05-05-2025
Union Government's Agastya Push Leaves Tamil Hearts Unmoved
Historical evolution of Tamil writing. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
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When someone in Tamil Nadu hears the name Agastya, what usually comes to mind is a short, pot-bellied sage with a dramatic aura – perhaps best remembered through Sirkazhi Govindarajan's portrayal in old Tamil cinema. What does not come to mind? Tamil grammar. And yet, in 2025, Agastya has intrusively staged an unlikely return – not through temples or folklore but through flashy seminars, conferences and institutional campaigns.
As tradition goes, Lord Shiva dispatched Agastya to the south to restore balance to the earth, which had tilted due to overcrowding at his Himalayan wedding. With the Vindhya mountains promising not to grow and rivers in tow, Agastya brought Vedic knowledge to the south and settled in the Podhigai hills, forging his Tamil connections.
A full-blown myth-making effort is underway to install Agastya as the father of Tamil grammar, leapfrogging over Tolkappiyar – the actual author of the Tolkappiyam, the oldest surviving Tamil grammar. Suddenly, Agastya is everywhere. Or, so we are told.
This push to elevate Agastya, backed by institutions like the Central Institute of Classical Tamil, Kashi Tamil Sangamam, the Ministry of External Affairs, the Ministry of Culture, the Ministry of Ayush, Bharatiya Basha Samiti and IIT Madras, promotes him as an all-knowing sage and founder of Tamil grammar. This effort seeks to replace Tolkappiyar's rightful place with a manufactured legacy, advancing historical revisionism.
But why now? And why Agastya?
The 'Agastya Returns' campaign has been aggressively propelled by Union government-sponsored initiatives. From seminars to Sangamams and even heated episodes over a Valluvar statue in Kashi aka Varanasi, the message is clear: Agastya is the 'Man' – even though he left behind no Tamil grammar texts. Meanwhile, the Valluvar episode seems conveniently forgotten.
On March 7, 2025, Indus researcher R. Balakrishnan, former civil servant and the author of Journey of a Civilization: Indus to Vaigai, took the stage at Anna Centenary Library in Chennai and did what any thoughtful Tamil intellectual does – asked questions. His lecture, 'Agastya – A Relook', was not a tribute but a forensic audit. It drew inspiration from K.N. Sivaraja Pillai's 1930 work 'Agastya in the Tamil Land', and was described as a symbolic 'hero stone' honouring a fellow sceptic grounded in the Tamil tradition.
Balakrishnan began by listing 389 books attributed to Agastya name, covering astrology, medicine, tantra, mysticism – but not a single Tamil grammar. Agastya's footprint in early Tamil literature is practically non-existent, with only a handful of speculative verses scattered about. Interestingly, two magazines were published bearing his name.
Agastya, he shows, is a busy figure in mythology – featuring in the Rig Veda, where he penned 25 hymns, married Lopamudra and had a son, a tidy Vedic family. The sage then made appearances in the Ramayana, Mahabharata, South Indian tales and even had a stint in Southeast Asia. In terms of travel, he starts from Uttarakhand, makes a stop at Varanasi, swings by Nashik, pauses at Badami, drops into Podhigai Hills and finally ends up in Java.
He also doubles as a family priest for Pandya kings and Kashyapa lineage, advises Rama in Dandakaranya and moves to Podhigai Hills – where, as the story goes, he finds spare time to write Tamil grammar. Agastya even finds time to curse people. Some legends claim he even cursed Tolkappiyar and Lopamudra – like a Vedic soap opera. As David Frawley, better known in Hindutva circles as Vamadeva Shastri, bluntly declares: 'There is no Tamil Agastya apart from the Vedic Agastya.'
Unfazed by folklore, Balakrishnan combed through the 389 titles linked to Agastya. Nearly all fall into esoteric domains. Not one is a treatise on Tamil grammar. To me, it seems that if Agastya were to apply for a Tamil teaching position today, he would not even qualify for the shortlist. Balakrishnan also presented a case study on the Agastya-Lopamudra pair to examine how their story later permeated into Tamil culture.
Balakrishnan views the Agastya-Lopamudra pairing, worshipped in A. Vallalapatti in Madurai and Maravakadu near Mannargudi, as a symbol of Vedic continuity, drawing a parallel to the Parasurama myth in Kerala. This shows how Vedic symbolism spread across both regions, but Tamil Nadu and Kerala have preserved distinct identities from Northern India, a difference still visible today. He also argues that 'Sangam literature consistently maintains a dichotomy with Sanskrit values,' and that evidence cannot be altered by mere tales.
So, where did this claim originate?
One thread traces back to 14th-century commentator Nachinarkiniyar, who, in his commentary on the Sangam poem Maduraikkanchi, attempts to infuse Agastya into the Tamil tradition by calling him 'Mudukadavul' – the old god. He also equates Ravana with 'thennavan' – the southern king. Balakrishnan notes that while the Tamil literature venerates Murugan as the Tamil Kadavul and credits his divine father, Shiva, with leading the first Tamil Sangam, Nachinarkiniyar without foundation elevates Agastya as the ancient god of Tamils. This mirrors Agastya's later elevation in Vedic tradition to the star canopus, despite not originally being part of the Sapta Rishi. Unimpressed, Balakrishnan quips, 'Calling Agastya the 'Old God' is the last thing a Tamil would do,' reminding us that for Tamils, Murugan is the god of choice.'
