Mahendravarman I

Part 2 — Mahendravarman I

The King Who Began Carving a New Age in Stone

Mahendravarman I ruled the Pallava kingdom approximately 600–630 CE. He was the father of Narasimhavarman I, our Mamalla.

If Mamalla brought Pallava art to extraordinary heights, Mahendravarman laid the foundation.

A king with an unusual range of talents

Mahendravarman was not simply a warrior-king.

He was a scholar, musician, poet, dramatist, architect and patron of the arts.

He is traditionally associated with the Sanskrit satirical play Mattavilasa Prahasana — The Delight of the Drunken Sport.

It is a wonderfully irreverent piece of literature.

Mahendravarman uses humour to poke fun at religious hypocrisy and the eccentricities of various sectarian groups of his time.

It gives us something rare:

a glimpse of an ancient Indian king's sense of humour.

He wasn't merely sponsoring literature.

He was writing it himself.

And then came the stone.

Before the Pallavas, temples in South India were very often built using materials such as brick, timber, and other perishable substances.

Mahendravarman began a remarkable new experiment:

cutting temples directly into the living rock.

One of the clearest expressions of this vision appears at Mandagapattu.

There, a famous Pallava inscription proudly declares that this temple was made without the traditional use of brick, timber, metal or mortar.

It was an architectural statement:

stone itself could become the temple.

This was revolutionary.

Instead of assembling a temple piece by piece, the Pallava craftsmen could enter a rock face and release the temple from within it.

The beginning of the Pallava cave tradition

During Mahendravarman's reign, rock-cut shrines appeared at places including:

Mandagapattu

Mahendravadi

Mamandur

Dalavanur

Kuranganilmuttam

These early monuments established forms that later Pallava architects would develop magnificently.

The pillars, façades, sanctums and sculptural language were beginning to acquire a distinctly Pallava character.

And this is where the story becomes beautiful.

Mahendravarman began the experiment.

Mamalla expanded it.

Rajasimha transformed it into monumental structural architecture.

The great Pallava architectural tradition was therefore not the work of one king.

It was a generational achievement.

But Mahendravarman was also a warrior

His reign was not peaceful.

The great Pulakeshin II of the Chalukyas invaded the Pallava kingdom.

Mahendravarman faced him.

The Pallavas suffered setbacks and lost territory in the northern part of their kingdom.

But Mahendravarman survived the crisis.

And his son Narasimhavarman would later inherit both the kingdom and the unfinished struggle.

That son would eventually defeat Pulakeshin II and capture Vatapi.

Thus, the story of father and son becomes particularly striking:

Mahendravarman defended the Pallava kingdom.

Mamalla avenged the defeat.

The father behind Mamalla

When we look at Mamallapuram today, it is tempting to think only of Narasimhavarman I.

But behind that extraordinary flowering was his father.

Mahendravarman created the artistic language.

Mamalla gave it scale and confidence.

And the Pallavas who followed transformed it further.

That is why Mahendravarman deserves a place among India's remarkable rulers.

He reminds us that a great king need not be remembered only for the territory he conquered.

Sometimes his greatest victory is the idea he leaves behind.

And Mahendravarman's idea was profound:

The mountain itself could become architecture.

That idea would eventually help shape the magnificent temple architecture of South India.

Narasimhavarman I

 

NARASIMHAVARMAN I — MAMALLA

The King Who Turned Stone into Poetry

Before Mamallapuram became one of India's most celebrated heritage sites, it was the creation of a remarkable Pallava king.

His name was Narasimhavarman I, son of the great Pallava ruler Mahendravarman I.

He ruled from about 630 to 668 CE.

But history remembers him by another name:

Mamalla — “the Great Wrestler.”

It was under Mamalla that the Pallava kingdom reached one of its greatest moments of military power, artistic achievement and cultural confidence.

A prince who inherited a challenge

Mamalla inherited a powerful kingdom — but also a formidable enemy.

The great Chalukya king Pulakeshin II had previously invaded Pallava territory and defeated his father, Mahendravarman I.

Narasimhavarman did not forget.

He waited.

He strengthened the Pallava army and eventually carried the war into Chalukya territory.

In one of the remarkable reversals of Indian history, the Pallavas defeated Pulakeshin II.

Narasimhavarman's forces marched into the Chalukyan capital Vatapi.

The Pallavas captured the city.

Narasimhavarman took the title:

Vatapikonda — “Conqueror of Vatapi.”

But his greatest conquest was not a city.

It was stone.

Under Mamalla, the coastal town of Mamallapuram became a magnificent centre of artistic experimentation.

The great rock monuments associated with the site emerged from this extraordinary Pallava period:

• The Pancha Rathas

• Arjuna's Penance / Descent of the Ganges

• The great rock-cut caves

• Sculptures of extraordinary vitality and detail

The Pallava artists did something revolutionary.

Instead of merely constructing temples from separate blocks, they began cutting temples and entire compositions directly out of living rock.

The mountain itself became the temple.

The rock became sculpture.

And architecture became storytelling.

Mamalla and the sea

Mamallapuram was not merely an artistic centre.

It was an important port of the Pallava kingdom, connecting South India with the wider maritime world.

Ships sailed from its shores toward Southeast Asia.

Indian ideas, art, architecture and religious traditions travelled with them.

The Pallavas were therefore not simply builders of temples.

They were participants in India's great maritime and cultural expansion.

The legacy

Narasimhavarman I died around 668 CE.

His reign lasted less than four decades.

Yet more than thirteen centuries later, his name still lives in the stone monuments of Mamallapuram.

That is the extraordinary thing about great rulers.

Some leave behind palaces.

Some leave behind armies.

Some leave behind conquered kingdoms.

Mamalla left behind a landscape of stone that still speaks.

