Volume Iv
Volume Iv
EARLY
MEDIEVAL
INDIA
(c. 750 – 1200
CE)
Preface
Preface
This volume seeks to trace the pulse of India between the eighth and twelfth centuries—a time
often misjudged as an age of decline, yet in truth, a period of deep transformation. Beneath the
shifting crowns and fallen capitals of early medieval India, a far greater story unfolded: the quiet
forging of the India we know today. The temples that rose, the languages that bloomed, the
philosophies that found voice, and the social systems that matured during these five centuries
formed the living bedrock of Indian civilization.
This was an era when faith became form and thought became architecture. When power was
no longer measured by the extent of conquest but by the depth of patronage. When Sanskrit
still reigned but bowed gently to the rising vernaculars. When the village replaced the empire as
the heart of India, and the temple became both its treasury and its school. The world of the
Palas, Pratiharas, Rashtrakutas, and Cholas was not merely political—it was moral, artistic, and
intellectual. It was the age when India learned to endure not through force, but through faith.
In these pages, each chapter follows one thread of that tapestry. The first examines the political
structures and the idea of kingship that sustained the regional balance of power. The second
moves into the soil—into the fields, the temples, and the feudal relations that gave the
economy its permanence. The third explores the evolution of belief, from Advaita to Bhakti,
from the monastic quietude of Nalanda to the passionate hymns of the Tamil saints. The
following chapters open into the arts, literature, and sciences—each revealing a civilization
where reason and devotion walked hand in hand.
The intention of this work is not to recount events, but to interpret continuities—to see how
art, thought, and power converged into a single civilizational rhythm. It attempts to recover the
voices that shaped India’s ethical and aesthetic identity—architects and poets, queens and
saints, artisans and philosophers—who together built not merely temples or texts, but a moral
order that still endures.
Every era leaves behind two legacies: one visible in its monuments, the other invisible in its
mind. The early medieval period left both. Its temples still stand, carved in stone and silence,
but its truer monument lies in the continuity of India’s spirit—the belief that truth may take
many forms, that beauty and duty are one, and that civilization is not a monument to power but
a rhythm of permanence.
This book is dedicated to that rhythm—to the civilization that never fell, only transformed.
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1 — The Political Landscape of Early Medieval India (c. 750–1200 CE)
Chapter 4 — Art and Architecture of the Early Medieval Period (c. 750–1200 CE)
5.1 The Twilight of Classical Sanskrit and the Rise of Vernacular Literatures
5.2 Early Tamil Sangam Continuities and Bhakti Poetry
5.3 Prakrit and Apabhramsa in Jain and Buddhist Traditions
5.4 The Sanskrit Epics and Puranas in Medieval Retelling
5.5 Court Poetry and the Kavya Tradition: Rajashekhara and Bilhana
5.6 Inscriptions, Copper Plates, and Political Eulogies (Prashastis)
5.7 Centers of Learning: Nalanda, Vikramashila, Kanchipuram, and Sringeri
5.8 The Role of Monasteries and Temples in Education
5.9 Transmission of Knowledge to Southeast Asia
5.10 The Transition to Regional Intellectual Cultures
Conclusion
Chapter 9 — Art, Music, and Performing Traditions of the Age (c. 750–1200 CE)
The period from the mid-eighth to the early thirteenth century marks one of the most
significant transitions in the political history of the Indian subcontinent. The collapse of the
Gupta Empire and the disintegration of Harsha’s dominion had left the northern plains
fragmented into a patchwork of kingdoms. Out of this political vacuum rose a constellation of
regional powers—each seeking dominance, each expressing a distinct vision of kingship,
culture, and sovereignty. The early medieval state was no longer imperial in the Mauryan or
Gupta sense. It was a composite structure grounded in regional authority, agrarian expansion,
and local loyalties. Though no single empire united India during these centuries, the
subcontinent shared a coherent civilizational fabric—defined by the idea of the dharmic ruler,
the sanctity of the temple, and the interdependence of land, faith, and power.
After the decline of the Guptas, India’s political landscape fractured into multiple regional
polities. The 7th century saw short-lived attempts at reunification under Harshavardhana, but
his death without an heir (647 CE) left the Ganga plains exposed to internal rivalries. By the 8th
century, three dominant powers—the Palas of Bengal, the Gurjara-Pratiharas of western and
northern India, and the Rashtrakutas of the Deccan—emerged as the principal contenders for
supremacy. This triangular rivalry, known as the Tripartite Struggle, shaped the course of early
medieval politics. While the north witnessed shifting alliances and conflicts among Rajput clans,
the south was energized by the rise of the Cholas, Pallavas, and Pandyas, whose maritime
ambitions extended Indian influence far beyond the subcontinent.
The Tripartite Struggle for control of Kannauj, the strategic city symbolizing imperial legitimacy,
dominated Indian politics for nearly two centuries. The Palas, founded by Gopala in Bengal (c.
750 CE), sought to expand westward. Dharmapala (c. 770–810 CE) and Devapala (c. 810–850
CE) carried the Pala Empire to its zenith, extending from Bengal to Bihar and parts of Uttar
Pradesh. They were patrons of Buddhism, particularly the great monasteries of Nalanda and
Vikramashila, which became international centers of learning.
In the west, the Gurjara-Pratiharas, with their capital at Kannauj under Nagabhata I and later
Mihira Bhoja, represented the resurgence of Hindu power. They checked Arab advances in
western India and maintained control over the central Gangetic region for much of the 9th and
10th centuries. Their political power was reinforced by military strength and temple patronage,
symbolizing the ideological revival of Brahmanical Hinduism.
Meanwhile, the Rashtrakutas of the Deccan, ruling from Manyakheta (in modern Karnataka),
were perhaps the most formidable of the three. Under kings like Dantidurga, Krishna I, and
Govinda III, they established one of the largest empires in Indian history, stretching from the
Narmada to the Kaveri. The Rashtrakutas were patrons of both Shaivism and Jainism, and their
architectural masterpieces—most notably the Kailasanatha Temple at Ellora—stand as
enduring symbols of their artistic vision.
Though none of the three powers succeeded in achieving lasting supremacy, their competition
fostered a remarkable cultural synthesis—linking Bengal, central India, and the Deccan in a
network of political, artistic, and religious exchange.
The Gurjara-Pratihara dynasty represents the first major political unification of northern India
after the Guptas. Founded by Nagabhata I in the 8th century, they established control over
Rajasthan and western Madhya Pradesh, and later extended their influence eastward to
Kannauj. Mihira Bhoja I (c. 836–885 CE) was the greatest of the Pratihara kings; his empire
stretched from Gujarat to Bengal, from the Himalayas to the Narmada. He assumed the title
Adivaraha, associating himself with Vishnu’s boar incarnation, symbolizing royal strength and
cosmic protection.
The Pratihara polity was characterized by a strong military base supported by feudatory chiefs
(samantas). Their control over trade routes connecting the Gangetic plains and western ports
ensured economic stability. The Pratihara capital at Kannauj became a glittering court, drawing
poets, artists, and scholars. Though their decline began in the 10th century due to the rise of
the Chandelas, Paramaras, and Kalachuris, the Pratiharas left an enduring legacy of temple
architecture, fortified cities, and cultural patronage that reflected the vigor of early Hindu
kingship.
1.4 The Palas and the Buddhist Renaissance in Bengal and Bihar
In the eastern plains, the Pala dynasty (c. 750–1200 CE) emerged as the last great imperial
house to champion Buddhism. Founded by Gopala, who was elected by regional chieftains to
end anarchy in Bengal, the Palas established a model of consensual kingship—where legitimacy
was grounded in both military authority and religious virtue. Dharmapala and Devapala
expanded the empire westward, subduing the Pratiharas temporarily and extending control into
Assam, Nepal, and parts of central India.
The Palas were outstanding patrons of Mahayana and Vajrayana Buddhism. They established
great monastic universities—Nalanda, Vikramashila, Somapura, and Odantapuri—which
attracted scholars from Tibet, China, and Southeast Asia. The Pala art style, with its distinctive
black basalt sculptures of Bodhisattvas and Buddhist deities, influenced both Nepalese and
Tibetan art traditions.
By the 10th century, Pala power waned under external pressure from the Senas and internal
feudalization. Yet their intellectual and artistic legacy persisted, shaping the Buddhist world of
Asia for centuries.
The Rashtrakutas (c. 753–973 CE) represented the Deccan’s ascendancy in the Indian political
order. Emerging from the Chalukyan vassalage, Dantidurga overthrew his overlords and
founded an empire that stretched from Gujarat to Tanjore. His successors Krishna I, Govinda III,
and Amoghavarsha I expanded and stabilized the empire.
Amoghavarsha I, who ruled for over six decades, combined political acumen with intellectual
refinement. His court at Manyakheta rivaled the Gupta and Mauryan capitals in splendor. He
authored the Kannada text Kavirajamarga, one of the earliest literary works in a regional Indian
language. The Rashtrakutas patronized both Kannada and Sanskrit, supported Jain scholars like
Jinasena, and constructed the monumental Kailasanatha Temple at Ellora—a single rock-hewn
shrine representing Mount Kailasa, Shiva’s celestial abode.
Their administrative system was organized through feudatories (mandaleshvaras), reflecting the
feudal nature of the age. The Rashtrakuta legacy endures as a fusion of military power, cultural
diversity, and architectural genius.
