Sambhar - Marathi or South Indian?

 Sambhar – the curry and its origins

The other day, we discussed the origins of Idli, and a few days later, I came across a different version of Rasam, popularized by a well-known wedding caterer, cook, chef, and restaurateur, Nataraja Iyer, which turned out quite good. (However, it should be even better with less jaggery next time.) This indicates that every basic recipe evolves over time, resulting in numerous variations, with each person having their own favorite. The same is true for Sambhar; there are different versions for special occasions, simpler powder-based recipes, and of course, the one we make in Palghat—the aracha or ground Sambhar. When it comes to ready-made powders, there are many options—spicier varieties, milder ones, the Kannada version with a hint of sweetness, and so on.

I dislike it when a North Indian tries to call it Sambhal! Just as our Vada seems to have become Bhara or Bhalla, Dosa has become Dhosa. Similarly, when a Gujarati complains that South Indian restaurants skimp on the Sambhar, serving only a small tumbler instead of a larger bowl. My Gujju friend brings about 10 mini idlis (about 3-4 cm wide) to the office, drops them into a bowl of Sambhar, and slurps them like soup with a spoon. An Iyer seeing this would be aghast, muttering 'enna ithu'—what an abomination! Adding—Eat it like it should be eaten, using a finger, tear off a quarter of a large idli, dip it in Sambhar and chutney, and chomp it, while you raise your eyes to survey the world around, then back to the plate for the next morsel, not with a fork or spoon....

Sadly, they may not realize that Sambhal-sambol (which we loved and ate with everything when we visited Sri Lanka) is actually a Lankan Sinhala coconut-based chutney. It’s very similar to the Kerala red thenga chammandi, and it is often pungently hot, sometimes flavored with lime, onions, fish paste, and more. There are many Sambal varieties, so I don't want to offend a Lankan with this simplified explanation.

But then, when you read that the Sambhar may have a Maharashtrian connection, you might be surprised. True, this has been discussed in mainstream media and many websites, but let me now share my perspective, referencing some food experts and historical sources.

According to a legend, Sambhaji, the eldest son and heir of Chhatrapati Shivaji, was visiting Shahuji, who ruled Tanjore (1682-1712), when he requested his usual dhal curry with rotis. The cook, or as some insist, Shahuji, added tamarind to the amti dal curry instead of kokum (and replaced Tuvar dhal with Mung), as these were the only locally available substitutes, and served the mixture to Sambhaji. This is said to be how the basic version of Sambhar was created. Conversely, Shahuji and Sambhaji, who were actually half-brothers, were on bad terms, so it’s surprising that Shahuji would go to such lengths or get involved in palace kitchen matters for such an event. Some suggest that Shahuji may have named the dish Sambhar after Sambhaji to help rebuild friendly relations between the two families. All of this sounds strange considering the timelines—Shahuji became king of Tanjore in 1684 at age 12, while Sambhaji, busy fighting the Mughals, was later captured and executed in 1689. If Sambhaji did visit Tanjore between 1684 and 1689 (though no records mention it), Shahuji would have been between 12 and 17 years old, an age when it’s unlikely he had any interest or involvement in cooking. Let’s leave it at that, concluding that although it may have Marathi connections, it was probably a Tanjavur invention!

After a series of wars and transitions, Serfoji II Bhonsle (also spelled Sarabhoji II Bhonsle) took control, supported by the British, in 1798. Serfoji II's three-decade reign is best known for his contributions to art, literature, and cuisine. It's no surprise that another legend suggests Serfoji II himself created Sambhar after experimenting with lentil soup and adding tamarind. Interestingly, most of his culinary efforts are documented in the cooking diaries—Sarabendra Pakashastra, a collection of recipes from the royal kitchens at Tanjore, preserved at the Sarasvati Mahal library as two manuals compiled by Serfoji’s scribes in Marathi (using Modi script) in the 1820s. One Bhim Rao from the Sarasvati Mahal library apparently mentioned that Sambhar was originally called Sambhachi ahar—Sambha’s food—and that this name evolved into Sambhar over time. Was Sambha supposedly Sambhaji? It is not clear.