And every morning, when the waves of the Bay of Bengal touch Mamallapuram, they touch monuments created under the vision of a king who understood that a kingdom could be made powerful by the sword—

but immortal through culture.

WHEN THE LORD LISTENS

 WHEN THE LORD LISTENS

The Beautiful Kainkaryam of Tirukkacchi Nambi

There is a beautiful tradition in our Sri Vaishnava sampradaya about Tirukkacchi Nambi, one of the great devotees of Lord Varadaraja of Kanchipuram.

Nambi's greatest desire was simple:

To serve the Lord.

He wished to offer tālavṛnta kainkaryam—to gently fan the Lord.

According to the tradition, he first approached Lord Ranganatha at Srirangam and asked whether he could perform this service.

The Lord is said to have replied, with characteristic affection:

"I already have the two rivers, Kaveri and Kollidam, flowing around Me. Their cool breeze is pleasant. Why don't you go to Tirumala?"

So Nambi went to Lord Venkateswara at Tirumala and expressed the same desire.

There too, the Lord is said to have responded:

"I have the seven hills around Me, and the cool mountain air. Why don't you go to Kanchipuram and serve Lord Varadaraja?"

And so Nambi came to Kanchi.

Here, the story takes a particularly touching turn.

Lord Varadaraja was pleased to receive him.

For unlike the cool waters of Srirangam or the mountain breeze of Tirumala, here was a devotee who desired nothing except to stand beside the Lord and serve Him personally.

The Lord accepted his tālavṛnta kainkaryam.

And thus the gentle movement of a fan became something far greater:

a bond between the Lord and His devotee.

The Lord Who Speaks

The tradition surrounding Tirukkacchi Nambi goes even further.

Nambi is remembered as one who could converse with Lord Varadaraja and receive answers from Him.

This is not the only instance in our tradition where the Lord becomes accessible through conversation.

Sri Ramanujacharya himself is associated with questions placed before Lord Varadaraja, with answers revealed through Tirukkacchi Nambi.

The famous Six Words of Varadaraja—Arusoll—became deeply significant in the life and teachings of Ramanuja.

What a remarkable thought this is.

The Lord whom we approach with folded hands is also the Lord to whom a devotee can speak.

A question can be asked.

A doubt can be placed before Him.

A prayer can become a conversation.

And an answer may come—not always in the manner we expect, but through the grace of the Lord.

Ever Present

Perhaps this is one of the most beautiful aspects of our tradition.

God is not presented as distant and unreachable.

He is Archāvatāra—the Lord who chooses to remain accessible to us in His sacred form.

We can stand before Him.

We can offer flowers.

We can sing.

We can serve.

We can speak.

We can even place our doubts before Him.

And above all, we can simply be with Him.

Tirukkacchi Nambi did not seek wealth, position or recognition.

He sought only one thing:

"Let me serve You."

And the Lord, in His infinite compassion, accepted that service.

Perhaps that is the real lesson of this beautiful tradition:

When a devotee longs to be with the Lord, the Lord does not ask for anything extraordinary.

He simply gives the devotee a place beside Him.

And sometimes, the greatest kainkaryam is nothing more than

to remain near Him,
to speak to Him,
to listen to Him,
and never feel that He is far away.

 RAJARAJA CHOLA I

Part 1 — The Making of an Emperor

Before Rajaraja Chola, the Cholas were an important South Indian dynasty.

After him, they were an empire.

That transformation began in 985 CE, when a young ruler ascended the Chola throne.

His name was Arulmozhi Varman.

History would remember him as Rajaraja Chola I.

A Kingdom Waiting to Rise

The Cholas had ancient roots in Tamil history, but by the tenth century their fortunes had fluctuated.

Rival powers—the Pandyas, Cheras and Western Chalukyas—competed for supremacy in the South.

Arulmozhi Varman had already gained experience before becoming king. He had accompanied Chola armies and witnessed the realities of warfare and administration.

When he finally became ruler, he inherited a kingdom.

He had something much greater in mind.

The Vision

Rajaraja was not merely interested in winning battles.

He wanted to create a state that was:

Powerful in war.
Efficient in administration.
Prosperous in trade.
Magnificent in culture.
And enduring in stone.

Over the next three decades, this vision would transform the Chola kingdom into one of the greatest powers of medieval India.

His armies would march across South India.

His influence would reach Sri Lanka.

His ships would sail across the seas.

His administrators would create detailed records of land, revenue and temple institutions.

And in Thanjavur, he would eventually raise a temple unlike anything the Tamil country had seen before.

But that was still in the future.

For now, in 985 CE, Rajaraja was simply a new king facing a difficult question:

Could he turn a regional kingdom into a great empire?

He would spend the next thirty years answering that question.

And the answer would be written across South India—in battlefields, temples, inscriptions and the sea itself.

The age of Rajaraja Chola had begun.

RAJARAJA CHOLA I

Part 2 — The Empire Rises

Rajaraja had inherited a kingdom.

He set out to build an empire.

His first challenge was to secure the Chola heartland and remove the threats surrounding it. He strengthened the army, reorganised his forces and began a series of carefully planned campaigns.

The Cholas moved south against the Pandyas, while the western regions brought them into conflict with the Cheras.

Victory followed victory.

But Rajaraja was not simply collecting territories.

He was building a system of power.

The South Comes Under Chola Power

The Chola armies extended their authority deep into the southern peninsula.

The ancient Pandyan country was brought under Chola control.

The Chera kingdom to the west was defeated.

Rajaraja also turned towards the north and strengthened Chola influence in the Deccan.

His empire was becoming larger—and increasingly wealthy.

Then Came Lanka

One of Rajaraja's greatest campaigns was directed across the sea.

In 993 CE, the Cholas invaded Sri Lanka.

The northern part of the island was conquered and incorporated into the Chola realm.

