With Modi's TN visit, why Rajendra Chola will get the spotlight back

In the sweeping work, she explores not just his reign — marked by expansion, the Brihadeeshwara temple, and a cultural renaissance — but the vast ecosystem around him: the society, the art, the place of women, and the extraordinary administration that outlasted him. In this interview to The Federal, Dandapani reflects on the brilliance of Rajendra Chola, Rajaraja’s son, whose campaign to the Gangetic plains and founding of Gangaikonda Cholapuram marked a bold statement of conquest, sovereignty, and self-assertion.

She underlines that Rajendra’s act of bringing Ganga water south was both spiritual and political, an audacious claim to pan-Indian legitimacy. She urges readers to move beyond glorified hagiographies and recognise these rulers as complex figures shaped by ambition, strategy, and the brutal realities of their time. Dandapani is also clear-eyed about how history is constructed, pointing out that Chola inscriptions, while incredibly useful, are as curated and performative as a modern social media profile. Above all, she sees the Cholas not just as rulers but as master image-makers, whose legacy offers urgent lessons in ambition, governance, and the power of narrative. Excerpts from the interview:

Rajendra Chola’s campaign to the Gangetic plains — marking 1000 years this year — is being hailed as a civilisational milestone. In your view, what was its actual historical significance?

Rajendra’s northern campaign, as it’s called, was a daring venture filled with adventure and imagination. It was also a brilliant symbolic move. But let’s first dive into the background of why he embarked on this campaign. During Rajendra’s time, the Cholas’ greatest enemies were the Western Chalukyas of the Deccan and present-day Karnataka. Both the Chalukyas and the Cholas were desperately vying for control over the Vengi region, located around the Godavari delta in Andhra.

At this point, the Vengi king had died, sparking a fierce succession battle. Many kings at the time had multiple wives, resulting in many princes vying for the throne. One of these princes was Rajendra’s own son-in-law. The Western Chalukya king also had his own candidate in the fray, leading to a standoff between the two. After a bloody battle, Rajendra’s son-in-law was placed on the Vengi throne. But Rajendra was not the type to stay silent after this. He sought revenge against those who had supported his rival.

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Rajendra then marched north, first into Kalinga (modern-day Odisha), where he defeated the kings who had supported the Western Chalukya emperor. His army then moved further north into the Pala kingdom of Bengal, wreaking havoc once again. After these victories, they brought back boatloads of Ganga water, which were shipped down the coast into Chola territory.

While Rajendra’s armies enjoyed victories in these regions, there’s no evidence to suggest that these territories actually became part of the Chola kingdom. They didn’t annex these lands; instead, they took loot and brought back the Ganga water before heading south.

Now, why was bringing the Ganga water so important symbolically? For medieval Indian kings, Bharatvarsha was the ideal kingdom. The titles that many Chola emperors gave themselves — such as Rajaraja, Rajadhiraja, Chakravarti — were meant to embody the ideal ruler of this ideal kingdom. Many kings across India created symbolic versions of Bharatvarsha, and Rajendra’s father, Rajaraja, was no exception. He built the Brihadishwara temple, calling it Dakshina Meru, essentially symbolising the southern equivalent of Mount Meru. Bharatvarsha, in this sense, had its own sacred river, the Ganga.

Rajendra, however, took it a step further. He didn’t just symbolise Bharatvarsha — he brought the actual Ganga water down south, solidifying in his eyes (and to the world) that the Chola kingdom was a true Bharatvarsha, not just in theory but in reality. This act proclaimed him as a true world sovereign. That’s why I believe Rajendra did what he did — it was brilliant both strategically and symbolically.

The creation of Gangaikonda Cholapuram wasn’t just about architecture, it was an assertion. What was Rajendra trying to communicate by shifting the imperial capital and naming it after the Ganga?

He didn’t have to shift his operations because Tanjavur was perfectly fine. It had the temple, it was thriving, and everything was running smoothly. So, I think it makes for a fascinating psychological or character study to speculate on why Rajendra chose to move his operations entirely to a brand new place — where there was nothing at all.

Gangaikunda, the town he founded, was just an empty tract of land, 70 kilometres away, where everything had to be built from scratch. To my mind, this was perhaps one way for him to step out of his father’s very large shadow and make a fresh start — to assert that he was a leader in his own right. As long as he stayed in Tanjavur, he would always be in that old milieu, and I feel like maybe he wanted a clean break.

Perhaps Rajendra wanted to move away from the political dynamics of Tanjavur. Maybe he wanted to be closer to Chidambaram, which was deeply revered by the Cholas — a powerful spiritual centre for them. Or maybe he aimed to appease the people of the new region and make them feel that they were an integral part of his kingdom.

It could have been a combination of all these factors. But once Gangaikunda Cholapuram was established, it remained the Chola headquarters for the remainder of the Chola dynasty. I just feel that this move was his way of stepping out from his father’s shadow and carving his own path as an independent ruler.

How do historians interpret the act of bringing Ganga water to the South? Was it an act of spiritual syncretism, or a calculated display of conquest and unity?

I think it’s both. It’s an act of devotion and an act of dominance, and not merely symbolic. There have been plenty of symbolic acts in history. For instance, there are mythologies that say the Kaveri River, which is central to Chola territory, is actually the Ganga water that Agastya brought down in a pot.

