas opened onto a vast courtyard. And there it was at the centre: the towering vimana.

Rising to about 60 metres, the vimana is said to represent Mount Meru, the mythical abode of Shiva. What fascinated me most was the capstone at the very top, estimated to weigh around 80 tonnes. I kept wondering how it was carried up and set in place with such precision so many centuries ago. The vimana is hollow, and our guide described it in a way I couldn't unhear: it resembles a spacecraft launch pad. Inside, above the sanctum, 81 of the 108 karanas are carved, tying the space to the language of movement and dance.

"The guide described the hollow vimana in a way I couldn't unhear. It resembles a spacecraft launch pad."

Facing the sanctum is the massive Nandi, 13 feet high and 16 feet wide, carved from a single block of stone. It manages to radiate strength and serenity at once. On the ceiling above it are frescoes from the Nayaka period, their colours still holding their stories. Paintings by the Cholas themselves run along the surrounding corridors, uncovered later from beneath the Nayaka paintings layered over them.

At the heart of it all stands the Shiva lingam, monolithic and about 12 to 13 feet tall, carved from one enormous block of granite. It felt grounding, powerful and deeply symbolic.

One detail stayed with me long after: the story of the chief architect. Raja Raja Chola is said to have honoured him with his own name, calling him Raja Raja Perunthachan. It is a rare and beautiful acknowledgment of craftsmanship, and as a designer I felt it deeply.

SECOND TEMPLE · 1035 CE

Brihadeshwara Temple, Gangaikonda Cholapuram

Built by Rajendra Chola I · Capital city for 256 years

My second stop was Gangaikonda Cholapuram, "the city of the Chola who conquered the Ganges." The name tells the story. Rajendra Chola I built this temple to commemorate his conquests in North India, Sri Lanka, the Maldives and Southeast Asia. After his victories he became known as Gangaikonda Cholan, and the city took its name from that title. It served as the Chola capital for 256 years.

This temple was a completely different experience. The sculptures felt more relaxed and expressive, with a softness in their forms that drew me in. The Nandi and the Shiva lingam kept their scale and presence, yet the whole atmosphere felt calmer and more composed.

THIRD TEMPLE · 1143 TO 1173 CE

Airavatesvara Temple, Darasuram

Built by Raja Raja Chola II · Named for Airavata, the white elephant of Lord Indra

If my first visit left me observant, this one left me completely awestruck. The moment I stepped in, I knew this temple was not only meant to be seen. It was meant to be studied, slowly and patiently.

The temple takes its name from Airavata, the white elephant of Lord Indra. Cursed by Sage Durvasa and stripped of his pristine colour, Airavata is said to have regained his purity after bathing in the sacred tank here. That legend seemed to settle over the whole space, a place where things are restored, renewed and remembered.

What struck me first were the carvings. Unlike the monumental scale of Brihadeshwara, everything here felt intimate and unbelievably detailed. The miniature sculptures were so precise and expressive that I kept leaning closer, half afraid I might miss something. The entire temple felt like a gallery of stories etched in stone.

The highlight for me was the chariot mandapa. It is designed as a moving chariot, complete with stone wheels and animals drawing it. What truly held me were the details inside those wheels. The outer band carries 29 floral motifs, and there are 32 spokes. These are not random numbers. They correspond to the shifting days of a Tamil calendar month. I was amazed that something so functional could also be so beautifully ornamental.

I was also eager to see the famed musical steps, seven steps said to produce different notes when tapped. Sadly, they are now enclosed and closed to visitors. Even so, simply knowing they exist added another layer of wonder.

"Imagine architecture that you can not only see, but also hear: seven steps said to produce different musical notes when tapped."

"This visit made me realise how the Chola design language evolved, from grandeur to refinement and ultimately to intricate craftsmanship."

As a designer, I found myself thinking about how these subtle shifts in form and feeling could translate into saree design. The grandeur of Tanjore, the intimate detail of Darasuram, the quiet refinement of Gangaikonda: three distinct moods, one continuous tradition.

REFLECTION

The Yaali and the Chola Spirit

Moving through all three temples, I kept noticing the Yaali, in many forms and interpretations, especially in the first two. It seemed to appear everywhere, and yet each one felt unique.

To me, the Yaalis came to represent untamed natural forces brought under divine control. They didn't read as decoration so much as powerful, protective presences within the temple. Over time I began to see them as a reflection of the Chola spirit itself: fierce yet disciplined, chaos carefully shaped into order.

"This visit changed the way I experienced temples. I wasn't just observing; I was absorbing forms, proportions, colours and narratives. And somewhere between those stone corridors and sculpted surfaces, I began to see the beginnings of many sarees waiting to be designed."