The ancient capital of Anuradhapura was abandoned as the political centre, and the Cholas established their authority from Polonnaruwa, which they developed as a major administrative centre.

This was no longer the expansion of an ordinary South Indian kingdom.

The Cholas had become a power capable of crossing the ocean to conquer and govern territories beyond the Indian mainland.

An Empire Takes Shape

By the beginning of the eleventh century, Rajaraja's realm stretched across much of southern India and into Sri Lanka.

But perhaps his greatest achievement was not the territory itself.

It was the organisation of power behind it.

Rajaraja maintained detailed inscriptions recording grants, taxes, land boundaries, temple endowments and administrative arrangements.

The empire was being recorded almost as carefully as it was being built.

And beyond the battlefields, another transformation was beginning.

The Chola state was developing a formidable naval and maritime presence.

The next stage of Rajaraja's ambition would not be confined to land.

The Cholas were preparing to become a power of the seas.

Part 3 — The Chola Empire Takes to the Seas

RAJARAJA CHOLA I

Part 3 — The Empire Takes to the Seas

Rajaraja had conquered much of southern India.

He had crossed the Palk Strait and established Chola power in Sri Lanka.

But he understood something that many rulers of his time did not:

An empire facing the ocean could not afford to ignore the sea.

The Cholas had long been involved in maritime trade. Under Rajaraja, their naval capabilities became an important instrument of imperial power.

The Ocean Becomes a Highway

From the ports of the Tamil coast, Chola merchants sailed towards Sri Lanka, the Maldives and the wider Indian Ocean world.

Ships carried textiles, spices, precious goods and other products.

They returned with wealth, ideas and connections from distant lands.

The sea was not a barrier.

It was a highway.

The Maldives

One of Rajaraja's notable overseas campaigns was the conquest of the Maldives, known in Chola records as Mun-nir-pazhantivu Pannirayiram—the Twelve Thousand Islands of the Three Seas.

The campaign demonstrated something new:

The Chola state could project military power far beyond the Indian coastline.

Its ships were no longer merely vessels of commerce.

They could carry the authority of an empire across the ocean.

But Rajaraja Was Building More Than a Navy

The Chola maritime world rested on more than warships.

Ports, merchants, temples and trading communities were connected to a network that extended across the Indian Ocean.

South India was becoming part of an extraordinary commercial world linking India, Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia.

Rajaraja strengthened this maritime foundation.

His son, Rajendra Chola I, would later take it much further.

But the foundations belonged to Rajaraja.

The Chola Legacy at Sea

Centuries before modern ideas of naval power, the Cholas demonstrated how a South Indian kingdom could combine:

Army + Navy + Trade + Ports + Administration

to create a truly maritime empire.

Yet Rajaraja's greatest monument would not be a ship.

It would stand at Thanjavur.

It would rise more than sixty metres into the sky.

And it would proclaim the power, devotion and extraordinary ambition of the Chola age.

Brihadisvara was about to rise.

Part 4 — Brihadisvara: The Temple That Seemed Impossible.

RAJARAJA CHOLA I Part 4 — Brihadisvara: The Temple That Seemed Impossible 

In the heart of Thanjavur, Rajaraja Chola decided to build something that would outlive him.

Not a palace.

Not a fortress.

A temple.

But not an ordinary temple.

He would raise a monument on a scale that had never before been attempted in the Tamil country.

A Mountain in Stone 

The result was the magnificent Brihadisvara Temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva.

Its great vimana rises dramatically above the temple complex, crowned by an enormous stone finial.

The precision of its proportions, the massive stone construction and the sheer scale of the monument remain astonishing even today.

And this was more than a thousand years ago.

The temple was completed around 1010 CE, during Rajaraja's reign.

Every Stone Had a Purpose 

The temple was not simply built to impress.

Its walls became a permanent record of the Chola world.

Inscriptions describe gifts of land, gold, livestock and other resources.

They record temple personnel, administrators, musicians, dancers and services.

They even preserve details of the king's donations and the organisation of the temple.

In a sense, Brihadisvara is both a temple and a historical archive carved in stone.

The Art of the Cholas 

Inside and around the temple, sculpture and painting reveal the sophistication of Chola artistic achievement.

Images of Shiva and other deities were rendered with remarkable grace and vitality.

The temple became a centre of worship, music, dance, learning and cultural life.

And the famous Chola bronzes would soon make Tamil sculptural art renowned far beyond the boundaries of the empire.

Rajaraja's Name 

Rajaraja did something else remarkable.

He did not hide behind his monument.

His inscriptions openly record his name, achievements and gifts.

But there is a deeper reason the temple matters.

Rajaraja was not merely building for his own glory.

He was creating a sacred centre that would continue to function long after his reign had ended.

He succeeded.

More than a thousand years later, the temple still stands.

Its stones have witnessed the passing of dynasties, kingdoms and generations.

Yet the great vimana of Thanjavur continues to rise above the landscape.

**Rajaraja built an empire.

At Thanjavur, he built its soul in stone.**

Part 5 — The Emperor Who Governed as Carefully as He Conquered

RAJARAJA CHOLA I

Part 5 — The Emperor Who Governed as Carefully as He Conquered

Conquest had made Rajaraja powerful.

Administration made his empire endure.

For Rajaraja, ruling a vast territory required something more than a victorious army. It required records, revenue, officials and an organised system of governance.

An Empire Recorded in Stone

The walls of Brihadisvara preserve an extraordinary amount of information about Rajaraja's administration.

Land was carefully measured and assessed.

Villages and their boundaries were recorded.

Taxes and revenues were documented.

Gifts to temples were meticulously listed.

Even the people employed in the great temple—priests, musicians, dancers and other servants—appear in the inscriptions.

It is this extraordinary documentation that gives historians an unusually detailed glimpse into Chola society.

