It is often said that temples are the landscapes of the soul. Indian temples are famed not just for its visual grandeur but also for its sonic engineering. Step into a centuries-old mandapa (pillared hall) or garbhagriha (inner sanctum) and you experience a carefully crafted reverberation – the chants linger, the bells resonate, and even a whisper can carry across stone corridors. This acoustic heritage has lately caught the attention of modern acoustics firms and architects. Some are attempting to patent temple-inspired designs – imagine concert halls modeled after pillared mandapas or dome-like resonance chambers akin to a garbhagriha – all intended to optimize sound for Indian classical music (ragas). These efforts, however, raise complex questions under Indian patent law and ethics. The question is whether the acoustic features of temple architecture can constitute patentable subject matter under Sections 2(1)(j) and 3 of the Indian Patents Act?
Patentability Hurdles: Section 3(d) and “Known” Acoustics
At first glance, patenting a temple-inspired acoustic structure might seem to fall afoul of India’s exclusions from patentability. While Section 3(d) of the Patents Act is famous for its role in pharmaceutical disputes, its focus on “new use for a known substance” and “enhancement of known efficacy” does not directly apply to architecture or acoustics. The more relevant hurdles here are Section 3(f), which excludes “the mere arrangement or rearrangement or duplication of known devices each functioning independently of one another in a known way,” and Section 3(p), which bars protection for “an invention which, in effect, is traditional knowledge or which is an aggregation or duplication of known properties of traditionally known component or components.” Centuries-old mandapas and their acoustic properties would almost certainly be treated as traditional knowledge under Section 3(p). If an inventor merely takes the structural design of a temple hall and claims its echo-enhancing property as a modern “invention,” that claim would not pass muster—it would be a classic case of rearranging known elements without inventive contribution (3(f)) and, more critically, of seeking rights over heritage knowledge (3(p)). To succeed, therefore, any application would need to demonstrate not just replication of temple acoustics but a novel technical advance—for example, a new material, a scientifically measurable modification that changes acoustic outcomes, or a unique process that integrates temple principles into a modern, previously unknown system.
Even if temple-inspired features are combined with modern materials or digital modeling, the Patent Office may still find the invention obvious to a person skilled in the art under Section 2(1)(ja).
Proponents might argue their designs involve technical innovations (specific materials, calculated dimensions, etc.) beyond what ancient builders intended. But the Patent Office (and courts) would likely take a hard look at whether the acoustic effect is inherent to the known structure. If a patent claim boils down to “a building shaped like an Indian temple hall that provides good reverberation for music,” one could argue this is merely a new use of a known acoustic space – which falls squarely under Section 3(d)’s exclusion. A cheeky examiner might even call it the “Hampi-pillars 2.0” and reject it for lack of novelty and inventive step.
After all, the temple design is prior art in the public domain (more on that next). It’s telling that even outside India, inventors are pursuing similar ideas. One recent international patent application, for instance, claims an “acoustic space building structure” with a courtyard-like layout: pillar-like elements arranged in a circle to focus sound, creating natural amplification and reverb without any electronic equipment. The design promises that during outdoor performances, the structure itself will reflect and concentrate sound so well that the audience hears music “with a clear and satisfactory volume as high as that of an indoor performance,” complete with a “transparent optimal reverberation”.
Reading such claims, an Indian lawyer immediately thinks of Section 3(d) and 3(f) – is this more than the “mere arrangement of known devices” (pillars and walls) working in a known way? If the result (amplified, resonant sound) was already achieved by 12th-century temple builders, a patent might be a prohibited attempt to re-capture a known invention. In India, traditional knowledge and its obvious derivatives are explicitly not patentable (see Patent Act Section 3(p)), and one could argue temple acoustics are as traditional as it gets.
Echoes of Tradition: Prior Art in Pillars and Scriptures
Any patent hopeful will also have to contend with a mountain of prior art. The acoustic marvels of temples have been documented in everything from ancient treatises to modern scientific studies. An enterprising lawyer opposing such a patent could easily invoke the Mayamata, Śilpaśāstras or Āgama Śāstras—medieval texts on temple architecture—which, while not explicitly using the term “acoustics,” prescribe architectural features inherently tied to sound. These treatises mandated proportions and layouts for temples that modern science now recognizes as optimizing resonance and clarity, such as scaling the entire structure to the main deity’s dimensions and designing enclosed stone chambers to amplify the chanting of mantras.
Indian courts have consistently treated such extensive prior art as fatal unless the applicant demonstrates a genuine technical advance. In Dimminaco A.G. v. Controller of Patents (2002), the Calcutta High Court underscored that novelty and inventive step cannot be brushed aside with boilerplate reasoning; the examiner must carefully evaluate prior art and the claimed advance. Likewise, in Agriboard International LLC v. Deputy Controller of Patents (2018), the Delhi High Court remanded a rejection order, holding that mere conclusions of “obviousness” were inadequate without a structured comparison of prior art and the claimed invention. Applied here, if temple treatises and modern acoustic studies already disclose the underlying principles, then a claim simply restating those proportions or echo-enhancing layouts would likely fall to an objection of lack of novelty or obviousness. (See here).
The garbha-griha (sanctum) is a small stone womb with a single door, no windows, and a high dome – effectively a resonant cavity where prayers and bells overlap in long reverberation. Attached to it is the ardha-mantapa (anteroom) – also stone-lined and reflective – where priests chant and blow conch shells, producing a rich mix of echoes that then spill into the larger maha-mantapa (main hall) for devotees to hear. It can be said that ancient temple architects were early acoustical engineers, creating echo chambers and diffusion panels (intricately carved sculptures on walls) to scatter sound evenly( See here). Importantly, these features were not happy accidents but deliberate. The design of pillars, domes, and corridors was fine-tuned over centuries to enhance the sacred sound experience.
