Somnath at 1000: From Ruin (1026) to Remembrance (2026)

 

A thousand years before, on 8 January 1026 CE, the temple of Somnath, home to the famous Jyotirlinga, in Saurashtra, was attacked, plundered, and desecrated by Mahmud of Ghazni. Exactly one thousand years later, Somnath once again occupied the national gaze —this time as the site of a Shaurya Yatra (11 January 2026). The ‘Shaurya Yatra’ - a ceremonial procession organised in memory and honour of innumerable warriors who laid down their lives defending the Somnath Temple - was led by the Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi. This procession was a culmination of a three-day event, organised in a festive-like spirit, in the presence of a massive crowd. The procession was marked by the symbolic presence of 108 Kathia wadi and Marwari horses - belonging to the Gujrat mountain Unit, and the event was broadcast live across the country. The event reminded the citizens that it carries with it millennia of civilisational ethos to preserve the religious and cultural traditions and ethos of the nation.

Few places in India so starkly embody the long arc of history as Somnath—an arc that began a thousand years before and runs across centuries of repeated loot and destruction to regeneration, from trauma to resilience.

The history of Somnath begins with that infamous day, 8 January 1026 CE, when the loot, destruction, and desecration of the revered Shivalinga unfolded at the Somnath Temple. This destruction was led by the invading marauder from Afghanistan, Mahmud of Ghazni, who undertook around fifteen major expeditions into the Indian subcontinent, many aimed at prosperous cities and religious centres. This history now completes its millennium with the grand Shaurya Yatra, which must serve the nation as an act of collective remembrance—honouring the trials endured by generations of Indians who withstood repeated onslaughts, only to rise again—and as a celebration of civilisational continuity, affirming that what was once sought to be erased has instead endured, renewed and remained resolute.

A telling anecdote from India’s diplomatic history further illuminates the asymmetry of historical memory surrounding Somnath. When Atal Bihari Vajpayee served as India’s External Affairs Minister and visited Afghanistan in 1978, he requested that his counterpart take him to Ghazni—the seat of power from which Mahmud of Ghazni launched repeated raids into India, including the devastating attack on Somnath. The Afghanistan minister reportedly responded with surprise, noting that Ghazni no longer occupied any special place in Afghanistan’s historical consciousness, nor did Mahmud figure prominently in popular memory there. Vajpayee later reflected on this exchange to observe that while conquerors may fade from the lands they once ruled, the wounds they inflict often remain etched in the memory of those who endured them—certain scars, he remarked, endure for a lifetime. The episode captures, with quiet poignancy, how Somnath lives not as a footnote of conquest elsewhere, but as a lasting chapter in India’s civilisational experience.

Some of my friends may find this post of mine out of place, since my posts are normally confined to science and history of science, the subject in which I spent my 35 years of service with NCSM - working as a curator and science communicator with different the science museums and centres. However, for the past four years, following my retirement from science museums, I have been working as a Senior Advisor at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (CSMVS), formerly the Prince of Wales Museum, which engages deeply with art, culture, history, sociology, and religious traditions of India’s extraordinarily rich civilisational past. This transition—from a science museum ecosystem to an art and cultural institution—has been intellectually enriching and has motivated me in attempting this post.

In January 1026, Mahmud of Ghazni led a brutal expedition from Afghanistan, marching through harsh deserts to reach Prabhas Patan in Gujarat. It took three days for the ruthless Ghazni army armed to their teeth to overcome the resistance raised by the common men who resisted the conquest even as their king had retreated to a safer place. Ghazni’s forces attacked the temple, shattering the sacred jyotirlinga (Shiva lingam), slaughtering thousands of defenders, and looting treasures —gold, jewels, and even the temple's famed sandalwood gates, which were carted back to Ghazni. Contemporary sources describe the Shivalinga being broken into pieces, with fragments embedded in mosque steps as a symbol of Islamic conquest. Yet, this was no isolated tragedy; Somnath, one of Hinduism's holiest Jyotirlingas, became a target for invaders seeking to assert dominance over India's spiritual heart.

