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Wednesday, 9 September 2026

THE SHORES OF MAHABALIPURAM: A SAILOR'S TALE FROM 1985


There are photographs that fade. And there are photographs that anchor.

These were taken in November 1985, in Mahabalipuram, Tamil Nadu. I was serving onboard KD MUTIARA. Young, in a white uniform that was never meant for the dust of Tamil Nadu, standing in front of stones that were already 1,200 years old.

We were Malaysian sailors thousands of miles from Lumut, walking among the myths of another seafaring nation.



Mahabalipuram, or Mamallapuram, is not just a temple town. For centuries, it was a landmark for every sailor who crossed the Bay of Bengal. European navigators called it the “Seven Pagodas” – because from the sea, seven towering temples shimmered on the shore.

Today, only one complex remains: the Shore Temple.

Built in 700-728 AD by the Pallava King Narasimhavarman II, also known as Rajasimha, it is one of the oldest structural stone temples in South India. Unlike the other monuments in Mahabalipuram, which were carved out of a single rock, the Shore Temple was built up – with blocks of granite brought together. It was classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1984, just a year before we visited.




The Pancha Rathas – the Five Chariots.

The photo with the stone of elephants and lion, built in the 7th century, when the Pallavas were at the height of their naval power. Mahabalipuram was their port, their shipyard, their window to Southeast Asia – to Kedah (Kadaram), Langkasuka to the world we now call Malaysia.

Standing there in 1985, we didn’t realise we were completing a circle. Malay seafarers had been coming to this coast for over a thousand years before us.

We were young. The Royal Malaysian Navy was young. KD MUTIARA herself was then part of a new generation of training and goodwill voyages, showing the flag across the Indian Ocean.

India in 1985 was different too – before the IT boom, before the crowds. Mahabalipuram was still a sleepy fishing village with ruins in its backyard. You can see the fishing catamarans pulled up behind the Shore Temple in one of the photos. That is a scene you will never see today.

What remains is this: Stone endures. Memory fades, but photographs bring it back. And the sea connects us all.

We didn’t realise that day in 1985, the exact beach where we stood was right in the path of the December 26, 2004, Indian Ocean tsunami.

It happened here, and my 1985 photos are historically important.

The fishing boat, as you can see in my photo with a lady standing at the shore temple, and those villages were the ones that suffered the worst losses in 2004.

The intertwining of histories is a tapestry woven by time and tides. The Pallava dynasty, with its remarkable maritime prowess, carved out a legacy that resonated across the seas, reaching distant shores and cultures. Their temples, like the Shore Temple, stand as silent witnesses to the voyages of seafarers who navigated the waters of the Bay of Bengal, guided by the stars and the whispers of the ocean.

In 1985, as Malaysian sailors aboard KD MUTIARA, we became part of this ancient narrative. Our presence in Mahabalipuram was not merely a visit; it was a reconnection with a shared heritage that transcended borders. The echoes of the past reverberated through the stones, reminding us that we were not just observers but participants in a continuum of exploration and exchange.

The sea, a vast and unifying force, has always been a bridge between peoples. It carries stories of trade, cultural exchange, and the enduring spirit of adventure. As we stood on that historic beach, we were linked to the Pallavas, who once set sail from these shores, their ambitions mirrored in our own journeys across the Indian Ocean.

Photographs capture fleeting moments, yet they hold the power to revive memories long forgotten. Each image from that day serves as a portal, transporting us back to a time when the world felt smaller and the connections between us were palpable. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the awe we felt in the presence of such ancient grandeur remind us that while time may fade, the essence of our experiences remains etched in our hearts.

As we reflect on this shared history, we recognise that the sea continues to be a source of inspiration and connection. It is a reminder that we are all part of a larger story, one that celebrates the spirit of exploration and the bonds forged through shared experiences. The legacy of the Pallava dynasty and the journeys of the Royal Malaysian Navy sailors are threads in this rich tapestry, woven together by the enduring power of the sea.


Hj Zulheimy Maamor – ex-crew KD Mutiara (1985/86)
9 September 2026: 2.27 a.m.