Reader Bhaskaran Sivaraman reminds me that Nov 3 is the birthday of Bangalore Nagarathnamma. He also pointed out that a link that I had put up earlier on her was broken. So I am republishing the old article, with some updates. To me, the topic of the way women musicians evolved continues to remain fascinating. Hopefully, my book on C Saraswati Bai will be out soon, as a companion volume to The Devadasi and the Saint which was on Bangalore Nagarathnamma.
January is the month when the Tyagaraja Aradhana is celebrated in Tiruvayyaru. A lot has been said for and against the festival. There are many who feel that the event is a mere tamasha and that the religious atmosphere has been vitiated by the TV coverage, the bright dresses and garish jewels and the domination by a select few.
However the Aradhana in its present format is just over a hundred years old. Tyagaraja died in 1847. A few days before his death, Tyagaraja had become a sanyasi and when he passed on, his mortal remains were buried on the banks of the river Kaveri and a small memorial was built at the spot. His disciples returned to their respective villages and observed his death anniversary at their own homes. The memorial was soon forgotten and it was not until 1903 or thereabouts that Tyagaraja’s last surviving disciples, Umayalpuram Krishna and Sundara Bhagavatars returned to Tiruvayyaru, identified the place and had it renovated. From the next year, efforts were made by Tillaisthanam Narasimha and Panju Bhagavatars with the help of other vidwans to observe the anniversary at Tiruvayyaru itself. In 1905 they conducted the ceremony in style complete with feeding of the poor and worship at the memorial as per vedic tenets.
By the next year, the Tillaisthanam brothers fell out and each began conducting a parallel aradhana. Musicians aligned themselves with one or the other brother and soon two rival factions came into being. Narasimha Bhagavatar, being the elder, his group came to be called the Periya Katchi and Panju Bhagavatar’s was called the Chinna Katchi. Traditionally, the Periya Katchi received the support of non Brahmin musicians while the Chinna Katchi was Brahmin dominated. There was thus a caste based divide as well. With the passing of the Tillaisthanam brothers, the Periya Katchi came under the control of the ace violinist Malaikottai Govindasami Pillai, while the Chinna Katchi had as its moving spirit, Soolamangalam Vaidyanatha Bhagavatar, noted Harikatha exponent. The Chinna Katchi’s celebrations began five days before the Aradhana and concluded on the Aradhana day. The Periya Katchi’s began on Aradhana day and continued for four days after that. Both groups organised music performances and feeding of the poor and so the public was the real beneficiary during the nine days. On one count, both groups were united. They did not allow women to perform during the Aradhana. They also did not permit nagaswaram performances.
In 1921, Bangalore Nagarathnammal, a rich devadasi, who was then residing in Madras, decided to dedicate her life’s earnings to perpetuating Tyagaraja’s memory. Seeing the rampant factionalism and discrimination against women, she decided to take action. She purchased the land on which the memorial stood in 1925 and soon began the construction of a temple over the memorial. She also had an idol of Tyagaraja sculpted and installed in front of the memorial. The consecration of the temple took place in early 1926. But the two rival groups while not interfering with all this, refused to let her perform her Harikatha in front of the deity she herself had installed. They cited several instances from Tyagaraja’s songs where he had complained about women in general. Undeterred, Nagarathnammal began a third front which conducted its own music programmes at the rear of the shrine. This series featured many women artistes and soon began eating into the popularity of the events hosted by the two Katchis. The doughty lady also filed suits in the local courts demanding the prevention of the Katchis from entering the temple as it belonged to her by right. She lost the case, but the hours of worship were laid down by the courts, dividing the Aradhana day equally between the two Katchis and her own group. Matters continued this way till 1940, when SY Krishnaswami, ICS convinced the groups to unite and it was in 1941 that the Aradhana as we know of it was first conducted. A common musical homage was envisaged and Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar selected the five pancharatnas as being best suited for group rendering. This idea was adopted and the choral rendition of the five songs was made an integral feature of the Aradhana.
Bangalore Nagarathnammal lived for the rest of her life in Tiruvayyaru and in her will bequeathed all her wealth to the Tyagaraja memorial, with the stipulation that women be allowed to pay their homage without any hindrance. When she died in 1952, she was buried close to Tyagaraja’s memorial and a statue was erected on the spot. Even today the statue directly gazes on Tyagaraja’s memorial. Except during the Aradhana when the stage hides her from view. Surely the benefactress of the event deserves better.
Yes. She was a great lady. She deserved more. Still in many official media her contribution for thyagraj Aradhna is ignored. But as you wrote why she lost the court case? It was built by her and land was also her legally?
Please tell me if there is a provision for having 4 lines from your favorite kirthana engraved on the wall of the Nagarathnamma memorial is true even today. I y was so when we visited the place in 1975
The works of Nagaratanamma should be preserved by all the Carnatic music lovers.
Sir the great I want to connect the brave Amma’s history with a piece of inscription found at a Hanuman Temple by the side of Tadha Muthaippan which speaks about her oyil para 14 connecting Thiyaga brammam trust.This was opened in 1973.But the sad situation I faced from the archagar is they could not traced it? I need your help. Actually I am from Chennai port .we met in one of Chennai day celebration
Pls email me at sriramv2206@gmail.com
Sir the great I want to connect the brave Amma’s history with a piece of inscription found at a Hanuman Temple by the side of Tadha Muthaippan which speaks about her oyil para 14 connecting Thiyaga brammam trust.This was opened in 1973.But the sad situation I faced from the archagar is they could not traced it? I need your help. Actually I am from Chennai port .we met in one of Chennai day celebration
Sir today I found a inscription open ed in 1973, which speaks that brave lady’s contribution towards a Hanuman temple I want your help
Selective Glorification of Devadasis Masks a Legacy of Brahminical Oppression
By Dr. Pawan Kumar ‘Aryan’
The history of the Devadasi system in India is a tapestry woven with threads of immense artistic contribution, profound exploitation, and a brutal caste-based hierarchy. In recent years, there has been a noticeable, and deeply concerning, trend among certain Brahminical commentators and cultural historians: an attempt to selectively glorify the Devadasi tradition by cherry-picking rare examples of empowered courtesans, while systematically absolving the community’s forefathers of their heinous role in perpetuating this system.