While these are popularly narrated versions, it is quite possible that the name originated from Marathi / Gujarati/Sanskrit usages. The word itself has no connection to any Tamil usages from the past (Tamils had mainly Kuzhambu for such curries), and it is quite possible that the name "saambhaar" came from one of the above languages. It could be a derivative of the Sanskrit root usage sambhara (Malayalam - sambharanam), meaning ‘a collection’.

Geeta Bharatan concurs - The primary meaning of saṃbhāra is a collection or assemblage of items, especially ingredients or materials needed for a specific purpose. Perhaps the curry was ritually offered to the King, and hence a Ritual offering. In a Hindu context, sambhara can denote the collection of materials and offerings required for a sacrifice. The word also refers to the act of putting something together or arranging it. The South Indian dish "Sambhar" likely derives from this Sanskrit word, referring to the various constituents of the stew.

Although the Sambhar name is associated with this curry, it is distinctly Deccan or Tamil in nature, characterized by the use of tamarind and other local spices. That must be how a parippu puli kuzhampu made with Tuvar dhal became the Sambhar of today.

Acharya’s Historical dictionary defines it thus - A fairly thick spicy extract of thuvar dhal soured with tamarind, frequently containing soft vegetables like the brinjal, drumstick, gourd, and lady’s finger. It is served in South India with rice as a middle course, after a course of rice with rasam and before a course of rice with curds. Sambhar is also eaten as an accompaniment to the idli and vada. The Kannada term for the dish is huli and the Telugu, pulusu. The Tamil country has a premixed sambhar & rasam, convenient for travel, and Karnataka has the bisibele-huli-anna, best eaten with ghee. However, I don’t believe that is the correct order in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, as the rasam typically follows the Sambhar course.


Many versions exist, and the vegetables included vary by region. In Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Karnataka, traditional vegetables are used, while in South Kerala, potatoes, cauliflower, or carrots are sometimes included, especially in the Travancore area. In Karnataka, a bit of jaggery is often added. Kerala and Karnataka grind roasted spices with coconut to create a flavorful mixture, though it's milder due to the coconut. Meanwhile, Tamil and Andhra versions tend to be spicier and tangier. In Malabar and Palghat, brinjal, ladies' fingers, drumsticks, and shallots are key ingredients in their sambhar. Other regions add exotic vegetables like bitter gourd, keerai, radish, kovakkai, and even garlic. Hing, also known as asafoetida, is always an important adder, providing zest and a pungent aroma.

We should also verify if there are any historical references to the curry. It appears that a Telugu poem written by the Vijayanagara king Krishnadeva Raya mentions the word "Sambharampuchintapandu." Srinivas Sistla, who studied this, states that there are references to "Sambhar ingredients packed in separate packs, jaggery, tamarind paste" when describing the food that Periyalvar's wife packs at Srivilliputhur in present-day Tamil Nadu. The Sabdaratnakaramu (1885), a dictionary, and Vedam Venkataraya Sastry's commentary (1927) on the poem also interpret the word in the same way. Based on this evidence, Sistla theorizes that Sambhar was likely part of Tamil cuisine by the 16th century.

K. T. Achaya also notes that the earliest surviving reference to Sambhar, called "huli," dates back to the 17th century in present-day Karnataka. Kanthirava Narasaraja Vijaya, a 1648 work by Kannada scholar Govinda Vaidya, mentions huli (puli), which literally means "sourness," a curry similar to modern Sambhar made with vegetables and tuvar dal. This suggests that the curry was present in Tamil regions, Deccan, and Vijayanagara even before the Mahrattas arrived at Tanjore in the 17th century, although it may not have been called Sambhar then. If ‘huli’ was a version of the early Sambhar, then the humble mulagu varutha puli koottan of Palghat, which was never served to a guest, should be similar—yet I believe it is not. It is a simple mix of tamarind and salt, with boiled vegetables.

