The Āgamic Process of Building a Temple

I am an architect, educated in India, and yet my formal training never once meaningfully addressed the design and construction logic of temples. We studied modernism, materials, housing typologies, global precedents — but the architectural system that shaped the landscape I grew up in was treated as background scenery. I wandered through temples for years, drawn to their spaces without having language for what I was experiencing. I loved their proportions, their darkness, their rhythms, their strange ability to hold silence. I wanted to understand how they were made — not stylistically, but structurally, philosophically. Every time I asked, the answers were fragmentary. There was no teacher offering a holistic view.

Many years later, almost by accident, I stumbled into the Āgamas through scattered reading. Discovering them was both exhilarating and unsettling. I felt a quiet embarrassment — not personal guilt, but a cultural dislocation. Here was an extraordinarily sophisticated architectural tradition, a complete theory of building that united geometry, ritual, material science, cosmology, and daily maintenance — and I had passed through an entire architectural education without access to it. As an Indian architect, I realized I had inherited monuments without inheriting the knowledge system that produced them.

When I first began reading the Āgamic manuals, I assumed I was approaching the origin of temples. The books felt authoritative, technical, absolute — as if architecture began on their pages. But the more I read, the clearer it became that the manuals were not beginnings. They were memories.

Temples were already being built before the texts were written. Ritual specialists were already measuring land, aligning directions, invoking presence, and installing images. The knowledge lived in hands, voices, and workshops long before it lived in manuscripts. The Āgamas did not invent the temple; they froze a flowing tradition long enough to transmit it. Practice came first. Writing arrived later as a stabilizing act.

Historians place the formation of the Śaiva Āgamas roughly between the 3rd and 9th centuries CE, during the period when temple culture expanded dramatically across the subcontinent. Dynasties were commissioning stone complexes, pilgrimage networks were growing, and ritual systems needed consistency across regions. The manuals appear at precisely this moment of civilizational scaling. They read less like philosophical speculation and more like engineering archives — procedural documents meant to preserve a craft that had already matured.

What fascinates me is that the texts themselves do not present this as invention. They speak in the language of revelation. From inside the tradition, the knowledge is eternal; the writing is an act of remembering. From a historical lens, the manuals are codifications. From a sacred lens, they are recoveries. Both views point to the same truth: the temple is older than any surviving document about it.

So when I read the stages of temple construction in the Āgamas, I no longer see them as abstract rules. I see them as distilled experience — centuries of builders thinking through matter, ritual, and space. Each stage answers a problem that real craftsmen faced. Why this land? Why this geometry? Why must a structure be fed daily? Why does a stone image need breath?

The ten stages that follow are not instructions frozen in time. They are a record of a civilization learning how to keep presence alive through architecture. Reading them feels less like studying a manual and more like listening to a long conversation between builders and the world.

And I am entering that conversation midstream.

Temple building process

Stage 1 — Intention (Saṅkalpa)

In the Āgamic construction sequence, the establishment of a temple formally begins with saṅkalpa, the explicit declaration of intent by the patron. This declaration precedes site selection and construction activity. In the Śaiva Āgamas, saṅkalpa is treated as a necessary procedural step: a temple is not to be initiated without first stating the purpose for which it is being built.

The Kāmikāgama states this requirement unambiguously:

संकल्पपूर्वकं कार्यं देवालयनिवेशनम्Devālayaniveśanam should be undertaken only after saṅkalpa.

Here, saṅkalpa refers to a formal statement that identifies the type of temple, the presiding deity, the ritual obligations, and the intended social and religious function of the institution. Āgamic commentaries describe this declaration as being articulated by the patron and ritually affirmed by officiating priests. The calendrical timing of subsequent stages—such as foundation laying and installation—is then determined according to astrological calculations. From this point onward, the project is treated as ritually active.

