The story goes that hundreds of years ago, Goddess Chamundeshwari, the protector of the old Mysore region, chanced upon the acres and acres of mango orchards in our Mavalli, and liked what she saw. The name of our ooru, our village, once laden with rich mango orchards, now close to Bangalore’s central business district, comes from the Kannada translation of the very word ‘mango.’ Mavu. Mavina hanu. The mango fruit.

She was so pleased that she declared Mavalli to be where she would stand in time, taking on a form of the goddess called Maramma. Honoured, the people of the village soon began to build her a temple.

But, she didn’t want a typical temple with a roof. She spoke of her affinity to the sun, from whom she didn’t want sheltering. Thus, a roofless temple was built, where she stands in stone, bathed in sunlight. Her name comes from this, Bisilu Maramma. Sunlight Maramma.

The Bisilu Maramma Temple at Mavalli, Bangalore.

Her worship at Mavalli has continued for eons, but at the very end of the 20th century, it took a new turn. The bubonic plague arrived in Bombay, and in 1898, supposedly carried through the railways, it hit Bangalore, causing deaths in the thousands, including in the Lalbagh area where Mavalli is located.

Soon, devotees flocked to Bisilu Maramma, praying her to heal and save from the devastation that the plague had brought. And like the old adage, sunlight is the best disinfectant, who else would the people plagued with black death turn to than the goddess who dwelt in sunlight?

While Bisilu Maramma’s affinity to sunlight makes her distinct, temples dedicated to Maramma are spread across Karnataka. Maramma is venerated as a fierce and protective village goddess, and her form, folklore, and associated practices vary from village to village. Unlike mainstream Hindu deities, her worship frequently involves animal sacrifice, offered to shield the village from famine and disease. When plague struck Bangalore, a number of Maramma shrines were redefined and came to be worshipped as ‘plague amma’ temples.

Mavalli now bares scarce recognition what it once was, there are no more mango orchards, but just dusty and congested roads. But Bisilu Maramma’s roofless shrine in Mavalli remains, and she still stands guard in stone, open to the ever-changing sky.