The Rajputs, whose rise dates from the 7th century, came to dominate northern and western
India by the 10th century. Their origins remain debated—some tracing lineage to ancient
Kshatriyas, others to post-Gupta tribal and foreign elements integrated through the caste
system. Whatever their genesis, the Rajputs embodied a new political culture rooted in martial
valor, kinship solidarity, and the ideal of Kshatriya dharma.
Rajput clans like the Chauhans of Ajmer, Paramaras of Malwa, Chandelas of Bundelkhand, and
Gahadavalas of Kanauj established powerful regional kingdoms. Their polity was marked by
decentralized authority, with clan chiefs holding autonomous territories under a common
lineage ideal. Rajput rulers saw warfare as a sacred duty and death in battle as spiritual glory.
Their architectural achievements—the temples of Khajuraho, forts of Chittor and Gwalior, and
the stepwells and palaces of Rajasthan—reflect both piety and pride.
The Rajput code of honor (rajadharma) emphasized courage, loyalty, and the protection of land
and women. These ideals, later romanticized in medieval literature, defined the ethical texture
of Indian kingship for centuries.
1.7 The Deccan and South India: Chalukyas, Pallavas, and the Rise of the Cholas
In the south, the political scene was equally dynamic. The Chalukyas of Badami had earlier
dominated the Deccan, but by the 8th century, they were succeeded by the Rashtrakutas. Their
southern counterparts, the Pallavas of Kanchipuram, continued to flourish under kings like
Narasimhavarman II (Rajasimha), builders of the great Kailasanatha Temple at Kanchipuram.
By the 9th century, the Cholas rose from obscurity in the Kaveri delta to become the
preeminent power in southern India. Under Vijayalaya Chola, Rajaraja I (985–1014 CE), and
Rajendra I (1014–1044 CE), they forged a centralized, maritime empire stretching from the
Maldives to Bengal and even to Southeast Asia. The Chola administration combined efficient
bureaucracy with temple-based economy. Their naval expeditions extended Indian influence
across the Indian Ocean, making them one of the world’s earliest thalassocratic powers.
1.8 The Kingdoms of Eastern and Central India: Kalachuris, Chandellas, and Paramaras
Between the great empires lay a constellation of smaller but culturally brilliant kingdoms. The
Kalachuris of Tripuri, Chandellas of Khajuraho, and Paramaras of Malwa emerged in central
India during the 9th and 10th centuries. These dynasties, though often vassals of greater
powers, were patrons of architecture, literature, and learning.
The Chandellas, in particular, are renowned for the Khajuraho Temples, whose sculptural
ensembles represent the zenith of Nagara architecture. The Paramaras, under Bhoja of Dhar,
fostered a renaissance of Sanskrit scholarship. Bhoja’s court was famed for its intellectual
brilliance, producing treatises on architecture (Samarangana Sutradhara), poetics (Sringara
Prakasha), and philosophy.
The early medieval state was characterized by decentralization and the rise of landed
intermediaries. The king remained the source of sovereignty, but real power was often exercised
through local chieftains and feudatories. Land grants to temples, Brahmanas, and military elites
(samantas) created a layered structure of authority. Administrative inscriptions reveal a
hierarchy of officials—vishayapatis (district heads), bhogapatis (revenue officers), and gramikas
(village leaders).
The concept of divine kingship was reinforced through elaborate rituals and temple
construction. The king was portrayed as the protector of dharma and the upholder of cosmic
order. Political legitimacy rested not only on conquest but also on patronage of religion,
learning, and art.
1.10 The Decline of the Early Medieval Polities and the Prelude to Islamic Invasions
By the close of the 12th century, the great regional powers that had dominated early medieval
India began to wane. The Cholas faced decline under internal revolts and foreign raids; the
Palas had long faded; the Rajput confederacies were divided by kinship rivalries; and the
Rashtrakutas and Pratiharas had fragmented into successor states.
Into this political vacuum stepped the Turkish and Afghan invaders from Central Asia. The raids
of Mahmud of Ghazni in the early 11th century and the later conquest by Muhammad Ghori in
1192 CE at the Second Battle of Tarain marked the end of the early medieval order. Yet even in
defeat, the civilizational continuity remained unbroken. The temple, the village, and the moral
idea of dharma outlasted empires.
Conclusion
The political history of early medieval India is the history of balance—between fragmentation
and unity, war and worship, kingship and faith. It was an age of regional glory, when every valley
and coast produced its own kingdom, temple, and tradition, yet all shared a common cultural
rhythm. Out of this mosaic would rise the India of the later medieval period—diverse in form,
but one in spirit.
CHAPTER 2 — ECONOMY, LAND, AND SOCIETY
The early medieval period witnessed profound economic transformation across the
subcontinent. The agrarian base expanded dramatically, the structure of land ownership
changed, and temples emerged as major economic institutions. The transition from the urban-
commercial networks of the Gupta age to a predominantly agrarian economy reshaped society
itself. Land, once primarily a royal resource, became a sacred and hereditary possession granted
to Brahmanas, temples, and military chiefs. The economy no longer revolved around imperial
centers and markets but around villages, temples, and local feudal lords who managed
production, taxes, and labor. This was not a period of decline but of restructuring — the birth of
an agrarian civilization that would sustain Indian society for the next millennium.
From the 8th century onwards, large tracts of forest and marshland across Bengal, Orissa,
central India, and the Deccan were brought under cultivation. The process was driven by royal
land grants and religious patronage. Rulers encouraged Brahmanas and settlers to colonize new
lands, leading to the creation of thousands of villages that transformed the ecological and
demographic landscape. Inscriptions describe the clearance of forests (vana-khetta) and the
founding of villages (agraharas and brahmadeyas) as sacred acts of merit. The integration of
tribal and frontier regions into agrarian production marked the extension of civilization’s
frontiers. Regions like the Ganga delta, Assam’s plains, the Chotanagpur plateau, and southern
Karnataka became productive agrarian zones during this era.
The early medieval economy was anchored in the land grant system. Kings, seeking religious
merit and administrative control, gifted land to Brahmanas (brahmadeya) and temples
(devadana or devagrahara). These grants, recorded on copper plates and stone inscriptions,
often included rights over land, water, forests, and local labor. The beneficiaries were exempt
from royal taxes and sometimes given judicial authority. The Chola and Pallava inscriptions
provide detailed records of such grants, showing how entire villages became centers of ritual,
learning, and agrarian management. This system created a landed elite that combined religious
prestige with economic power, reinforcing Brahmanical dominance and the fusion of sacred and
secular authority.
The growth of land grants and the decentralization of power led to a feudal order based on
hierarchy and dependence. The king stood at the top, but his authority was mediated through
layers of feudatories—mahasamantas, rajaputras, mandaleshvaras—who governed provinces
or districts in exchange for military service. These lords collected revenue, maintained troops,
and held judicial authority in their domains. Beneath them were local chiefs and cultivators
bound by customary obligations. The feudal economy depended on the extraction of surplus
from peasants and its redistribution through religious and military patronage. Loyalty to the
king was expressed through ritual submission, tribute, and temple donations, symbolizing the
fusion of political and spiritual authority.
Although agriculture dominated the economy, trade and artisanal production remained vibrant.
The notion that early medieval India was isolated from trade is contradicted by abundant
evidence of merchant guilds, market towns, and caravan routes. Guilds (shrenis and nagarams)
such as the Manigramam, Ayyavole 500, and Nanadesi organized trade across the subcontinent
and with Southeast Asia. These guilds acted as autonomous corporate bodies, issuing loans,
building temples, and even maintaining their own militia. Inscriptions from Tamil Nadu and
Karnataka record their presence from the 9th century onwards, showing extensive networks
connecting inland markets to coastal ports like Nagapattinam, Sopara, and Bharuch.
2.6 Maritime Trade with Southeast Asia and the Arab World
The Indian Ocean was a highway of prosperity during this period. The Pallavas, Cholas, and
Cheras maintained active maritime links with Sri Lanka, Srivijaya, Burma, and the Arabian ports.
Ships carried textiles, spices, precious stones, and ivory in exchange for gold, horses, and luxury
goods. The Chola expeditions to Srivijaya under Rajendra I were not merely military; they
reflected control over maritime routes. Arab traders, settled along the Malabar and Konkan
coasts, played an important role in connecting India with the Abbasid Caliphate. Ports like
Quilon (Kollam) and Calicut became international hubs. Trade brought wealth to temples and
urban centers, fostering cosmopolitanism even in an agrarian age.
While many ancient cities like Pataliputra and Ujjain declined, a new type of urbanism emerged
centered around temples and pilgrimage. Cities such as Kanchipuram, Thanjavur, Madurai,
Somnath, and Varanasi became spiritual and economic hubs. Their growth depended on
religious tourism, temple festivals, and artisanal production of ritual goods. These towns
functioned as marketplaces for local produce, supported by donations from kings, merchants,
and pilgrims. The decline of political capitals and the rise of sacred cities reflected the shifting
focus of civilization—from the royal palace to the temple courtyard.
The village became the nucleus of early medieval society. It was a self-regulating community
with institutions like the sabha (assembly) and ur (village council). Social relations within villages
were structured by caste. The Brahmanas held religious and judicial authority; Kshatriyas
provided protection; Vaishyas engaged in trade and agriculture; and Shudras formed the labor
base. In the south, inscriptions mention occupational castes like weavers (sali), goldsmiths
(tattan), oil-pressers (vellalas), and temple servants (paraiyar). The caste system absorbed new
groups—tribes, artisans, and immigrants—by assigning them hereditary occupations. Despite its
rigidity, this structure ensured social order and continuity, linking economic function with
religious duty.
