The Munnadiyaan as Kshetrapala in Tamil Folk Tradition

Madurai Veeran as the munnadiyaan of Muniswarar in Jalan Baru Muniswarar temple, Prai, Penang.
Picture credit Theiva Darisanam.

The Tamil term muṉṉaṭiyāṉ (munnadiyaan), once widely recognized but now less commonly used, derives from Muṉṉāṭi (munnaadi), meaning “ahead” or "in front". Munnadiyaans are male guardian deities positioned at the forefront of temples, functioning as protectors similar to the Sanskritic kṣetrapāla (kshetrapala). They are typically portrayed as fierce companions of the temple’s presiding deity, embodying vigilance, martial prowess, and protective energy.

It is widely believed that before any activity is carried out within the temple, one must first seek the guidance and permission of the munnadiyaan. This ritual acknowledgment reaffirms his role as the guardian of the sacred space, ensuring that the proceedings take place under his watchful protection.

Traditionally, ritual offerings such as male goats and roosters are made to the munnadiyaans, reflecting their non-vegetarian associations and deep folk roots. A notable example can be found at the Jalan Baru Sri Muniswarar Temple (formerly Sri Muniandy Temple) in Prai, Penang, where Veeran serves as the temple’s munnadiyaan. While the presiding deity, Muniswarar, receives only vegetarian padaiyal (food offering), Veeran continues to be honored with liquor, cigars, and non-vegetarian offerings. These practices maintain his role as a fierce folk guardian.

Munnadiyaan iconography in southern Tamil Nadu is also distinguished by the warrior stance with one leg bent in a kneeling position. This posture is reflected in figures such as Nondi Veeran and Nondi Karuppanasamy in Tamil Nadu. Although references to munnadiyaan deities have diminished in contemporary discourse, their presence highlights the enduring vitality of Tamil folk traditions within the broader framework of Hindu temple worship.

Regional Traditions of Munnadiyaan Worship

The identity of the munnadiyaan often varies by region, reflecting local histories, community needs, and folk memory.

Southern Districts (Madurai, Sivagangai, Ramanathapuram):
In these areas, the most common munnadiyaan is Karuppanasamy, who appears in many localized forms such as Nondi Karuppar, Sappani Karuppar, and Munnodi Karuppar. Karuppaṉasāmy is often regarded as the fierce enforcer of justice, punisher of wrongdoers, and protector of sacred spaces. His fierce visage, weaponry, and uncompromising nature make him an ideal guardian in the role of munnadiyaan.

Delta Districts (Thanjavur, Tiruvarur):
In the fertile delta regions, the figure of Veeran dominates the role of munnadiyaan. Here, Veeran is worshipped in various manifestations including Nondi Veeran and the legendary Madurai Veeran. He is celebrated more as a warrior-protector, embodying valor, sacrifice, and loyalty. His cult in the delta region reflects the blending of martial hero worship with temple guardianship, reinforcing the connection between folk heroes and divine protectors.

These regional distinctions highlight the adaptability of the munnadiyaan concept, where the protective role is embodied not by a single figure but through diverse local forms, each carrying the flavor of community belief and history.

Munnadiyaan and the Role of Kshetrapala

The idea of the kshetrapala (literally “guardian of the sacred field or territory”) is deeply rooted in Hindu temple tradition. Every temple, whether grand or modest, is believed to require a protector who stands guard at its thresholds, ensuring that only the worthy may enter and safeguarding the sanctity of the space. 

Kala Bhairava. Picture credit Kaga Ashram

In the Hindu tradition of Saivism, this role is often associated with Kala Bhairava, a fierce form of Śiva, who serves as the ultimate guardian of sacred precincts. 

Munnadiyaan therefore function as the folk equivalent of the kshetrapala. Like Bhairava, they are fierce liminal beings who protect boundaries between sacred and profane, purity and pollution, safety and danger. Their positioning at the outer peripheries of temples reflects this liminality. 

