A new template

The EME Temple in Vadodara, formally called the Dakshinamurti Temple, does not look like a temple at all. It's most prominent features are a large dome, and behind it a narrow spire, representative of Islam (the mosque) and Christianity (church), respectively. And it is made of aluminium — surely never used before to build a temple? – extracted from the fuselages of World War II fighter planes.

This is, after all, a temple that was built back in 1965 by the Electrical and Mechanical Engineering (EME) unit of the Indian Army, which runs a training institute in the vicinity. In fact, the design and construction of this
architectural marvel is credited to the founder commandant of this institute, Brigadier AF Eugene.

What's innovative is the way the temple tries to symbolically invoke the five major religions practised in India. Besides the two mentioned above, the elliptical entrance arches are taken from Jain temples; the finial on top
resembles the kind found on Buddhist stupa; finally the kalash, or pot, on top, is symbolic of Hindusim.

What's interesting is how these elements come together to approximate the traditional Hindu temple, both in design and use – so the dome is the prayer hall, or the mandapa, while the tower – the shikhara in the traditional template – also houses the garbhagriha, or sanctum sanctorum, with the idol of Lord Shiva in it. In a sense, the EME Temple is both avant-garde and traditional.

Strangely, it's an experiment that has been seldom repeated in recent times. There are scores of new temples – some of them very large — coming up all over the country, and while they use the very latest in building technologies, in design, they hark back to the traditions prescribed in the ancient texts. There's little attempt to try more contemporary aesthetic.

An intriguing design

This will be one off-beat Hanuman temple when it's completed. The interior will be surrounded in a mound of earth with light and air coming in through perforations in vertical panels that rise from the ceiling. This ensures that the temple is cooler on the inside and naturally lit through the day, making it an energy efficient building. But what's distinctive is the way the Mumbai-based architect, Sanjay Puri, has reinterpreted the traditional temple elevation – the high shikhar, followed by the mandapa of lesser height, and so on – as a series of irregular, rectangles. "Temples have a certain symbolism by virtue of their defining shapes and the three main spaces that constitute them," says Puri. "It's important to take cognizance of this whilst designing."

Temple for the people, by the people

The ancient texts lay down a very elaborate plan for Hindu temples – a series of tall sloping towers, a sanctum sanctorum, an elaborate arch, and so on. But pared down to the basics – what is its essential shape? "The shikhara and its silhouette" – so determined Sameep Padora, founding principal of the Mumbai-based firm, sP+a, in dialogue with villagers in the area who wanted him to design a Shiv temple for them. Made of locally available basalt stone, and constructed by the villagers themselves, the temple is very minimalist, with just one distinctive feature — a wooden box, functioning both as entrance and antechamber, whose straight lines are a counterpoint to the tapering shape of the temple behind. And while it doesn't have an enclosed mandapa, the surrounding trees demarcate the space for social interaction. Today, says Padora, the temple is used by residents of a number of nearby villagers, as a social space and a hub during festivals.