Women participated actively in both agrarian and temple economies. In the inscriptions of the
Cholas and Pandyas, women are recorded as donors, landholders, and administrators. Queens
and princesses endowed temples with jewelry and land, asserting political piety. In villages,
women engaged in weaving, pottery, and domestic crafts. The devadasi institution, often
misrepresented in later centuries, originally symbolized ritual purity and artistic excellence—
women dedicated to temple service, music, and dance. However, patriarchal control tightened
as inheritance laws restricted women’s property rights. The ideal of womanhood shifted from
autonomy to chastity and devotion, embodied in literary archetypes like Sita, Andal, and
Kannagi.
The early medieval state derived revenue primarily from land. Taxes included kara (land tax),
bhoga (produce), hiraṇya (cash payments), and bali (customary dues). The rate varied according
to fertility and irrigation, generally ranging between one-sixth to one-fourth of produce. Local
officials such as naduvans and adhikaris managed collection, while inscriptions often mention
tax exemptions for religious lands. The Chola bureaucracy maintained detailed cadastral surveys
recorded on copper plates. Fiscal decentralization was a hallmark of the period—each level of
governance retained a share of the revenue, fostering administrative stability in a fragmented
polity.
Conclusion
The economy and society of early medieval India were built upon the land—the sacred,
productive, and social foundation of civilization. The temple stood at the center of this system,
uniting faith and finance, ritual and resource. The village embodied self-sufficiency, the guild
symbolized enterprise, and the king mediated between divine order and material need. Far
from being a stagnant age, this was a period of deep structural innovation—a transformation
that made the Indian countryside the enduring heart of its civilization.
CHAPTER 3 — RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY
The spiritual landscape of early medieval India was as dynamic and diverse as its political and
economic one. It was an age of religious transformation, intellectual synthesis, and
philosophical consolidation. The ancient Vedic faith evolved into the many-sided Hindu
tradition; Buddhism and Jainism, though declining in some regions, found renewal in others;
and new devotional movements emerged that spoke to the hearts of the people rather than the
intellect alone. The emphasis of religion shifted from ritual sacrifice and metaphysical
speculation to personal devotion, direct experience of the divine, and community-centered
worship. In this age of temples and saints, Indian spirituality became both more intimate and
more inclusive, binding regions through shared deities, rituals, and ideas.
By the 8th century, the Brahmanical tradition had undergone a profound reorganization. The
temple replaced the sacrificial altar as the focal point of religious life. Three major cults—
Shaivism, Vaishnavism, and Shaktism—emerged as the pillars of Hindu faith. Shaivism,
centered on the worship of Shiva as the supreme lord, spread widely through the Pashupata
and Kalamukha sects in the north and the Shaiva Siddhanta in the south. The symbol of the
linga became the universal mark of faith. Vaishnavism, devoted to Vishnu as the preserver of
cosmic order, developed powerful theological schools that emphasized grace (bhakti) over
ritual. Shaktism, the worship of the Divine Mother as the ultimate reality, integrated folk and
tribal goddesses into the mainstream, symbolizing the feminine principle of creation. Together,
these currents redefined Hinduism as a living, emotional, and philosophical faith.
3.2 The Bhakti Movement: Alvars, Nayanars, and Early Devotional Poetry
The seeds of the Bhakti movement were sown in the Tamil south between the 6th and 9th
centuries, where poet-saints known as the Alvars (devotees of Vishnu) and Nayanars (devotees
of Shiva) composed hymns in the Tamil language celebrating the divine in personal and
passionate terms. Their verses rejected ritual formalism and social exclusivity, emphasizing love,
surrender, and the accessibility of God to all, irrespective of caste or gender. The Tevaram and
Divya Prabandham, collections of these hymns, became sacred texts in themselves. Their
movement inspired later waves of devotional expression across India — from the saints of
Maharashtra and Gujarat to the mystics of Bengal. In this early medieval world, Bhakti was not
rebellion but renewal — it re-humanized faith and brought metaphysics to the village.
Parallel to the mainstream Brahmanical revival grew the esoteric current of Tantrism. It arose
from a desire to internalize and intensify the experience of the sacred. The Tantras offered
direct, ritual-based means of spiritual transformation, often involving mantras, yantras, and
meditative visualizations. They emphasized the unity of the male and female principles — Shiva
and Shakti — as the cosmic polarity that sustains the universe. Tantrism bridged popular religion
and high metaphysics, embracing the body as an instrument of liberation rather than as an
obstacle. While some sects remained secretive and symbolic, others, such as the Kaula and
Kapalika, became part of mainstream Shaivism and Shaktism. Its influence extended into
Buddhist Vajrayana and even Jain ritualism, shaping the spiritual psychology of medieval India.
3.5 Buddhism under the Palas: Nalanda, Vikramashila, and the Vajrayana Expansion
Jainism maintained a steady, though regionally confined, presence during this period. The
western Deccan and Tamil regions saw the rise of influential Jain communities under the
patronage of the Rashtrakutas, Gangas, and Chalukyas. The colossal statue of Gommateshwara
at Shravanabelagola (c. 981 CE) exemplifies the grandeur of Jain piety and the patronage of
King Chamundaraya. Jain monks like Jinasena and Gunabhadra composed major texts such as
the Mahapurana. The religion’s emphasis on ahimsa (non-violence), austerity, and intellectual
inquiry attracted royal support and merchant patronage. Jain philosophy continued to refine
logic and metaphysics, contributing significantly to India’s scholastic tradition.
The temple became the axis of religious life in early medieval India. More than a place of
worship, it symbolized the universe itself—its spire reaching heaven, its sanctum representing
the cosmic womb. Every temple ritual, from dawn ablutions to evening lamps, mirrored the
eternal rhythm of creation and dissolution. Temples became centers of pilgrimage, connecting
regions and social groups. From Kedarnath in the Himalayas to Rameswaram in the south,
sacred geographies were mapped into networks of faith. Pilgrimage was both a spiritual and
economic enterprise, drawing artisans, merchants, and devotees into shared space and
purpose. The temple, in its art and ritual, embodied the synthesis of India’s spiritual
imagination.
Kings across the subcontinent recognized that religion was both a source of moral authority and
a means of political legitimation. The Cholas claimed divine sanction as rulers by dharma, the
Palas as protectors of Buddhism, and the Rashtrakutas as Parama-Maheshwaras (supreme
devotees of Shiva). Temples were often erected to commemorate conquests, embodying royal
power in stone. Land grants to Brahmanas and temples were not merely pious acts but
instruments of governance. The fusion of temple and state reinforced the sacred nature of
kingship, where the ruler stood as the earthly reflection of the divine.
Religion during this period was deeply regionalized, yet profoundly unified in essence. The gods
acquired local names, legends, and iconography. Vishnu of the Tamil Alvars became
Venkateswara of Tirupati; Shiva of Kanchipuram became Nataraja of Chidambaram. Regional
languages like Tamil, Kannada, and Bengali began to express religious experience with a
freshness that Sanskrit theology could not match. This localization of faith did not fragment
India’s religious fabric; it diversified it. Each region contributed a new voice to the shared
symphony of devotion.
Despite sectarian diversity, the religious spirit of the age was remarkably inclusive. Shaiva and
Vaishnava saints revered each other’s deities; Jain and Buddhist monks shared philosophical
platforms; Tantric symbolism permeated Hindu, Buddhist, and even tribal traditions. The
multiplicity of paths—ritual, devotion, knowledge, and meditation—was accepted as legitimate
routes to the same truth. This pluralism was not tolerance alone—it was a metaphysical
conviction that all forms are expressions of the one formless reality. Through such unity in
diversity, early medieval India achieved spiritual maturity, shaping the foundation of India’s later
religious culture.
Conclusion
The religious and philosophical life of early medieval India was a grand synthesis—where ritual
found meaning in devotion, metaphysics in emotion, and the divine in the human heart. From
Shankara’s non-dualism to the hymns of the Tamil saints, from Buddhist monasteries to Shaiva
temples, the age was alive with faith and thought. It was here that India’s enduring spiritual
character was defined—not as a single doctrine, but as an eternal dialogue between the mind
and the soul, the visible and the invisible.
CHAPTER 4 — ART AND ARCHITECTURE OF THE EARLY MEDIEVAL PERIOD
The early medieval period in India was an age when the imagination of faith found its most
powerful expression in stone, metal, and pigment. Architecture became the medium through
which religion, politics, and aesthetics converged. Temples were not only houses of gods; they
were the visual embodiment of cosmic order, the metaphysical translated into the material.
Sculptors, painters, and architects worked in unison to manifest the sacred geometry of the
universe. The forms evolved regionally—northern Nagara, southern Dravida, and Deccan
Vesara—but the spirit remained one: to represent the divine through perfection of form and
proportion. This was not merely an artistic age; it was an age of vision, where art itself was
worship.
By the 8th century, the classical Gupta architectural legacy had evolved into distinct regional
idioms. The Nagara style of northern India developed a curvilinear shikhara or tower rising in
smooth vertical rhythm, symbolizing the ascent of the spirit. Temples such as those at
Bhubaneshwar, Khajuraho, and Konark exemplify this form. In contrast, the Dravida style of the
south, perfected by the Pallavas and Cholas, used pyramidal towers (vimanas) with multiple
tiers crowned by a dome-like shikhara. The Vesara style, intermediate and eclectic, flourished in
the Deccan under the Chalukyas and Rashtrakutas, combining curvilinear and pyramidal
elements. Each form was a regional translation of a universal sacred geometry—the merging of
earth and heaven through stone.
