Inscriptional evidence for Rāma Setu

 Is there any inscriptional evidence for the location of Rāma Setu across India and Sri Lanka?

Yes. An important piece of epigraphic evidence comes from the Tiruvālaṅgāḍu copper plates of Rājendra Chola I (11th century CE).

While describing the conquest of Laṅkā by his father, Rājarāja Chola I (Arulmoḻivarman), the inscription compares the Chola king's naval crossing with Rāma's legendary crossing of the sea. The inscription says that Rāma, Lord of the Raghus, constructed a bridge across the ocean with the help of the valiant Vānaras and, after crossing it, slew the king of Laṅkā (Rāvaṇa). Rājarāja, by contrast, crossed the ocean in ships and conquered Laṅkā.

What is significant here? The inscription explicitly connects Rāma with Rāma Setu, the ocean crossing and Laṅkā. An objection may be raised: “But this is only an 11th-century inscription. How can it be evidence for the Rāmāyaṇa geography?” The answer is simple: an inscription need not be contemporary with the event described to constitute evidence for the geographical tradition preserved about that event. Its value here is precisely as an independent epigraphic witness to the tradition. Moreover, the Cholas were not geographically unfamiliar with Laṅkā. They had actually conducted naval campaigns there. Thus, when a Chola inscription deliberately compares Rājarāja's voyage to Laṅkā on the same stretch of water crossed by Rāma by building the Setu, it provides significant epigraphic evidence for the identification of Rāmāyaṇa Laṅkā in Sri Lanka and for the remembered location of the Setu across the intervening sea. This is inscriptional corroboration of the geographical tradition. #Ramayana_5114BCE

Where was Ravana’s Lanka?

 Where was Ravana’s Lanka?

Was it Sri Lanka? Yes—going by the Sri Lankan literary sources, Lanka was in Sri Lanka. But the real question is: where in Sri Lanka was Ravana’s Lanka? The answer becomes clearer when we examine the changing names and internal geography of the island. Tambapanni was not the whole island: The Mahavamsa, the great Pali chronicle of Sri Lanka, begins its dynastic history with Vijaya, who landed in the north on the day Gautama Buddha passed away. Seeing the copper-coloured soil, Vijaya named the place Tambapanni (Tamravarni). The name was associated with the northern part of the island, around Jaffna, rather than with the entire island. It was corrupted into Taprobane in western chronicles. Was the whole of Srilanka known as Sinhala? No. The origin of Sinhala is also traced to Vijaya’s lineage. His father was Simhabahu/Sihabahu, associated with the legend of restraining a lion. His capital was Simhapura, and Vijaya was known as Vijayasimha. His followers therefore came to be known as Sinhalas, and the territory occupied by them became associated with Sinhala. Thus, Tambapanni and Sinhala were not simply names for the entire island from the beginning. Ceylon is much later—a Portuguese rendering, Ceilão/Seylon, which eventually became Ceylon.

Two cities in Lanka: Now comes the crucial geographical clue. At the time of Vijaya’s arrival, the Mahavamsa mentions two cities in Lanka: 1. Sirisavattu in the north 2. Lankapuri in the south Significantly, Lankapuri was in the hilly southern region inhabited by the Yakshas. This is where the search for Ravana’s Lanka becomes important.

The Hill of Lanka: The Mahayana Lankavatara Sutra describes Ravana as the king of Lanka and chief of the Yakshas. It says Gautama Buddha stayed on the Hill of Lanka—the abode of Ravana. This Hill of Lanka is identified with Adam’s Peak in southern Sri Lanka. The entire opening chapter of this text centres on Buddha’s presence there and Ravana arriving in his celestial chariot to pay homage and hear his teaching. This can be easily dismissed as imagination, but what cannot be ignored as imagination is the reference to the hill as Lanka, the city of Ravana. Trikuta—the mountain of Ravana: Now compare this with the Valmiki Ramayana. Ravana’s Lanka stood on Trikuta (V.R. 5.2.1)—literally suggesting three peaks or elevations. Adam’s Peak has no three separate summits, but its distinctive three-faceted profile fits the idea of Trikuta. Valmiki further says that Trikuta resembled Mount Kailash (VR: 5.2.23). Amazingly, the peaks of Kailash and Trikuta appear similar.