Epigraphic records from historical temples confirm this practice. Temple inscriptions frequently begin by recording the purpose of construction—whether as an act of royal merit, commemoration, or institutional foundation—before listing land grants, ritual endowments, and administrative arrangements. This suggests that intention was not merely theological but also administrative and legal.

The Brihadeeswara Temple at Thanjavur provides a clear example. Inscriptions on the temple walls record that it was commissioned by Raja Raja Chola I in the early 11th century as a royal foundation dedicated to Shiva, with detailed provisions for daily worship, festivals, maintenance staff, and land revenues. The scale of the structure, the centralized sanctum, and the extensive enclosure correspond to its function as a state-sponsored temple integrated into imperial administration. The temple was conceived not as a local shrine but as a durable institutional and political statement, and this intent is explicitly documented in its inscriptions.

The Jagannath Temple at Puri reflects a different declared purpose. Historical sources and temple records indicate that it was conceived as a pilgrimage center, with ritual systems designed for continuous public access. The temple complex includes large kitchens, multiple gateways, and broad circumambulatory paths, all of which support large-scale ritual participation. The architectural organization aligns with its function as a temple serving a wide and recurring population of pilgrims, rather than a restricted courtly or monastic community.

The Vidyāśankara Temple at Sringeri represents another category. It was constructed in the 14th century as a memorial shrine associated with the Sringeri matha, commemorating a revered pontiff of the Advaita lineage. Unlike royal temples, its inscriptions and historical accounts emphasize lineage continuity rather than territorial authority. The temple’s scale, plan, and iconographic program correspond to its role within a monastic institution rather than a pilgrimage economy or imperial network.

Across these cases, the evidence suggests that intention was articulated before construction and directly influenced the spatial, institutional, and ritual organization of the temple. In Āgamic terms, saṅkalpa functions as the defining condition that determines what kind of building is being made, how it will be used, and how it will be sustained after completion.

Stage 2 — Site Selection (Bhūparīkṣā)

Following the declaration of intent (saṅkalpa), the Āgamic sequence proceeds to bhūparīkṣā, the examination and selection of land. Site selection is treated as a formal and technical process, carried out before any ritual consecration or construction activity. The manuals describe this stage as both material evaluation and ritual qualification of land.

Āgamic and vāstu texts specify that land must be examined for its physical properties, including soil composition, stability, drainage, and orientation. The Mānasāra, one of the most frequently cited architectural treatises, outlines procedures for testing soil by digging pits, examining color and texture, and observing how the earth behaves when replaced. These tests are intended to assess bearing capacity and long-term stability, particularly important for stone construction.

The Mānasāra describes this process succinctly:

भूमेः परीक्षणं कार्यं गन्धवर्णरसादिभिःThe earth should be examined through smell, color, taste, and other qualities.

Although expressed in sensory terms, the instruction corresponds closely to empirical assessment. Red, yellow, or brown soils with compact texture are repeatedly described as suitable, while marshy, sandy, or saline ground is discouraged. These prescriptions align with known performance characteristics of soils in structural construction.

In addition to material testing, site selection involves orientation and spatial context. Texts emphasize cardinal alignment and proximity to water sources, particularly rivers or tanks, while also warning against flood-prone locations. The presence of existing settlements, trade routes, or sacred geography is also considered, especially for temples intended as public or pilgrimage institutions.

The location of the Kashi Vishwanath temple complex illustrates this layered approach. The site lies adjacent to the Ganga, a river of ritual and economic importance, and forms part of a long-established urban fabric. Archaeological and historical evidence suggests repeated rebuilding on or near the same location, indicating continuity of site preference despite structural destruction. The choice of site reflects not only religious considerations but also access, movement, and integration with civic life.

The Meenakshi Temple at Madurai provides another example. The temple occupies the central zone of the historic city, with streets radiating outward in a roughly concentric pattern. This spatial organization corresponds to vāstu principles that place significant civic and ritual institutions at the center of settlements. The site selection here appears to have supported both ritual centrality and urban administration, reinforcing the temple’s role as a civic anchor.