The northern plains witnessed a flowering of temple construction under the Rajput and regional
dynasties. The Khajuraho temples built by the Chandellas (10th–11th centuries) stand as the
supreme example of Nagara architecture. Their tall spires, intricate carvings, and sensuous
sculptures portray the human and divine as reflections of one another. The erotic imagery, often
misunderstood, symbolized the creative power of the cosmos—the union of Purusha and
Prakriti, spirit and matter. The Sun Temple at Konark (13th century, slightly later in origin)
represents the temple as a cosmic chariot, while the Somnath Temple of Gujarat, repeatedly
destroyed and rebuilt, remains an enduring symbol of faith and resilience.
4.3 The Chalukyan and Rashtrakuta Experiments: Badami, Pattadakal, and Ellora
The Deccan plateau, with its abundance of basalt rock, became the canvas for some of India’s
most daring architectural experiments. The Chalukyas of Badami (6th–8th centuries) pioneered
the Vesara style, blending northern and southern features. Their temples at Aihole, Pattadakal,
and Badami reveal a conscious search for structural harmony and sculptural richness. The
Rashtrakutas carried this tradition to its zenith with the Kailasanatha Temple at Ellora (c. 760
CE). Carved entirely out of a single rock, this temple is not constructed but liberated from stone
—a feat of human devotion and engineering genius. It represents Mount Kailasa, the abode of
Shiva, with elephants, deities, and celestial beings carved in perfect proportion. This monument
alone stands as testimony to the imagination and discipline of the Indian mind.
In southern India, the Pallavas of Kanchipuram (6th–9th centuries) laid the foundation for the
Dravidian style. Their early monuments at Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram), commissioned by
Narasimhavarman I and Rajasimha, mark the transition from rock-cut to structural temples. The
monolithic rathas (temples shaped like chariots) and the open-air relief of the Descent of the
Ganga (Arjuna’s Penance) display a mastery of narrative sculpture. Later Pallava temples, such
as the Kailasanatha Temple at Kanchipuram, established the canonical Dravidian layout—a
square sanctum, circumambulatory passage, pillared halls (mandapas), and a towering vimana.
This style became the prototype for Chola architecture.
4.5 The Cholas and the Apex of Temple Construction: Thanjavur and Gangaikonda Cholapuram
The Cholas (9th–13th centuries) transformed temple architecture into monumental art. Under
Rajaraja I, the Brihadeeswara Temple at Thanjavur (c. 1010 CE) was constructed—a colossal
edifice of granite dedicated to Shiva, with a 60-meter vimana crowned by a single 80-ton
capstone. The temple’s walls are adorned with frescoes, inscriptions, and sculptures depicting
divine and royal life as one continuum. His successor, Rajendra I, built a sister temple at
Gangaikonda Cholapuram, symbolizing imperial conquest and divine kingship. The Chola
temples were not only places of worship but administrative, economic, and cultural institutions,
housing dance halls, schools, and archives. Through them, art became governance, and
devotion became empire.
4.6 Sculpture and Iconography: The Nataraja and the Divine Manifestations
The sculpture of this period reached a philosophical refinement where beauty served truth. The
image of Shiva as Nataraja, the Cosmic Dancer, epitomizes this ideal. With one hand he beats
the drum of creation, with another he grants protection, while one foot crushes ignorance and
the other rises in liberation. The dance symbolizes the rhythm of the universe—birth,
preservation, destruction, and rebirth. Chola bronze casting achieved an unmatched delicacy in
expressing motion and serenity. Similarly, images of Vishnu as Narayana, Lakshmi, and Krishna
attained both narrative warmth and divine grandeur. The icon became not an object of worship
but a presence—a visible rhythm of the invisible.
The early medieval period saw the perfection of metal casting, especially in the Tamil region.
The Chola bronzes of Thanjavur, Kumbakonam, and Nagapattinam represent the pinnacle of
lost-wax casting technique (cire perdue). These bronzes were not static idols but portable icons
used in temple processions, bringing the deity into the streets among the people. Their
aesthetic balance of grace and power, movement and stillness, reflects both artistic mastery and
metaphysical subtlety. The radiance of these bronzes—particularly the Nataraja and the bronze
forms of Devi—captures the living energy of the divine in human form.
Every temple was also a political document, proclaiming the ruler’s legitimacy through divine
association. The garbhagriha (sanctum) symbolized the cosmic center where divine and
temporal power converged. Kings identified themselves with deities—Rajaraja with Shiva,
Dharmapala with Avalokiteshvara—and inscribed their victories on temple walls. The spatial
hierarchy of temples mirrored the social hierarchy of the age: the king’s patronage at the core,
the community radiating outward through courtyards, markets, and ritual processions.
Architecture thus functioned as theology in stone, affirming that rule and dharma were
inseparable.
By the end of the 12th century, India’s artistic map was adorned with thousands of temples,
each unique in form yet united in spirit. The aesthetic ideals of this age—proportion, rhythm,
and inner luminosity—would continue to guide Indian art for centuries. The architecture of
Angkor Wat in Cambodia, Borobudur in Java, and Pagan in Burma all bear the imprint of Indian
design and spiritual philosophy. Even as invasions and dynastic changes altered the political
landscape, the artistic soul of India remained unbroken. The temple stood as the eternal
grammar of Indian civilization—the point where beauty became prayer and stone became soul.
Conclusion
Art and architecture in early medieval India were not isolated crafts but integral expressions of
the civilization’s worldview. They translated metaphysics into matter, faith into form, and
governance into geometry. Whether in the rock-cut splendor of Ellora, the sculptural lyricism of
Khajuraho, or the radiant bronze of Nataraja, the same idea shines through—the divine as
rhythm, order, and light. In this age, India carved its spirit into stone and cast its eternity into
metal, leaving behind not ruins but revelations.
CHAPTER 5 — LITERATURE, LANGUAGE, AND EDUCATION
The early medieval period was a time when words carried the weight of worlds. Literature
became both a vessel of devotion and a mirror of society’s transition. It was in this age that
Sanskrit, the classical language of refinement, began to coexist with a host of regional languages
that would one day define India’s cultural diversity. The court and the temple, the monastery
and the market—all became centers of literary activity. The written word reflected not just the
rhythm of poetry, but the pulse of civilization itself.
5.1 The Twilight of Classical Sanskrit and the Rise of Vernacular Literatures
By the 8th century, Sanskrit, though still the language of learning and kingship, had begun to
share its space with regional tongues. The language of Kalidasa and Bana continued to flourish
in the courts of the Gurjara-Pratiharas, Palas, Rashtrakutas, and Cholas, but beneath the
polished verse of the scholars, the people had begun to sing in their own dialects. In the south,
Tamil literature reached new devotional heights; in the Deccan and north, Apabhramsa and
early Prakrits evolved into proto-Hindi, Marathi, and Bengali forms. This dual linguistic world—
Sanskrit for theology and philosophy, vernaculars for emotion and experience—defined the
literary character of the period.
The Tamil region, heir to the classical Sangam tradition, became the cradle of a new literary and
spiritual renaissance. The hymns of the Alvars and Nayanars, composed between the 6th and
9th centuries, were both poetry and prayer—songs of love addressed to God as lover, friend,
and child. The Tevaram and Divya Prabandham compiled these hymns, forming the foundation
of Tamil Bhakti literature. Poets like Appar, Sundarar, and Andal infused human passion with
divine longing. Andal’s Tiruppavai, with its tender imagery and emotional depth, remains one of
the earliest examples of a woman’s voice in Indian devotional literature. Through their songs,
the poets broke caste barriers and turned devotion into language itself.
Outside the Sanskrit mainstream, Prakrit and Apabhramsa flourished in Jain and Buddhist
circles. The Jains used these languages to reach wider audiences through texts like the
Mahapurana of Jinasena and the Kahavali of Gunadhara. The Apabhramsa poetry of this period,
especially that of Pushpadanta, explored themes of ethics, renunciation, and the cycles of
karma. These works bridged classical and vernacular traditions, preserving the moral and
didactic essence of Jainism while shaping the linguistic evolution of later north Indian
languages.
5.4 The Sanskrit Epics and Puranas in Medieval Retelling
5.5 Court Poetry and the Kavya Tradition: Rajashekhara and Bilhana
The royal courts of the early medieval period were arenas of intellectual brilliance.
Rajashekhara (10th century), a poet and theorist in the Pratihara court, authored
Karpuramanjari and Kavyamimamsa, combining poetic excellence with critical reflection. He
wrote with awareness of the poet’s social role, describing poetry as “the mirror of the world.” In
the Deccan, Bilhana, a Kashmiri poet at the Chalukya court, composed Vikramankadeva Charita,
glorifying his patron King Vikramaditya VI while reflecting on love and separation in his lyrical
Chaurapanchasika. The Mahakavyas of this age were not mere chronicles—they were artful
symphonies of emotion, philosophy, and power, blending devotion with aesthetics.
Writing was not limited to poetry and theology; it was a tool of governance. Inscriptions on
stone and copper plates served as charters of grants, legal documents, and political
declarations. The Prashasti—a eulogy inscribed to glorify rulers—became a distinct literary
form. Composed in ornate Sanskrit, it combined history, mythology, and propaganda. Examples
include the Allahabad Prashasti of Samudragupta (a precursor), the Aihole inscription of
Pulakesin II, and later Chola and Pala grants. These inscriptions reveal the interweaving of royal
ideology and religious devotion—the ruler portrayed as both conqueror and protector of
dharma.