The Question of Mantras

In Tamil folk traditions, munndiyaan worship is rarely accompanied by elaborate Sanskrit mantra recitations. Instead, rituals are performed through offerings, folk songs known as varnippu, and invocations passed down orally. It is possible that mantras once existed but were gradually forgotten as folk traditions evolved separately. The worship of the munnadiyaan has focused more on lived devotion and ritual offering than textualized prayer.

For practitioners who wish to integrate mantra-based worship today, one approach is to use mantras dedicated to Kala Bhairava, as he is the classical kshetrapala. Since the munnadiyans embodies the same protective function, Bhairava mantras can be invoked as a way of aligning folk practice with broader Hindu traditions. Commonly used Bhairava mantras carry the essence of protection, removal of obstacles, and boundary-keeping. These are all qualities mirrored by the munnadiyaan.

Contemporary Popular Tradition

A striking parallel emerges in popular culture through the Kannada film Kantara, where the benevolent deity Panjurli is accompanied by the fierce Guliga. In the narrative, Guliga exemplifies the archetype of a munnadiyaan; uncompromising, merciless towards wrongdoers, and unwavering in his guardianship. 

In the movie, the deity Guliga is dramatically awakened when one of the villains smashes the protagonist’s head against the stone that represents him. The impact causes blood to flow and stain the stone, which symbolically functions as an offering. 

Panjurli and Guliga. Picture credit Harsha Kaveripura.

In many South Indian folk traditions, blood sacrifice or accidental bloodshed is believed to activate the deity’s presence, marking it as both an offering and a sign of appeasement. The cinematic choice to show Guliga awakened in this way ties back to the wider understanding of guardian deities who require offerings to manifest their protective and destructive powers. This portrayal underscores the timeless cultural significance of munnadiyaans or kshetrapalas and their role in safeguarding spiritual spaces across South India.

Although the term munnadiyaan is less commonly heard today, the concept persists across Tamil and other South Indian diaspora communities, and popular imagination. Whether in the form of Karuppanasamy in the southern districts, Veeran in the delta regions, or cinematic representations like Guliga, these guardian deities remind us of the enduring strength of folk spirituality where protection, vigilance, and devotion remain at the heart of worship.

Making Deities Black? Check the Symbolism First

Image Credit: Andonious "Smo-G/A3V" Vassiliadis

In today's world, a noticeable trend has emerged within certain members of the Hindu community. Many images of deities are increasingly being painted in darker complexions. This practice is often explained as an act of equality and a gesture of standing against racism, since darker skin tones have historically been associated with social hierarchies and prejudice. 

While the intention behind this trend is admirable, the practice itself raises important questions. Are Hindu deities truly meant to be imagined in a single skin tone, regardless of scripture? Or is there a deeper reason why they have been traditionally described and visualized in a wide spectrum of colours? 

The truth is that the colours of Hindu deities are not chosen arbitrarily, nor are they reflections of racial identity. Instead, each deity is described in scriptural verses known as dhyāna ślokas, which prescribe their form, complexion, posture, and attributes for meditation. These descriptions serve a very specific spiritual purpose. 

They are designed to act as symbolic anchors for the mind, enabling the practitioner to meditate on the qualities and powers embodied by that deity. To paint every deity in the same complexion in the name of social equality may unintentionally overlook the profound metaphysical wisdom that these colours represent. 

Colours as Spiritual Language 
In the Hindu tradition, colour is a sacred language. Each shade embodies a quality, a mood, and an energy that helps the devotee establish a connection with the divine. The dhyāna ślokas, which appear in various scriptures, are essentially poetic visualizations that guide the imagination during meditation. By holding the prescribed image in the mind, the practitioner is able to internalize the attributes of the deity and move closer to spiritual realization. 