The temple's brief history of destruction continued across centuries:

• In 725 CE, Arab governor Junayd ibn Abd ar-Rahman al-Murri first ravaged it during early Islamic expansions into Sindh and Gujarat.
• In 1299 CE, Alauddin Khilji's general Ulugh Khan demolished it again, reportedly taking the lingam to Delhi to be trampled underfoot—though Rajput legends in texts like Kanhadade Prabandha speak of heroic recoveries by warriors like Kanhadadeva.
• 1395 CE saw Muzaffar Shah I (Zafar Khan) destroy it and establish a mosque on site.
• In 1451 CE, Sultan Mahmud Begada desecrated it during his Gujarat campaigns.
• The Mughal emperor Aurangzeb ordered its obliteration in 1665 and again in 1706, converting the ruins into a mosque and forbidding repairs "beyond possibility."

What lends particular historical weight to the episode is its documentation by Al-Biruni, the 11th-century scholar, who was associated with the Ghaznavid court who chronicled the conquest stories of Ghazni. In his description of the site of Somnath, Biruni writes “The location of the Somnath temple was a little less than three miles west of the mouth of the river Sarasvati. The temple stood on the coast of the Indian Ocean so that at the time of high tide the idol was bathed by the sea’s water.”

Al-Biruni confirms the destruction of the temple and attributes Mahmud’s raids to both plunder and what was presented as religious iconoclasm. Significantly, he also reflects on the broader consequences of these campaigns, observing that they ruined the prosperity of India, deepened hostility toward foreigners, and caused scholars of Indian sciences to flee regions “conquered by us.” This acknowledgement of cultural and intellectual loss sets Al-Biruni apart from more triumphalist chroniclers.

Later Persian narratives embellished the story further—claiming that fragments of the shattered Shivalinga were carried to Ghazni and placed at a mosque entrance as a symbol of victory. While some modern historians debate the literal accuracy of such details, there is little doubt that Somnath became a powerful symbol in medieval imagination. As historian Jamal Malik has argued, the destruction of Somnath played a crucial role in constructing Mahmud as an “icon of Islam” in Persianate histories.

Somnath did not vanish after 1026. It was attacked and rebuilt multiple times over the centuries. Each reconstruction was more than architectural; it was cultural defiance. Reflecting on this recurring cycle, Swami Vivekananda observed in 1897: “Somnath of Gujarat and temples like it will teach you volumes of wisdom… continually destroyed and continually springing up out of the ruins, rejuvenated.”

Each time, the temple rose from the ashes through the devotion of Hindu rulers and communities. After Ghazni's raid, Chaulukya king Bhimdev I began repairs, with full reconstruction under Kumarapala in 1169 CE using exquisite stone and jewels. Post-Khilji, Chudasama king Mahipala I rebuilt the temple in 1308. Legends abound of the idol's salvation: priests hiding fragments in secret underground shrines (as in the 1783 era under Ahilyabai Holkar), or even casting it into the sea to evade desecration. In one account from the 1299 invasion, the lingam was spirited away and reinstated, symbolising faith's defiance. By 1783, Maratha queen Ahilyabai Holkar constructed a new shrine nearby to preserve worship, ensuring the sacred flame never extinguished.

This cycle of destruction and rebirth culminated in independent India's era. In 1947, just months after Partition, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel visited the site and vowed reconstruction of the Somnath temple as a symbol of national unity. With Mahatma Gandhi's blessing (who insisted on public funding over government money), the Somnath Trust—led by K.M. Munshi—raised funds from devotees nationwide to construct a grand Somnath temple. The new temple, built in the traditional Chalukya style, was completed by 1951 referring to the archaeological excavations and using skilled craftsmanship.

On May 11, 1951, President Dr. Rajendra Prasad consecrated and inaugurated the new temple, installing the jyotirlinga amid Vedic chants. It is said that, in his inaugural speech (unfortunately blacked out by All India Radio), President Rajendra Prasad hailed Somnath as a beacon of India's enduring faith and prosperity. He called the Somnath temple the "Temple of Human Welfare." This did not please the Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, who opposed the project as "Hindu revivalism" and had written multiple letters advising Prasad against attending, fearing it would undermine secularism. Yet, Prasad stood firm, declaring that true secularism embraces all faiths without erasing heritage.

Today, as we commemorate the Shaurya Yatra, we must remind ourselves that Somnath isn't just another temple—it's a testament to Bharat's resilience. Over 1,000 years, invaders shattered it six major times, but devotion rebuilt it again and again, seven times. Today, as we reflect on this millennium, let's celebrate that unyielding spirit. The spirit of Somnath, which inspire the nation as a symbol of cultural endurance.