The temples of Mylapore – a photo story


Mylapore is to Chennai, as Chandini Chowk is to Delhi. One of the oldest residential areas of Chennai, Mylapore is home to a colourful bazaar as well as a number of temples. Last year, we decided to explore this area on foot.

We began our journey at the Kapaleeshwarar Kovil.

Gopuram at entrance of Kapaleeshwarar Kovil

Of the numerous beautiful temples of Tamil Nadu, the Kapaleeshwarar temple in Mylapore, Chennai is one of my favourites. The detailed sculptures on the gopurams, the elaborate kolams on the floor, and the peaceful ambience of the temple always leave me spellbound.

Kapaleeshwarar Kovil

We then walked towards Santhome Basilica. On the way, we saw a beautiful Jain temple.

Jain temple in Mylapore

The temple was closed, so we continued walking.

Santhome Basilica

Being Christmas time, the Church was decorated with colourful linen and stars.

Inside Santhome

San Thome Basilica was built in the 16th century by Portuguese explorers, after demolishing the original Kapaleeshwarar Temple which stood on the grounds.

There is a small museum next to the Church which has architectural remains from older constructions, including some distinctly Dravidian motifs. Strangely, the plaques on the exhibit attribute it to the Church, even when the stone sculpture is clearly distinct from the rest of building materials on display.

Our next stop was the Marina Beach Lighthouse.

Marina Lighthouse

No, we didn’t have to climb all the way up. But it sure was interesting to look down the flight of stairs!

Staircase inside the Marina Lighthouse

The viewing area at the top of the lighthouse is quite narrow, and it was quite crowded. Nevertheless, the view was amazing!

Marina Beach from the lighthouse

With the sweeping panoramic views of the beach done, we decided to walk towards the sea.

Sadly, the state of this world-famous beach was not as beautiful as its surroundings. Nearer the sea, the beach looked more like a dump yard than a space to relax in. The only solace, for us, was the sounds of the sea – the waves caressing the sand and filth with equal warmth. Humanity may attempt to seek redemption and forgiveness through spiritual and religious pursuits, but isn’t it ironical how that concept of cleanliness, that is the holiest of them all, is still some distance away?*

Our route map:


* I don’t mean to pick on Chennai. In fact, it is a relatively cleaner city, as compared to many of its northern counterparts (especially the temples).


This is post #14 in this yearโ€™s NaBloPoMo, or as Ra calls it Nano Poblano

NaBloPoMo = National Blog Posting Month = Thirty straight days of blogging

Still standing


“What’s that?” I asked our friendly cab driver.

“Oh, that’s nothing. Just some old ruins,” he replied in a laid back tone, that could only be described as Goan.

The Churches of Old Goa are staple tourist fare. And like diligent tourists, we paid a visit to the most famous of them all – the Basilica of Bom Jesus and the adjoining Se Cathedral. Both sites had ingredients one would expect from a medieval church – massive in size, walls engraved, high ceilings housing intricate chandeliers and a presence that makes you speak in whispers, lest anyone else hears. With the sea of humans, though, the churches were reduced to fancy backgrounds for selfie enthusiasts – even with signboards and staff members explicitly asking people not to take pictures with people in them.

Making our way out of Se Cathedral, I noticed a lean brick tower in the distance.

As we made our way around the streets of Old Goa, the tower became taller, and then hid behind some trees.

The cab driver looked in the rear mirror. “There really is nothing there. Just ruins.”

I looked at my fellow travellers hoping for at least one of them to share my eagerness to visit that lonely tower.

After a few minutes the driver asked, “You want to go there? We can make a short stop.”

As soon as we reached, I jumped out of the car with a new friend. With others waiting, our instructions were clear. Go there, take a few pictures and head back as soon as possible!

Up close, the tower revealed itself to be just a fraction of what it must have been a few centuries ago. There was a large open space in front, and a large hall just behind it. At its fullest, it may have been much grander than the more illustrious buildings we had just visited.

‘Ruins of St. Augustine Complex’ read the signboard on one of the large stone bricks. Built in 1602 and abandoned in 1835, this church collapsed within the next few years. The silence of the space seemed to speak about its neglect and the lost grandeur.

Amid the spectacular ruins, not all seemed gloomy, though. A few pillars along the side of the fence spoke of survival even as the rest of the land stood barren.

I longed to spend more time within the hall behind the tower, but felt contented that I had the opportunity to visit. I grabbed my pictures and hurried back to the cab.

Back home, on digging around the web, I came across an interesting story surrounding the Church. In Hunting for a Georgian queen in Goa Srinath Perur writes about a martyred Queen, and the search for a missing relic that continued into the 21st century.

And a bonus bit of trivia – the eerie song, Gumnaam hai koi was filmed at the ruins.

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In response to the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge: what is guaranteed to distract you? What is your โ€œOoh, shiny!โ€?