There are also mentions that Sangam period cooking included Thuvaram paruppu kalavai (paruppu kulambu) and Mohana Kalavai (with tender coconuts), which could be considered early versions of Sambar. Sambhar contained red chilies introduced by the Portuguese in the 16th century. So, how was it made before the Portuguese arrived? Maybe using black pepper? I am not entirely sure.

In the Andhra regions, where food was also influenced by Nizami cuisine, there's dalcha, which includes meat, kaddu (pumpkin), and chana dal, as well as tamarind and a spice mix similar to Sambhar masala. These Hyderabadi Muslim versions of Sambhar, once popular also in Orissa, are now quite common in Malaysia. The Malaysian version was popularized by Muslim cooks, resulting in a distinct variation.

The Japanese learned a few things about curries from Rash Behari Bose and AM Nair, and today Kari rice is part of their cuisine, though it is not Sambhar rice. It should also be noted that they did not pick up the word Sambhar from the Tamil laborers during the war. Nevertheless, they named the mini truck manufactured by Subaru as Sambhar (nothing to do with the curry, though), so when you use the term in Japan, you may end up seeing a truck!

Another interesting piece of trivia is that Sambhar was added to the menu for Indian space travelers, along with Idli and Chutney! The DFRL, based in Mysore, developed Sambhar Chawal, along with several other Indian dishes, such as Sooji Halwa, Veg Biryani, Katti Rolls, and more, for its 60-item selection for astronauts.

Some Kerala versions

Sambhar arrived in Kerala much later, as the Sadya listing in Cochin’s Shaktan Thampuran period mainly mentions Erisseri, Kalan, Olan, etc., all of which were prepared without red chilli—a spice that arrived with the Portuguese in the 16th century and became a staple in the Tamil versions of Rasam and Sambhar. Interestingly, the use of red chillies never gained popularity in Kerala, despite the Portuguese presence in Cochin, until much later. It is also strange that the British never made any real mention of the dish; although there are references to Sambhar (a lentil and pigeon pea stew), they did not go beyond a broad name, curry, and Madras curry powder, which may have been a type of Sambhar powder with plenty of garam masala.

The coconut-based ‘arachuvitta’ (varutharacha or ground) Sambhar is popular in Nair and Iyer households of Palghat and is now often included in home cooking or ‘athu chamayal. There is a subtle variation in tadka styles, with some using hing and others using methi seeds, along with curry leaves, red chilies, and mustard. Most use coconut oil (or sesame oil in Tamil regions), but during festive occasions, Brahmins typically use ghee. Udupi Sambhar will have a touch of jaggery to mellow down the taste.

Arachuvitta and Varutharacha Sambhar: In these special variations, whole spices and coconut are roasted and ground into a paste before being added to the Sambhar, as a core flavor element. This creates a deeper, richer aroma than simply adding the ground powder. Bengal gram, coriander seeds, tuvar dal, methi seeds, red chilies, and other ingredients are dry-roasted and ground with grated coconut to make the spice paste. This paste is then boiled with tamarind water before adding the appropriate vegetables. Though desiccated coconut was used by overseas Indians, it is rarely used in South India, and fresh coconut is preferred.


A Kerala Sadya begins with a small serving of rice, accompanied by yellow dal and ghee. The taste buds are then awakened by the Sambhar, slightly tempered down by the salty pappadams. This is then followed by some rasam that provides valuable digestive acids, before being cooled down in the next course with a generous helping of yogurt or curds. Finally, you are carried to nirvana by one or two payasams (kheer).

A recent article by Vijish Gopinath calls sambhar the main star in the culinary drama we know as the sadya, but I am not sure it can overshadow all the side dishes, such as aviyal and kootu kari, not to mention the thoran and olan.