At Konark, the Sun Temple demonstrates a different application of site criteria. The temple was located near the eastern coastline, oriented toward the rising sun. While the original shoreline has shifted over time, the orientation and placement indicate deliberate alignment with solar movement. The site selection supports the ritual identity of the temple as a solar monument, while also making use of an open, unobstructed eastern horizon.

In Āgamic terms, bhūparīkṣā does not simply determine whether construction is possible; it determines whether a site is appropriate for the intended function declared in saṅkalpa. Royal foundations, pilgrimage temples, monastic shrines, and local temples each exhibit different site characteristics consistent with their institutional roles. Once a site is selected through this evaluative process, it becomes eligible for purification rituals and subsequent architectural operations.

Stage 3 — Land Purification (Bhūśuddhi / Bhūmi-śuddhi)

After land is selected and tested (bhūparīkṣā), Āgamic procedure treats the site as not yet eligible for layout marking or foundation work until it has undergone bhūśuddhi—a defined set of rites that “clear” the ground for sacred construction. In practical terms, this stage establishes a ritually bounded construction field and an agreed sequence for disturbing the earth.

Across Śaiva Āgamas and vāstu manuals, this stage is consistently described as preceding the vāstu-maṇḍala marking and foundation deposition. It typically includes: clearing and leveling, setting boundary lines, invoking guardians of directions, fire offerings (homa) for pacification, sprinkling of sanctified water, and bali-type offerings at the perimeter points. The intent is procedural: construction begins only after the ground is ritually admitted into the project’s order.

A useful way to document this stage is through the observable institutional equivalents found in temples where purification is not only a one-time pre-construction act but is also extended into the devotee’s entry sequence.

Rāmanāthaswāmy Temple at Rameswaram provides a direct, institutionally maintained example of purification logic embedded in temple operation. The temple administration formally allows bathing in the 22 tīrthas (theerthams) located within the temple at specified hours, indicating that “purification” is treated as an operational component of temple access and ritual readiness, not only as a symbolic preface. The official temple page (HR&CE, Tamil Nadu) explicitly states the existence of 22 puṇya tīrthas and lists the time windows during which devotees may bathe there.

Somnath illustrates purification and re-admission at a different scale: reconstruction followed by re-opening/ritual reactivation. Modern historical accounts record that the restored Somnath temple was opened to devotees on 11 May 1951 in the presence of President Rajendra Prasad, which indicates a public “reactivation moment” after rebuilding rather than treating reconstruction as only civil works. In documentation terms, this is relevant because it demonstrates the same Agamic assumption: a temple becomes ritually functional only after the appropriate transitional rites have been completed.

In summary: bhūśuddhi is the stage where the site transitions from “selected land” to “eligible sacred ground,” and in long-running institutions the same logic remains visible through formal purification sequences that are administratively maintained (as in Rameswaram) or publicly marked after rebuilding (as in Somnath).

Stage 4 — Mandala Layout (Vāstu Puruṣa Maṇḍala)

After bhūśuddhi, the manuals move to the step that formally converts land into an architectural plan: marking the vāstu-puruṣa-maṇḍala. This is not presented as optional geometry; it is the normative planning framework used to distribute spaces, doors, and functional zones in relation to deities/directional powers and a central seat.

The Bṛhat Saṃhitā (Varāhamihira), in its chapter on vāstu-vidyā, provides one of the clearest textual foundations for the vāstupuruṣa concept as a planning logic. It describes the vāstupuruṣa as a being laid face-down and held by deities, with those deities presiding over the parts of his body. This passage establishes the doctrinal basis for mapping divinities onto the building ground.

Most importantly for layout documentation, the same chapter explicitly references the practice of dividing the ground into 81 squares or 64 squares, and then evaluating the placement of entrances and other elements in relation to the deities occupying those squares:

• It states that the deities occupy their enumerated places not only in houses but also in towns and villages.

