In his debut book The People's Sanctum (Penguin, 2026), Manuraj Shanmughasundaram traces a century-long struggle of the depressed classes in South India, from the fight for road access around temples to the demand for their appointment as archakas (temple priests) and the attendant right to public religious office.

The legislative measures directed towards State control of religious endowments, the judiciary’s approach towards customs, denominational rights and constitutional morality, and the political impetus behind the journey, form the central theme of the book.

The choice of subject is hardly surprising, given the hats the author wears as a practicing advocate at the Madras High Court and his association with the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) as its spokesperson.

The book traces caste-based exclusionary practices, their perpetuation by a particular class and the spark of a local agitation in Kerala's Vaikom that ignited self-respect movement in Tamil Nadu, giving rise to Dravidian political ideology.

It then follows the intervention of the constitutional courts and, finally, the political leadership that made Tamil Nadu a pioneer of temple reforms.

In the chapter titled Centenary of Self-Respect, the author offers an in-depth look at the Dravidian movement including the early differences between Periyar (credited as its father) and the DMK, the oldest surviving Dravidian political party.

One of the book's strengths is the ringside view it offers of DMK's political journey, tracing how the movement's anti-caste ideology came to occupy centre stage in the party's manifestos and how it made significant strides in temple reform each time it tasted electoral success.

Given the author's description in the preface as "a student of the Dravidian movement," the exhaustive coverage of the self-respect movement and the legislative and judicial interventions that brought the so-called "untouchables" and "unapproachables" from the bylanes to the sanctum sanctorum comes as no surprise.

What is more revealing is the coverage of the reform's end beneficiaries such as an archaka from a non-dominant caste, thrilled at his newfound proximity to his God alongside troubling instances of discriminatory treatment of new archakas by certain sections, even in the face of legislative intent, judicial intervention and political will. This grounding of a century-long path to reform in its modern-day outcomes enriches the narrative.

The book traces legislative action from pre-independence enactments sponsored by the first ever Dravidian political party, the Justice Party, to reformative legislation under the aegis of the Constitution, tabled by its modern-day ideological successor, the DMK.

However, the book’s account of judicial interventions reveals a somewhat chequered trend. Some of the pre-Constitution pronouncements paint a grim picture. The observations of a revered and celebrated judge of a pre-constitution High Court appear to match the abominable tones of a few of his modern-day successors in the constitutional courts.

The quality and depth of research is evident from the overview of case laws, especially the ones of district judiciary on the subject matter.

The author succinctly captures the balancing act of the Supreme Court, which time and again had to walk the tightrope between denominational rights, right to worship and the principles of equality.

Bolder interventions such as Seshammal and Ors v. State of Tamil Nadu, N Adhityan v. Travancore Devaswom Board and Adi Saiva Sivachariyargal Nala Sangam v. Government of Tamil Nadu are duly highlighted.

In the final chapter titled the Madras Model of Secularism, Manuraj attributes the democratisation of temples in South India to the Dravidian movement. In his own words “there is no other equivalent political movement in any other part of India that has continuously agitated for equality within temples”.

While it took nearly half a century after Periyar’s death to remove “the thorn embedded in his heart” by appointing archakas from all communities, the author notes that challenges remain both in the form of social barriers still to be fully eroded and also in the spectre of judicial pronouncements in two crucial judgments of the Supreme Court that will determine the course of history of temple entry and rights of all classes of Hindus to enter the sanctum sanctorum.

What works for me is that the book doesn't burden the reader with an overdose of ancient history or the theological explanations surrounding Varna system that have become commonplace in discourse of this nature. Its focus stays cleanly on the last century's developments in society, politics, legislation and the judiciary.

The book is undoubtedly well-researched. While it strikes an academic tone, it still remains accessible. Besides lawyers and Dravidian-politics enthusiasts, general readers interested in caste struggles and temple reforms will find the book insightful.

To borrow Periyar's words, the book, to me, shattered more than one idol. A hero of India's independence movement, it turns out, was irresolute and dithering when it came to addressing caste discrimination.

Even while skimming through the acknowledgments, I could not help but dwell on the grip of orthodoxy that made reform crawl grudgingly slow even with all the political will.

Now with the Sabarimala judgment awaiting Supreme Court's pronouncement, the fate of the journey that started at Vaikom appears to be at crossroads. Against this backdrop, People’s Sanctum is timely, relevant and contributes to the broader conversation around our wavering commitment to constitutional morality.

MF Philip is an advocate at the Supreme Court of India. Views are personal.