Tamil Nadu Argues No Legal Right for Devotees to Light Lamp at Thiruparankundram

Madurai, December 13, 2025 – In a heated courtroom exchange at the Madras High Court (Madurai Bench), the Tamil Nadu government has asserted that devotees of the ancient Murugan temple in Thiruparankundram have no enforceable legal right to demand the lighting of a traditional lamp at a specific stone pillar known as the "deepathoon." The state's position, articulated during hearings on December 12, underscores that the extraordinary powers under Article 226 of the Indian Constitution cannot be invoked to alter long-standing religious customs, potentially setting a precedent for how courts intervene in matters of temple traditions and communal harmony.

The division bench, comprising Justices G Jayachandran and KK Ramakrishnan, is currently adjudicating a batch of appeals challenging a single judge's directive to temple authorities to light the Karthigai Deepam at the contested site. This festival, celebrated annually by Hindus to honor the deity Kartikeya (Murugan), involves the ceremonial lighting of lamps symbolizing the triumph of light over darkness. At Thiruparankundram—a site of shared religious significance with both a Hindu temple at its foothills and a Muslim dargah on the hill—the dispute centers on whether the deepathoon, a stone pillar near the dargah, qualifies as a traditional lighting spot, or if the established practice at the Uchi Pillaiyar temple suffices.

Historical Context and the Spark of Litigation

Thiruparankundram's religious landscape is a testament to India's syncretic heritage, where the hill accommodates both Hindu and Muslim places of worship without historical conflict until recent claims over ritual practices. The temple, one of the six abodes of Lord Murugan, dates back centuries, and the Karthigai Deepam ritual has been performed there for generations. Traditionally, the lamp is lit at the Uchi Pillaiyar temple on the hill's lower peak, a practice affirmed by multiple judicial decisions spanning over a century.

The current controversy traces its roots to a representation by devotee Rama Ravikumar, who sought permission from temple authorities to light the deepam at the stone pillar—allegedly a "deepathoon" (lamp pillar)—near the dargah. When denied, he approached the court via writ petitions, arguing that this act aligns with ancient customs and that the temple management had failed in its statutory duties under the Tamil Nadu Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments (HR&CE) Act, 1959.

A single judge, in orders dated December 1, 4, and 9, not only directed the lighting of the lamp at the deepathoon but also quashed a prohibitory order under Section 144 of the CrPC and summoned high-ranking officials, including the Chief Secretary and ADGP, in a contempt proceeding. These decisions prompted immediate appeals from the state and temple authorities, who contend that the single judge overstepped by creating a new custom rather than enforcing an established one.

As Advocate General (AG) PS Raman argued, "The issue was regarding rights of devotees for lighting lamp at temple for Karthigai deepam... Assuming without admitting that there was such proof [of historical lighting at deepathoon], for past 102 years parties decided to light lamp at a place, can court exercising power under Art 226 say no, in addition to that you've to light it at other place also?" This rhetorical question highlights the core legal tension: the balance between constitutional rights to worship under Articles 25 and 26, and the judiciary's role in preserving immemorial customs without judicial fiat.

The State's Robust Defense: Custom Over Constitutional Intervention

Representing the Tamil Nadu authorities, AG Raman mounted a multifaceted attack on the single judge's orders, emphasizing the absence of any verifiable evidence establishing the deepathoon as a traditional site. He traced the litigation history back to 1920, when a trial court delineated property boundaries between the devasthanam (temple trust) and the dargah, a ruling later reversed on appeal. Subsequent cases in 1994 and 2014 reaffirmed the lighting at Uchi Pillaiyar, with courts explicitly declining to relocate the ritual.

Raman stressed that the writ petitions were not public interest litigations (PILs) but private claims lacking proof of a "broken custom." "In absence of any evidence to show that there's actually something called deepathoon, can judge say that temple did not perform its duty?" he queried, pointing to expert opinions from priests citing Agamic scriptures that prescribe the Uchi Pillaiyar site. He further cautioned against using Article 226—a provision for high courts to issue writs for enforcement of fundamental rights—to "change a custom by creating a new custom."

The AG's submissions also touched on procedural lapses: the petitions bypassed statutory remedies under the HR&CE Act, such as approaching the Joint Commissioner, and failed to implead necessary parties like the dargah management. By invoking Article 226, petitioners sought a mandamus (directive) without exhausting administrative channels, a move Raman deemed an abuse of extraordinary jurisdiction.

Critically, Raman differentiated this from property disputes, noting no challenge to the temple's ownership rights exists. Instead, the case revolves on ritual innovation, which he argued demands civil remedies like suits for declaration, not summary writ proceedings. "If the petitioners wanted to establish right over Deepathoon, they could've taken civil remedy, however court cannot sit under Art 226 and pass declaratory order," he concluded.