The mountain of Lanka was also known as Swarga/Swargarohana, which got modified to Rohana, and Malaya. Since Ravana was a devotee of Lord Shiva, the Trikuta mountain (Lanka) in which he lived came to be known as ‘Sivanolipaada Malai’ (Mountain of the Light of Shiva’s Feet). So, where was Ravana’s Lanka? The Sri Lankan literary tradition places Lanka in Sri Lanka. The more precise question is: “Where in Sri Lanka was Ravana’s Lanka?” The geographical trail preserved by the Mahavamsa and Lankavatara Sutra points towards Lankapuri in the mountainous south—in the region of Adam’s Peak. Check my book for more info. #Ramayana_5114BCE

What Does Lanka Mean?

Tamil dictionaries and thesauri provide an important clue. The Tamil Ilangai (இலங்கை) is associated with Lanka and can describe a raised tract of land around which water flows. When a portion of land remains above water while a river or other waterbody flows around it, the landmass may be called a Lanka—naturally resembling an island. The Senthan Divakara Nighantu groups three terms together: “Lanka, Turutthi and Arangam” for landforms created by the meandering of a river around a tract of land. The Bingala Nighantu similarly includes Lanka among terms describing raised land surrounded by water. This also offers an interesting geographical explanation for Srirangam. Situated between branches of the Kaveri, Arangam is one of the terms associated with Lanka. The name Lanka is not confined to Tamil. Related usage is also found in Mundari, with meanings associated with landforms surrounded by water. Across Bharat, numerous places called Lanka occur in river systems, lakes and other water-associated landscapes—even for isolated elevated landforms. What Lankas Have Researchers Proposed for Ravana’s Lanka? Several locations have nevertheless been proposed as Ravana’s Lanka: 1. Lankeswari, Sonpur, Odisha Sonpur has been called Paschima Lanka, or “Western Lanka.” Lankeswari is associated with a hill amid the Mahanadi's riverine landscape. But Ravana’s Lanka is consistently associated with the South, and the Āḻvārs refer to it as Thennilankai—Southern Lanka.

2. Amarkantak, Madhya Pradesh The mountainous Amarkantak region is the source of the Narmada, Son and Johilla rivers. Its elevated, water-rich geography has attracted some researchers. Yet it does not satisfactorily match Valmiki’s detailed description of Lanka.

3. Indrana, Madhya Pradesh Situated in the Narmada region, Indrana has a small hill and surrounding water. But these features fall far short of the Trikūṭa mountain and magnificent Lanka described in the Rāmāyaṇa.

4. Bhagatrav, Gujarat An ancient coastal/estuarine Harappan settlement near the Kim River, Bhagatrav is now only about 100–150 metres across, with substantial erosion from the river and seawater. Can this small mound reasonably accommodate Trikūṭa Śikhara, rising amid the clouds, and the Lanka described by Valmiki?

5. The Siddhāntic Lanka at the Equator The astronomical Lanka of the Siddhāntas might have been associated with a water-surrounded landform, but it lacks the Trikūṭa mountain and the mountainous route described in the Rāmāyaṇa. Thus, the occurrence of the name Lanka or a mound near a waterway cannot identify a place as Ravana’s Lanka. It must be based on the complete geographical, topographical and directional evidence of the Rāmāyaṇa.

Read my book to get more details. #Ramayana_5114BCE

Jambudvīpa: Which place was known by this name—and why?

 Though several texts may be cited to discuss the location and extent of Jambudvīpa, its practical usage points to a striking conclusion: the Indian subcontinent was known as Jambudvīpa.