Education in early medieval India revolved around great monastic and temple institutions.
Nalanda and Vikramashila in Bihar were global universities attracting scholars from across Asia,
supported by royal endowments. In the south, Kanchipuram emerged as a center of Vedic and
Shaiva studies, while Sringeri, founded by Shankara, became a nucleus of Advaita philosophy.
These institutions combined spiritual training with logic, grammar, mathematics, and medicine.
Teachers like Dharmapala, Shantarakshita, and Atisha carried Indian thought to Tibet and China.
The monastic model of education emphasized discipline, oral transmission, and debate—
education was not only for livelihood but for liberation.
Temples and monasteries were more than religious sanctuaries—they were universities in
miniature. Temples maintained libraries (sarasvatis), preserved manuscripts, and sponsored
debates. Inscriptions record endowments to scholars for teaching and reciting scriptures. The
curriculum combined philosophy, astronomy, law, music, and poetry. The transmission of
knowledge was oral, sustained by teacher-student intimacy (guru-shishya parampara). The
monastery or temple was a microcosm of the cosmos, and learning was its rhythm. Education in
this period reflected not specialization but synthesis—where the sciences, arts, and metaphysics
were parts of a single truth.
Indian literary and educational influence extended far beyond its borders. The diffusion of
Sanskrit and Pali texts to Sri Lanka, Burma, Cambodia, Java, and Bali created a shared
intellectual sphere across Asia. Kings of Srivijaya and Angkor maintained correspondence with
Indian scholars. The Ramayana and Mahabharata were reinterpreted in local idioms, giving rise
to the Ramayana Kakawin in Java and the Reamker in Cambodia. Indian numerals, grammar,
and religious philosophy were transmitted through maritime and monastic networks, creating
an Asia-wide Sanskrit cosmopolis. Through language, India taught the world not conquest but
culture.
By the end of the 12th century, a quiet revolution had taken root. Sanskrit retained its sacred
prestige, but the vernaculars—Tamil, Kannada, Telugu, Bengali, and Marathi—were beginning to
produce their own literatures. The seeds of later Bhakti and Sufi poetry lay in this linguistic
democratization. The intellectual life of India was no longer confined to the royal court or
monastery; it was now expressed in the songs of saints, the inscriptions of traders, and the
chants of pilgrims. The unity of India’s literary tradition lay not in uniformity of language but in
shared vision—the belief that the spoken word could awaken the eternal within the ordinary.
Conclusion
The literature of early medieval India was the bridge between the ancient and the modern,
between the metaphysical and the emotional. It preserved the grandeur of Sanskrit while
nurturing the intimacy of regional speech. Its poets sang not only of kings and gods but of
longing, love, and liberation. Its schools and temples preserved wisdom even as empires fell. In
this period, India’s soul began to speak in many tongues—but all sang the same melody: the
search for truth through beauty, and for eternity through the word.
CHAPTER 6 — THE SOCIAL AND CULTURAL ORDER
The social and cultural structure of early medieval India was as intricate as the art it produced.
Society had evolved from the relatively fluid patterns of the classical period into a more
stratified yet remarkably cohesive order. This was an era when the rural economy matured,
caste hierarchies solidified, and social identities became localized. Yet, alongside these rigidities,
there flourished a deep sense of ethical continuity and cultural vitality. The social world was not
stagnant—it was rooted. Every layer of life, from the village to the royal court, from the ascetic
to the householder, was connected through a web of duty (dharma), tradition, and artistry.
Culture was not a privilege of the elite; it was the rhythm of everyday life.
The village was the nucleus of early medieval life—a microcosm of order and interdependence.
Each village was self-sufficient in essentials and administered through assemblies like the sabha,
ur, and nadu in the Chola realm. The sabha (composed of Brahmanas) managed land grants,
irrigation, and local justice, while the ur represented the common people. Decisions were
recorded on copper plates and temple walls, showing a remarkably sophisticated system of local
governance. Land was owned collectively, worked individually, and sanctified ritually. The
rhythm of ploughing, sowing, and harvesting structured both time and society. The village was
not merely an economic unit—it was the sacred geometry of civilization.
The position of women varied across social strata but remained deeply symbolic of the
civilization’s moral fabric. In the royal courts, queens like Lokamahadevi, Sembiyan Mahadevi,
and Rani Dantisri played active roles in administration, endowments, and temple patronage. In
the religious sphere, the devadasi tradition embodied art as devotion—women dedicated to
temple service, trained in music and dance, who preserved the classical performing arts. Yet, for
many others, patriarchal norms defined the limits of agency: women’s property rights were
restricted, and widowhood carried stigma. Despite this, literature records strong feminine
voices—Andal in Tamil, Akka Mahadevi in Kannada—who defied orthodoxy and expressed
divine love with luminous individuality. Womanhood was thus both bound and transcendent,
revered as Shakti and constrained by custom.
Marriage in early medieval India was not merely a social contract but a sacrament that
integrated spiritual, economic, and familial dimensions. The Dharmashastra texts prescribed
eight forms of marriage, but in practice, regional customs prevailed. Polygamy was common
among the elite, while monogamy remained idealized. The patriarchal family (kutumba) served
as the primary unit of property and inheritance. Women’s inheritance rights, though limited,
were recognized in some southern regions, particularly among non-Brahmanical communities.
Property was often linked to religious endowments, and family wealth expressed itself through
temple donations and charitable gifts. The family, bound by duty rather than desire, was viewed
as the training ground for virtue.
Cultural life in this period was woven around ritual and festival. Every season brought
celebration—harvest, monsoon, new moon, and full moon—all sanctified by custom. Temples
became the centers of these festivities, where art, music, and devotion merged. The Navaratri,
Pongal, Onam, and Holi festivals trace their roots to this age. Folk traditions—songs, dances,
dramas—thrived alongside classical forms, expressing the aspirations of common people. In
rural regions, deities like Mariamman, Khandoba, and Aiyanar embodied local energies,
worshipped with offerings and music rather than doctrine. The high and the low, the Sanskritic
and the folk, met here in celebration—a society deeply rooted in joy.
6.7 The Integration of Tribal and Rural Communities
The expansion of agriculture brought tribal populations into closer interaction with Brahmanical
civilization. Many tribes were integrated as peasant cultivators or temple guards, their deities
absorbed into Hindu pantheons. The Sauras, Bhils, Gonds, and Santhals contributed rich
folklore, art, and ritual forms to mainstream culture. This process was neither entirely peaceful
nor uniform—it combined adaptation, assimilation, and resistance. Tribal art forms influenced
temple sculpture, while their myths found echoes in Puranic literature. The early medieval
world thus reflected India’s genius for cultural absorption—the power to transform diversity
into harmony.
While the countryside dominated demographically, urban centers remained vital nodes of
culture and refinement. Courts at Kannauj, Manyakheta, Kanchipuram, and Thanjavur became
cosmopolitan hubs where poets, scholars, musicians, and artisans converged. Court etiquette,
architecture, and costume reflected both opulence and order. The aesthetic ideal of niti (ethical
conduct) governed not only politics but social behavior. Literature like Nitivakyamrita and
Panchatantra codified moral wisdom for rulers and courtiers alike. The court was both a school
of taste and a stage of ideology—where the king’s refinement mirrored the order of his realm.
The moral foundation of society rested on the idea of dharma—the universal order that linked
cosmic, social, and personal harmony. The king’s duty was to protect dharma, and the subject’s
duty was to uphold it in daily life. The Dharmashastras, temple inscriptions, and epics all
reinforced the ethical code of generosity, truth, and justice. Charity (dana), compassion (daya),
and gratitude (krta-jna) were praised as virtues higher than conquest. Kings like Bhoja and
Rajaraja I portrayed themselves as both warriors and moral exemplars. The integration of ethics
with politics gave Indian society its enduring moral gravity, ensuring continuity amidst change.
Despite regional differences, a shared aesthetic sense pervaded the civilization. Art, music,
poetry, and ritual were governed by the same principles of proportion, balance, and inner
luminosity. The Natyashastra continued to guide performance and artistic theory, while
devotional poetry infused everyday life with grace. Beauty (saundarya) was seen as a path to
truth (satya). The sense of refinement—whether in architecture, conversation, or dress—was
not luxury but ethics in form. In the fusion of art and morality, early medieval India found its
deepest cultural unity.
Conclusion
The social and cultural order of early medieval India was neither rigid nor chaotic; it was an
intricate design of duty and delight. It balanced hierarchy with community, ritual with joy, and
tradition with creativity. The village sustained its roots; the court refined its ideals; the temple
sanctified both. Women sang, artisans carved, scholars taught, and farmers ploughed—all
within a moral cosmos that saw work as worship. In this harmony of labor and faith, India
created a civilization that did not merely endure—it blossomed.
CHAPTER 7 — SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY, AND KNOWLEDGE SYSTEMS
The early medieval period of Indian history is often remembered for its temples, art, and
devotion — yet beneath its sacred stone and poetic brilliance lay an equally remarkable world
of reason, observation, and innovation. It was an age that saw not the decline but the
transformation of India’s intellectual life. The sciences — astronomy, mathematics, medicine,
metallurgy, architecture, and linguistics — continued to flourish in the monasteries, courts, and
schools of this period. The pursuit of knowledge was not separate from spirituality; it was part
of the same cosmic inquiry. To study the stars, to measure the earth, or to heal the body was to
understand the rhythm of rta — the universal order. Knowledge was sacred, and its practice,
worship.