The Temple as an Institution

The great temples were not merely places of worship.

They were also centres of economic and social activity.

Land and wealth were endowed to them.

Agricultural produce supported their activities.

Artisans, musicians and many others found employment through the temple institutions.

Rajaraja understood how religious, economic and cultural life could reinforce one another.

The Measure of a Ruler

His inscriptions reveal something important about the emperor.

Rajaraja wanted his achievements to be remembered—but he also wanted the workings of his kingdom to be accounted for.

That habit of recording was one of the great strengths of the Chola state.

Centuries later, these inscriptions would become one of our most valuable sources for understanding medieval South India.

More Than a Conqueror

Rajaraja was therefore more than the warrior who expanded the Chola Empire.

He was:

A conqueror who understood administration.
A king who understood institutions.
A patron who understood art.
And a devotee who created one of India's greatest temples.

His reign brought together power, prosperity, religion and culture on an extraordinary scale.

But every great ruler eventually leaves the throne.

Rajaraja's greatest achievement would be what happened after him.

His son would inherit not merely a kingdom—but one of the most powerful empires in the Indian Ocean world.

And he would take it even further.

Part 6 — The Legacy of Rajaraja 

RAJARAJA CHOLA I

Part 6 — The Legacy of Rajaraja

In 1014 CE, after nearly three decades on the Chola throne, Rajaraja Chola I died.

But the empire he had created did not die with him.

His son, Rajendra Chola I, inherited a powerful and highly organised state—and would carry Chola power farther than even his father had done.

A Legacy That Continued

Under Rajendra, Chola influence expanded further across the Indian Ocean.

The Cholas became one of the great maritime powers of medieval Asia.

But the foundations had been laid by Rajaraja.

He had created the military strength.

He had organised the administration.

He had strengthened the economy.

He had developed the navy.

And at Thanjavur he had left behind a monument that became one of the greatest expressions of Indian temple architecture.

His Greatest Record

Yet perhaps Rajaraja's most remarkable legacy is not any single conquest.

It is the record he left behind.

His inscriptions allow us, more than a thousand years later, to glimpse the workings of his kingdom.

We can read about lands and villages, taxes and gifts, temples and their servants, music and dance, administration and royal patronage.

His empire did not simply disappear into legend.

It left its history carved in stone.

The Emperor and His Temple

Brihadisvara still dominates Thanjavur.

The great vimana still rises into the sky.

The inscriptions still cover its walls.

The temple still functions as a sacred space.

And the name of the king who conceived it remains inseparable from the monument.

Rajaraja wanted to create something enduring.

He succeeded beyond imagination.

Why Rajaraja Still Matters

Rajaraja Chola belongs to a very small group of Indian rulers whose achievements changed the course of an entire region.

He demonstrated that a South Indian kingdom could become an imperial power.

He showed that military strength could be combined with sophisticated administration.

He transformed the Cholas into a maritime power.

And he left behind a monument that has survived more than a thousand years.

He conquered with the sword.
He governed with organisation.
He created with vision.
And he left his legacy in stone.

That is why, more than a millennium later, Rajaraja Chola still stands among the great rulers of India.

---

The journey continues

Rajaraja was not the only South Indian ruler to reshape history.

Before the Cholas reached their zenith, another dynasty had risen on the eastern coast.

Its rulers carved cities into living rock.

Its warriors challenged the great powers of the Deccan.

And one king carried the Pallava name to extraordinary heights.

Narasimhavarman I — Mamalla.

Our next story begins at Mamallapuram.

Yet unusual.

Does Any Other Country Have a Past Like India?

Yes—and yet, India is unusual.

Many parts of the world possess extraordinary ancient civilisations.

Egypt gave humanity monumental architecture, writing and an ancient civilisation of remarkable sophistication.

Greece gave the world philosophy, mathematics, literature and political thought.

Rome left an enduring legacy of law, engineering, architecture and governance.

Persia produced great empires, literature, art and sophisticated administration.

China developed one of the world's oldest and most continuous civilisations, with remarkable achievements in philosophy, science, literature and statecraft.

Mesopotamia gave humanity some of its earliest cities, writing and systems of law.

And yet, India's story has a particularly remarkable feature:

Continuity.

India's past is not confined to museums and archaeological ruins.

The Vedas are still recited.

The Upanishads are still studied.

The Ramayana and Mahabharata are still read and retold.

Ancient philosophical traditions continue to be taught.

Pilgrims still travel to ancient sacred centres.

Temples built centuries ago remain living places of worship.

And traditions of music, language, philosophy, ritual and learning have continued to evolve across generations.

India also produced an extraordinary succession of kingdoms and rulers—from the Mauryas and Guptas to the Cholas, Pallavas, Chalukyas, Rashtrakutas, Hoysalas, Kakatiyas, Vijayanagara, Mewar, the Marathas and Mysore.

But India's greatness cannot be measured only by its kings.

It lies in the remarkable combination of civilisation, philosophy, science, literature, art, spirituality and continuity.

We should therefore not say that India alone had a glorious past.

Many civilisations did.

But we can say something meaningful:

India is one of the rare places where an extraordinarily ancient civilisation remains a living part of the present.

And perhaps that is the story our next generation deserves to know.

India was not merely a land that produced great kings.

It was a civilisation that repeatedly produced great kings, thinkers, scientists, poets, saints, artists and builders—across thousands of years.

 

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV

Part 1 — The Maharaja Who Made Mysore a Model State

Not every great ruler is remembered for conquering kingdoms.

Some are remembered for how they transformed the kingdom they inherited.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV of Mysore was one such ruler.

Born in 1884, he became Maharaja of Mysore in 1902, when he was only eighteen.

He inherited a princely state with a long and distinguished history.

But during his reign, Mysore acquired something even more remarkable:

a reputation for enlightened and progressive governance.