As for Ravana, temples dedicated to him are found in Uttar Pradesh (Bisrakh, Kanpur) and Andhra Pradesh (Kakinada), but not in Tamil Nadu. Balakrishnan highlights the incongruity of Ravana, revered in certain parts of North India but hardly venerated in Tamil Nadu, arguing that if Ravana's presence in Tamil land is questionable, Agastya founding Tamil grammar becomes even more tenuous.
Turning to the Tolkappiyam, our actual starting point for Tamil grammar, the foreword– attributed to Panampaaranar, a fellow disciple – claims that Tolkappiyar was familiar with the Aindra, a grammar text ascribed to Indra, who better renowned for his colourful escapades than for treatises. Even if we take such preface seriously, it introduces three individuals: Tolkappiyar, his contemporaries Panampaaran who authored the foreword and Athencottasan who presided over the book's release – all said to be disciples of Agastya. Yet, neither the preface nor the verses of the Tolkappiyam contain any mention – direct or indirect – of Agastya. Sangam literature, too, remains entirely silent on him. Quoting this, Balakrishnan wryly remarked that either they were the most ungrateful disciples in 'history', or Agastya had nothing to do with Tamil grammar.
Balakrishnan finds Sangam literature and the Tolkappiyam – texts rooted in real landscapes, lived experiences and social customs – as the litmus test of Tamil antiquity. He noted that while Tolkappiyar acknowledges his predecessors as Enmanaar Pulavar and Noolari Pulavar yet makes no mention of Agastya whatsoever.
Naturally, efforts have been made to conjure up Tamil sutras attributed to Agastya. In 1912, S. Bavanantham Pillai published a set of sutras, claiming they were from a larger corpus – 165 out of an alleged 3,000 – that had originally been printed in 1862 by Vedagiri Mudaliyar. Reading them aloud, Balakrishnan called them post-medieval in tone, clumsy in form and lacking linguistic finesse. 'If these were genuinely written by Agastya,' he said, 'it would be the gravest insult to Tamil grammar.'
Why is Agastya being resurrected now?
Balakrishnan connects this trend to efforts at reshaping Indian history to fit a pan-Vedic, Sanskritic narrative. In December 2023, David Frawley declared the Harappan civilisation to be the 'Vedic Saraswati Civilisation', drawing strong rebuttals from archaeologists like Disha Ahluwalia, who noted that 'Harappan' simply follows the type-site naming convention. Yet, Frawley's was not a lone voice. Social media also buzzed with similar claims, including assertions that the Indus script had been deciphered. One such voice was Jijith Nadumuri Ravi, a former scientist (per his Facebook bio), who eagerly linked Harappan finds to mythology, backing the controversial decipherment attempt by US-based Yajna Devam. His posts – such as 'Who Was Agastya?' and 'Is Tamil Devoid of Samskrt Influence?' – are prime examples of mythic extrapolation masquerading as historical insight. Curiously, critics usually quick to challenge Tamil assertions maintained a studied silence.
Given this climate, it is hardly surprising that IIT Mandi now teaches rebirth and reincarnation to engineering students or that IIT Kharagpur's 2022 calendar featured a Saraswati-themed reinterpretation of the Indus Valley civilisation. In today's New India, scientific temper has taken a backseat, while mythology now takes centre stage in academia.
Nevertheless, in Tamil Nadu, a different account is taking shape. Under the robust leadership of DMK's Muthuvel Karunanidhi Stalin, the state government hosted an international Indus conference and announced a million-dollar reward for deciphering the Indus script in January 2025, followed by the unveiling of a statue of Sir John Marshall in March. Additionally, the State Archaeological Department published two reports: Indus Signs and Graffiti Markers of Tamil Nadu and Antiquity of Iron.
Balakrishnan argues that Agastya's resurgence acts as a counter-narrative – a Sanskritic response to Tamil cultural claims based on empirical evidence, positioning him as a cultural envoy from north to south. This shift focuses less on grammar and more on cultural symbolism. He critiques the narrative, noting that 'Agastya is positioned in contrast to John Marshall,' highlighting the irony that the centenary of the Indus Valley civilisation was only celebrated in Tamil Nadu despite its national significance.
However, not everyone is accepting this resurrection. Several Tamil associations like the Organisation of All India Tamil Sangams, have passed resolutions reaffirming Tolkappiyar as their revered figure – not divine, but documented; not mythical, but unmistakably Tamil – even as the Union government, through the Central Institute of Classical Tamil, funds Agastya-themed events.
Suggesting a deeper cultural politics at play, Balakrishnan likens Indian pluralism to a rainforest—thriving through interdependent diversity. Unlike a melting pot or salad bowl, India's strength lies in preserving native traditions while embracing external influences, fostering a balanced cultural harmony. Therefore, the idea of 'one nation, one culture' does not fit India, where diversity is a foundational element of its identity.
In Balakrishnan's words: 'Agastya is another Drona imposed on Tolkappiyar. But Tolkappiyar is no Ekalavya.' The metaphor stings. Like Drona demanded Ekalavya's thumb as guru-dakshina, robbing him of his skill, the 'Agastya Returns' risks, once again, true authorship from Tolkappiyar. Balakrishnan calls it a feeble attempt to strip Tolkappiyar of his rightful glory.
As I walked out of that lecture, one thing was clear: Agastya may return now and then, but Tamils never noticed his absence, as he holds no meaningful role in their grammar.
Dhileepan Pakutharivu is an advocate practising before the Madras high court. Views are personal.
