My next journey to Srivilliputhur was a solo adventure in the Joey car. I drove myself from Madampatti, weaving through the early morning light all the way to Srivilliputhur and then onward to Rajapalayam. This time, I didn’t have a driver. In a way, that was all right. Although I’ve enjoyed traveling with Siva, who served beautifully as a research assistant, I also understood that his presence is a gift from a business that needs him.
This trip became a quiet, contemplative drive: just me and the open road, giving me time to reflect on the path ahead.
It was Ādi Pūram season, a time rich with monsoon prayers and divine femininity. I left around 5:30 AM on Friday, July 25th, and reached Srivilliputhur by 11:30. I met with Murugaraj Sir briefly, then continued to Rajapalayam, checked into my room, ate, rested, and showered before returning to Srivilliputhur by 5:00 PM. It was Ādi Velli, a sacred Friday in the month of Ādi, when abundance is prayed for in every form. The monsoon rains nourish the fields, and women across Tamil Nadu offer prayers for harmony in family, love in marriage, joy in motherhood, fulfillment in career, and growth in their inner and outer lives.
I carried seven lotus flowers and a Tulsi mālā as an offering to Āṇḍāḷ, and in return, she gave me two Tulsi mālās as prasādam. I’ve been distributing these to my girlfriends across India, whom I prayed for that evening.
That evening, I also visited Aryarsāmi and his wife. I brought them gifts: a panchagaccham and angavastram for him, a saree and blouse for her, a small offering in the spirit of feminine community and mutual honoring. The night ended with a simple soup and quiet rest.
The following day, July 26th, opened slowly. I drove into town and parked infront of the advocate’s office. Since I was there, waiting for a perennially late Murugaraj Sir, I popped in to say hello to the advocate, whom I knew from before. He was happy to see me, and offered me some strong sugarless filter coffee. There, he, his students, and some other visitors of various ages, religions, and castes, gave me short interviews on their insights on Andal and her diplomacy.
Then, Murugaraj took me to meet someone special: Kannan Bhattar and his family. His lineage holds the role of maniyārs, those who keep accounts of Āṇḍāḷ’s temple finances. Though young, he offered a compelling insight into Āṇḍāḷ’s identity as a diplomat. His words, in eloquent Tamil, will be translated and added to my dissertation.
July 27th brought a special gathering: a women’s program organized by Anita Madam in Rajapalayam. It focused on Tiruppāvai and Āṇḍāḷ’s life, in celebration of her birthday on the 28th. Anita Madam insisted I arrive by 4:30, reminding me that for Āṇḍāḷ, time and ritual go hand-in-hand. “Āṇḍāḷ is my sister, my friend, my mother,” she said. “And you are my sister too. Come in that spirit.” This is Andal’s diplomacy: relationship building in the community, bringing more people into her fold by creating friendship and sisterhood through the eras.
The event began with sheeyir: offerings of bangles, fruits, and flowers, placed before Āṇḍāḷ.
Then 300+ women, along with children and a few men, joined together in chanting the Tiruppāvai 1,008 times (3 X 350). The Jeer of Srivilliputhur blessed everyone present. Bhajans were sung, Tiruppavai was chanted like a Vedic mantra, and prasādam was distributed. Each woman received a few sets of bangles, and I selected mine with care to gift to friends who might most benefit from them.
Then came Ādi Pūram, Āṇḍāḷ’s own birthday. I set out from Rajapalayam early, packed and ready by 7:00 AM. The entire town was closed to cars. Srivilliputhur becomes a town of devotion on that day, filled with celebration, movement, color. This is the day Āṇḍāḷ steps out of the sanctum and into the streets — meeting her people, receiving their love, and showering them with hers.
I detoured through the countryside, parked near a village school, and found an auto to take me closer. Murugaraj met me midway on his two-wheeler. Together, we rode into the heart of Srivilliputhur and found a hidden place to leave the vehicle. We walked through narrow lanes and eventually arrived at Kannan Bhattar’s house, where we waited on the terrace. While waiting, one man from Chennai asked me about my work, and then said, “Well, if Krishna is a diplomat, and you are saying Radha is also, then why can’t you take Andal too? She is definitely a diplomat!” I was eager to discuss more and get his take.
Soon, the chariot approached: Āṇḍāḷ, in regal form, came to greet her town.
From the terrace, we watched her pass by. Around 15 or 20 people stood with us, including families from Chennai and Coimbatore, photographers, videographers, and a few locals from Madurai and Srivilliputhur. Some were new visitors; others were returning year after year, drawn to the magnetism of this moment when the Goddess greets the world.
Though I had come alone, I was never alone. The devotion in the air was thick with presence — of women past and present, of friends and strangers, of a goddess who walks among us and leads by love.