Under his leadership, the state invested heavily in education, industry, irrigation, electricity, healthcare and public institutions.

Mysore became one of the most progressive princely states in India.

The famous Krishna Raja Sagara dam transformed irrigation and helped provide water to large areas. Mysore was among the earliest Indian states to develop large-scale hydroelectric power.

Industries and institutions grew.

Education expanded.

The University of Mysore was established in 1916, becoming an important centre of higher learning.

But perhaps what distinguished Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV most was his understanding that the prosperity of a kingdom ultimately depended upon the education and welfare of its people.

He encouraged music, literature, art and scholarship and continued Mysore's remarkable tradition of patronising culture.

The famous Mysore Dasara celebrations also flourished under his patronage.

Yet there was another remarkable dimension to his life.

Despite being a Maharaja, he was known for his simplicity, learning and interest in philosophy and music.

The philosopher and statesman Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan later described Mysore under him as a model of enlightened administration.

The story of Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV therefore takes us into a different idea of greatness.

Krishnadevaraya showed us the warrior-emperor.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV shows us the builder of a modern state.

His battlefield was not against another kingdom.

It was against ignorance, poverty, backwardness and stagnation.

And his weapons were very different:

Education.
Industry.
Science.
Culture.
Public welfare.

This is the story of the Maharaja who demonstrated that a ruler could leave behind not merely monuments and victories—

but institutions that continued to serve generations after him.

In the next part: How Mysore became one of India's earliest centres of education, industry and modern development.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV Part 2 — Building a Modern Mysore 

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV inherited a traditional kingdom.

He wanted to build a modern state.

One of the clearest expressions of that vision was his support for irrigation and water management.

The Krishna Raja Sagara (KRS) Dam, built across the Cauvery under the guidance of the legendary engineer Sir M. Visvesvaraya, transformed the region.

It brought irrigation to large areas, strengthened agriculture and helped provide a reliable water supply to Mysore and surrounding regions.

But water was only the beginning.

Mysore also became a pioneer in electric power generation.

The hydroelectric project at Shivanasamudra had begun before Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV's reign, but under his administration Mysore continued expanding its use of electricity for both public and industrial development.

This helped create the conditions for modern industry.

Mysore State supported enterprises ranging from sandalwood products and silk to sugar, chemicals and other industries.

The idea was simple:

A state should not merely collect revenue from its people.

It should create the conditions in which people and enterprise could prosper.

Education received similar attention.

In 1916, the University of Mysore was established—the first university in a princely state and one of the earliest universities in India.

Schools and educational institutions expanded, while scholarships and support for learning opened opportunities for many who might otherwise have been excluded.

This was an important change in the meaning of kingship.

The Maharaja was not simply maintaining an inherited kingdom.

He was investing in its future.

And the results could be seen across Mysore—in its roads, industries, educational institutions, irrigation projects and growing public services.

The Mysore of Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV was beginning to look remarkably different from the kingdom he had inherited.

It was becoming a state that believed in knowledge, technology and public institutions.

And behind many of these developments stood a ruler who was willing to give capable people the freedom and support to turn ambitious ideas into reality.

One of the most important among them was Sir M. Visvesvaraya.

Their partnership would become one of the remarkable stories of modern Mysore.

In the next part: The Maharaja and the great engineer who helped transform his vision into reality.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV

Part 3 — The Maharaja and the Engineer

Great rulers know something important:

They do not have to do everything themselves.

They must recognise talent—and give it the opportunity to serve the country.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV found such a person in Sir Mokshagundam Visvesvaraya.

An extraordinary engineer and administrator, Visvesvaraya became Dewan of Mysore in 1912.

Together, the Maharaja and his Dewan helped transform Mysore into one of the most progressive states in India.

Their partnership was based on a powerful combination:

Vision from the ruler.
Technical excellence from the engineer.

Irrigation projects were expanded.

Industries were encouraged.

Electricity generation increased.

Education received greater attention.

New institutions were established.

And the state began thinking in terms that were remarkably modern for its time:

How can science and technology improve the lives of ordinary people?

The most famous achievement associated with this period was the Krishna Raja Sagara Dam.

The project required enormous engineering ambition and considerable financial commitment. When completed, it helped transform agriculture in the region and provided water for the growing city of Mysore.

But the partnership produced much more than a dam.

Under the Wadiyar's patronage and Visvesvaraya's administration, Mysore supported institutions such as the Mysore University, the Mysore Bank, industries, technical education and public infrastructure.

Mysore's famous sandalwood and silk industries expanded, while new enterprises emerged.

The state was learning to combine traditional craftsmanship with modern technology.

And this reveals something important about Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV.

He was not threatened by modernity.

He welcomed it.

He understood that preserving a civilisation did not mean refusing new knowledge.

A kingdom could honour its temples, music, literature and traditions while simultaneously embracing science, engineering and modern education.

That balance became one of the hallmarks of his reign.

The Maharaja provided the vision.

The engineer provided the expertise.

And Mysore became the laboratory in which the two came together.

The result was a state that earned an extraordinary reputation for enlightened administration.

But the story of Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV is not only about dams, factories and universities.

Behind all these achievements was another concern:

the human being.

And that brings us to perhaps the most admirable dimension of his reign—his commitment to education, culture and social development.

In the next part: A Maharaja who believed that knowledge should reach far beyond the palace.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV Part 4 — A Maharaja Who Invested in People 

A kingdom can become wealthy through industry.

But a society becomes strong through people.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV understood this.

Education therefore became one of the important pillars of his administration.

During his reign, Mysore expanded its network of schools and higher educational institutions. The establishment of the University of Mysore in 1916 was a landmark achievement.

The Maharaja also encouraged scholarships and supported institutions that promoted learning, research and professional education.

