On May 16, the Netherlands returned the 11th-century Anaimangalam Copper Plates to India. Here in Malaysia, the event passed with hardly a whisper.
I didn’t see any report of it in the major newspapers or news portals, and social media mentions were sparse.
What, you may ask, has the return of some ancient copper plates from the Netherlands to India got to do with us? On the surface, very little.
But look deeper, and they speak to something profound in our shared past — ties that stretch far beyond the Melaka Sultanate and colonial rule, and which still quietly colour the plural spirit of our nation.
The plates draw us back to the Srivijaya Empire and its key centre of Kadaram, known today as Kedah. They offer a glimpse into an era when the Chola Empire of South India and the kingdoms of the Malay Archipelago engaged one another not in rivalry, but in the language of trade, diplomacy, and pragmatic goodwill.
The Anaimangalam Copper Plates, also known as the Chola Plates and Leiden Plates, belong mainly to the time of Rajaraja Chola I (985–1014 CE).
According to Leiden University one object comprises 21 copper plates held together by a bronze ring bearing the seal of King Rajendra Chola I (the son of Rajaraja Chola I), who reigned in the 11th century. Five plates contain Sanskrit inscriptions, and the remaining 16 plates contain inscriptions in Tamil. The other object comprises three copper plates also held together by a bronze ring – this time bearing the seal of King Kulottunga Chola I (who reigned from 1070 to 1120) – containing Tamil inscriptions.
India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi, speaking at the symbolic handover ceremony in The Hague together with Netherlands Prime Minister Rob Jetten, described the plates as symbols of Chola maritime reach and cultural confidence. The artefacts had reached Leiden University via a Dutch missionary in the early 18th century.
At the heart of the plates lies a telling episode of goodwill. And this is where the story gets interesting.
In 1006 CE, the Srivijayan ruler Sri Mara Vijayotunga Varman sought permission from Rajaraja Chola I to build a Buddhist monastery – the Chudamani Vihara – in the Chola port of Nagapattinam.
Rajaraja Chola I was a devout Hindu, the very king who built the majestic Brihadeeswara Temple in Thanjavur. Yet he not only granted permission but generously allocated land in Anaimangalam village — some 450 acres — together with tax exemptions, for a Buddhist institution from across the sea to take root in his realm.
Think about it. A powerful Hindu king willingly offering land in his own territory to support a Buddhist monastery for foreign merchants and monks and ordering that the revenue in that area go towards its upkeep.
It was an act of statesmanship and religious openness that still speaks to us today.
In a world often divided by faith, it reminds us that personal belief need not hinder mutual respect and the greater good of harmonious living. It also tells us about the virtues of a good leader.
In return, the Srivijayan king sent his envoy Vimalan Agatheesvaran bearing gifts — lamps, silver vessels and plates — to the Kayarohana Siva Temple, a graceful acknowledgement of the Chola ruler’s own faith.
These exchanges, preserved on the copper plates, tell a story of reciprocity and understanding.
For us in Malaysia, the story should feel particularly close because the plates refer to the Srivijayan ruler as “the Lord of Srivijaya, who is also ruling Katāha” — the ancient Sanskrit name for Kedah.
Strategically located at the northern gateway of the Straits of Malacca, with Gunung Jerai standing sentinel for sailors crossing the Bay of Bengal, Kadaram was a thriving node in the great Indian Ocean trade network.
Tamil merchant guilds like the Manigramam and Ainnurruvar had been active in these waters from the 1st and 2nd centuries CE. An inscription at Takua Pa in southern Thailand (8th–9th century) bears witness to their organised presence near Kedah.
Through trade and exchange, they brought goods, ideas, architectural knowledge, administrative models and religious concepts. Local communities absorbed what enriched their lives, giving rise to a vibrant hybrid culture whose tangible traces can still be seen in the ancient candi temples and artifacts of the Bujang Valley.
But relations were not always harmonious. Later, Rajendra Chola I launched naval expeditions against Srivijayan ports, including Kadaram, to secure trade routes (more on this in my next column). It shows that cooperation and competition walked side by side in the maritime world. As it does even today.
The return of the plates to India invites us to reflect on a broader truth.
Too often, the Indian presence in Malaysia is viewed narrowly through the prism of British colonial rule and the arrival of indentured labourers in the 19th and 20th centuries.
But these copper plates, the ruins in Bujang Valley, and other archaeological and written evidence tell a far richer and older story. Indian — particularly Tamil — engagement with our region goes back well over a thousand years.
This long chapter of trade, cultural dialogue, and mutual influence helped transform local societies long before the Melaka Sultanate or the colonial period. This history informs us that Indians helped shape the layered foundations of what we as a nation are today.
This, of course, does not diminish the pivotal role of Islam in defining Malay civilisation. On the contrary, it adds depth and colour to our national tapestry — reminding us that Malaysia has long been a crossroads where different worlds met, mingled, and enriched one another.
In the quiet return of these ancient plates lies a gentle lesson: that openness, respect across faiths, and the wisdom to see beyond one’s own boundaries are not modern ideals. They are part of our heritage — values worth remembering and nurturing in our diverse society today.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.