You also have the Pallava sculpture at Mahabalipuram, or Mamallapuram, called Arjuna’s Penance, which tells the story of the river Ganga being brought to Earth through King Bhagiratha’s penance. And by extension, it’s depicted in the Pallavas’ maritime capital, symbolising their lands as well. These are all symbolic acts. When these stories are told, they carry a deeper, symbolic message.

But Rajendra, it seems, wasn’t content with just symbolism. He went beyond it and brought the actual waters down. It was customary for kings of those days to erect pillars to commemorate grand campaigns. Rajendra, however, went a step further —he created a lake from the Ganga waters he brought down. He called it a Jala Jaya Stambam, or “liquid pillar of victory.” I think he wanted to show the world that whatever anyone else did, he did it on a grander and more daring scale. And in this, I believe he was inspired by his father.

Compared to Rajaraja Chola, Rajendra seems less celebrated in the public imagination. Why do you think his legacy hasn’t resonated as strongly, until perhaps now?

Rajendra tried so hard, and yet Rajaraja remains the household name. Most people, if you ask them, will say Rajaraja was the greatest of the Cholas. That’s right. The fact is, Rajaraja was the true trailblazer. He truly stepped out of the box and did things that no Chola king had ever done before. From the conquests of nearly all of peninsular India and much of Sri Lanka, Rajaraja accomplished so much.

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He also carried out his massive land survey and organisational efforts, had trade expeditions to China, and of course, there was his greatest achievement: the absolutely fabulous temple, the likes of which had never been seen before. Rajaraja set the bar so high, and Rajendra had to resort to extraordinary measures to exceed it, which he did. But for whatever reason, it is still Rajaraja who has captured the public imagination. I think books and movies like Ponniyin Selvan and even Sivaji Ganesan’s movie on Rajaraja, Rajaraja Cholan (1973), helped cement that image.

Rajaraja was first in so many areas. And even though Rajendra did all these things — first in many respects — it’s the first name that sticks. Think of the first person on the moon, right? It’s similar.

With Prime Minister Narendra Modi set to commemorate Rajendra Chola with a coin and a visit to Gangaikonda Cholapuram, how do you view this political embrace of a southern emperor’s legacy?

Well, I’m glad that Rajendra is getting the spotlight, his due attention, now because I feel the history of South India has been neglected for far too long. The south, too, has had some truly remarkable dynasties with extraordinary achievements. But we are one country now, and we should not dismiss the history of the south — or the east, west, or any other part of India — as “regional history,” which implies that these are somehow secondary or ancillary to the main narrative.

At the same time, I’m also wary of making him or any ruler more than what he was. For example, he didn’t actually conquer the Gangetic plains. He wasn’t a perfect human being. Like any ruler, he was a mass of contradictions: good and bad. Our history should present him as such, rather than glorifying or vilifying him in one-dimensional terms. This tendency to show just one side of the story is something we tend to do a lot. We can admire these rulers for their phenomenal achievements against enormous odds, but we also need to study the bigger picture, understand the context in which they operated, and learn about the times they lived in.

We shouldn’t impose modern biases, stereotypes, or sensibilities on them. And certainly not use them for political gain — that would be a huge disservice to both the ruler and their legacy. That said, I’m thrilled that India is going to learn about this great emperor. But I would urge people to read beyond just the hagiographies. The full story is far more interesting and compelling than a one-dimensional portrayal.

You’ve written that the Cholas were exceptional record-keepers. How reliable are those records in shaping our understanding of Rajendra’s reign and where do the gaps lie.

Think of Chola inscriptions like modern social media profiles — filtered, curated, polished, and exaggerated to present a certain image. That’s what you need to keep in mind when studying them. The Cholas were master public relations experts. They had plenty to back it up, but they operated in a cutthroat, unstable world. They were capturing and controlling territories that had traditionally belonged to other powers, and they had their work cut out for them in forging a cohesive kingdom from a patchwork of regions. Proclaiming their greatness through inscriptions was one way to do this.

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These inscriptions were mostly practical documents — recording land gifts, sales, or donations to people or temples. One part covers all the minutiae — step-by-step instructions, the kind you’d expect in a contract. The other part, called the Prashasti or Maikirti, is a preamble introducing the donor — say, the king — and listing their achievements. This is where court poets took liberties, favouring poetic flights of fancy over strict accuracy. If they’d stuck to the truth, they’d probably have had their heads on a platter.

So the inscriptions aren’t terribly detailed. Events are often mentioned or alluded to, and they present only one side of the story. Inscriptions from the other side often describe the same event entirely differently. You need to read both sides, see what the opposition says, and try to piece it together — and even then, a thousand years later, much of it is still educated guesswork. This is how we know what we know about the Cholas. And with that in mind, we should take these inscriptions with a large pinch of salt — actually, a large handful.

As a writer deeply engaged with Chola history, what do you think is the one takeaway from Rajendra Chola’s legacy that modern India most needs to reflect on?

I think his ambition was a good thing. Whatever he set out to do, he went after it. He was very goal-oriented. And this was true of many of the Cholas, both Rajaraja and Rajendra. They thought outside the box. They didn’t limit themselves to the status quo. If they had, we wouldn’t be talking about the Cholas today.

They were meticulous, highly organised, and incredibly particular about keeping records — whether you believe them or not, everything was noted down. I think there’s a lot we can learn from them. We often think of public relations and image-building as modern concepts, but the Cholas were masters at it. They truly understood the power of symbolism. They had their finger on the pulse of their people — they knew how to appeal to them and what it took to win them over.