• It then refers specifically to “division of the house ground into 81 squares or 64 squares,” and proceeds to describe effects of entrance locations relative to deity-occupied squares.

This is a direct textual confirmation that the grid-based mandala is not later interpretation; it is explicitly documented as a planning method.

A standard visual representation of the 9×9 (81-square) grid used in temple planning is the Paramasaayika (Paramasāyikā) mandala, widely cited as a common Hindu temple floor-plan format.

In built form, the mandala step is implemented as a surveying operation: the site is aligned to cardinal directions, the square is set out, subdivided into the chosen grid (commonly 8×8 or 9×9 depending on tradition and program), and the central Brahma position is reserved as the planning core. The sanctum and primary axis are then fixed from this grid before dimensional modules (māna/tāla) are applied in later steps.

So, in documentation terms, Stage 4 is the first stage where the temple becomes legible as “architecture” in the modern sense: a measured, gridded spatial allocation—explicitly described in early textual sources as an 81- or 64-part division and used to determine placement rules

Stage 5 — Measurement and Proportion (Māna / Tāla)

After the vāstu-puruṣa-maṇḍala is established and the principal axes and zones are fixed, Āgamic and śilpa texts proceed to māna (measurement) and tāla (proportional unit). This stage defines the dimensional system that governs the size of the sanctum, walls, superstructure, and subsidiary elements. Measurement is not introduced earlier because dimensions are applied only after the spatial grid and functional hierarchy are finalized.

Śilpa manuals such as the Mānasāra, Mayamata, and Śilparatna describe multiple systems of measurement, typically derived from anthropometric modules. Units are defined using parts of the human body—finger breadth (aṅgula), palm (tāla), cubit (hasta)—which are then scaled proportionally according to the category of temple and the intended stature of the deity image. The selected measurement system determines not only absolute dimensions but also ratios between architectural elements.

The Śilparatna explicitly links proportional correctness to structural and ritual validity, stating that architectural forms must be executed in accordance with prescribed measures in order to function as temples. In practice, this means that the sanctum’s internal dimensions, wall thickness, height of the vimāna or śikhara, and relative sizes of mandapas are fixed through ratio rather than arbitrary scaling.

Measured drawings of historical temples demonstrate consistent proportional relationships within individual complexes. In the Vidyāśankara Temple at Sringeri, for example, the sanctum and mandapa dimensions maintain a clear ratio, despite the temple’s relatively compact footprint. Similarly, at Brihadeeswara Temple, the massive scale of the vimāna does not result from independent enlargement but from the multiplication of a base proportional module across vertical tiers. This indicates that measurement was applied systematically rather than adjusted during construction.

Importantly, māna does not operate independently of mandala. The grid establishes where elements belong; māna establishes how large they are relative to one another. Deviations from these ratios are treated in the texts as errors affecting both structural stability and ritual efficacy.

Stage 6 — Foundation and Substructure (Ādhāraśilā / Garbhanyāsa)

Once layout and measurement are finalized, the Āgamic sequence moves to the physical initiation of construction through foundation rites. This stage is referred to variously as ādhāraśilā-sthāpana (placing the foundation stone) or garbhanyāsa (depositing the “womb” of the structure). It marks the transition from planning to irreversible intervention in the ground.

Texts describe the excavation of the foundation pit at the location corresponding to the central point of the mandala, typically beneath the sanctum. The pit is prepared according to prescribed dimensions and depth, determined by soil type and structural requirements. Within this pit, ritual deposits are placed, including materials such as grains, metals, gems, and inscribed plates. These deposits are collectively referred to as the garbha (womb), symbolizing the generative core of the temple.

The Aparājitapṛcchā and Mayamata describe this stage in procedural terms, specifying the order of deposition, the sealing of the pit, and the placement of the first structural stone above it. The act of sealing the garbha is treated as the point at which the temple becomes fixed to the site; subsequent alterations to the plan are not permitted.