For example, in the Lalitā Sahasranāma and its associated texts, Goddess Lalita Tripurasundarī is envisioned as having a complexion the colour of vemilion and glowing with golden radiance. This description is not symbolic of race but of energy. Her reddish hue reflects her fiery creative force, her embodiment of passion transformed into divine bliss, and her role as the supreme source of cosmic creation. A devotee meditating on her form is not simply imagining a goddess of a particular skin tone but is invoking the energy of divine creativity. 

sindūrāruṇavigrahāṁ trinayanāṁ māṇikyamaulisphurat
tārānāyakaśēkharāṁ smitamukhīmāpīnavakṣōruhām .
pāṇibhyāmalipūrṇaratnacaṣakaṁ raktōtpalaṁ vibhratīṁ
saumyāṁ ratnaghaṭastharaktacaraṇāṁ dhyāyētparāmambikām

By contrast, Goddess Mātangī, one of the Mahāvidyās, is described as having the deep green complexion of an emerald. She is the patroness of inner wisdom, music, and unconventional knowledge. Her green form symbolizes the fertile abundance of nature as well as the hidden mysteries that flourish outside the boundaries of conventional order. Meditating on her prescribed colour is meant to awaken inner wisdom and unconventional insight. 

Goddess Matangi also known as Syamala. Image Credit: matangidevi 

Lord Muruga, also known as Kartikeya or Subramanya, is often described with a radiant red complexion. His hue represents youthful vigour, courage, and martial energy. His prescribed colour becomes a focus point in meditation, allowing devotees to internalize bravery, vitality, and divine protection. 

Thus, when scriptures prescribe a colour, they are giving practitioners a map for meditation. Each colour corresponds not to race, but to rasa, the essence of the deity’s spiritual power. 

The Buddhist Parallel 
This symbolism is not confined to Hinduism alone. In Buddhist traditions, especially within Vajrayana  practices, deities and bodhisattvas are also painted in specific colours. Each colour embodies a quality of enlightenment and serves as a meditative focus for practitioners. 

For instance, Amitābha Buddha is red, symbolizing compassion and the fire of transformation. Akṣobhya Buddha is blue, representing immovable stability and clarity of mind. Ratnasambhava is yellow, symbolizing generosity and abundance. Vairocana is white, representing purity and the all-encompassing nature of the dharmakāya. Amoghasiddhi is green, signifying accomplishment and fearlessness. 

Just as in Hinduism, these colours are not racial features but meditative codes. They serve as precise instructions for practitioners to focus their minds and embody the qualities of the enlightened state. 

The 5 meditational Buddhas in different colours. Image Credit: tibetanbuddhistencyclopedia

Why Colours Matter in Meditation 
When a devotee sits for meditation, the human mind needs a form to concentrate upon. Without a form, the mind wanders. The dhyāna śloka provides that form, complete with colour, ornaments, posture, and symbolic weapons. By following this prescription, the practitioner engages all senses and channels them towards spiritual realization. The colour of the deity plays a crucial role in this process. Red ignites energy and passion, green induces harmony and growth, blue represents vastness and depth, and white evokes purity and clarity. If all deities were painted in the same skin tone, these meditative distinctions would collapse, and the practitioner would lose an important tool for inner transformation. 

Colours also corresponds to our chakras. Image credit: mindvalley


The Question of Black Stone Mūrtis 
A common counterpoint that may arise is that most South Indian temples house deities carved from black granite or other materials. Does this not mean that the deities were always meant to be imagined as dark-skinned? What about statues made from brass? Does that mean the deities are also brown?

The answer lies in understanding the distinction between temple ritual practice and scriptural meditation practice. 

The mūrtis in temples were never intended to be the primary tools of meditation. Their primary purpose was to serve as living embodiments of the deity for abhiṣegam (ritual bathing), ceremonial worship, and festivals. Granite and other materials such as brass were chosen because of their durability, their ability to withstand constant ritual bathing with milk, water, ghee, turmeric, and sandalwood paste, and their natural sanctity as materials considered fit for consecration. 

Image credit: IBC Bakthi

When covered with milk, sandalwood paste, turmeric, or vibhuti (sacred ash), these mūrtis would not even appear black but would take on the colours of the substances used in worship. This shows that the stone’s natural colour was not meant to define the deity’s complexion, but rather to provide a suitable medium for ritual. 