The excellent article by Vijish in a recent Vanitha magazine traces the journey of the Sambhar as it evolved from Kasargod to Trivandrum. While the Northern Udupi Brahmin versions have a bit of ghee and jaggery added to mellow the flavor, versions further south show an increased use of coconut and fewer dals. Tomato and Hing are common in most versions, but subtle differences exist depending on the maker's caste. A Nair Sambhar is distinctly different from a brahmin or Thiyya Sambhar, differing in spice ratios and vegetables. By the time the sambhar reaches South Travancore, most consider it a transformed version, not fully accepted by purists (in jest) as true sambhar. As you head south, the quantity and size of vegetables increase, resulting in a spicier and thicker vegetable curry. Muslims, on the other hand, simply call it a vegetarian curry, usually not considered as sophisticated as Malabar’s fish curries. There’s even a fish sambhar version served at the Samudra Feast in the Ambika hotel at Calicut.

In my opinion, the perfect Sambhar is the Palghat Sambhar, and the magazine agrees, stating that the Trichur Sambhar, which is a close second, is somewhat diluted. Palghat incidentally has three varieties: the Tamil version, the Brahmin Agraharam version, and the Nair version.

Tiffin Sambhar is a quick and easy recipe, perfect for idlis and vadas, which eliminates the need for ground ingredients by using powdered spices and dhal to save prep time. Tiffin Sambhar (or Idli Sambhar) is a thinner, milder, and often less tangy version, specifically made for breakfast dishes. In contrast, regular Sambhar is usually thicker, spicier, and contains more vegetables, intended to be eaten with rice.

I believe I have made my point, and the next time someone claims it is a Marathi dish, you can respond with some arguments to the contrary.

References

KT Acharya – Indian Food: A Historical Companion and A Historical Dictionary of Indian Food

Vanitha – Onam Mood, Sambhar Vibe – Vijish Gopinath

Maddy’s ramblings – Idli, a delectable dish

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Neelikatha - Myth or Legend

Panchavankadu Neeli a.k.a Kalliankattu Neeli 

Two days ago, we watched the exciting Malayalam film Lokah – Chapter 1, starring Kalyani Priyadarshan, and it was a fantastic experience. Kalyani brought the character to life vividly on screen as Chandra, an incarnation of the Venad Yakshi - Kalliyankattu Neeli, as a modern-day action heroine fighting evil. If you haven't seen it, you should check out this film; it's best enjoyed on a large theater screen with good sound quality.

Vijayaraghavan, in a minor role, retells the popular Malayali and Tamil legend of Neeli and how she is eventually subdued, in the film adaptation. I remembered the story from my childhood when we first saw the Kalanilayam dramas Raktharakshassu (The Vampire) and Kadamattathu Kathanar. Those epic stage shows featured many interesting special effects and are still remembered by many from my generation and those who came before. However, I don't recall if the Raktharakshassu in the drama was specifically about Neeli.

About 15 years ago, I wrote an article about yakshis, drawing on various sources I had researched. Over the years, I noticed a few references here and there about these two related Yakshi stories. Still, I didn't think much of them until yesterday, when I remembered that Kottarathil Sankunni initially narrated the Kathanar story in his famous collection of tales and legends, Aithihyamala. I revisited it and found that the yakshi connected to the kathanar (priest) isn't Neeli but another called Panayanar Kavile Yakshi. How they got interconnected is still a mystery to me.

And so, here I am, after watching the movie, to retell the story of the two Yakshis for those who are unfamiliar with the original versions, specifically the stories of Panchavankad Neeli and the Panayanar Yakshi. This may be important for new generations, as the version in Lokah is somewhat different. I must emphasize that this does not significantly impact the overall concept of the Lokah screenplay, which is set in the present. This is simply information for those who want to learn more about the old Neeli.