His vision extended beyond the traditional study of literature and philosophy.

Mysore increasingly encouraged science, engineering, medicine and technical education.

Knowledge was being treated not simply as a privilege of the elite, but as an instrument for the development of society.

The Maharaja was equally passionate about culture.

Mysore had long possessed a rich tradition of music, painting, sculpture and literature. Under his patronage, this cultural heritage received renewed encouragement.

The royal court supported musicians and scholars, while the famous Mysore style of painting flourished.

The annual Dasara celebrations became an extraordinary expression of the cultural identity of the state—combining royal tradition, religion, music and public celebration.

There was also a remarkable personal side to the Maharaja.

He was deeply interested in Carnatic music and philosophy, and was himself a practitioner of music.

The palace was not merely a centre of administration.

It became a meeting place for artists, musicians, scholars and intellectuals.

This combination of modernity and tradition was perhaps one of the greatest strengths of his reign.

Mysore could embrace electricity and engineering without abandoning its temples.

It could establish a modern university while continuing to honour Sanskrit and regional literature.

It could develop industries while preserving its artistic traditions.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV seemed to understand that progress did not require a civilisation to forget its roots.

It required the confidence to carry those roots into the future.

And that may be the most relevant lesson from his reign even today.

Modernisation need not mean Westernisation.

Progress need not mean abandoning tradition.

A society can advance technologically while remaining deeply connected to its cultural inheritance.

Under Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV, Mysore attempted precisely that.

And the remarkable institutions created during his reign would continue influencing the region long after the Maharaja himself was gone.

In the next part: The quiet Maharaja—and why thinkers regarded him as an example of enlightened kingship.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV Part 5 — The Maharaja as a Servant of His People 

What makes a ruler truly great?

The size of his kingdom?

The splendour of his palace?

The number of battles he won?

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV offers a different answer.

A ruler is great when his people prosper.

He inherited a hereditary throne, but he increasingly viewed kingship as a responsibility rather than a privilege.

During his reign, Mysore developed an impressive network of public institutions.

Irrigation supported agriculture.

Electricity supported industry.

Schools and universities expanded education.

Hospitals and public health services received attention.

Roads and communications improved.

Industries created employment.

The state increasingly invested in the ordinary machinery that makes a society function.

This was not dramatic conquest.

It was something quieter—and perhaps more difficult:

building a better everyday life.

The Maharaja also supported initiatives aimed at widening educational and social opportunities. His administration recognised that a modern state could not depend entirely upon a small educated elite.

The benefits of development had to reach society more broadly.

His reputation eventually travelled beyond Mysore.

Mahatma Gandhi, who visited Mysore, referred to Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV in terms of an ideal ruler, praising the state for its administration and welfare orientation.

The philosopher Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan later described him as an example of the ideal ruler.

Such praise is significant because it points beyond monuments and statistics.

It points to character.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV possessed enormous ceremonial power, yet his image was not built around personal grandeur.

He was known for his interest in music, philosophy, literature and public affairs.

He encouraged talented administrators rather than attempting to become the expert in everything himself.

He allowed people such as Visvesvaraya to pursue ambitious programmes.

That is another mark of leadership:

having the wisdom to recognise ability in others.

The Maharaja died in 1940, after nearly four decades on the throne.

By then, Mysore had acquired a reputation that few princely states could match.

It had become known for education, industry, public works, culture and comparatively progressive administration.

His greatest monuments were therefore not only palaces or dams.

They were institutions.

And institutions can outlive kings.

That is why Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV deserves a place among the great rulers of India.

He reminds us that greatness does not always arrive with the sound of armies marching.

Sometimes it comes quietly—

through a school,

a university,

a hospital,

a dam,

a power station,

a library,

or an opportunity given to a young person.

That too is nation-building.

In the final part: What Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV left behind—and why his story belongs in our remembrance of India's great rulers.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV Part 6 — The Legacy of an Enlightened King 

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV died in 1940.

The world around him had changed dramatically.

The age of princely kingdoms was drawing to a close. India was moving towards independence and a new political order.

But the institutions created and strengthened during his reign would continue.

That is perhaps the most meaningful measure of his legacy.

Mysore had developed universities, industries, irrigation systems, power generation, hospitals, schools and cultural institutions.

The state had acquired a reputation for capable administration and progressive public policy.

And much of this had been achieved without abandoning its cultural identity.

That balance is what makes his story particularly relevant.

Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV did not believe that progress required India to forget its past.

He demonstrated that a society could embrace science and technology while preserving its traditions; build industries while supporting the arts; establish modern universities while respecting its ancient learning.

His reign also teaches another important lesson.

A great ruler does not have to be the greatest expert in every field.

He must have the vision to recognise excellence in others.

By giving capable people such as Sir M. Visvesvaraya the freedom and support to work, the Maharaja multiplied his own effectiveness.

His legacy therefore belongs not only to Mysore.

It belongs to the larger story of India's encounter with modernity.

He showed that modernisation could be shaped by Indian hands, guided by Indian priorities and rooted in Indian culture.

That is why Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV deserves to stand beside the other rulers in our journey through India's past.

Chandragupta Maurya showed the power of political vision.

Samudragupta showed imperial ambition.

Maharana Pratap showed resistance and courage.

Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj showed the power of self-rule and strategic genius.

Krishnadevaraya showed the splendour of a warrior-king who built a great civilisation.

And Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV showed another kind of greatness—

the greatness of building institutions and investing in people.

Perhaps that is the finest definition of an enlightened ruler:

He does not merely leave behind a throne.

He leaves behind a stronger society.

And so our journey through India's great rulers comes to a pause—not because the stories have ended, but because there are many more waiting to be remembered.

Tomorrow, perhaps, we can step back from the individual kings and ask a larger question:

Why did I choose to tell these stories? 

Because knowing our past is not about living in it.

