The Shaivite mathas, or monasteries, are among the great hidden forces in India’s history. This is somewhat surprising given the influence they wield in today’s politics. The Gorakhnath matha, for example, has consistently involved itself in politics since as early as the 1920s, and has been a significant force for India’s Hindu right through the Ram Janmabhoomi movement and into the present day, where its mahant – monastic head – rules the state of Uttar Pradesh.
What is somewhat less known is that the mahants of mathas have been politically involved for more than a thousand years. Archaeological and historical research shows that in the 11th century, it was the institution of the matha that allowed Shaivites to dominate the diverse religious landscape of medieval India. While both the modern and medieval matha deserve extensive study, this article is a brief introduction to the latter.
A lineage of gurus and disciples
Some time in the 9th century CE, a prince of a rising Central Indian dynasty known as the Kalachuris invited a Shaiva ascetic to his capital, Mattamayura. This ascetic, one Purandara, already belonged to a long lineage of gurus. None of their personal names have survived, but according to a later inscription, they all had monastic titles. The guru Kadambaguhadivasin, “foremost resident of the Kadamba cave”, had taught one Shankhamathikadhipati, “the superintendent of the conch-shell monastery”, who in turn taught Terambipala, “the protector of Terambi”, who was the guru of Amardikatirthanatha, “the lord of Amardika river-crossing”, who had taught Purandara.
This series of titles is very revealing. Evidently, both renunciants and wielders of tremendous temporal power were present in the same Shaiva spiritual lineage: a cave-dweller had taught the chief of a monastery. We know from archaeological and textual evidence that such monastic chiefs were extremely important personages. As art historian Professor Tamara Sears writes in her 2008 paper, Constructing the Guru, these individuals were considered sanctified by the rituals they performed and due to the sacred knowledge they collected. Obtaining a religious initiation from them allowed laypersons to achieve various forms of salvation and worldly benefit. This point is supported by historians Rupendra Kumar Chattopadhyay, Swati Ray and Shubha Majumder in their 2013 paper, The Kingdom of the Śaivācāryas. Monastic ritual experts compiled texts for royals, traders and other patrons, and Shaivite monasteries spread into both royal and mercantile centres.
But Shaivite monks were clearly also fulfilling other roles in this region. For example, the title “protector of Terambi” may allude to a military role: Archaeology suggests some medieval monasteries were fortified. As historian GS Ghurye writes in Indian Sadhus (1953), medieval Shaiva monks went about armed with weapons and occasionally even joined royal bodyguard regiments. Finally, the “lord of Amardika river-crossing” alludes to a gradual Shaivite takeover of various river fords or tirthas, which have long held significance in South Asian religions. To this day, the Narmada river is covered in sites with a pronounced Shaiva leaning, such as Maheshwar, the erstwhile capital of the Holkar Marathas. This takeover appears to have roots in the early medieval period.
The Shaivas were, however, just getting started. Now that he had connections directly to the Kalachuris, the teacher Purandara established a matha at Mattamayura. This Mattamayura matha would soon spread throughout Central India, across political territories, and ensure the victory of its particular interpretation of Shaivism. In fact, the aforementioned inscription alludes to this when describing the spiritual successors of Purandara, including one Vyomashiva, “who surpassed the elephant-like Buddhists and the jackal-like Jains.”
Also read: India’s Hindu preachers — How Shaiva monks converted Cambodia
Architecture of a medieval Shaiva monastery
Soon after the establishment of the Mattamayuras, in the 10th century CE, a rather aptly-titled ascetic, known to us as Prashantashiva (the peaceful Shiva) arrived at the foot of a tree-covered hill near the confluence of the Son and Banas rivers in Baghelkhand. Here in this rocky, somewhat out-of-the-way place known as Chandrehe, he established a monastery of his own, subsisting on fruits, roots, and lotus bulbs. He performed the austerities that he had learned from three generations of gurus, and he taught a new generation of disciples.
As Prof Sears writes, however, “Prashantashiva was not simply an ascetic who had severed ties with the world; he was a Mattamayura guru who had a long-standing relationship with the Kalachuri state. Before coming to Chandrehe, he had achieved prominence as the head of the royally sponsored matha established by the famed king Yuvarajadeva I (r. 915–945 CE) at the Kalachuri regional center of Gurgi, and in addition to constructing a retreat at Chandrehe, he built another ashrama for sages at the holy pilgrimage city of Varanasi (also known as Banaras).” At Chandrehe, Sears points out that even after removing himself from the direct orbit of the Kalachuri court, Prashantashiva could still command sufficient resources to build a small, austere temple and monastery.
However, his successor Prabodhashiva more completely transformed the site by expanding the monastery to “monumental” proportions, renovating an existing well, building a “sealike lake” and a road through the surrounding hills, rivers and forests. This new monastery was evidently meant to connect Chandrehe to new agrarian and pilgrimage networks, and almost certainly involved the participation of Kalachuri royalty. The monastery must also have controlled surrounding lands, similar to contemporary Buddhist monasteries in Sri Lanka.
To this day Prabodhashiva’s building remains the largest surviving medieval Shaiva matha, and allows us an unprecedented look at these fascinating institutions. The matha, which comprised two floors and had a ground floor measuring 77 x 69 feet, was accessed through an imposing sculpted doorway adorned with a depiction of Shiva Natesha, the Lord of the Dance, signifying that the residents of the monastery were also held in reverence due to the sacred knowledge they possessed and the rituals they performed. Heading straight through, one would have entered a large, well-lit courtyard that led to a classroom and attached library. Off the courtyard was a corridor linked to a number of small rooms that served as the residences of monks. The mahant of the matha also had his own room for meetings and rituals, and another room in the complex was probably dedicated to the worship of deified former mahants, a practice that continues in modern mathas. In the classroom, the mahant dispensed sacred knowledge; in his office, visitors may have performed homage in various ways.
In earlier editions of Thinking Medieval, we have seen that the institutional steel frame offered by the monastery allowed Buddhists and Jains to cultivate the economic, ritual and social capital that made them state religions. A similar structure also allowed Shaivas to rise to prominence. But as we will see in future columns, this is just the tip of the diverse, tumultuous religious world of the medieval Shaivas.
Anirudh Kanisetti is a public historian. He is the author of Lords of the Deccan, a new history of medieval South India, and hosts the Echoes of India and Yuddha podcasts. He tweets @AKanisetti.
This article is a part of the ‘Thinking Medieval’ series that takes a deep dive into India’s medieval culture, politics, and history.
(Edited by Prashant)