Archaeological investigations at temple sites have confirmed the presence of foundation deposits consistent with textual descriptions. At Khajuraho and other early medieval sites, excavations have revealed copper plates, ritual objects, and layered foundation fills beneath sancta, supporting the interpretation that foundation rites were integrated into construction practice rather than being symbolic additions.

In structural terms, this stage also establishes the load-bearing base for the sanctum and superstructure. The thickness of the foundation walls and plinth corresponds to the previously defined māna system, ensuring continuity between ritual specification and engineering performance. The raised adhiṣṭhāna (plinth) seen in many temples emerges directly from this stage, creating a physical separation between sacred structure and ground level.

By the end of Stage 6, the temple’s position, dimensions, and structural base are irrevocably fixed. All subsequent work—wall construction, superstructure assembly, and sculptural carving—proceeds from this established core.

Stage 7 — Structural Assembly (Bhitti, Prāsāda, Mandapa)

After the foundation and plinth are completed, construction proceeds to the erection of the structural body of the temple. Āgamic and śilpa texts describe this stage as the sequential raising of walls (bhitti), superstructure (prāsāda or vimāna/śikhara), and subsidiary halls (mandapas). The order of construction is fixed and is not interchangeable.

The sanctum walls are raised first. Texts emphasize the sanctum as the primary load-bearing and ritual core, requiring greater wall thickness and minimal openings. The internal dimensions of the garbhagṛha, already fixed during the māna stage, determine the thickness and height of these walls. Construction follows a horizontal course-by-course method, ensuring uniform load distribution.

Once the sanctum walls reach their prescribed height, the superstructure is assembled above. In Drāviḍa traditions, this takes the form of a vimāna composed of receding tiers (tala), while in Nāgara traditions it manifests as a curvilinear śikhara. Śilpa texts specify the proportional relationship between the sanctum plan and the vertical profile of the superstructure, indicating that the elevation is a dimensional projection of the ground plan rather than an independent design exercise.

Mandapas are constructed after the sanctum and superstructure are structurally stabilized. Their placement and dimensions follow the mandala grid and māna system already established. Mandapas typically have lighter walling and larger openings, reflecting their function as transitional and congregational spaces rather than containment chambers.

Epigraphic records from Chola-period temples indicate that different groups of artisans were responsible for specific construction stages, suggesting an organized division of labor aligned with this sequential method. The structural coherence observed in temples such as Brihadeeswara confirms that the sanctum and superstructure were conceived as a single structural system before mandapas and enclosures were added.

By the end of Stage 7, the temple exists as a complete architectural volume, though without its ritual center activated.

Stage 8 — Icon Fabrication and Installation Preparation (Mūrti-lakṣaṇa)

Following completion of the structural body, attention shifts to the fabrication of the deity image and preparation of the sanctum for installation. This stage is governed by iconographic manuals collectively referred to as mūrti-lakṣaṇa, which define the physical characteristics of the image.

Śilpa texts specify material selection (stone, metal, or wood), proportional systems, posture, hand gestures, facial features, and symbolic attributes. The dimensions of the image are directly related to the sanctum’s internal measurements, ensuring that the image fits spatially and visually within the garbhagṛha. Texts explicitly caution against installing images whose proportions exceed or underfill the sanctum volume.

Image fabrication is carried out independently of the temple structure but in coordination with its measurements. Sculptors work according to prescribed grids, often based on tāla units derived from the same measurement system used in the architecture. This ensures proportional continuity between building and image.

The sanctum interior is prepared simultaneously. Floor levels, pedestal (pīṭha) dimensions, and drainage provisions for ritual ablutions are completed before the image is brought inside. At this stage, the image is treated as an unfinished object; it is not yet ritually active.

Archaeological and textual evidence shows that images were sometimes fabricated at quarry sites or specialized workshops and transported to the temple only after the sanctum was ready. This sequence reinforces the separation between architectural completion and ritual activation.

