Latest / The Chola Empire: How South India Dominated the Indian Ocean — Fexingo History / The Chola Empire's Temple Music and the Birth of the Kudumi
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Chola temples — the stone, the bronze, the inscriptions — but one thing we haven't really touched on is the sound of those temples. The music that filled those halls. Luna: I love that angle. What kind of music? Lucas: Well, the Chola period is when what we now call Carnatic music really started to take shape. And one of the most distinctive instruments of that era was the Kudumi — a wind instrument, sort of like an oboe or a shawm, made of brass or silver. It's depicted all over temple sculptures, often played by musicians in processions or alongside dancers. Luna: Kudumi — that's a new word for me. Was it just for temples? Lucas: Not at all. It was used in royal courts, in military bands, and in folk celebrations too. But the best records we have come from the Brihadeeswarar Temple in Thanjavur. Rajaraja Chola I left incredibly detailed inscriptions listing the temple staff, including musicians and their instruments. One inscription, the Tirumukkudal plates, mentions a whole orchestra — including players of the Kudumi, the conch or sankhu, drums like the maddalam, and string instruments like the yazh. Luna: So they had a full ensemble. Were the musicians all men? Lucas: Actually, many were women — devadasis, who were dedicated to the temple. The inscriptions record that Rajaraja employed 400 devadasis, and a portion of them were trained musicians. They lived in the temple precincts and performed daily rituals. The Kudumi players, specifically, were often part of a group called the 'Kudumi koothar' — performers who accompanied dance and drama. The temple was a living, sounding space. Luna: So the architecture itself was designed for acoustics? Lucas: Absolutely. The Brihadeeswarar Temple has a vimana that's over 60 meters tall, and the inner sanctum is designed to amplify sound. The granite walls create a natural reverb. Inscriptions describe how musicians would position themselves at specific spots — near the pillars, under the gopuram — to get the best resonance. It wasn't just decoration; the temple was an instrument itself. Luna: That's incredible. What happened to the Kudumi? Lucas: It evolved. Over time, the Kudumi gradually transformed into the modern nadaswaram, which is still used in Carnatic music today. The nadaswaram is larger, with a different bore and a flared bell, but the lineage is clear. Some scholars think the Kudumi was also related to the Persian sorna, brought by traders, but in Tamil Nadu it took on its own character. By the Vijayanagara period, the Kudumi had mostly been replaced, but its influence lingers. Luna: So we can actually trace a continuous musical tradition from the Cholas to today. Lucas: Exactly. And the Chola inscriptions are a huge part of that. They don't just list names — they describe the ragas, the compositions, the instruments. One inscription from the reign of Rajendra Chola I mentions a specific composition called 'Tiruppugazh' sung in a raga called 'Kurinji'. That's a direct link to the Carnatic raga system we know now. Luna: So music was deeply tied to devotion and empire both. Lucas: Right. And this is where it gets really interesting — because the Kudumi wasn't just a temple instrument. In the Chola military, it was used to signal charges and coordinate movements. The Kudumi players would march with the army, playing sharp, piercing notes that could be heard over battle noise. So it had a dual life: sacred and martial. Luna: Like a bugle in European armies, but more melodic. Lucas: Exactly. And we have visual evidence from the Brihadeeswarar temple's reliefs — panels showing processions with Kudumi players walking alongside elephants and soldiers. The instrument was about 18 inches long, with a double reed, and it produced a loud, reedy sound. It required a lot of breath control. Luna: Were there any famous Kudumi players recorded by name? Lucas: Yes, actually. One inscription from the Rajarajesvaram temple lists a musician named 'Nakkan Sattan', who is described as a 'Kudumi vaithan' — a Kudumi player. He was granted land and privileges for his service. That's remarkable — we know the name of a musician from a thousand years ago. There's also a reference to a woman named 'Kali' who was a Kudumi player, though details are sparse. Luna: So women were playing the Kudumi too, not just dancing. Lucas: Yes, and that challenges the stereotype that wind instruments were male-dominated. The devadasis were multi-talented — they sang, danced, and played instruments. The Kudumi was part of their repertoire. In fact, some inscriptions list the same woman as both a dancer and a Kudumi player. Luna: That's a really rich cultural history. I had no idea the Cholas were so invested in music. Lucas: And it wasn't just the temple — the Chola court had a dedicated music department. Rajaraja's sister, Kundavai, was a known patron of musicians. The famous Tamil text 'Periyapuranam', which is a hagiography of Shaiva saints, was composed during the Chola period and includes many references to musical performances. Music was woven into the fabric of Chola identity. Luna: So when we think of the Chola legacy, we should think of sound as much as stone. Lucas: Exactly. And this is something we can still hear today. If you go to a Carnatic concert, the nadaswaram player is carrying a tradition that traces back to those Kudumi players in the Brihadeeswarar temple. The ragas, the improvisation, the role of the instrument in ritual — it's a living heritage. Luna: I'd love to hear a recording of a Kudumi. Are there any surviving instruments? Lucas: No original Kudumi from the Chola period has survived, because they were made of metal and wood that decay or were melted down. But we have detailed sculptures and textual descriptions. Modern instrument makers have reconstructed them based on those sources. There are a few experimental musicians who play a replica Kudumi today, so we can get a sense of its sound. Luna: That's fascinating. You know, Lucas, this kind of deep dive — it's why people love this show. And it's only possible because of the research and time we put in. Lucas: Yeah, it's something we're really proud of. And on that note — a quick honest thing. A handful of listeners chip in monthly through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo, and that's literally what funds making this many of these episodes. No ads, no sponsors — just a small community keeping it going. Luna: It really makes a difference. Every contribution helps us dig deeper into topics like this. Lucas: So anyway, back to the Kudumi — one more fascinating detail. The Kudumi was sometimes paired with a large drum called the 'tambattam' in processions. The combination created a rhythmic drone that supported the melody. And the players would often improvise, competing with each other in friendly contests. Luna: So there was a competitive element to temple music? Lucas: Yes. Inscriptions from the Chola period mention 'music contests' held during temple festivals. Kudumi players would face off, showing off their virtuosity. The winners received prizes like gold or land. So it wasn't just devotional — it was also a showcase of skill. Luna: That sounds like a great spectacle. Lucas: And it had a social dimension too. The musicians were part of guilds, like the Ayyavole merchants we've discussed. They had their own networks and patronage systems. The Kudumi players of the Chola era weren't anonymous — they were respected artisans with a recognized craft. Luna: So the Kudumi connects to so many aspects of Chola society: religion, war, art, economy. Lucas: Exactly. It's a small window into a whole world. And that's what we try to do with each episode — find that one thread that pulls on the whole tapestry. Luna: Alright, next time we should talk about Chola dance — maybe the origins of Bharatanatyam in the temple context. Lucas: That's a great idea. And we'll pick up the Kudumi connection there too, since dance and music were inseparable.