Alwal Temple Comes Alive as Brahmotsavams Blend Faith, Folklore and Festive Bustle
Lakhs of devotees throng the temple for Vaikunta Ekadasi, towards the year end.
Hyderabad: As one walks past the Alwal police station, the air thickens with the smell of street food and the sound of laughter. Children zip around on toy vehicles, their hands sticky with sweets, while women bargain over household wares. Shops spill colour on to the street. This annual bustle marks the jatara held near the Sri Venkateshwara Swamy Temple at Alwal, coinciding with the Brahmotsavams that continue till the first week of January.
Lakhs of devotees throng the temple for Vaikunta Ekadasi, towards the year end. “This time of the year, the temple becomes the heart of Alwal,” says a local shopkeeper, gesturing at the crowds. “People don’t just come to pray, they come to belong.”
According to temple lore, Saint Vishnu Balaji, on a pilgrimage from Tirupati to Kashi, halted at Alwal, carrying an idol of Lord Venkateswara. He is believed to have placed the idol beneath a tamarind tree beside a Pushkarini (holy tank) and performed daily prayers. Word spread, and devotees from surrounding villages began visiting the saint and worshipping the deity.
Maharaja Chandulal Bahadur, Prime Minister of Nizam’s Hyderabad, who was staying at the Alwal palace for three nights, got the temple built in the early 19th century.
“On the third night, Lord Venkateswara appeared in his dream and asked him to build a temple here,” recalls Sri Raja Sanjay Gopal Saincher, founder family member and chairman of the temples. “The idea was simple yet profound that devotees who could not travel to Tirupati should be able to offer prayers here.”
The raja undertook a devotional trek to Tirupati, brought the idol back, and constructed the temple with arrangements for daily Trikala Puja. The sanctum’s walls were once clad with gold-plated copper sheets, echoing Tirumala’s grandeur. Beneath the original tamarind tree, a shrine houses a swayambhu (self-manifested) idol of Lord Balaji. Another idol discovered in the Pushkarini stands beside it, while a small shrine to Lord Hanuman faces them across the water.
Over time, the sacred geography expanded. With the emergence of nearby shrines — Lord Jagannath (east), Lord Panduranga (west), Lord Radhakrishna (north) and Lord Venkateswara (south) — the area came to be known as “Temple Alwal,” representing Vaishnava deities of the four directions.
The lineage behind the temple reads like a chapter from Deccan history. Maharaja Chandulal Bahadur, a noted philanthropist and great devotee, belonged to the family of Raja Todarmal, Akbar’s famed revenue minister. The legacy passed through Maharaja Sir Kishen Pershad Bahadur, another Prime Minister of the Nizam, to Raja Ratan Gopal, and today to Raja Sanjay Gopal Saincher.
“It is a great responsibility,” he says. “Our ancestors didn’t build just one temple — 108 temples across Telangana, Maharashtra, Karnataka and Uttar Pradesh trace their origins to them… During these celebrations our family’s traditional Sword Dance is very popular and it is passed on to me. I perform every year.”
In a remarkable symbol of harmony, the founders ensured a mosque stood near every temple they reconstructed. “It reflected their relationship with the Nizam and their belief in coexistence,” Saincher notes.
The temple has drawn illustrious visitors over the decades — from Dr Rajendra Prasad, India’s first President, to scholars like Madabhushi Ananta Sayanam Iyengar, and legendary singer Ghantasala, who performed here in the 1960s.
In recent years, MPs, MLAs, ministers and dignitaries have visited, especially during milestone celebrations such as Telangana’s formation and the 158th birth anniversary of Maharaja Sir Kishen Pershad Bahadur, when Brahmotsavams were held on a grand scale.
For devotees, however, the pull is quieter. “This temple brings peace,” says R. Sravya, sitting cross-legged in the courtyard. “It’s never chaotic. We keep our queues, sit, pray, and leave calmly.”
Hemalatha P (63) remembers a different Alwal. “I grew up in Bolaram, three to four kilometres away. It was a forest then—we walked through huge trees to reach the temple. It’s been renovated now and looks more beautiful, but the feeling is the same.”
For Kalyan, the Pushkarini holds memories. “We used to release fish and tortoises here. It’s rarely opened now, but I sit nearby and meditate,” he says softly.