Vinita Dubey Pande: Nataraja at Chidambaram

Chidambaram — The Dance of Consciousness

Our journey to the Nataraja Temple in Chidambaram began early in the morning from our hotel near Kumbakonam. My friends Sushmita and Amarendra accompanied me. Chidambaram, the temple of the Ether element (Ākāsha tattva), was calling—and I will speak more about its cosmic symbolism a little later.

On the way, we stopped briefly at the Vaitheeswaran Koil temple for darshan, and then continued our drive. It happened to be Pradosham, the thirteenth lunar day (Trayodashi), especially sacred to Lord Shiva, so we knew the temple would be crowded. I had a priest’s contact through Babuswami ji, who advised us to arrive between 9:30 and 11:30 a.m. during the Archana Puja.

By now, I had realized that engaging local temple priests for “special access” rarely helps; it often leads to inflated offerings without truly improving the experience. So, upon arrival, I decided not to call the priest and instead entered with the regular devotees.

The Nataraja Temple is vast—an ancient architectural marvel. We walked through enormous gateways, long corridors, and pillared halls. Eventually, the golden Vimana (temple roof) of the Chit Sabha came into view—dazzling in the sunlight. It is said to be covered with 21,600 gold tiles, each inscribed with the mantra “Sivayanama”, and fastened with 72,000 golden nails. This sacred geometry, commissioned by the Chola king Parantaka I around 950 CE, is not merely decorative—it represents the human body itself: the tiles symbolize the number of breaths one takes in a day, and the nails signify the subtle Nadis (energy channels) within.

As we entered the inner halls, the sound grew louder—chanting priests, ringing bells, and the collective murmur of hundreds of devotees merging into a single vibration. The energy was overwhelming. Within moments, I felt a tremendous current rising through my body—each cell seemed to hum with divine electricity. The force was so strong that I had to consciously balance my energy to avoid feeling dizzy. I have experienced temple vibrations before, but this was beyond anything I had ever felt—a flood of divine energy that seemed to dissolve all boundaries.

Outside, it was near pandemonium—people pushing and pressing to get closer to the deity. I gently moved toward the back, content to simply absorb the energy. From there, I caught a glimpse of the Nataraja idol, standing on a raised platform adorned with countless garlands and flowers. The decorations almost hid the form, but even through that, the radiance was palpable. Sushmita beckoned me closer, and I tried, but the crush of the crowd was too intense. I returned to the back, where the air felt calmer.

After a while, I wished to sit and meditate. Moving further back, I noticed a smaller sanctum on the left. To my astonishment, it housed a reclining form of Lord Narayana! For a moment, I was stunned—Shiva as Nataraja on my right, and Narayana on my left—two cosmic principles in one sacred space. I called Sushmita and Amarendra over showed them the Nataraj and suggested we meditate there, in the hall. A few others were seated quietly too, while the rest of the crowd flowed endlessly through towards Nataraj.

I found a stone pillar to rest my back against and sat down. My body still felt charged and slightly unsteady from the intensity of the energy. As soon as I closed my eyes, my body began to rotate from right to left, the movement expanding into wide circles. I opened my eyes, wondering if anyone noticed, then closed them again—and it began rotating once more. This time, I surrendered to it. I didn’t need to “do” anything; meditation simply happened. The energy rose effortlessly, filling me with an indescribable state of bliss and stillness.

Words fall short when describing such moments. It felt as though I had entered another dimension—a subtle realm vibrating at the frequency of Shiva Himself. In the physical realm there was chaos, and in the same place the subtle realm was profound. I have felt powerful energies at other temples, especially ancient ones, but this was like being inside a nuclear reactor of consciousness. Even the Shiva Nataraj here seems to reflect that cosmic force—an axis of pure, radiant energy.

After our meditation, we circumambulated (pradakshina) the inner courtyard surrounding the sanctum, which is meant to attune ourselves to the energy. I asked one of the priests where the temple’s other two forms of Shiva were kept. He explained that they were kept inside and each one is brought out on different days. There are three representations kept in Chidambaram:

Nataraja, the dancing form of Shiva—symbolizing the descent of Consciousness into matter as vibrations, that is the cosmic dance of creation, preservation, and dissolution.
The Shiva Linga, representing the subtle, formless column of divine light.
The Chidambaram Rahasya—a space behind a curtain (symbolizing Maya), where there is nothing but empty space, representing the formless, all-pervading Consciousness of Shiva.

On certain days, the curtain is drawn back in a sacred ceremony, revealing the void, the ultimate truth of Ether (Ākāsha)—the subtle essence from which everything arises. That day, the Nataraja form was being worshipped.

I was in awe of the temple’s multi-layered symbolism—its vast halls, exquisite carvings, and architectural perfection that has endured for millennia. Every stone seemed alive with sacred geometry and divine purpose.

The Chidambaram Temple is truly unique. Not only does it unite Shiva and Narayana under one roof, but it also presents Shiva in three aspects—physical, subtle, and formless—each revealed on different days. This temple is a living mandala of cosmic truth.

It is a place every seeker should experience at least once in their lifetime. I hope to return—to sit again in that hall of vibrating stillness, and to feel once more the silent dance of Consciousness within the Ether.

(images from the internet)