The early medieval thinkers inherited the vast legacy of Aryabhata, Varahamihira, Charaka,
Sushruta, and Panini. Instead of abandoning it, they elaborated upon it, commenting, refining,
and systematizing ancient doctrines. Texts were copied, preserved, and reinterpreted in
universities such as Nalanda, Vikramashila, and Kanchipuram. The transmission of manuscripts
through monasteries and temple schools ensured that theoretical science remained connected
to applied crafts. The continuity of inquiry was maintained through commentary (bhashya) —
every generation adding clarity to the vision of the last. The Indian mind of this era saw no
boundary between the spiritual and the scientific: truth (satya) was one, whether expressed
through philosophy or geometry.
In mathematics and astronomy, this period achieved heights unmatched elsewhere in the
contemporary world. The Pala and Rashtrakuta periods nurtured some of India’s greatest
mathematicians — Brahmagupta (7th century), Govindasvamin, and later Bhaskara I and
Bhaskara II (12th century). Bhaskara II’s Siddhanta Shiromani (1150 CE) is a masterpiece divided
into four parts: Lilavati (arithmetic), Bijaganita (algebra), Grahaganita (astronomy), and
Goladhyaya (sphere geometry). His works demonstrated an early understanding of differential
concepts, cyclic motion, and trigonometric identities centuries before similar developments in
Europe. The decimal system and the concept of zero — Indian contributions from earlier times
— were now systematically used in complex calculations and astronomical observations.
Indian astronomers, combining geometry with observation, mapped planetary motion with
astonishing precision. Observatories near Ujjain and other centers maintained regular
measurements of celestial bodies. They developed sine and cosine functions (jya and kojya),
predicted eclipses, and refined the solar year. The mathematical exactitude of temple
architecture — such as the layout of Konark or Thanjavur — reflects this deep astronomical
sensibility.
The science of Ayurveda continued to thrive as both theory and practice. The classical Charaka
and Sushruta Samhitas remained foundational, but new compilations such as Ashtanga Hridaya
by Vagbhata (7th century) and Bhaishajya Ratnavali (11th century) synthesized older traditions
with contemporary medical knowledge. Ayurvedic physicians (vaidyas) served in courts,
monasteries, and villages alike. Inscriptions from the Chola and Pala periods mention hospitals
(aushadhasala) attached to temples, where both men and women received treatment. Herbal
pharmacology reached remarkable sophistication; over 700 plant-based drugs were
documented. The understanding of human anatomy, surgery, and hygiene was practical and
empirical. The physician was viewed not merely as healer but as moral guardian — his first duty
was compassion.
The temple, the defining monument of this age, was also an engineering marvel. The precision
of its layout, the balance of its pillars, and the stability of its towers reveal an understanding of
physics and geometry as advanced as its artistry. The texts Shilpa Shastra and Vastu Shastra
codified rules of measurement, proportion, and spatial alignment. Builders used standardized
modules (tala and angula) to ensure harmony between design and structure. The
Brihadeeswara Temple at Thanjavur, with its 80-ton granite dome lifted without cranes, stands
as a triumph of medieval engineering. Hydraulic systems — tanks, stepwells, and canals — were
constructed with equal precision. The Cholas and Pallavas developed intricate irrigation
networks, using sluices and weirs to regulate monsoon flows. Science was not abstract here — it
served faith and survival alike.
India’s metallurgical skill, already ancient, achieved new refinements during this period. The
Delhi Iron Pillar, though earlier, remained rust-free due to advanced phosphorus control — a
technique continued in medieval ironworking. The Cholas and Rashtrakutas mastered bronze
casting through the lost-wax process (madhuchchhista vidhi), producing icons of unmatched
perfection. Southern India became a center of steel production, with high-carbon wootz steel
exported to the Middle East, where it became the legendary Damascus steel. Copper, silver, and
gold metallurgy flourished for coinage, utensils, and ornamentation. Technological innovation
was integrated into the ritual economy — artisans worked not as laborers but as shilpins,
inheritors of divine craft.
The Indian Ocean was not just a trade route — it was a laboratory of navigation. Shipbuilding
centers at Nagapattinam, Kollam, and Bharuch produced vessels capable of long-distance
voyages to Arabia, Africa, and Southeast Asia. The texts Yuktikalpataru and Samudra Shastra
describe hull designs, anchoring techniques, and compass-free navigation using stars and wind
currents. Mariners used the dhruva tara (Pole Star) and mathematical tables to estimate
latitude. The Chola naval expeditions to Srivijaya and Southeast Asia prove both technical and
strategic mastery of seafaring. Maritime guilds maintained knowledge networks across the
Indian Ocean — their maps, measurements, and instruments silently carried India’s science
abroad.
The intellectual rigor of Indian linguistics continued through the study of grammar (vyakarana),
logic (nyaya), and epistemology (pramana-shastra). Commentaries on Panini’s Ashtadhyayi by
scholars like Kaiyata, Bhartrihari, and Vamana explored the philosophy of language — how
sound and meaning connect through consciousness. The Nyaya-Vaisheshika schools refined
logic and inference, prefiguring systems of symbolic reasoning. The Navya-Nyaya (new logic)
tradition, emerging in this period, introduced technical precision in defining categories of
knowledge, causation, and error. In monastic universities, debates on logic and grammar were
forms of intellectual sport, governed by rigorous rules and deep civility. To reason was to
worship truth.
Astronomical science intertwined with cosmology and ritual. The calculation of planetary
periods, lunar phases, and solar transits was essential for temple rituals and agricultural
planning. The Panchanga (Hindu almanac) codified these measurements into a practical
calendar system still in use. Cosmological models described the cyclic universe (kalpa)
expanding and contracting through epochs (yugas). Far from superstition, this cyclical
understanding reflected deep observation of time as rhythm rather than line. The
synchronization of human activity — festivals, coronations, and pilgrimages — with cosmic
patterns was a civilizational achievement blending mathematics with metaphysics.
In early medieval India, science was never divorced from ethics or spirituality. The Shilpin,
Vaidya, Jyotishi, and Pandit were all seekers of satya — truth. Knowledge was not valued for
power but for harmony; not for conquest but for balance. The concept of vidya-dana — the
giving of knowledge — was seen as the highest charity. Scholars often inscribed their humility in
manuscripts, dedicating their work “to the welfare of all beings.” This humanistic vision made
Indian science a moral pursuit — to understand nature was to serve it, not to dominate it.
Conclusion
The scientific and technological achievements of early medieval India formed the unseen
foundation of its civilization. Behind the glittering temples and lyrical hymns lay a disciplined
intelligence — observing, measuring, building, healing, and teaching. The era of Bhaskara and
Vagbhata, of the Chola engineers and temple architects, represents a seamless union of faith
and reason. In this world, science was sacred, art was methodical, and both were instruments of
the same pursuit — the realization of order in a cosmos filled with mystery.
CHAPTER 8 — THE LEGACY AND TRANSITION
The curtain that fell over the early medieval world around 1200 CE did not close upon a
decaying civilization—it veiled a civilization in transformation. What followed was not the death
of an age, but its rebirth in new political, cultural, and spiritual forms. The centuries between
750 and 1200 had sown the seeds of India’s enduring patterns of life: the self-sufficient village,
the temple economy, the regional languages, the synthesis of art and worship, and the ethical
vision of dharma. The arrival of new powers from the northwest, beginning with the Turkish
invasions and culminating in the Delhi Sultanate, did not erase these foundations. They
adapted, absorbed, and re-expressed themselves under new skies. The transition was turbulent
yet creative—a shift from the world of temples to that of cities, from stone to script, from the
sacred regional to the imperial cosmopolitan.
By the 12th century, the great regional empires of the early medieval period—the Palas of
Bengal, the Cholas of Tamilakam, the Rashtrakutas of the Deccan, and the Gurjara-Pratiharas of
the north—had begun to fragment. Local feudatories asserted independence; new lineages
emerged from within older ones. The power vacuum in the Gangetic plains facilitated the
advance of Turkish and Afghan dynasties. Yet even as political control shifted, administrative
institutions, revenue systems, and cultural frameworks of the preceding era persisted. The
mandala system of governance, with its network of feudatories and local lords, continued to
shape the polity under new rulers. What changed was the center of gravity—from temples and
rural strongholds to fortified cities and military garrisons.
The late 12th and early 13th centuries witnessed a remarkable re-urbanization. The cities of
Delhi, Ajmer, Kannauj, and Multan rose as political and commercial hubs, while port towns like
Calicut, Cambay, and Quilon maintained vigorous trade with Arabia and East Africa. The earlier
temple-based economy gave way to market-based networks supported by merchant guilds and
urban financiers. The new cities were multicultural, inhabited by Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, and
the first wave of Muslim settlers—traders, scholars, and artisans. The flow of horses, textiles,
spices, and precious stones linked India more closely to the Islamic world’s trade circuits. The
legacy of early medieval maritime enterprise thus matured into the cosmopolitan economy of
the later medieval era.
The temple, which had stood at the center of the early medieval universe, faced new
challenges. With the decline of royal patronage and the disruptions caused by warfare, many
temple economies suffered. Yet, the temple did not disappear—it adapted. In the south, it
remained the nucleus of community life; in the north, it became a symbol of cultural resilience.