It is about discovering what our civilisation has already shown it is capable of—

and carrying that confidence into the future.

 Krishnadevaraya

The Emperor of Vijayanagara — Part 1

The Empire That Rose from the South

There was a time when, on the banks of the Tungabhadra, rose a city so magnificent that travellers from distant lands could scarcely believe what they saw.

Its name was Vijayanagara — the City of Victory.

Founded in the 14th century by Harihara and Bukka, the empire grew into one of the greatest powers of medieval India. Its influence spread across much of southern India, and its capital at Hampi became a centre of commerce, culture, temples, learning and military power.

Merchants arrived from Persia, Arabia and Europe. Markets stretched for long distances. Precious stones, horses, spices, textiles and other goods were traded in abundance.

But Vijayanagara was more than a wealthy kingdom.

It became a powerful protector of the political and cultural traditions of South India at a time of considerable upheaval.

Its rulers supported temples and scholars, encouraged Sanskrit and regional literatures, commissioned magnificent architecture and developed an effective system of administration.

And then, in 1509, a remarkable ruler ascended its throne.

Krishnadevaraya.

He belonged to the Tuluva dynasty, the third major ruling dynasty of Vijayanagara.

He inherited a powerful empire—but also one surrounded by ambitious rivals.

What followed would make his reign one of the most celebrated periods in Indian history.

Krishnadevaraya was not merely a warrior.

He was a strategist, administrator, patron of literature, builder and deeply respected ruler.

Under him, Vijayanagara reached the height of its political power and cultural brilliance.

The Portuguese traveller Domingo Paes, who visited Vijayanagara during his reign, described a city of extraordinary scale and prosperity.

Yet the most remarkable part of Krishnadevaraya's story was still to come.

He would lead armies himself, defeat powerful adversaries, strengthen the empire's frontiers and transform Vijayanagara into the dominant power of southern India.

And remarkably, the emperor who conquered on the battlefield was also a scholar who wrote poetry.

The warrior and the poet.
The conqueror and the builder.
The emperor and the patron of learning.

This was Krishnadevaraya.

And this was the golden age of Vijayanagara.

In the next part: The emperor who personally rode into battle.

Krishnadevaraya Part 2 — The Emperor Who Rode into Battle 

Krishnadevaraya inherited a powerful empire, but the throne he occupied was far from secure.

The Deccan Sultanates to the north were formidable rivals. To the east, the Gajapati rulers of Odisha controlled important territories. Several frontier chiefs were waiting for an opportunity to challenge Vijayanagara.

Krishnadevaraya decided that defence alone was not enough.

He would take the battle to his enemies.

His campaigns soon demonstrated a remarkable combination of courage, military planning and personal leadership.

One of his earliest major campaigns was against the Gajapati kingdom. He captured important forts and advanced deep into enemy territory. His victories eventually brought large parts of the eastern Deccan under Vijayanagara's influence.

But Krishnadevaraya did not remain safely behind the lines.

He was known to appear among his soldiers, sharing the hardships of campaigning and inspiring them by his presence.

His greatest military challenge came in the north.

The powerful Bijapur Sultanate controlled Raichur, a strategically important region between the Krishna and Tungabhadra rivers.

Raichur became a matter of prestige as well as strategy.

In 1520, Krishnadevaraya marched against it with a vast army.

The battle was fierce.

Vijayanagara prevailed.

The victory at Raichur became one of the defining achievements of his reign and demonstrated the extraordinary military strength the empire had attained.

But perhaps what is most striking about Krishnadevaraya is that his victories did not make him careless.

He understood that an empire cannot survive by the sword alone.

A victorious kingdom needed prosperity, justice, agriculture, trade, temples, learning and good administration.

And this was where the warrior began to reveal another side of himself.

The emperor who had conquered Raichur would now turn his attention to building the empire he had won.

In the next part: Krishnadevaraya the administrator—and the remarkable prosperity of Vijayanagara.

Krishnadevaraya

Part 3 — The Emperor Who Built Prosperity

Victory on the battlefield can create an empire.

But good governance is what sustains it.

Krishnadevaraya understood this well.

After securing his kingdom through military victories, he turned his attention to the prosperity of his people.

Agriculture was the foundation of Vijayanagara's economy. The emperor encouraged the construction and repair of tanks, canals and irrigation works, helping farmers cultivate more land and making better use of the region's rivers and rainfall.

Trade flourished.

Vijayanagara's markets attracted merchants from across India and from distant lands. Horses from Arabia and Persia were particularly important to the empire's cavalry, while diamonds, spices, textiles and other goods moved through its busy commercial centres.

The capital itself became a spectacular expression of this prosperity.

Hampi was filled with temples, palaces, bazaars, gardens and monumental structures.

But Krishnadevaraya's vision went beyond wealth.

He believed that a ruler had a duty towards his subjects.

His celebrated work, the Amuktamalyada, written in Telugu, contains reflections on kingship and governance. The king, he suggests, must look after his people with the same care that a father gives his children.

That principle is perhaps more revealing than any account of his conquests.

For Krishnadevaraya, the strength of a kingdom was not measured merely by the size of its army.

It was measured by the well-being of its people.

He also supported temples and religious institutions, endowed scholars and encouraged literature in several languages.

Under his patronage, Telugu literature entered a remarkable period of brilliance.

The court attracted celebrated poets who came to be remembered as the Aṣṭadiggajas — the Eight Great Poets.

Thus, under Krishnadevaraya, Vijayanagara became more than a military power.

It became a civilisational centre—where commerce, agriculture, architecture, religion and literature flourished together.

The warrior had won the empire.

The administrator was now giving it a lasting foundation.

And behind the emperor stood another remarkable world—one in which poetry, temples and scholarship received almost as much royal attention as armies and fortresses.