The dhyāna śloka descriptions, on the other hand, belong to a different sphere altogether. They prescribe the form, colour, and attributes of the deity specifically for meditation. While the murti anchors the ritual, the meditative visualization anchors the mind. Both are valid, but they serve distinct purposes. Confusing the two can lead to misunderstandings about why a deity is described in a certain complexion in scripture. 

The Misunderstanding of Equality 
In the modern Hindu context, the trend of painting all deities with dark complexions is motivated by a noble sentiment. It seeks to challenge colourism and the social prejudice that often accompanies lighter or darker skin in human society. However, when this sentiment is extended into the sphere of religious iconography, it risks overshadowing the deeper scriptural intent. 

Image credit: tiethethali

Equality in Hindu thought does not mean uniformity. Instead, it means seeing the divine in all forms and understanding that all qualities, whether fiery red or tranquil green, belong to the same cosmic reality. By preserving the distinct colours of each deity, we do not promote inequality. Rather, we affirm the diversity of divine expression and allow each form to speak its unique spiritual language. 

Preserving Scriptural Integrity 
To understand why the preservation of prescribed colours is important, one must return to the scriptures themselves. The dhyāna ślokas are not artistic preferences but meditative instructions. They have been recited, preserved, and transmitted for centuries because they carry precise spiritual significance. Changing them arbitrarily in the name of social messaging diminishes their potency. 

If a devotee wishes to meditate on Lalita Tripurasundarī, they are instructed to imagine her as red, glowing like the sun. If they imagine her in another form, the results of the meditation may not align with the intended energy described in the scriptures. 

Similarly, imagining Matangi as emerald-green is an invitation to embrace unconventional wisdom, while focusing on Muruga’s radiant red form awakens courage and energy. These colours are not matters of choice but matters of spiritual precision. 

Muniswarans of Pachaiamman temple, Tiruvannamalai. They are represented in different colours.

Towards a Balanced Understanding 
It is important to clarify that acknowledging the symbolic colours of deities does not invalidate the movement against racism. The fight against social prejudice is essential, and celebrating darker skin tones in human society is an important step toward equality. However, the mistake lies in confusing human social realities with divine symbolism. 

Deities are not meant to be representations of human race. They are embodiments of cosmic qualities, and their colours are metaphors for energies far beyond the human realm. Instead of reducing every deity to a single complexion, a better approach would be to educate devotees about the symbolic significance of colours. 

By doing so, we can celebrate diversity both in human identity and in divine representation. In fact, when devotees learn why Lalita is vermilion-red, why Matangi is green, and why Muruga is red, they come to appreciate the immense depth of the tradition. 

Image credit: enlightenmentthangka
Image credit: enlightenmentthangka

Conclusion 
The trend of painting all Hindu deities in darker skin tones may stem from a well-intentioned desire to fight racism, but it risks obscuring the profound spiritual symbolism of colour in Hindu and Buddhist traditions. Each deity is described in scripture with a specific complexion, not as an indication of race, but as a key to meditation. 

Colours in this context are not social markers but spiritual codes. They are the language through which the infinite communicates with the human mind. To honour this wisdom, it is important to preserve the scriptural descriptions of deities and to understand their significance. 

True equality is not about making everything look the same, but about recognizing the divinity in all forms and colours. In the realm of the sacred, colour is not a boundary but a bridge, guiding the practitioner from the outer form to the inner essence, from meditation to realization.

Chola Warlords: Who Were the Paluvettaraiyars?


Ponniyin Selvan I movie poster showing actor Sarathkumar as Periya Paluvettaraiyar and actor Parthiban as Chinna Paluvettaraiyar.

In 2024, Oxford University Press published Minor Majesties: The Paluvēṭṭaraiyars and Their South Indian Kingdom of Paluvūr, 9th–11th Centuries A.D., a groundbreaking study by historian Valerie Gillet. In the book’s opening chapter, A Tentative Biography of the Paluvettaraiyars, Gillet delves into the lineage and origins of this influential family. 

