Why the Greatest Builders Didn’t Wait for Certainty

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It has been quite some time since my last newsletter and an interesting stream of thought brought me out of my slumber.

My wife and I were watching a documentary about some of the lost and lesser known temples in Cambodia and Southern India built by the Khmer and Chola kings hundreds of years ago.

It was a pity to witness such grand masterpieces reduced to nothing more than rubble.

While witnessing the narrator reimagine the grandeur of one of the dilapidated temple built be King Rajendra Chola, my wife sighed, “This is such a shame. Imagine the disappointment if the King was to witness the temple’s condition today”

With my Alternate History curiosity piqued by her statement I asked, “ Lets imagine the King time travels to the present, looks at the temple ruins and goes back to his past to a time when the temple was not yet built. Would he still decide to build the temple or would he have not started the project?”

After thinking for a moment she responded, “He would have definitely built it!”. I prodded further, “Why do you think so?”

“Well what else did a King do back then other than go for war and build temples. In fact, plundering buildings and temples of the enemy once a war is won was normal back in the day. So they know for a fact even back then that the structures they build might burn to the ground. That did not stop the Kings from building massive masterpieces. So why should one dilapidated building affect his decision?”

While I agreed with the logic, it felt like a waste of resources.

But as we continued watching there was one striking coincidence we observed in most of these ruins.

Take the vimana / Gopuram - that soaring pyramidal tower that defines every great South Indian temple.

At Narttamalai in 862 CE, an obscure little temple called the Vijayalaya Choleeswaram rises with a vimana of just four modest storeys. It was the first to combine two different architectural styles in a single tower. Nobody outside that small hilltop village would have noticed or cared.

A century later at Pullamangai, the Brahmapurisvara temple attempts a three-tiered vimana, the only surviving three-storeyed design from the early Chola period, standing just 27 feet tall.

Then at Kodumbalur, three separate vimanas built in a line, each experimenting with curvilinear sikharas.

Each one a quiet rehearsal.

Then in 1003 CE, Rajaraja I builds the Big Temple at Thanjavur. Five times the size of any previous Chola temple, its vimana rises 216 feet into the sky.

His son Rajendra takes that same confidence to Gangaikonda Cholapuram, same ambition, but now the tower curves gracefully where Thanjavur was severe. A refinement born from watching his father build.

Even Gangaikonda Cholapuram, a masterpiece in it’s own right has been a testing ground for sculptors perfecting the art. Huge staircase balustrades taking the shape of elephants are carved along each side of the staircase. The idea is there, still finding its feet.

A generation later at Darasuram, the entire entrance mandapa becomes a chariot pulled by horses, its balustrades carved with royal elephants welcoming every visitor at every step.

And this readiness to experiment without any reward is even more important when the predictable ladder towards career growth is fast becoming unreliable.

AI is making core skills irrelevant each passing day and in a world where nothing we build is guaranteed to last, the real advantage isn’t in chasing permanence, but in continuously running small, low-risk experiments that compound into something meaningful.

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I hope you enjoyed this week's version. See you next week.

Best wishes,

Nimalan.