Ulliyanoor: The Mythical Island of Kerala’s Master Carpenter, Perunthachan
Off the Kochi national highway, just before the bypass to the industrial town of Aluva, a road quietly forks south. It’s easy to miss — lined with the usual clutter of shops, unhurried and unmarked — but follow it long enough and it leads to Ulliyanoor, a small island cradled by the bends of the Periyar River.
The Periyar has many such islands, but Ulliyanoor is not like the others. This one carries a name, a legend, and the ghost of a man whose genius has never quite been explained.
The Legend of Perunthachan, Kerala’s Greatest Craftsman
Perunthachan, as the legend goes, was a master carpenter and sculptor whose ingenuity and skill were unparalleled. His mastery earned him the sobriquet “Perunthachan” — “Peru” meaning great, “thatchan” meaning craftsman. Though references to the timeline of his life are scarce, Kerala’s folklore brims with anecdotes attributed to him. Some of his creations still stand today, inviting visitors to witness his genius firsthand.
The most significant of these is the Ulliyanoor Mahadeva Temple, the jewel of this small islet, built on his own home turf.
The Ulliyanoor Mahadeva Temple: Architecture Like No Other
On this sliver of land, beside a winding village road, lies a pond. It holds a story of its own — but more on that later. Adjacent to it, the temple gates beckon. Past the welcome arch stands a typical Kerala temple: a towering flagstaff and a square structure with slanting tiled roofs enclosing the main shrine within.
Perunthachan’s masterpiece rises at the center — circular, with a magnificent conical roof. What sets it apart is revealed only upon closer inspection. The temple is held together entirely by wooden craftsmanship of a mesmerizing order. A circular beam runs around the entire circumference, formed by arc-shaped pieces joined by wedges and wooden pins. From this base, 68 vertical beams rise, curving toward the apex, each wedged into a wooden, pot-like structure at the top with astonishing precision.
Access to the main sanctum is restricted, but the same technique is visible on the rectangular structure facing it — the rising beams and wedge-held construction clearly discernible to a careful eye.
Folklore holds that Perunthachan agreed to build this temple at the request of his fellow villagers, pouring all his wizardry into it. Every work of his, it is said, bore a mark of ingenuity — and this temple is no exception
The Door That Defies Logic
The most perplexing piece of architectural magic lies at the sanctum entrance. To enter, the priest must stoop through a small, low door. But here’s where Perunthachan’s mischief reveals itself: if the priest walks upright inside, his head hits the roof. And when returning, if he stoops to exit, his head hits the frame again. The only way out is to walk ramrod straight — entering stooped, exiting upright, through the very same door.
The angles of the beams and steps are seemingly calibrated to force this, though no one has been able to precisely replicate the effect. It is an incomprehensible manipulation of geometry, and an unmistakable signature of Perunthachan’s craft.
The Pond That Is Every Shape at Once
The temple grounds offer a genuinely soothing scene — gleaming paddy fields on one side, trees on the others, and a carpet of green underfoot.
As you leave the temple, the pond stops you. Not because it’s beautiful — it isn’t, not anymore. The walls are thick with moss, the soil crumbling at the edges, thin green creepers slowly claiming what’s left. Time has not been kind here.
But the story it holds is worth pausing for.
When Perunthachan was asked to build a pond for the temple, the villagers couldn’t agree on its shape. Some wanted a square. Others insisted on a circle. The more mischievous among them demanded a triangle. Perunthachan, never one to be cornered, simply dug a pond that appeared to be all three — the shape shifting depending on where you stood.
The illusion is harder to read now. The deterioration has softened the geometry, blurred the trick. But look carefully and the evidence is still there: two walls run straight, one curves, another tapers. A pond that was, somehow, every shape at once — and the only man who truly understood it has been gone for centuries.
The Tragic End of a Master
The legend of Perunthachan endures, kept alive by stories passed through generations — but it ends on a dark note.
His son, it is said, eventually surpassed him in skill. As the master aged and his son’s reputation grew, Perunthachan fell prey to jealousy. While working on a temple roof together, he dropped a chisel onto his son below. It struck the young man’s neck, and the wound proved fatal. Whether deliberate or accidental, the accounts differ. What they agree on is this: the act shattered the greatest craftsman of his time, and he died a broken man.
Perunthachan’s legend lives on — in the folklore, in the temples, and in the curious angles of a doorway that no one has yet been able to explain
While the more famous temples of South India in Srirangam and Thanjavur, built by the Cholas were more about magnificence and stunning rock sculpting, the Ulliyanoor temple is a the wizardry of a single master carpenter.
As I leave the temple behind, I wonder if the pond could be restored to reveal the illusion. The temple is in great shape, but the pond could do with some restoring. We need to protect our history for generations to come.
How to Reach
- Nearest Airport: Cochin International Airport (approx. 15 km)
- Nearest Railway Station: Aluva (approx. 8 km)
- Local Transport: Easily accessible by auto-rickshaw, bus, or taxi from Aluva and Kochi.
Nearby Attractions
- Aluva Mahadeva Temple.
- Kochi Backwaters
- Cherai Beach
Sudhir Bhattathiripad
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