By the conclusion of Stage 8, the temple is structurally complete and physically equipped to receive the deity image, but it is not yet considered ritually functional. That transition occurs only in the subsequent consecration phase.

Stage 9 — Installation and Consecration (Prāṇa-pratiṣṭhā)

After the structural completion of the temple and preparation of the sanctum and image (Stage 8), the Āgamic sequence proceeds to prāṇa-pratiṣṭhā, the ritual installation and consecration of the deity. This stage marks the formal transition of the building from an architectural structure to a functioning temple.

Āgamic manuals treat prāṇa-pratiṣṭhā as a distinct and mandatory operation. Until this rite is completed, the temple is not considered ritually operative, regardless of architectural completeness. The installation is carried out under controlled conditions, with prescribed personnel, timing, and ritual order.

The process involves the placement of the image on its pedestal within the sanctum, followed by a sequence of rites that include purification, invocation, sealing of the sanctum, and ritual “opening” of the image. The texts emphasize that this stage must be performed only after all construction debris is cleared and all architectural work in the sanctum is finished, as no further physical alteration is permitted once installation begins.

The Āgni Purāṇa explicitly defines this transition:

प्राणप्रतिष्ठया देवो जागर्ति शिलामयेThrough prāṇa-pratiṣṭhā, the deity becomes present within the stone.

Historical and epigraphic records show that installation ceremonies were often treated as major public events, distinct from construction phases. In some cases, inscriptions record the date of consecration rather than the date of construction, indicating that ritual activation, not structural completion, marked the temple’s effective beginning.

At temples such as Somnath and Kashi Vishwanath, reconstruction phases in the historical period were followed by clearly documented re-consecration ceremonies, reinforcing the principle that ritual activation must be renewed after major structural interruption.

By the end of Stage 9, the temple is formally recognized as a sacred institution, with the deity installed and the sanctum ritually sealed.

Stage 10 — Operational Ritual Cycle and Maintenance (Nitya Pūjā)

Following consecration, the temple enters its final and continuous stage: nitya pūjā, the daily ritual cycle and institutional maintenance of the temple. Āgamic texts make it clear that consecration alone is insufficient; the presence established during prāṇa-pratiṣṭhā must be sustained through regular ritual activity.

The Kāmikāgama states this requirement unambiguously:

नित्यपूजाविहीनस्य देवालयो निरर्थकःA temple without daily worship is without purpose.

Nitya pūjā includes a fixed sequence of daily rites, typically performed multiple times a day, involving bathing of the image, offering of food, lighting of lamps, recitation of mantras, and closure of the sanctum. The exact schedule varies according to tradition and temple status, but the principle of regular, uninterrupted worship is consistent across Āgamic systems.

This stage also includes institutional maintenance: upkeep of the building, replacement of worn ritual objects, management of temple staff, and administration of land grants and donations. Inscriptions from major temples frequently list allocations for oil, flowers, food, musicians, and repair work, demonstrating that ritual continuity was supported by economic and administrative planning.

The operational phase is open-ended. Unlike earlier stages, which have defined endpoints, nitya pūjā continues for the life of the temple. Interruptions to daily worship—due to abandonment, destruction, or major renovation—require re-consecration before rituals can resume.

In practical terms, Stage 10 is the phase in which the temple functions as a living institution, rather than as a completed object. Its architectural form, spatial organization, and construction choices only achieve their intended role through this ongoing cycle.

Khajuraho Temple

Conclusion

When I began this inquiry, I approached temple architecture as an architect trained in contemporary methods, accustomed to separating design, construction, structure, services, and use into discrete phases handled by different specialists. What I encountered in the Āgamic process was not a primitive or symbolic system, but a highly integrated method of building, in which intention, site, geometry, proportion, construction, ritual, and long-term operation were treated as parts of a single continuum.