But why this name? The answer lies in the Jambū tree—the jamun (Syzygium cumini), which thrives abundantly in the Indian subcontinent. Its preferred conditions are roughly 20–35°C, annual rainfall of about 1,000–2,500 mm, a tropical or subtropical climate, good sunlight, and freedom from severe frost. It is particularly well adapted to the Indian monsoon climate and does not naturally thrive in cold regions. This has an interesting geographical implication: extending Jambudvīpa into Europe or the cold Himalayan regions would be difficult to reconcile with the ecology of the very tree from which the name is derived. The old Tamil tradition offers another fascinating clue. Tamil texts call Jambudvīpa Nāvalam Tīvu—the island/land of the Jambū (nāval) tree. Maṇimēkalai refers to Puhār (Pūmpuhār) as the abode of the guardian deity of Jambudvīpa. It narrates that a woman performed tapas beneath a Jambū tree at Puhār and attained the status of the guardian deity of Jambudvīpa. Thus, Puhār had an earlier name, Jambupati.

Why is this striking? The absence of this particular tradition from the Purāṇic accounts indicates a very ancient memory—from a period before the Holocene climatic conditions. Only the southern coastal regions were habitable then, with Pūmpuhār forming a major hub of the civilization of India. Even more intriguing is the tradition concerning the Upadvīpas of Jambudvīpa. The southern and southeastern islands were regarded as subsidiary islands of Jambudvīpa. The Sagara-putras are said to have dug through the earth, producing eight islands, including present-day Sri Lanka (refer Srimad Bhagavatam). This resonates intriguingly with geography. Morphological studies of the Bay of Bengal reveal ancient submarine channels and formations close to the eastern coast of peninsular India extending around Sri Lanka (see Chapter 60 of my Ramayana 5114 BCE).

Tamil literature preserves a remarkable memory of this landscape: Silappadhikāram calls the Bay of Bengal “Todu Kadal”—the “dug-out sea”; Sri Lanka is described as “கடல் அகழ் இலங்கை” (Kadal Agazh Ilangai)—Lanka encircled/formed by digging the sea. These references may preserve a memory of an older landscape in which several southern islands existed but were subsequently submerged—including Kāvāṭam, the second Pandyan capital mentioned in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Today Sri Lanka survives. The other Upadvīpas lie beneath the sea. Jambudvīpa, therefore, is not merely a name on a cosmological map—it preserves a memory of India, its ecology, and a much older geographical landscape.

#Ramayana_5114BCE

Manu Smṛti: The Law of the King, Not a Charter of Caste

 Manu Smṛti is often presented today as a text primarily concerned with varṇa and caste discrimination. Yet this modern image can obscure another important dimension of the Manu tradition: rule of law and the king’s duty to uphold justice. In the classical Indian understanding, Manu-dharma was closely associated with righteous governance, impartial justice and the king’s obligation to protect his subjects.

In the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, when Vāli questions Rama for attacking him from concealment, Rama explains that a king has the authority and duty to punish those who violate dharma. Rama invokes the precedent of Manu and the duty of kings to uphold the established law (VR 4.18.31–32). Manu here appears not as a symbol of social discrimination, but as an authority for royal justice and the rule of dharma.