In the next part: Krishnadevaraya the poet—and the extraordinary literary world of his court.

Krishnadevaraya

Part 4 — The Emperor Who Wore the Crown of a Poet

Krishnadevaraya had conquered kingdoms.

But he also understood the power of the word.

His court at Vijayanagara became a brilliant centre of Telugu literature. Among the celebrated poets associated with his reign were the Aṣṭadiggajas, the “Eight Great Poets,” whose works enriched Telugu literary tradition.

Yet the emperor was not merely a patron.

He was himself a poet.

His great Telugu work, Āmuktamālyada, tells the story of Āṇḍāl, the beloved Sri Vaishnava saint of Srivilliputhur, and her devotion to Lord Ranganatha.

That choice is revealing.

The emperor who commanded enormous armies chose to write about devotion, love and surrender to the Divine.

The work also contains reflections on kingship and good governance. A ruler, Krishnadevaraya says in substance, must understand the needs of his people and govern with wisdom and responsibility.

His interests were not confined to Telugu.

He respected Sanskrit scholarship and supported literary and religious institutions across his empire. His reign thus became a meeting ground for several linguistic and intellectual traditions.

This was one of the great strengths of Vijayanagara.

Its temples were not merely places of worship.

They were centres around which music, dance, literature, sculpture, education and community life flourished.

And the emperor understood that protecting such institutions was part of protecting the civilisation itself.

Perhaps that is why Krishnadevaraya remains so memorable.

He could stand on a battlefield as a victorious emperor.

He could sit among scholars as a poet.

And he could kneel before the deity as a devotee.

Crown on his head.
Sword at his side.
Poetry in his heart.
Devotion in his soul.

That combination made Krishnadevaraya more than a conqueror.

It made him one of the most remarkable rulers produced by medieval India.

In the next part: The temples and monuments that still allow us to see the splendour of his Vijayanagara.

Krishnadevaraya Part 5 — The Emperor Who Built in Stone 

If Krishnadevaraya's victories established the power of Vijayanagara, his monuments helped give that power a lasting form.

Even today, the ruins of Hampi allow us to glimpse the extraordinary world he inherited, enlarged and embellished.

Among the most important monuments associated with his reign is the Krishna Temple, built after his successful campaign in the eastern regions. Its magnificent gateway and sculptures reflect the confidence of the Vijayanagara age.

He also made major contributions to the Virupaksha Temple, one of Hampi's most ancient and sacred shrines.

The towering eastern gopuram that dominates the temple complex is traditionally associated with his reign.

But Vijayanagara architecture was not merely about enormous structures.

Its temples were living centres of worship and community life.

Markets grew around them. Festivals filled their streets. Musicians, dancers, scholars, artisans and merchants all formed part of this vibrant world.

The famous Vitthala Temple complex, with its celebrated stone chariot and musical pillars, represents the extraordinary architectural tradition that flourished at Hampi.

Not every structure visible today was built by Krishnadevaraya himself. Many belong to different periods of Vijayanagara history.

That distinction is important.

But together they reveal something greater—the civilisation that successive Vijayanagara rulers nurtured over several centuries.

Krishnadevaraya's contribution was therefore not simply measured by the buildings that bear his name.

He strengthened the institutions, temples and cultural traditions that allowed Vijayanagara to become one of the great centres of South India.

And perhaps the most moving part is this:

An empire can disappear.

Its armies can vanish.

Its palaces can become ruins.

But what a civilisation builds in stone, literature and memory can survive for centuries.

That is what Hampi does.

It still whispers of a time when Vijayanagara stood proudly among the great cities of the world.

And at the centre of its golden age stood an emperor who believed that power was not merely something to possess—but something to use for dharma, prosperity and the glory of his civilisation.

In the next part: The final years of Krishnadevaraya—and the legacy he left behind.

Krishnadevaraya Part 6 — The Measure of a Great King 

Great empires are often remembered for the battles they won.

Great rulers are remembered for what remained after them.

Krishnadevaraya's later years were marked by continued military success, but also by the difficult question every ruler eventually faces:

Who will carry the empire forward?

His health began to decline. The death of his young son was a deep personal tragedy and created uncertainty about the succession.

In 1529, after a reign of about twenty years, Krishnadevaraya died.

He was only in his early forties.

Yet in those two decades, he had transformed Vijayanagara.

He had defeated powerful rivals, strengthened the empire's frontiers, encouraged agriculture and trade, supported temples and religious institutions, and created an extraordinary environment for literature and the arts.

But perhaps his greatest legacy was an ideal of kingship.

The king was not merely the master of the kingdom.

He was its guardian.

A ruler had to protect his people, maintain justice, encourage prosperity and preserve the cultural and spiritual institutions that gave society its identity.

That ideal explains why his memory survived long after the political fortunes of Vijayanagara changed.

Foreign travellers remembered the wealth and magnificence of his capital.

Poets remembered his patronage.

Temple traditions remembered his generosity.

And generations of South Indians remembered the emperor who made Vijayanagara shine at its brightest.

The empire itself would eventually face terrible destruction.

But Krishnadevaraya's reputation did not fall with its walls.

Today, the stones of Hampi stand silent.

The bazaars are empty.

The royal city is gone.

Yet when we walk among those ruins, we can still sense the ambition of the civilisation that created them.

And perhaps that is the true measure of Krishnadevaraya.

He did not merely inherit a kingdom.

He enlarged it.

He enriched it.

He celebrated its civilisation.

And he left behind a memory greater than his empire.

That is why Krishnadevaraya remains one of India's great rulers.

Not simply because he conquered.

But because he built.

And because, for a brief and brilliant period, under his leadership, Vijayanagara seemed to embody the confidence of an entire civilisation.

Next: Krishnaraja Wadiyar IV — the enlightened ruler of Mysore.