What struck me most was the number of people and disciplines involved. The temple was never the work of a single designer or builder. It required patrons, sthapatis, surveyors, sculptors, priests, administrators, and artisans, each operating within a clearly understood framework. Decisions made at the earliest stages—such as intention, site selection, and layout—carried through to structural form, ritual operation, and even daily maintenance centuries later. The process assumed continuity across generations, something rarely planned for in modern architectural practice.

As an architect educated in India, I became increasingly aware of how little of this system I had been exposed to. Temples were present everywhere in the physical landscape, yet absent from architectural education as a coherent design and construction process. I had experienced these buildings emotionally and spatially long before I understood them technically. Encountering the Āgamic manuals was therefore not just an academic discovery but a corrective one—an encounter with a body of knowledge that had been obscured rather than lost.

Through this study, I came to recognize the maturity of the planning methods our predecessors employed. The use of grids, proportional systems, staged construction, and long-term operational thinking reflects a level of architectural foresight that is often underestimated. Equally important was the deliberate alignment of architecture with larger orders—directional, temporal, and cosmological. Whether or not one engages with the metaphysical premises, the clarity of intent and consistency of execution are undeniable.

This process changed how I read temples. They no longer appear to me as static monuments or stylistic artifacts, but as the outcome of a rigorous, layered methodology that combined material knowledge with symbolic order. The alignment with the cosmos and the divine was not an abstract idea imposed on form, but a structuring principle embedded into planning, measurement, and use.

What remains with me is a renewed respect—not only for the buildings, but for the intellectual culture that produced them. The Āgamic system represents a way of thinking about architecture that assumes responsibility across time, integrates multiple forms of knowledge, and accepts that buildings participate in a larger order beyond immediate function. As an architect, this realization has expanded my understanding of what it means to design—and what it means to inherit a tradition.

Ref:

A digitized publication of The Saivagamas, a collected set of Śaiva Āgama scriptures — useful as a reference for study and translation (note: may include commentary material and selected Agamas).

1. Archive.org – “The Saivagamas” (full text PDF & plain text)https://archive.org/download/TheSaivagamas/The%20Saivagamas_text.pdf

This contains a printed text edition of multiple Āgama scriptures compiled historically, and is in the public domain.

2. Online Translations of Selected Šaiva Agamas

A collection of translated Agama scriptures made available online (Chapters of Kāmikāgama, Raurava Agama, Sarvajñānottara, Mrgendra Agama, etc.):

🔗 Sāivite Scriptures – Himalayan Academy Agamas Categoryhttps://www.himalayanacademy.com/saivite-scriptures/category/scripture/agamas/

This site provides chapter-level access to multiple Āgamas translated into English — especially useful if you want to read canonical passages rather than entire Sanskrit manuscripts.

3. Overview and Listing of Śaiva Agama Names

Helpful for understanding the list of traditionally recognized Agamas in the Śaiva siddhānta tradition (such as Kāmikāgama, Suprabheda, Ajita, Dīpta, Vijaya, Raurava, Kirāṇa, etc.):

🔗 Overview of Shaiva Agamas — Vedas.howhttps://vedas.how/blog/agamas/shaiva-tantras/shaiva-agamas/

This page also describes the internal structure of Agamas (philosophy, rituals, yoga, temple rites).

4. Supplementary Āgamas & Subtexts (Upagamas)

Lists of supplementary texts traditionally associated with the 28 primary Shaiva Āgamas, useful for detailed study:

🔗 Upagamas of Śivagamas — Shaivam.orghttps://shaivam.org/agama/upagamas-of-shivagamas/

This gives names and listings of supporting Agama subtexts that are otherwise difficult to locate.

5. E-Book Resource Portal for Āgama Literature

A repository aiming to collect Sanskrit texts and related research — while varied, it includes Agama and related Śaivite manuals:

🔗 Saiva Sastra Prachara Sabha E-Bookshttps://sivaagama.org/e-books/

Some material here may require registration or specialist access, but it’s a credible repository.