The temple as an idea persisted: even when its structure was broken, its rhythm continued in
poetry, ritual, and memory. The architectural and artistic brilliance of the Chola and Khajuraho
temples would inspire later reconstructions and serve as silent teachers to the new craftsmen of
the Sultanate and Mughal eras.
The 12th century was also the period when the great Bhakti reformers—Ramanuja, Basavanna,
and Nimbarka—began to reinterpret the spiritual inheritance of earlier centuries. Ramanuja’s
Vishishtadvaita philosophy reconciled the transcendence of God with the intimacy of devotion,
opening the door to later Bhakti schools across India. The Lingayat movement of Karnataka,
founded by Basavanna, questioned ritualism and caste exclusivity, advocating direct union with
Shiva through personal ethics and service. These movements carried the spiritual energy of the
early medieval temple into the hearts of common people, ensuring that faith no longer required
mediation through priest or institution. The philosophical legacy of Advaita, Shaiva Siddhanta,
and Tantrism also persisted, influencing both Hindu and Buddhist mysticism.
The destruction of great monastic universities like Nalanda and Vikramashila by Turkic forces in
the 12th century marked a symbolic end to one phase of India’s intellectual life. Yet learning
itself did not die—it decentralized. Knowledge moved from great monasteries to smaller
mathas, temples, and village schools. In the south, Shaiva and Vaishnava monasteries became
centers of grammar, logic, and theology. The oral tradition ensured that texts, commentaries,
and scientific treatises survived through memorization and recitation. Manuscripts were copied
on palm leaves, hidden, and transmitted across generations. Thus, even in decline, India’s
culture of learning displayed resilience—the mind remained unconquered even when the
monastery fell.
8.7 The Arts in Transition: From Stone to Paint, from Monument to Manuscript
With the waning of royal temple patronage, artistic expression shifted from monumental
architecture to smaller, portable forms—metal icons, paintings, illustrated manuscripts, and
textiles. The early Pala-Sena miniature paintings of eastern India became prototypes for later
manuscript art in both Hindu and Buddhist traditions. The Chaurapanchasika illustrations and
the Gita Govinda manuscripts exemplified a new aesthetic intimacy—where devotion became
delicate and personal. The sculptor’s chisel gave way to the painter’s brush; grandeur gave way
to lyricism. This transformation marked the beginning of India’s medieval visual arts, which
would later merge with Persian influences under the Sultanates and Mughals.
Even as northern India experienced political upheaval, the southern and eastern regions
maintained continuity. The Cholas, Pandyas, and Hoysalas in the south, and the Eastern Gangas
in Odisha, preserved the temple-building and agrarian traditions well into the 13th century. The
Hoysaleswara Temple at Halebidu and the Sun Temple at Konark stand as bridges between the
early and later medieval worlds. Regional courts continued to sponsor literature in Tamil,
Kannada, Telugu, and Sanskrit, ensuring the persistence of India’s multilingual culture. The
regionalization of identity—political, linguistic, and artistic—was the legacy of the early
medieval period and its greatest gift to Indian civilization.
The basic social framework—the village, the caste system, the moral code of dharma—survived
the political transitions almost untouched. The Muslim rulers who entered India soon realized
that governance required collaboration with local elites, temple managers, and village
assemblies. Land grants and revenue assessments continued under different names; the
rhythms of rural life remained steady. The idea of dharma, though reinterpreted, continued to
shape ethics and behavior. Even in the new Indo-Islamic milieu, the emphasis on compassion,
charity, and moral restraint reflected deep continuities with earlier Indian values. The civilization
did not resist change; it absorbed it through the language of order.
8.10 Legacy of the Early Medieval World: Foundations of the Indian Civilization
The early medieval period created the enduring foundations of Indian civilization. It gave India
its regional languages and literatures; it established the artistic vocabulary of its architecture
and sculpture; it shaped the agrarian base that sustained later empires; and it defined the
ethical and philosophical frameworks that continue to guide Indian life. The transition after
1200 was not a fall from greatness—it was a metamorphosis. The creative energies that had
once built temples and composed hymns now found expression in Sufi poetry, miniature
painting, and vernacular song. India’s genius was not in uniformity but in renewal—the ability to
remain ancient while becoming new.
Conclusion
The early medieval world did not end; it flowed forward like a subterranean river beneath the
later centuries. Its spirit survived in the Bhakti of the saints, in the rhythm of the panchang, in
the geometry of village tanks, and in the metaphors of love that linked man to God. When
empires rose and fell, when faiths met and mingled, the essence of this era endured: the
harmony of duty and devotion, the union of thought and beauty, and the conviction that truth is
one though expressed in many forms. The age of temples passed, but its soul remained—the
silent architect of India’s eternal civilization.
CHAPTER 9 — ART, MUSIC, AND PERFORMING TRADITIONS OF THE AGE
The early medieval period in India was not only an age of empires and temples—it was an age
of rhythm, sound, and movement. The pulse of civilization beat through the drum, the veena,
the dance of Shiva, and the chant of the devotee. The arts of this era were inseparable from the
sacred; they were not performed for entertainment alone but for revelation. Every gesture,
note, and color had spiritual resonance. In this world, the boundaries between worship,
performance, and aesthetics dissolved—art became a means of communion between the
human and the divine.
The foundation of medieval performing arts lay in Bharata’s Natyashastra, the ancient treatise
that defined drama, dance, and music as sacred sciences (shastra). Its vision endured through
the centuries, inspiring new commentaries and regional adaptations. By the 8th–12th centuries,
texts such as Abhinavabharati by Abhinavagupta (Kashmir) reinterpreted Bharata’s aesthetics
through the philosophy of rasa—the emotional essence that transforms performance into
transcendence. Rasa became not just an artistic category but a metaphysical principle: to
experience beauty was to taste divinity. The artist was no longer a mere performer but a
conduit for the eternal. This aesthetic theology formed the backbone of all medieval Indian art
—from temple sculpture to poetry and dance.
The temple, heart of early medieval life, was also the principal stage for performance. Its
courtyards echoed with music, its halls hosted ritual dramas, and its sculptures embodied frozen
movement. Temples like Chidambaram, Kanchipuram, and Thanjavur were not only
architectural marvels but centers of music, dance, and ritual theatre. The Devadasis or Devar
Adiyars, women dedicated to temple service, performed the daily seva through dance and song.
Their art, deeply rooted in spirituality, was codified into what would later evolve as
Bharatanatyam. The movements reflected the rhythm of mantra; every posture was symbolic—
the raised hand, the tilted head, the gliding step—all gestures of prayer. In this sacred space,
performance was meditation in motion.
The Devadasi system represented one of the most refined cultural institutions of the early
medieval period. Far from the later misinterpretations, these women were custodians of art and
devotion. They were trained in music, poetry, and ritual choreography under temple
supervision. Their repertoire included Alarippu, Padams, and Varnams—structured
compositions blending rhythm (tala), melody (raga), and emotion (bhava). Patronized by kings
and temple institutions, they preserved and transmitted classical forms of dance that embodied
both aesthetic and spiritual discipline. Sculptures from Chidambaram, Belur, and Konark depict
their grace in stone—bodies poised mid-step, conveying motion and stillness in perfect balance.
Through their art, divine energy found human form.
Music during the early medieval period transitioned from the Vedic sama-gana (chanting of
hymns) to the sophisticated classical system of raga (melody) and tala (rhythm). The treatise
Brihaddeshi by Matanga Muni (c. 8th century) first defined the term raga, describing it as a
melodic framework that evokes specific emotions. By the 11th century, Sharngadeva’s Sangita
Ratnakara became the most comprehensive text on Indian music, bridging ancient and modern
traditions. It described the seven svaras (notes), 22 microtones (shrutis), and hundreds of ragas
known to medieval musicians. The text also outlined the principles of rhythm, composition, and
performance. From this synthesis emerged the foundations of both Hindustani and Carnatic
systems of music.
The instrumentation of this period reflected both continuity and innovation. The veena, the
ancient stringed instrument, evolved into several regional forms—rudra veena, saraswati veena,
and vina kumbha. The mridangam, tabla’s predecessor, set the rhythmic base for temple and
court music. The flute (bansuri) remained the symbol of divine melody, associated with
Krishna’s music of love. Other instruments included the conch (shankha), the nagasvaram (long
pipe used in temples), and maddala drums. In southern temples, ensembles performed
Panchamukhavadyam—five instruments played together, creating a sonic embodiment of
cosmic balance. The soundscape of the medieval temple was both disciplined and ecstatic,
blending precision with surrender.
Theatrical art in early medieval India combined narrative, dance, and music. Sanskrit drama,
though declining in the north, flourished in Kerala and Kashmir. Plays such as Bhavabhuti’s
Uttara Rama Charita and Rajasekhara’s Karpuramanjari reflected the sophistication of courtly
drama. In the south, temple theatre evolved into Koothu and Koodiyattam—living traditions
that survive in Kerala even today. Koodiyattam, performed in temple theatres
(Koothambalams), used stylized gestures, facial expressions, and rhythmic recitation to enact
episodes from epics and Puranas. It is the world’s oldest surviving theatre form and a direct
descendant of the Natyashastra. The performers, both men and women, saw drama not as
illusion but as revelation—the sacred story replayed eternally in human gesture.