Some might wonder whether these stories are myths, folklore, or legends; others may even ask what these terms mean. A myth is a symbolic, sacred story typically involving gods or supernatural beings and believed to be true in the past. A legend is a traditional story believed to be historical but lacking solid evidence, often associated with a real person or event and typically exaggerated over time. Lore, on the other hand, includes a wide range of myths, legends, and various types of folklore. Therefore, by definition, this story is mythical but has become somewhat of a legend.


The story of Neeli was originally sung orally in the Thekkan Pattu of Venad and was later printed when CV Raman Pillai wrote the novel on Marthanda Varma of Travancore in 1891. The story, which recounts events in Venad (Travancore) between 1727 and 1732, follows Prince Marthanda Varma's struggle against conspirators attempting to seize his throne. The Yakshis, however, date back to a time when the region was known as Nanjil Nadu, a period when Jainism flourished in the southern parts and the yakshi and Chattan cults were common. Densely forested, the area was home to many tribal communities. People mainly traveled on foot from place to place, with only the wealthy using palanquins, horses, and carts on better roads. I don’t intend to get into a detailed study of the cult, but I will retell Neeli's story based on the sources mentioned. It’s also impossible to assign a specific time to these stories; all we know is that they were passed down orally over many years, becoming hugely popular through the Thekkan Pattu (Southern ballads), especially during Marthanda Varma's reign, notably through the Villu Pattu (sung to the beat of a bow and a metal pot).

Neelikatha - From the Villu Pattu

The story begins at Ammappan Kovil in Pazhakainallur, with a famous Devadasi dancer named Sivakami. She had two children, Lakshmi and Thirukanda, with Lakshmi following her mother's footsteps to become a skilled dancer. The temple priest, Velavan Nampy, was smitten with the young girl and soon started spending time with her, lavishing her with wealth—wealth he had earned through both honest and dishonest means. Sivakami, her mother, accumulated all this wealth, and eventually, when it ran out, she expelled Velavan and forbade him from contacting Lakshmi. Velavan wandered into the forest, devastated and almost insane, while Lakshmi, unaware of all this, was grieving at home. Eventually, she learned of her mother's evil plans and, gathering some of the stolen wealth, set out to find her lover. She saw him lost in a thorny cactus forest, overwhelmed with grief. She fell at his feet and begged for his forgiveness, but Velavan, still furious, struck her with a stone and took her jewels, leaving her for dead. With only the cactus forest (Kallian kadu) in Agasteeswaram as a witness, Lakshmi bled to death. Velavan, moving on, reached a well. Thirsty, he did not notice a snake that crept near and bit him. He died shortly afterward. Adding to the tragedy, Thirukanda, who came by and saw his sister dead, also took his own life.


In the next rebirth, Velavan was born into a trader's family in Kaveri Poom Pattinam, named Ananthan. In contrast, Lakshmi and Thirukanda were born as the children of a Chola king, named Neeli and Neelan. In this incarnation, the king also abandons the children, who continue to harbor vengeance against the public, living in a neem tree and causing chaos among the villagers. Eventually, Ananthan encounters Neeli, and as expected, Neeli kills him. The evil spirit, thus satisfied, is contained in an idol at the Panchavankad Issaki Amman temple there.

From Marthanda Varma – the novel

In the Raman Pilla version, Neeli is a Nair girl seduced by a local Pattar, who convinces her to sell her house and join him in Padmanabhapuram. Together, the pregnant girl and the Pattar walk along the forest path.

At Panchavankadu, the exhausted girl sits down to rest on her husband's lap when the wicked man, deciding to abandon her and steal her ornaments and wealth, strikes her head with a stone. Waking up for the last time, she sees her husband holding their blood-stained stone, calls on the Cactus plants to be witnesses, swears revenge in her rebirth, and dies.