The Meenakshi Temple’s thousand-pillared hall, for instance, is lauded as a “marvel of architectural planning, acoustics, and sculpture,” featuring an advanced understanding of sound in its very layout(See here). Some temples even have musical pillars – columns that produce specific notes when struck, essentially stone xylophones! The most famous are the 56 musical pillars of the 16th-century Vittala Temple at Hampi. Each main pillar is encircled by smaller ones tuned to different notes, so tapping them yields tones resembling various instruments like drums, bells, or stringed instruments(See here). British visitors were so mesmerized by this “rock band” of pillars that they reportedly tried to discern its secrets (even sawing one pillar, as lore goes, to see if it hid metal – it did not). Long pillared corridors in temples (such as the Ramanathaswamy Temple, Rameswaram) act as natural echo chambers, carrying even faint sounds across great distances. Traditional design elements like these have been refining acoustics for centuries
Modern acoustic research has only confirmed what tradition knew. Researchers have studied these temple acoustics in depth. They have systematically recorded the sounds from 11 pillars and used non-destructive testing (like ultrasonic pulse measurements) to correlate each pillar’s resonant frequencies with its material and dimensions(see here). The result? The stone pillars’ vibration modes perfectly matched the musical tones they produce – a vindication of the ancient artisans’ skill. Likewise, recent archeo-acoustic studies of temples in Pattadakal and Hampi (both UNESCO sites) found that these sacred spaces naturally amplify lower frequencies (think of the deep “Om” chant) and have distinct reverberation profiles optimized for worship music (see here). In short, the prior art is robust – from ancient Sanskrit manuals to peer-reviewed journals. Any patent examiner would have a rich archive to throw at a claim of “novel” temple acoustics.
Ethics and Echoes: Sacred Knowledge vs. Commercial IP
Beyond the black-letter law lies an ethical dimension. Temple acoustics aren’t merely feats of engineering; they are woven into India’s cultural and spiritual heritage. For devout communities, the way sound reverberates within a mandapa is a sacred phenomenon, often attributed to the divine inspiration of ancient sages or the genius of sthapatis (temple architects). To privatize this heritage by patenting it is deeply controversial. It evokes parallels with earlier attempts to patent yoga asanas or turmeric remedies—efforts that may be technically feasible under some patent regimes but are widely condemned as morally dubious. India has repeatedly resisted such misappropriation by invoking the doctrine of traditional knowledge in international forums. A key institutional safeguard in this fight is the Traditional Knowledge Digital Library (TKDL), a vast database created to document indigenous knowledge—including medicinal, agricultural, and cultural practices—in patent-examiner-friendly formats. The TKDL has already been used to block hundreds of patent applications abroad, from haldi (turmeric) for wound healing to neem extracts for pest control. Were an applicant to seek monopoly rights over temple acoustics, the TKDL could just as easily classify these architectural practices as unpatentable traditional knowledge, thereby shielding them from privatization and preserving their status as shared cultural patrimony.
. In fact, the Indian Patents Act’s Section 3(p) explicitly forbids patents on inventions that are effectively traditional knowledge. While one might argue a new acoustic hall design is their own innovation, if its core principles copy temple blueprints, it treads close to traditional knowledge territory.
There’s also the question of custodianship. Temples and their design principles have been part of an open knowledge commons, passed down through Āgama texts and temple builders’ guilds over millennia. No single entity can claim to “own” the design of a pillared echoing hall – it belongs to the cultural patrimony. The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and other bodies treat these architectures as a legacy to be preserved and shared, not monopolized. (In 2021, ASI even noted that the vast majority of South Indian temples still adhere to the classical Agamic architectural canons, underscoring how alive and well this traditional knowledge is. See here) . If a company were granted a patent on, say, a “garbhagriha-inspired reverberation chamber” and then tried to enforce it, imagine the outcry if that stymied restoration of an actual temple or construction of a new one using the age-old design. The tension between IP rights and cultural rights comes to the fore – much like debates over indigenous knowledge.
Finally, there’s a broader philosophical discomfort: spiritual vs. commercial. The acoustic features in temples were created to deepen spiritual experience, not to maximize ticket sales at a concert hall. Many see them as a sacred trust. Turning this into proprietary technology arguably profanes that sacredness. Traditional practitioners might ask: should the sound of the divine be behind a paywall? On the flip side, one could argue that innovation inspired by tradition is still innovation – and patents could encourage wider appreciation (imagine more concert halls adopting temple acoustics, crediting the source). But any such patent would need to navigate benefit-sharing expectations. Perhaps a middle path could be open-sourcing these designs or using defensive publication to ensure they remain free to use, acknowledging the original genius of India’s temple architects.
Conclusion
The echo of a temple mantra belongs to everyone and no one.
It has bounced off ancient stone walls long before patent laws, and will hopefully continue long after. While modern acousticians rightly marvel at and learn from this sonic architecture, trying to own the echo in a legal sense may be neither feasible under Indian law nor palatable to cultural conscience. Much like a raga itself, the beauty of temple acoustics lies in improvisation within a traditional framework – a framework best left in the public domain. In the chorus of IP and ethics, sometimes the wisest course is to enjoy the music without staking a claim on the melody.
Authored by: Mr. Sanjith Gurikar
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