9.7 The Patronage of Music and Performing Arts by Royal Courts
Royal courts, alongside temples, were crucial patrons of the arts. The Chola, Pallava, and
Hoysala monarchs maintained permanent ensembles of musicians, dancers, and poets. The
Chola inscriptions of Thanjavur list hundreds of musicians (Isai vellalars) and dancers supported
by royal endowments. Kings like Rajaraja I and Kulottunga I themselves composed devotional
hymns and encouraged artistic experimentation. Similarly, the Pala and Sena courts in Bengal
supported Buddhist chants and early Baul traditions, while in the Deccan, the Rashtrakutas
fostered a synthesis of Sanskrit and Kannada lyricism. The performing arts were not mere
adornments of kingship—they were expressions of dharma, meant to sustain cosmic order
through sound and form.
Regional variations gave rise to distinctive schools of music. The Dravida tradition in Tamil Nadu
and Andhra emphasized complex rhythmic cycles and devotional lyrics, forming the foundation
of later Carnatic music. The Gaudiya school of Bengal integrated Buddhist and Shaiva
influences, producing lyrical chants that evolved into Vaishnava kirtans. In Kashmir and north
India, the Dhrupad-like forms began taking shape—structured compositions sung in temples
and courts to evoke solemn devotion. These regional idioms reflected the diversity of India’s
sound culture, where each geography produced its own rhythm but shared a universal grammar
of spirituality.
Beyond courts and temples, music and dance were woven into the daily rhythm of medieval life.
Harvests, marriages, births, and victories were celebrated through folk performances—
Kolattam, Garba, Lavani, Yakshagana, and Terukkuttu—each expressing local myths and social
memory. Women sang Ovi and Vallari songs while grinding grain or drawing water, transforming
labor into poetry. Pilgrimage festivals featured processions where sacred icons were
accompanied by drums and chants, turning streets into living theatres. In this way, art
permeated existence—life itself became performance, and performance became life.
The performing arts of this period were guided by a profound philosophical synthesis. The
Bhakti movement introduced emotion (bhava) as the essence of devotion, while the
Natyashastra tradition upheld rasa as the essence of beauty. The fusion of the two produced a
new spiritual aesthetic—Bhakti-Rasa. Music became the expression of divine love; dance
became the body of prayer. The devotee was both spectator and participant, the stage both
temple and world. In this vision, the purpose of art was liberation (mukti), not applause. Every
performance, however brief, mirrored the eternal dance of creation and dissolution.
Conclusion
The art, music, and performing traditions of early medieval India were not ornamental—they
were civilizational. They carried knowledge, devotion, and emotion in perfect harmony. In the
measured rhythm of a dancer’s foot, in the veena’s trembling string, in the actor’s silent glance,
India expressed her soul. These traditions did not die with time—they transformed, carrying
forward into Bhakti kirtans, Sufi qawwalis, Carnatic kritis, and Hindustani ragas. The temple
became the theatre, and the theatre, the universe. Through sound, movement, and form, early
medieval India discovered a truth eternal: that beauty itself is a form of worship.
CHAPTER 10 — SYNTHESIS AND CIVILIZATIONAL CONTINUITY
Every civilization reaches a moment when its material achievements become less important
than the vision that binds them. The early medieval period of India, from the 8th to the 12th
century, represents precisely such a moment—a great synthesis of thought, faith, art, and
society. What appeared outwardly as a mosaic of kingdoms, castes, and sects was, inwardly, a
single, coherent civilizational rhythm. In its villages, temples, poetry, and philosophy, India
found a unity not of uniformity but of spirit—a living continuity that could absorb difference
without losing identity. This was not an age of isolation or decline, as once imagined; it was an
age of integration, refinement, and quiet endurance. It created the foundations upon which all
later Indian history would stand.
The hallmark of this era was synthesis—religious, cultural, and intellectual. The Vedic tradition
merged with popular devotional movements; the abstract philosophy of Advaita met the
emotional immediacy of Bhakti; the local deities of tribes and villages found place beside
Vishnu, Shiva, and Devi in the temple pantheon. Buddhism and Jainism, though politically
weakened, contributed ethical and aesthetic dimensions to Hindu thought. Even external
influences—Persian, Central Asian, and Southeast Asian—were received through a process of
assimilation, not conflict. The result was a civilization defined not by conquest but by
conversation. India did not seek to dominate the world; it sought to understand it through
harmony.
Politically, the fragmentation of large empires into regional powers did not destroy governance;
it diversified it. The feudal and temple-centered structures of the early medieval kingdoms
evolved seamlessly into the administrative systems of later empires. The mandala model of
sovereignty, with concentric layers of authority, persisted from the Cholas and Rashtrakutas to
the Vijayanagara Empire and even the Mughals. Local self-governing assemblies, like the Chola
sabhas and urs, became the prototypes for later village panchayats. The continuity of political
ideas was secured by the moral authority of dharma, which transcended dynasties and faiths
alike. Rule was legitimate only when aligned with righteousness—a principle that remained the
invisible constitution of India’s governance for centuries.
The agrarian economy created during the early medieval period proved astonishingly durable.
The systems of irrigation, taxation, and land tenure established by the Cholas in the south and
the Palas in the east continued with minimal change well into the Sultanate and Mughal
periods. The concept of land as both sacred and social resource persisted, binding community
and cosmos. Trade routes connecting peninsular India to the Indian Ocean remained active,
now linking with new Islamic maritime networks. The continuity of agrarian and mercantile life
ensured that even political upheavals did not disrupt the civilizational fabric. The field, the river,
and the market outlasted the empire.
Despite the destruction of Nalanda and Vikramashila, India’s intellectual life adapted and
survived. The monastic model gave way to the matha and pathashala, ensuring decentralized
education. The traditions of grammar, logic, mathematics, and medicine continued without
interruption. The scholars of later centuries—from Vidyaranya to Gangesha and Madhava—
drew directly from the scholastic heritage of the early medieval universities. The Sanskritic
framework of learning, though gradually supplemented by Persian under the Sultanate,
remained the intellectual spine of Indian scholarship. Knowledge in India was never the
monopoly of an institution—it was the inheritance of a civilization.
The art of the early medieval period achieved such perfection that it could not be destroyed—it
could only be transformed. The aesthetics of symmetry, balance, and rhythm established in
Chola and Hoysala temples later informed Indo-Islamic architecture. The domes and minarets of
the Delhi Sultanate, though derived from foreign models, followed the same geometry and
proportion that guided the ancient Shilpa Shastra. Artisans continued their hereditary crafts
through guilds, now working for new patrons. Thus, the artistic spirit survived the political
transition—the same hand that once carved a linga now inlaid a lotus in marble. Continuity, not
rupture, defined India’s artistic evolution.
The Bhakti movement, which gained full force in the post-1200 period, was the direct heir of
early medieval religious thought. The emotional devotion of the Alvars and Nayanars found
renewed voice in saints like Kabir, Mirabai, Tulsidas, and Chaitanya. The metaphysics of
Shankara, Ramanuja, and Basavanna evolved into the theology of love and equality that defined
medieval Indian spirituality. Even Sufi mysticism, arriving through Persian channels, resonated
with India’s own idea of union with the divine through love (ishq). Thus, the Bhakti and Sufi
movements were not opposites—they were reflections of the same spiritual temperament: a
longing for God beyond form, ritual, and creed.
The social fabric of early medieval India—with its emphasis on duty (dharma), mutual
obligation, and community—remained largely intact through the centuries of change. The caste
system, though rigid in structure, ensured occupational specialization and continuity of skill. The
village, as both economic and moral unit, survived every invasion and dynasty. Ethical ideals—
truthfulness, generosity, respect for elders, reverence for teachers—continued to define Indian
conduct. The concept of karma and the pursuit of the four aims of life (purusharthas—dharma,
artha, kama, moksha) continued to guide both householders and ascetics. Civilization endured
because its moral compass did not waver.
Perhaps the greatest legacy of this age was the spirit of pluralism. The coexistence of Shaiva,
Vaishnava, Shakta, Jain, and Buddhist communities laid the groundwork for India’s later capacity
to embrace Islam, Christianity, and others without losing coherence. The principle of sarva
dharma sambhava—respect for all faiths—was born not in the modern age but in these
medieval centuries. This capacity for synthesis transformed India from a geography into a
civilization. It made possible the later flowering of Indo-Islamic culture, where Persian gardens
and Sanskrit cosmologies could coexist, where the temple bell and the mosque’s call to prayer
shared the same sky.
In the final reckoning, the early medieval period gave India its civilizational shape—a balance
between the local and the universal, the spiritual and the material, the temporal and the
eternal. Its essence lay not in conquest or empire but in continuity: in the ploughed field, the
recited verse, the carved image, the sung raga, and the shared meal. When the world outside
changed, India endured because it carried within itself a vision larger than history—the belief
that life, however fragmented, is part of a cosmic order. That belief made it possible for the
civilization to renew itself endlessly. From the dust of ruins, it could raise new temples of
thought and faith.
Conclusion
The story of early medieval India is not a chronicle of kings—it is the autobiography of a
civilization that refused to die. It faced invasions, droughts, and fragmentation, yet it emerged
each time more refined, more inclusive, more aware of itself. In its fields and monasteries, in its
temples and poems, it carried the pulse of eternity. What began as faith became art; what
began as ritual became science; what began as tradition became philosophy. The legacy of this
age was not just continuity—it was resilience with grace. It taught India to change without
forgetting, to absorb without losing, to bow without breaking. In that lies the true grandeur of
Indian civilization: not power, but permanence.