On the busy Kochi national highway , cutting across the state of Kerala and a few meters away from the junction that bypasses the industrial town of Aluva, a road forks away to the south. This road, lined by shops of different kinds, snakes its way towards Ulliyanoor, which is a small island formation in the river Periyar.

The Periyar has many such islands, but this one is different. It is one that has a proud association with the mythology of the land. Ulliyanoor is the land of Perunthachan, a legend from the rich mythology that this rain-swept land boasts of.

Perunthachan, as the legend goes, was a master carpenter and sculptor whose ingenuity and skill were unparalleled. His mastery earned him the sobriquet Perunthachan (Peru, meaning great, and thatchan, meaning a craftsman). While there are few references to the timeline of his life, the Kerala folklore has many anecdotes attributed to him. Some of his masterful creations are still around for one to appreciate.

The most significant of them is the Ulliyanoor Mahadeva Temple, which’s the jewel of this small islet. This was Perunthachan’s home turf, and the temple he constructed here surely leaves one stunned.

On this small piece of land formation, next to a twisting village road, is a pond. It is a special pond, as per the stories that go around, but more of it later. Just next to the pond, the temple gates beckon. Past the welcome arch lies a typical Kerala temple. a towering flagstaff, and then a square structure with slanting tiled roofs. This square structure encompasses the main temple building.

The Perunthachan masterpiece stands in the center in all its glory. It is circular in shape and has a magnificent conical roof. While one might see other temples that have this design, it is when one nears it that the ingenuity reveals itself. It is a mesmerizing work of wood that holds the temple together. A circular wooden beam goes all around the circumference. This beam is made up of many arc-shaped pieces. All these pieces are held together by wedges and wooden pins to complete the circular shape.

From this circular beam rise 68 vertical wooden beams. These beams are also curving towards the top of the temple. All beams are wedged into this circular base and rise at an angle towards the point at the top of the temple. All of them merge into a wooden pot-like structure. Each one of these rising beams is wedged into the wooden ball with mind-boggling accuracy. As access to the main sanctum is restricted, a detailed look is difficult to come by. However, the same technique can be seen on the rectangular structure facing the sanctum. This structure is square in shape, but the rising beams and the structure held together by wedges are visible.

Folklore has it that, on the request of people from his own village, Perunthachan agreed to work on this temple. He seems to have poured all his his wizardry into it. It is said that he would leave a mark of ingenuity in each one of his works. and this temple here doesn’t disappoint on that front.

The most perplexing piece of architectural magic can be seen in the sanctum. To enter the sanctum, the priest has to climb a few steps, stoop through the small door, and enter. The Peruntachan’s genius kicks in here. If the priest walks upright, his head will bang against the roof. When the priest returns from the sanctum, if he stoops, his head will get banged again, and the only way he can get out without hitting his head is by walking ramrod straight. In a nutshell, through the same door, one has to enter stooped and come out upright. Seemingly, the angle of the beams and the steps are adjusted to achieve this, but it is something that no one has been able to exactly work out. It is an absolutely incomprehensible manipulation of angles, and Perunthachan indeed leaves his signature behind. The master’s wizardry is evident everywhere.

The temple premises have a really soothing view. Paddy fields lie gleaming to one side, trees line up some of the sides, and a carpet of green grass provides a perfect setting. As one leaves the temple, the pond lies in wait, a story waiting to be told. It is in poor shape; time has taken its toll. The wall around it has gathered moss, the soil around it is crumbling, and thin green creepers have spread themselves out. Folklore has an interesting story around it. When Perunthachan was requested to make a pond for the temple, the villagers had different opinions on what shape they wanted the pond to take. Some wanted a square one, some wanted a circular one, and some mischievous ones even wanted a triangle. Perunthachan, in his own quirky way, dug up a pond, which looked almost all of these shapes from different angles. While in the present state, it is difficult to see the optical trick, there are definite signs of some trickery here. Two of the pond walls are in straight lines; the others have a curve and a tapering shape. The dilapidated condition, however, has probably blurred the illusion.

The legend of Perunthachan lives on, and many of the stories keep it alive. However, it has a very dark end to it. Perunthachan’s son turned out to be better than him. As Perunthachan aged and the son’s reputation gained pace, the master fell prey to the basic human malady of jealousy. He, while working on a temple roof, is said to have dropped a chisel on his son, who was working on the ground. The chisel hit him on the neck, and he died a bloody death. It is also speculated that it might have been just an accident. This event destroyed the spirit of the greatest craftsman of his time, and he died a broken man.

Perunthachan’s legend lives on in folklore and the minds of the people of this land, albeit with a shade of grey.

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