These Chola warlords traced their lineage to the formidable Maravars, an ancient warrior tribe renowned for their valor. However, I believe that while the Paluvettaraiyars were indeed of Maravar descent, they likely forged alliances through intermarriage with those of the Kallar and Agambadiyar clans, further solidifying their power and influence.

Prominent figures in the medieval Chola era, the Paluvettaraiyars played a pivotal role in shaping the empire’s political and military landscape. Through strategic marriages with the Chola royal family and their service as administrators and commanders, they cemented their power, leaving a lasting imprint on South Indian history.

For a deeper insight into their fascinating legacy, I have included the first chapter of the book for your reading below.





Manabharana Is Not Malay (Manabharana Bukan Melayu)

In recent times, an alarming narrative has emerged within the Malaysian blogosphere, suggesting a historical event that appears to be a misinterpretation or perhaps a deliberate misinformation campaign. The claim revolves around a so called Malay prince named Manabharana from Srivijaya, purportedly attacking and conquering the Chola kingdom. This misleading story has gained traction and is spreading like wildfire across various social media platforms. The need to address and rectify such inaccuracies is crucial not only for the sake of historical accuracy but also for fostering a responsible and informed online community.

To delve into the matter, it is essential to clarify that historical records reveal the existence of multiple individuals named Manabharana throughout history. However, a nuanced understanding reveals that all these figures were Tamils (Damila) hailing from the Pandya kingdom, with references to their exploits documented in Tamil inscriptions and Sri Lankan chronicles. Remarkably, there is an absence of any historical records in Malaysia that would substantiate the claim of a Malay prince named Manabharana attacking the Chola kingdom.

The title "Manabharana" typically denotes a familial connection to the Pandyan royal lineage, often bestowed upon sons within the Pandyan dynasty. It is crucial to acknowledge that the Manabharana associated with the attack on the Chola country, earning the epithet "Cholakulantaka" (he who destroyed the Chola family), was indeed a Pandyan king. Contrary to the circulating narrative, this historical figure is not a Malay prince.

Similarly, it is worth mentioning that Kulothunga Chola I (1070-1120 AD) gave his princess Chudamali in marriage to prince Manabharana. This Manabharana was also known as Sri Virabahudevar or Pandiyanar Virapperumal. This Manabharana was the son of Jatavarman Srivallabha Pandya and princess Mitta, the younger sister of Sri Lankan king Vijayabahu (1055-1111 AD). (refer to page 227 below)

To further bolster this clarification, references from inscriptions have been attached, underscoring the importance of relying on authentic historical documents rather than perpetuating unfounded claims. The dissemination of inaccurate historical information not only distorts the understanding of the past but also has far-reaching consequences in shaping perceptions and narratives. In a globalized and interconnected world, it is imperative to approach historical accounts with discernment and to resist the temptation to propagate misinformation, as it can contribute to the erosion of accurate historical knowledge and the promotion of cultural misunderstandings. By emphasizing the importance of accuracy and critical thinking, we can collectively work towards fostering a more informed and responsible discourse in both online and offline spaces.

12th century inscription of the Ranganathasvamy Temple, Srirangam, makes reference to one Manabharana who lived earlier. He destroyed the Cholas (epithet Cholakulantaka) but this Manabharana is not a Malay from Sri Vijaya. He is a Tamil from Pandya kingdom.


Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 
Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 

Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 

Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 

Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 

Epigraphica Indica Vol XXXVIII (January 1969) by Archaeological Survey of India 

Dictionary of Pali Proper Names, Volume 1 By G.P. Malalasekera


Dictionary of Pali Proper Names, Volume 1 By G.P. Malalasekera


Another Manabharana, also a Pandya. This is from South Indian Inscriptions, Volume III.