Temple Authorities' Concerns: Pandora's Box of Precedents

Echoing the state's stance, Senior Advocate G Masilamani, representing the Executive Officer of Arulmigu Subramaniam Swamy Temple, warned of broader ramifications for temple administration. He described the representation to the temple as "vague," lacking specifics on location and failing to reference any 1994 court direction allegedly supporting the deepathoon claim—a fabrication, he asserted.

Masilamani argued that customs must be proven by positive, long-continued practice, not mere non-practice elsewhere. "From 1862 to 2025 there's no evidence to show that deepathoon was where the Karthigai deepam was lit. Long practice of non-practice of Karthigai deepam on pillar becomes the custom," he stated. Granting the demand, he cautioned, would "open a Pandora's box," inviting endless litigations across Tamil Nadu's 38,000-plus temples managed by HR&CE, complicating administration under the 1959 Act.

He alleged violations of natural justice, as the single judge introduced new facts—like mislocating the deepathoon 15 meters from the dargah—without affording respondents a hearing. Masilamani criticized the extension of general Hindu practices during Karthigai to justify a site-specific right, calling it an "arbitrary exercise of power" that disregards binding precedents from larger benches.

Senior Advocate R Shunmugasundaram, for the HR&CE Department, reinforced that decisions on rituals lie with the devasthanam, not individual devotees or courts. He resisted the bench's probing on whether authorities would consider a fresh representation, replying, "Let the authorities decide. I can't give a word," highlighting the floodgates argument: allowing one could embolden thousands.

Judicial Observations: Toward Communal Resolution?

Justices Jayachandran and Ramakrishnan, while hearing the appeals, injected a note of pragmatism. Justice Jayachandran observed, "This matter is perpetually going on from 1920. If we're able to have a permanent resolution or solution. Since 1920 the communities have coexisted. So one day a year at a particular point in the hill, how far a person's right to claim... is for the community to come together and decide absolutely."

The bench also questioned the exhaustion of remedies, with Justice Jayachandran asking the state if it would afford petitioners an opportunity post-order. The matter stands adjourned to December 15, leaving room for dialogue. Earlier, the single judge's reference to Justice Kanagaraj's 1994 order suggested flexibility for worshippers to propose shifts, provided representations are properly routed—a point the bench may revisit.

Legal Implications: Navigating Custom, Rights, and Judicial Restraint

This case exemplifies the delicate interplay between religious freedom and customary law in India. Article 25 guarantees the right to practice and propagate religion, subject to public order, morality, and health, while Article 26 empowers denominations to manage religious affairs. However, courts have consistently held that "essential religious practices" alone attract constitutional protection, as seen in the Supreme Court's Shirur Mutt (1954) doctrine and subsequent rulings like the Sabarimala case (2018).

Here, the dispute tests whether lighting at the deepathoon is an "essential practice" or a permissible innovation. Precedents like the 1994 PIL and 2014 writ affirm the Uchi Pillaiyar site as customary, invoking Section 142 of the HR&CE Act, which mandates adherence to established usages. The single judge's invocation of a temple management's "duty to restore abandoned traditions" raises questions of evidence: without historical records predating 1920, can courts infer such duties? AG Raman's critique—that Article 226 demands "greatest restraint"—aligns with judicial ethos in cases like State of U.P. v. Bridhi Lal (1993), where writs were denied for altering administrative customs.

For legal practitioners, this underscores the need for robust evidentiary foundations in religious writs. Failure to prove custom via affidavits, historical texts, or expert testimony (e.g., Agamic scholars) risks dismissal, as seen in the state's reliance on priestly opinions. Moreover, the case highlights procedural rigor: direct jumps to high courts bypass HR&CE appellate mechanisms, potentially inviting costs under Order XXXIX Rule 4 CPC analogs in writs.

Broader impacts loom for temple governance. With HR&CE overseeing vast endowments, judicial overreach could politicize rituals, straining communal ties in shared spaces like Thiruparankundram. As Justice Jayachandran hinted, alternative dispute resolution—perhaps via interfaith committees—might foster harmony, echoing the Supreme Court's emphasis on negotiation in religious disputes (e.g., Ayodhya verdict, 2019).

The devotees' claim, if upheld, could empower individual agency in rituals, challenging hierarchical temple control. Conversely, reversal would reinforce status quo, prioritizing stability over aspirational rights. As the bench reconvenes, this saga reminds the bar that while Article 226 is a sword for justice, it is not a tool for rewriting sacred scripts.

In sum, the Thiruparankundram appeals spotlight the judiciary's role as custodian, not creator, of customs—ensuring religious pluralism endures without erosion of time-honored practices. Legal observers await December 15 for clues on whether harmony will prevail over claims.