A Temple on Truong

by Sabrina Kamaruddin

photos by Lim Fei Xiang

The temple dedicated to goddess Mariamman, located on the none-too-conspicuous Truong Dinh Street, looks like a normal enough Hindu temple at first glance. Place of worship or not, this temple also has to compete for space in the compact city where it stands unassuming yet colourful, complete with the usual array of vendors selling joss sticks and the aroma of incense teasing us from the temple's humble double-doors. We stepped out of our taxis and onto the pavement, reinvigorated by good lunch, good company and good weather, and walked into the naturally lit, dim hall, as if drawn in by the enigma that surrounds the shrine that stands in the middle of the room.

The multicoloured facade of Mariamman Temple

Despite the small space it occupies, the temple offers many a fascinating sight. The main hall, identified as the mandapam, consists of an inner and outer circumference, which we were told to always circle clockwise and never the opposite. As we respectfully took off our shoes and began digesting the architecture and interior of the temple, one could virtually tell possible questions racing through each person's mind;  the Buddhist influence, for one, is stark. A statue of a red and gold lion stands regally on the left as we enter, tanglongslining the ceilings sparsely, while the use of joss sticks was particularly striking. A man solemnly pays his respects to the lion, a prominent mythological creature in Buddhist belief, rubbing his hands on the fierce face of the lion. He then takes his hands to his face and rubs it in, a sight that struck me as both humbling and formidable.

Joss sticks burning which are more commonly associated with Buddhism

Standing in the middle of the temple was Mariamman herself, almost completely shrouded in silky cloths of gold, red and royal blue. The obscurity of her image was mysteriously terrifying, yet elegant and beautiful, as if her beauty was too majestic for the common eye, a sight too grand and mighty. Ganesha and Muruga, the two sons of Mariamman's avatar Paravati, each flanking her sides soften this image of grandeur as she reminds visitors that she is eternally the Mother Goddess. 

Common yet fearsome

Soon enough, however, we were informed by Dr. Yeoh that the manager of the temple, Rama, does not have clearance from government officials to hold a session with visitors: it appears that religious institutions in Vietnam are still under the grip of the State. Historically speaking, after the reunification of North and South Vietnam in 1975, the socialist government of Vietnam shut down all places of worship, including the vibrant Hindu temples. Almost 20 years later, the success of bilateral negotiations between India and Vietnam led to their reopening, the flags of both nations flown at the entrance of some Hindu temples in Vietnam as tribute to this friendship. Clearly and sadly however, these temples have suffered from years of neglect and abuse, with many jewels that adorn walls and statues stolen.

Although the Mariamman Temple was erected by Tamils who arrived at Saigon from the Southern Indian town of Pondicherry a little more than a century ago, Rama states that only about 20 ethnic Hindu Indians still frequent the three Hindu temples around Saigon city, compared to the claimed 50 in official literature. Ten years of peace has not changed the social impact of two decades of religious exile, and the number of ethnic Tamils has not risen since. The State still holds political control over the temples, including Mariamman, while the caretakers of the temples are government appointed, like Rama and his son Rami, who live on temple grounds. Mariamman Temple goes without a priest.

Mr Rama explains the confusion with the Q&A session

Among the obvious and necessarily essential purpose of Dr Yeoh's annual study trips is discovering things that are unusual, strange and foreign to our everyday repertoire. Sometimes it is also about rediscovering things we normally take for granted - situations and conditions which require some contextual juxtaposition in order to reopen our minds, which forget, our hearts, which neglect, and our sight, which selects. From the time we left the airport here in Saigon, my peers and I rode in the taxi expressing impressed oohs and aahs over things that are not only ubiquitous back home in Malaysia, but also completely mundane. Things and cultures that most of us student travelers, comfortable as we are in our white collared, middle class comfort, have lived with or around, for practically all our lives, and which we should by now know by heart, suddenly attack our conscience as having been taken for granted. It truly struck me, as I sat and listened this afternoon, that though it is one of the most practiced religions in Malaysia, how little I truly know of the Hindu belief.

Lochna telling the tragic and beautiful story of Ganesha

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Sabrina Kamaruddin aka Sabariah/Sabsab/Sabby/Sabby /Sabo/Sab/Sabs/S'bina/Sabun/Sbrnk(read:sabrenka)/Bina/Been/Na/Bimbom/Nyet/Nyak/Flabby is trying to survive her Communications major. Rod Steward is her deity.