Guardians of Sacred Transitions

Published on: 14/04/2025

Photo title: Yali

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Photo Credits: Gowri Subramanya

If you’ve ever wandered through a southern Indian temple, you may have noticed the fascinating mythical creatures carved onto pillars, walls, and entryways. To most, these sculptures seem like elaborate decor—a testament to artistic skill. But in reality, they hold much more than aesthetic value. These creatures, particularly the Yalis, serve a spiritual function, guiding worshipers through sacred spaces.

Every aspect of a temple is imbued with meaning, from the towering gopurams (gateways) that mark the entrance to the garbhagriha (sanctum) where the deity resides. Among these elements, the pillars of a temple’s mandapa—the open hall where gatherings, rituals, and dance take place—play a key role in marking the boundary between the outer and inner worlds. Yalis, hybrid creatures that embody the strengths of multiple animals, are sculpted on these pillars, each attribute chosen for a purpose beyond the visible.

The Yali is often depicted as a blend of lion and elephant, sometimes with the elegance of a horse and the coiled tail of a serpent. On the surface, the Yali functions as a guardian, combining the might of each animal to protect the temple’s sacred ground. But these creatures are more than just mythical guards; they are companions on a journey, inviting those who pass to step into a liminal space—the threshold between the ordinary and the divine. As we cross into the mandapa, it’s not just a physical transition but a spiritual one, a pause before entering the inner sanctum. Here, the Yalis silently guard, embodying the qualities necessary for spiritual transformation: the lion’s courage, the elephant’s wisdom, the horse’s agility, and the serpent’s protective energy. They stand as reminders that entering this space requires more than reverence—it calls for an openness to transformation.

Photo title: Yalis

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Photo Credits: Gowri Subramanya

One of the rare forms of Yali that drew me in at the Virupaksha Temple complex at Hampi is the Shvana Yali, a unique creature that combines the body of a lion with the head of a dog. This Shvana Yali stands at the entryway to an open mandapa, an architectural choice as profound as it is purposeful. In Hindu spiritual tradition, dogs hold a special place as guides of the soul, loyal companions who protect and escort us from one world to the next. This is beautifully illustrated in the Mahabharata when Yudhishthira embarks on his final journey to swarga. A faithful dog follows him through the mountains to the very gates of heaven, and Yudhishthira, embodying loyalty himself, insists the dog be allowed to enter with him. Only then is the dog revealed to be the god of dharma in disguise, a test of Yudhishthira’s loyalty and virtue.

In a similar way, stories from Himalayan treks today speak of stray dogs who mysteriously appear to accompany trekkers on rugged paths. These dogs, often without any prompting, follow hikers for the entire journey, then disappear quietly when the journey ends. They seem like natural guides, selflessly escorting strangers through unfamiliar landscapes. The Shvana Yali, in its dual nature as both lion and dog, calls to mind this idea of a faithful companion through the unknown.

Standing at the threshold of the mandapa, the Shvana Yali seems to invite reflection: what kind of transformation might this space offer? What internal journey does it prompt?
This idea prompts many questions about our ancestors: What kind of rituals once took place within these spaces? Who gathered, who guided, and who listened? In centuries past, these mandapas may have been filled with chants, storytelling, meditations, devotional music and dance—a collective memory now faded. While the rituals have disappeared, the stone guardians remain, preserving the spirit of those forgotten gatherings and silently guiding those who enter.

These questions reach across time, asking us now to consider the purpose of these mythical guardians. The Shvana Yali, with its profound combination of canine and leonine qualities, stands not only to protect but to invite inner transformation. Its message is symbolic, speaking a language beyond literal meaning, reminding us that the spiritual journey is one of both courage and companionship, of moving toward the unknown with faith and guidance.

As we walk through these spaces today, we might not fully understand the language of these guardians, but perhaps that’s part of their magic. They speak in symbols, resonating on levels beyond conscious thought, inviting each of us to pause, listen, and wonder: What journey does this space ask me to undertake? What unknowns am I ready to face?

Gowri Subramanya

Gowri Subramanya is an editor and learning consultant based in Bengaluru, India. Writing and photography are her chosen tools of creative expression and the wilderness is her muse. A keen observer of the interaction between nature and culture, she loves to explore the history as well as the natural history of new places during her travels. With a soft spot for bird songs and a weakness for flowers, she indulges in a healthy dose of tree gazing every morning.

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Hampi

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Kalahari

Guardians of Sacred Transitions

Gowri Subramanya