The Cholas, as descendants of Vaivasvata Manu consciously embraced the same ideal. 1. The Tiruvalangadu copper plates of Rajendra Chola I describe Parāntaka Chola as one whom people regarded as Manu returned to earth to restore his law, which had become weakened in the Kali age. 2. The Karandai plates describe Rajaraja I as manuvaṃśa-ketu, “the banner of the race of Manu,” and Rajendra as manukulābharaṇa, “the ornament of the Manu lineage.” 3. A Tiruvallam inscription speaks of the king causing the Earth to proceed on the path of Manu, so that she might remain in righteousness. This evidence also cautions against the claim that Manu became relevant to Tamil kings only because a supposedly Gupta- or Śuṅga-period Manusmṛti was later imported into the South. The chronology of the extant Manusmṛti and the much older Manu tradition must be distinguished. More importantly, there is no demonstrated historical chain showing that the Cholas adopted Manu-nīti as a Gupta–Śuṅga-period import. The inscriptions themselves show Manu functioning as an established ideal of kingship and justice within Chola political thought. Manu Nīti Chola The famous tradition of Manu Nīti Chola, identified in Sri Lankan tradition with Elara/Ellalan, expresses the same principle. He is remembered for impartial justice—even when that justice required punishment of his own son after the prince's chariot killed a calf.

Statue of a chariot running over the prince (Tiruvārur temple)

Though Elara was an enemy of the Sinhalese king Dutthagāmaṇī and died fighting him, the Sinhalese kings respected him for his justice as per Mahavamsa. However, in modern times, the original emphasis of Manu-nīti on righteous rule and impartial justice was twisted into a predominantly caste-based interpretation. European colonial scholars treated Dharmaśāstra texts as if they constituted a single, codified “Hindu law,” thereby giving Manusmṛti a status and uniformity that did not correspond to India's plural legal traditions. In the 19th and 20th centuries, passages dealing with varṇa and social hierarchy increasingly became the focus of anti-caste criticism, and Manusmṛti became a symbol of social oppression. Viewed in its historical context, Manu Smṛti’s long association with righteous governance and impartial justice makes its reduction in modern times to a text of caste discrimination unwarranted. #ManuSmriti

Onam Festival: From Narasimha to Mahābali

 What did Onam originally signify, and how did its meaning evolve into what it represents today?

Onam is associated with Śravaṇa nakṣatra, called Tiruvōṇam (திருவோணம்) in Tamil, traditionally regarded as Vishnu’s birth star. Today, Onam is popularly associated with the annual return of Mahābali, whose story is linked to Vishnu’s Vāmana avatāra. Yet the earliest Tamil references suggest a different association. 1. Tiruvōṇam and Narasimha — Periyāḻvār Periyāḻvār, in the sixth verse of Tiruppallāṇḍu, says: திருவோணத் திருவிழவில் அந்தியம் போதில் அரியுருவாகி அரியை அழித்தவனை The verse explicitly refers to the Tiruvōṇam festival and to Vishnu assuming the form of Narasimha and destroying the enemy. It was not associated with Vāmana or Mahābali. Another Periyāḻvār verse contains the expression: அத்தத்தின் பத்தாம் நாள் தோன்றிய அச்சுதன் referring to Achyuta (Vishnu) appearing on the tenth day from Hasta (Attam), identified with Śravaṇa/Tiruvōṇam. The correspondence with the present Kerala practice is striking: Onam celebrations begin with Atham (Hasta) and culminate in Thiruvonam. While this alone cannot prove uninterrupted continuity, it is an intriguing parallel. 2. From victory over evil to Ayudha Pūjā A second Tamil reference occurs in Tirujñāna Sambandar’s Dēvāram, in connection with the Kapālīśvara temple at Mylapore, where an Aippasi Onam is mentioned. This falls around Mahā Navami, the traditional period of weapon worship (Ayudha Puja) and preparation for warfare. The Thiruvakkarai inscription of 897 CE similarly mentions “பிரட்டாதி ஓணமும்”(Purattasi Onam). These references suggest that Onam was not restricted to a Vishnu festival but had acquired a wider cultural significance involving war preparedness and weapon worship.