IV.- Inscriptions at Manimangalam
No. 29.- On the outside of the east wall of the inner prakara of the Rajagopala-Perumal temple
Finally, Rajendra dispatched an army to Ceylon, where the Kalinga king Vira-Salamegan was decapitated and the two sons of the Ceylon king Manabharanan were taken prisoners.  Another Vira-Salamegan, who is stated to have migrated to Ceylon from Kanyakubja, had been killed by Rajendra’s predecessor Rajadhiraja.[11]  The same Chola king had decapitated another Manabharana, who was, however, a Pandya king and not a king of Ceylon.[12]  The Mahavamsa mentions two princes of the name Manabharana, and two others of the name Kittisirimegha.  Manabharana I.[13] and Kittisirimegha I. were nephews and sons-in-law of the Ceylon king Vijayabahu I. (chapter lix. Verses 42 and 44).  His queen Tilokasundari was a princess of Kalinga (ibid. verse 29 f.).[14]  Manabharanan and Vira-Salamegan in the subjoined inscription might correspond to Manabharana and Kittisirimegha in the Mahavamsa, and the reason why Vira-Salamegan is styled a Kalinga king in the inscription might be thefact that his mother-in-law was a Kalinga princess according to the Mahavamsa.  On the other hand king Vijayabahu I. is supposed to have reigned from A.D. 1065 to 1120, and Vikkamabahu I. in whose time Manabharana I. and Kittisirimegha I.  usurped the government of Ceylon, from A.D. 1121 to 1142, while Rajendra and Virarajendra I. have to be accommodated between A.D. 1050 and 1070.[15]  Consequently, Manabharana and Vira-Salamegan in the inscription must be distinct from, and prior to, Manabharana I. and Kittisirimegha I. in the Mahavamsa.  But, as I have previously stated (p. 39 above), the conquest of Ceylon by Rajendra is established by the existence of an inscription of his in that island.















Kallars - The Original Tamil Polygars of Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam Zamins

Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam are now taluks under the larger present day Ariyalur district.

In his book "The Heirs of Vijayanagara: Court Politics in Early-Modern South India", author and researcher Lennart Bes of Radboud University Nijmegen states that the Kallar polygar of Ariyalur may have been the son-in-law of the Kallar polygar of Udaiyarpalayam (page 311). This is according to a Dutch source from the late 1670s; NA, VOC, no. 1454, f. 1015; no. 1756, f. 1219v: reports of local VOC envoys to Tanjavur and Ramnad, August 1688, October 1708.

The zamins (earlier palayam) of Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam were ruled continously by Kallar polygars until the year 1765 as confirmed by Lewis Moore (see end of article). Both Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam were attacked by the combined forces of Nawab and British. After the attack, the Kallar polygars and their families were disposed of their rights and properties.  They took refuge in Tanjore (Tanjavur) and later Mysore. 

They were attacked because both Kallar polygars of Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam, together with the Reddy polygar of Turaiyur, refused to pay tribute to the Nawab . In 1780, with the help of Hyder Ali of Mysore, they recaptured both Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam. However, this was only temporary. 

After 1783, both these polygars were imprisonned by the British in Trichy for not paying tribute. Following this, the zamins were taken over by the servants of the zamin and the servants of the Nawab. Although the Kallar polygars were allowed to return, they were imprisoned again in 1790. 

Both zamins were then placed under the management of the Nawab in 1798. This continued until the British took over in 1801. The zamins were later sold by the British to few proprietors. 

Rabindranath Tagore mentioned that Ariyalur formerly belonged to a Kallar zamindar in his book The Modern Review Volume 35 No.1 (January 1924).

The present families of both zamins are not the actual descendants of the Kallars who once ruled and later disposed by the British. They are actually descendants of the proprietors who bought the zamin properties from the British. As such, they are not of royal ancestry.

Full evidence pertaining to Ariyalur and Udaiyarpalayam, is provided by Lewis Moore, Acting Head Assistant to the Collector and Magistrate of Trichinopoly in his book Trichinopoly District in The Presidency of Madras. The book was published in 1878. 

I have attached the supporting pages below. 











The Munnadiyaan as Kshetrapala in Tamil Folk Tradition

Madurai Veeran as the munnadiyaan of Muniswarar in Jalan Baru Muniswarar temple, Prai, Penang. Picture credit Theiva Darisanam. The Tamil te...