The Pattar, who had started a new life, plans a trip to Suchindram for a festival. As they walk along the forest path heading south and enter Panchavankadu, he spots the beautiful, alluring figure of Neeli. She seduces him with her looks and actions, leading him to follow her deeper into the forest. They eventually find a good spot where they settle down, and the roles are reversed, with the Pattar resting his head on the girl's lap. In an instant, the girl's form transforms into a terrifying vampire who then tears him apart and drinks all his blood. The stones remain there alongside the cactus plant, which was once a witness to her murder.

Venad Yakshikal – Ramesan Nair

Ramesan Nair locates the area west of the Collectorate at Ramavarma Puram in Nagercoil. The Nadukattu Ishaki Amman Koil is there. He explains that Pavizhanallor village, now called Pazhavur, used to have a temple. The story then follows a similar pattern – the priest falls for the temple dancer Neeli, who, with her mother's help, seduces the priest at her house and takes control of him. Eventually, the priest is driven out, but his sad, pregnant wife Neeli chases after him into the forest, where the story continues. She rests her head on his lap, and he hits it with a stone in the cactus forest – the Kalliyan Kadu. Later, while drawing water from a well, the ornaments fall in, and a snake bites him, causing his death. The mother looks for her daughter and witnesses the terrible sight, collapsing from grief.

He continues with a story about how Neeli then harassed wayward youth, greedy traders, and even Pathans who briefly waged war with the Travancore Raja. Later, the Yakshi instructed them to build a temple so she could retire in peace, which led to the construction of the Isakkiamman Kovil. Ramesan adds that there are many mentions of a great exorcist's involvement in Neeli's exorcism and her consecration, but he does not mention Kathanar.

Historically, the area was called Kazhuvanthittai because gallows once stood there, and men on death row were allowed to confess in front of Neeli one last time. Afterwards, a prayer was performed, and the man was hanged from the gallows. In front of the temple, a neem tree with a cradle hanging from one of its branches was once visible. Old-timers recall hearing lullabies sung by Neeli for her unborn child, rocking to sleep in that cradle.

That finally brings us to the story of Kadamattathu Kathanar. Although we hear of an exorcist who puts Neeli in her place, the Kathanar is associated with another Yakshi according to Sankunni and Ramesan Nair.

Kadamattathu Kathanar – K Sankunni

Sankunni started collecting the existing lore around the turn of the 20th century and wrote about Kadamattathu Kathanar – Poulose, the deacon from Kadamattam (near Muvattupuzha), between 1909 and 1930. Kadamattathu Kathanar is believed to have lived around 920-930 AD and is considered a renowned sorcerer, exorcist, and conjurer.

Many acts have been linked to him, including the subdual of the Panayanar Yakshi. Sankunni introduces Polulose, a young man who served as a deacon under the priest (believed to be Mar Sapor) and disappeared when the priest, along with the villagers, went in search of a cow taken by a tiger. During this journey, he is kidnapped by a cannibalistic tribe. The tribe's chief takes a liking to Poulose and accepts him into the tribe of naked hill people. Over the course of 12 years, Poulose learns the art of magic and sorcery from these expert tribespeople. Later, he asks the chief for permission to leave and visit his old priest, then departs the tribe to return to Kadamattom. After returning, he uses his knowledge of magic and other powers to help the villagers, gaining personal fame.

The Panayanar Yakshi preyed on travelers using the forest route from Anathapuram (Trivandrum) to Padmanabhapuram. (Note that Kalliyangad Neeli preyed on people between Padmanabhapuram and Kanyakumari). As her attacks increased, people turned to Kathanar for help. The Kathanar entered the forest searching for the maiden, and there she appeared in all her splendor, offering Kathanar betel leaves and asking for some lime – Chunnamb. Kathanar offered it on an iron nail, which she accepted with some trepidation. As soon as she did, she came under the deacon's control, and he promptly drove the nail into her skull, enslaving her. 