3. The emergence of Mahābali A third strand appears in the Sangam work Maturaikkāñci: கணம் கொள் அவுணர்க் கடந்த பொலந் தார் மாயோன் மேய ஓண நல் நாள். Onam is described as the auspicious day of Māyōn (Vishnu), the destroyer of the powerful Asuras. This may connect with the later Mahābali tradition. The Padma Purāṇa and Skanda Purāṇa describe kings of earlier times honouring Mahābali on his return by floral decorations and donations, seeking prosperity and land. The associated observance was Bali Pratipat in Aippasi. The Onam of Maturaikkāñci may preserve an early form of this tradition, although the text itself does not explicitly name Mahābali. Over time, the celebration appears to have shifted in calendar and geography, becoming associated in Kerala with Chingam (Siṃha māsa) and Tiruvōṇam. 4. The Kerala evidence By the early medieval period, Onam was firmly established in Kerala. The Thiruvalla copper plate of c. 861 CE provides early epigraphic evidence, while 11th–12th-century inscriptions at Thiruvalla and Thrikkakara show the festival becoming institutionalised through temple rituals and celebrations.

The evidence therefore points to a long and complex evolution: from Tiruvōṇam associated with Vishnu/Narasimha and victory over evil, through traditions involving weapon worship and royal observances, to the now prominent Mahābali tradition of his annual return. The modern characterization of Onam primarily as a harvest festival may be a recent addition.

#Onam

Lord Muruga: God, Ancestor or a Man who became a God? (My talk in Tamil)

Who was Murugan? Was he merely a deity of the Tamil hills? Was he the pan-Indian Skanda, Kārttikeya and Subrahmaṇya? Or, as some modern Tamil narratives claim, was he an ancient ancestor—a Muppāṭṭan?

In my recent discussion on Murugan to SwadeshiTamil Channel, I examined these questions by bringing together Tamil literary traditions, Sanskrit sources, Vedic references, geographical evidence, climatic records and even some intriguing genetic findings.

My conclusion is different from both the conventional extremes. Murugan is indeed a God—but he was born as a man and was elevated to divine status. He is not our ancestor or Muppāṭṭan. Yet he occupies a unique place in our tradition as the forerunner of those who perform Vedic Homa.

Murugan's birth in Then Madurai

An important source that is often overlooked in discussions about Murugan's origin is the Tiruvilaiyādal Purāṇam. It gives an account of Murugan's birth that is very different from the familiar Puranic narrative of his birth from Shiva's divine fire.

According to this Tamil tradition, Murugan was born as Ugra Kumāra, the son of Tadātakai Pirāṭṭi and Somasundara in Then Madurai — Southern Madurai.

The place is described as Kanni Desam. I specifically distinguish this from the modern concept of Kumari Kandam. The two should not simply be equated.

The question then naturally arises: Where was this Southern Madurai?

This is where geography becomes important. I have examined bathymetric studies of the region and identified what I consider to be the probable location of the ancient Southern Madurai. This is not merely a matter of taking the traditional name and placing it somewhere on a modern map. The geographical evidence has to be examined alongside the literary descriptions.

A land that disappeared

The Tamil literary tradition preserves memories of Southern Madurai being lost beneath the sea.

The accounts associated with Nakkīrar, Ilam Pūraṇar and Adiyārkkunallār speak of the submergence or loss of the ancient southern land. I therefore do not treat the disappearance of Southern Madurai as merely a poetic invention.

There are also indications of floods before and during the period associated with Murugan, together with references that can be interpreted in the context of volcanic activity.

When these literary traditions are examined alongside climatic and geological records, an intriguing chronology emerges.

My assessment is that Murugan belongs to a period before the Holocene, roughly around 12,000 years ago. This places the Murugan tradition in a very different chronological framework from the one usually assumed.

Murugan, Kārttikeya and the re-design of the zodiac

One of the most interesting aspects of Murugan's identity emerges when we look at his astronomical associations.

The name Kārttikeya, is connected with an important astronomical change attributed to Murugan: the re-designing of the zodiac of lunar mansions.

The Mahābhārata preserves an account in which sage Mārkaṇḍeya narrates matters concerning the nakṣatras to the Pāṇḍavas. In this narration we encounter the significance of the change from the earlier arrangement.