This “cryptic design” serves a singular purpose: to whitewash a history of sexual exploitation, economic slavery, and caste atrocities, and to recast the temple prostitute—a victim of systemic oppression—as a celebrated figure of power, ignoring the reality that most Devadasis were forced into this life by the very patriarchal and casteist structures that Brahmins sanctified.
The “Glorious” Exception and the Gendered Reality
The figures like 18th-century poet Muddupalani and early 20th-century activist Bangalore Nagaratnamma is a perfect example of this dangerous revisionism. Muddupalani, a courtesan attached to the Tanjavur court, authored Radhika Santwanam, an erotic epic that boldly celebrated female desire. Nagaratnamma, a Devadasi herself, fought against severe societal misogyny to republish this banned work and even built the temple at Thiruvaiyaru for the Tyagaraja Aradhana, fighting male orthodoxy to secure women a place in the annual music festival.
The Brahminical narrative loves to hold up these “Radical Radhas” as evidence of the system’s inherent glory. They point to Muddupalani’s literary prowess and Nagaratnamma’s activism to argue that the Devadasi tradition was a space of female empowerment, artistic freedom, and high culture.
However, this is a cynical and selective reading of history. It is akin to pointing at a rare queen bee to argue that the entire hive is a democracy. For every Muddupalani, there were thousands of nameless young girls—often from Dalit and Shudra communities—who were sacrificed by their families due to caste atrocities and economic desperation. These girls were married to a deity as pre-pubescent children, a ritual that effectively branded them as “sacred prostitutes,” stripping them of their right to a normal life, marriage, and motherhood.
The “glorification” of Devadasis by modern-day Brahmins is a cruel irony. It is an attempt to celebrate the exceptional few while feeling no shame for the deeds of their forefathers. It was the landed elites, the temple priests, and the Brahminical power structure that served as the primary patrons of this system. The “protection” offered by these patrons was contingent on sexual favors; the “artistry” they funded was a commodity to be consumed.
As one scholar notes, the system was a construct of patriarchy where men, including “priests, patrons, landlords,” exercised immense control over the lives of these women. The temple priests wielded significant authority, not just over religious rites, but over dictating the personal and social behaviors of the Devadasis. These were not “rewards” to Shudra women; they were systematic oppression disguised as religious devotion. The female body was controlled, commodified, and finally discarded when it ceased to be useful.
The “Lustful Criminal Brahmins” and a Legacy of Denial
The British colonial administration, with its Victorian morals, further conflated the Devadasi with a “prostitute,” leading to the criminalization of the entire community. This served the colonial “biopower” project of controlling the bodies of the colonized, but it also provided a convenient escape route for the Brahminical elite. They could now distance themselves from the system they had created, pointing to the “vulgar” devolution of the practice as a corruption of an ancient, pure ideal.
This is the core of the modern Brahminical defense. They argue the system was pure until it was “corrupted.” They claim they are now the “saviors” who “rescued” classical arts like Bharatanatyam (originally Sadir Attam) from the “impure” hands of the Devadasis. This is not reform; it is erasure.
The reform of Sadir Attam into the “pure and devout” Bharatanatyam involved stripping the art of its erotic elements (Shringara rasa) and, more importantly, omitting the bodies of the lower-caste women who had nurtured it for centuries. This Brahminical appropriation is a design to take ownership of the art while demonizing its original creators. As critics have pointed out, this mirrors how Dalit gods are often assimilated into the Brahminical pantheon; it is a cultural coup that silences the original voice.
Even today, the “very dangerous DNA” of this casteist and sexist hypocrisy is visible. The Carnatic music world, heavily dominated by Brahmins, continues to practice systemic misogyny, often excluding women from the highest echelons of performance. The irony that a community which claims to uphold pure, divine art, and whose forefathers used temple women as sex objects, cannot even sit on a stage with a woman today is palpable. The exclusion of women from the Tyagaraja Aradhana, which Nagaratnamma fought against, is a testament to the unbroken chain of patriarchal control.
A Reckoning, Not a Romance
It is time to stop romanticizing the Devadasi system. It was a brutal, casteist, and sexist institution designed by a patriarchal elite—in which Brahmins were the architects and primary beneficiaries—to control female sexuality and subjugate lower castes.
The present progeny of Brahmins must reckon with the deeds of their forefathers. Celebrating the rare exceptions like Nagaratnamma and Muddupalani is not a sign of progress; it is a tactic to deflect from the systemic violence of the caste system. The “temple prostitutes” were not “glorious”; they were victims.
To truly honor figures like Nagaratnamma, we must do more than just praise her. We must understand her struggle. She was a woman who was barred from singing at the very shrine she built because of her gender and caste. Her life was a rebellion against the orthodoxy that seeks to glorify her today.
We must call out the cryptic designs of the Brahminical apologists. The history of the Devadasi is a history of trauma, not triumph; of oppression, not opportunity. Until we confront this uncomfortable truth, we remain complicit in the schemes of those who wish to keep a legacy of caste-based sexual violence hidden behind a façade of divine art.