On the way back, Kathanar stopped to rest at his uncle's house. His aunt was enamored with the young damsel he was escorting and asked if she could stay with them to help. The deacon agreed and went for a nap. At that moment, the old aunt offered to comb the girl's hair. She noticed a nail in her skull, promptly pulled it out, and, to everyone's surprise, the girl was freed from the Kathanar's spell and regained her previous powers. The Kathanar woke up and followed her. She crossed the river and was hanging around Panayanar Kovil at Parumala when the Kathanar also arrived, breathless. Seeing the Kathanar, she offered to turn over a new leaf, swore to it, and then disappeared (or was consecrated in the idol), never to return or cause harm again. After this, she became popularly known as the Panayanar Kovil or Parumala Yakshi.

Kathanar continued to do other good deeds, but subduing Neeli was not, as I can see, one of them.

Panayanar Kavil Yakshi and the Kattur Namboodiri – Ramesan Nair

Ramesan Nair continues with the second part of the story. Kattur Neelakandhan Namboothiri, after Murajapam at the Padmanabha Swamy temple, was heading to the Shangumugham Bhagavathy temple for more prayers when he met a beautiful young woman. After some small talk, she admitted she was from Panayanar Kovil and had lost her way while on her way to Chottanikkara. She explained that the Kathnar had consecrated her in the idol, and when the priest accidentally spilled some holy water on her, she was freed from the idol. She then boarded a boat heading south and landed in the area, only to fall under the sacred bonds of the gods at Padmanabhapuram, Shangumugham, and Palkulam Bhagavathy. She asked Kattur to help her escape and take her to Kayamkulam, which the Namboothiri agreed to. Using some spells and powers he possessed, he contained her into his sindoor container and eventually freed her from captivity at Kayamkulam.

These are the stories of the two Yakshis: the vengeful Kalliyangaad Neeli and the more reasonable Panayanur Yakshi. From the locations where they were consecrated, two different temples, we can see that they were not the same. From the places they preyed on, we can also conclude that they were different.

Now we need to verify their timelines. We know that the Kathanar lived around 920-930 AD. Based on mentions of the Cholas and the absence of mentions of Travancore kings, we can estimate that Neeli predates the other yakshi, possibly dating back to the 5th-7th century. The Padmanabha Swamy Perumal temple is believed to date from the 7th-8th century. However, I must admit that as the story of Neeli continues till the Pathans' arrival in Travancore, it becomes unclear (perhaps Mukilan, which is set in the 17th century), so examining the timelines does not provide a clear conclusion.


Panayannar Kavu is very old and located near Parumala, surrounded by a tributary of the Pampa River. It is very close to Mannar village, on the Thiruvalla-Mavelikkara Road. Next to the temple, there is a consecration of the Parumala Yakshi, where she sits on a raised platform in an orchard with several trees.


Neeli, on the other hand, is a name that appears in many Tamil works, portraying a woman who becomes a 'pey' – a ghost. According to Jeyamohan, the writer, Neeli was consecrated by Naganandi Adiga, a Jain Monk, and the entire area around Kalliangad was developed after the Pechipara dam was built. The Isakkiamman (a tribal goddess) kovil is located on Muppandhal, south of Valliyur, on the route from Thirunelveli to Nagercoil. However, I am not sure if this is the real Neeli Kovil, because there is a specific Neeli Amman temple at Kalliangad.

Hopefully, those curious about the Neeli story are now familiar with the old versions, and you are prepared when the Chatan release occurs.

References

Kerala Sahitya Charitram – Ulloor S Parameswara Ayyar

Aithihyamala – Kottarathil Sankunni

Marthanda Varma – CV Raman Pillai

The story of Neeli – B Prasad

Venad Yakshikal – K Ramesan Nair

Further reading

The bewitching Yakshi  - Maddy's Ramblings

The Chatans of Malabar - Maddy's Ramblings

Kaliyangad Neeli temple location

The Evil Eye, Maddy's ramblings

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