As per this, the star Abhijit was dropped from the nakṣatra scheme and Kṛttikā was included so that the zodiac could remain as a system of 27 nakṣatras.

This provides a possible astronomical dimension to the name Kārttikeya itself, connecting Murugan with Kṛttikā.

How did Murugan become Viśākha?

The astronomical story does not end with Kṛttikā.

I also examine the association of Murugan with Viśākha.

The significance becomes clearer when we consider the astronomical reorganisation of the nakṣatra system. In the process of re-designing the zodiac, Viśākha occupies a special position because the star-group extends across two zodiacal signs in the autumnal equinoctial position. 

Vivasvān, the present Sun, and Manu, who initiated the Ikṣvāku dynasty, came into being after this event. Viśākhā was subsequently adopted as the Kula Nakṣatra of the Ikṣvākus, as we learn from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.

Thus Murugan's different names and associations may preserve memories of astronomical events or changes that are far older than the later popular stories attached to him.

The connection among Kārttikeya, Kṛttikā, Viśākha and the nakṣatra system therefore deserves to be studied as an astronomical tradition in its own right.

This is particularly important because Indian traditions often preserve astronomical information through the names and stories of deities rather than presenting it as a modern scientific textbook.

Was Murugan only a Tamil deity?

Another question I examine is whether Murugan was originally a purely Tamil deity who was later transformed into Skanda or Kārttikeya.

I find this too simplistic.

The ancient Tamil tradition certainly preserves a very strong and distinctive Murugan tradition. At the same time, the Sanskrit tradition knows him by several names, including Kārttikeya and Skanda, and there are Vedic references connected with Subrahmaṇya.

I also compare these with the Mahābhārata's references to Murugan and his different names, as well as the Tamil Tirumurukāṟṟuppaṭai.

These sources have to be studied together rather than placing "Tamil Murugan" on one side and "Sanskrit Skanda" on the other and assuming that they necessarily represent unrelated traditions.

The red-headed Murugan

There is another unusual feature that I discuss: Murugan's red head or reddish appearance.

This becomes particularly interesting when we consider ancient populations outside India. Genetic studies of red-haired populations in Ireland and Scandinavia have been interpreted as pointing to a mutation that arose in an individual in India roughly 10,000 years ago.

This is an intriguing piece of evidence when considered alongside the ancient traditions.

The Scythians, too, are described as red-haired in historical sources, and I point out the association of objects and practices connected with Murugan among them. These parallels deserve investigation rather than being dismissed simply because they do not fit neatly into modern geographical categories.

Was Murugan a man who became God?

This brings me to the central question.

Was Murugan a God?

My answer is yes.

But I do not believe that this necessarily means that he was born as a supernatural being in the way later mythology presents him. My interpretation is that Murugan was born as a man and was subsequently elevated to the status of a God.

In other words, the categories "man" and "God" need not be mutually exclusive in the ancient Indian understanding of history and divinity.

A human being of extraordinary stature could become divinised and worshipped as a deity. Murugan, in my interpretation, represents such a case.

But was he our Muppāṭṭan?

Here I differ from another popular Tamil claim.

Some argue that Murugan was the ancient Tamil Muppāṭṭan—our forefather or ancestor.

I do not agree.

Murugan should not be reduced to the status of an ancestral figure merely because he was born as a man.

There is, however, another reason why I regard him as having an extraordinary place in our tradition.

The first Vedic Homa

Murugan is associated with the initiation of the first Vedic Homa.

Therefore, rather than calling him our Muppāṭṭan, I would describe him as a forerunner of everyone who performs Homa.

This gives an entirely different significance to his place in the religious tradition.

He is not merely a Tamil hill deity who was subsequently absorbed into a northern Sanskritic tradition. Nor is he simply a human ancestor elevated by later generations.

He stands at a much deeper point in the history of our religious tradition.

Please watch the video and share it widely.