Ponniyin Selvan - 1 | Fresh Floods |Chapter - 12 | Nandhini

Ponniyin Selvan - 1

Fresh Floods |Chapter - 12 | Nandhini

Ah, yes. We left Vandhiyathevan on the banks of the Kollidam,

safely inside a boat, didn’t we? Now we’re honour-bound to tell our

readers how he made an explosive entry into the Kudandhai

astrologer’s home, of all places.

The Saivite who had objected in no uncertain terms to

Azhwarkkadiyaan’s getting into the boat, preserved his silence until

they were well across the river, and then turned to our young man.

“Thambi, it was on your account that I even let this one get into the

boat. Order him never to utter that eight-letter word in my presence

—or I shall task these boatmen to push him into these waters! They

are my men, you see.”

“Well, honoured Nambi?” queried Vandhiyathevan. “Did your

sacred ears get the message?”

“I am content never to mention the blessed eight-letter name—as

long as that one never utters the five-lettered blasphemy,” retorted

Azhwarkkadiyaan.

“Who is this idiot, who dares me to never chant that divine fiveletter word, the PanchaksharaMantram of Siva Peruman Himself?”

thundered the Saivite in righteous anger, proceeding to recite in

majestic tones:

“Katroonaippoottikadalirpaaichinum

NatrunaiyavadhuNamachivayave!”

[Bind me to a stone pillar and throw me into the oceans—and I

shall still chant Namachivaaya, in praise of Siva Peruman, who is

always by my side!]

Azhwarkkadiyaan, never to be outdone, sang in turn:

“Naadinennaadi naan kandukondein

Narayana ennumnaamam!”

[I searched within myself, and I found—the blessed name of

Narayana, the Supreme Being!]

“Siva Siva!” growled the Saivite, and stuck his fingers in his ears.

He took them out only when the Vaishnavite was done.

“Do listen to this fanatic go on and on about his precious God,

Thambi,” began Azhwarkkadiyaan. “He complains so much about

Thirumaal’s name even falling on his ears—but doesn’t this very

Kollidam come down to us only after washing the divine feet of the

Lord Who Resides in Srirangam? And Siva Peruman, of course,

realizes how blessed these waters are, which is why he practically

submerges himself in them to perform penance in Thiruvaanaikkaval

temple, grateful for the high honour—”

The Saivite pounced on Nambi with a roar, barely allowing him a

word more. The two began a wild tussle in one end of the boat; when

it looked like it might capsize, Vandhiyathevan and the boatmen

intervened, pulling them apart.

“It seems, my devout men, that you wish to dive headfirst into this

raging Kollidam and ascend moksham straightaway,” admonished

Vandhiyathevan severely. “I, however, still have a great many things

to accomplish in the world and wish to stay, if you please.”

“I am not sure about moksham,” averred one of the boatmen.

“But they are sure to reach the stomachs of crocodiles. Look over

there!”

They followed his finger—and saw one gaping wide, its

terrifyingly sharp teeth clearly visible.

“I’m not afraid of them in the least,” declared Azhwarkkadiyaan.

“Don’t I have the divinely powerful Narayanamurthy who rescued the

elephant Gajendra from the clutches of a crocodile, to sweep me

away from danger?”

“Only if he finds the time to actually tear himself away from the

saris of Brindavan’s Gopika women,” snapped the Saivite, tone

dripping with sarcasm.

“Or, perhaps, Siva Peruman is caught in difficulties, like the time

he granted all those silly boons to the demon Basmaasuran, and

came whining for assistance. And perhaps Thirumaal has hastened

to his help,” mused Azhwarkkadiyaan.

“This Vaishnavite does not seem to remember how Thirumaal’s

arrogance was destroyed during Siva Peruman’s annihilation of the

Three Worlds,” retorted the Saivite.

“I really don’t understand why you must quarrel endlessly, this

way,” complained Vandhiyathevan. “Why don’t you choose your

favourites and worship them in peace?”

-

As to why exactly the Saivite and Azhwarkkadiyaan were at each

other’s throats, or the religious argument that ended almost in a fullfledged fight at Veera Narayanapuram—perhaps it would be better to

reveal to our readers the reason for such fervour among the local

populace, in those days.

For more than six hundred years, Jainism and Buddhism had

reigned supreme as the religions of favour, in the Thamizh lands.

Many were the benefits reaped as a result of their prevalence:

sculpture, art, poetry, dance and prose flourished. Later, it was the

time of Azhwars and Naayanmars belonging to Vaishnavite and

Saivite traditions respectively, to begin the Bhakthi movement in

earnest with their divinely beautiful songs in simple, chaste Thamizh.

Their campaigns to popularize their faiths with the masses

proved to be extraordinarily powerful: sculpture and music were put

to great use in their work; many chose to sing the Azhwars’ beautiful

pasurams and the work of three celebrated saints of Saivism,

compiled as Thevaram verses, set to charming music, almost

celestial in their beauty. Such songs melted the hearts of listeners

with their exquisite loveliness, raising religious ardour to almost

fever-pitch. Those temples that had songs of Azhwars and the three

Saivite saints dedicated to them attained a new degree of respect,

conferred as they had been, with a signal honour. Many were the

houses of worship that had been built with wood and bricks thus far;

now, they were rebuilt in stone, never to be destroyed. It was

VijayalayaChozhar who took up this monumental work; his heirs and

others of the royal family would later expand upon it.

Meanwhile, neighbouring Kerala was not exempt from

momentous events either. A tiny village called Kaaladi witnessed the

birth of a saint; at a very tender age, he renounced the world and

became an ascetic. The pursuit of knowledge drove him to learn the

languages of the North; soon, he was an expert in the Bhagavad

Gita, the Upanishads and Brahma Sutra—which formed the basis for

his much acclaimed treatises, especially when he later hoisted the

flag of Advaitha philosophy victoriously upon the peak of theological

debates, besting his peers. His proficiency in the Northern languages

aided him in travels across the length and breadth of

Bharathavarsha; he established eight seats or monasteries that

propounded Advaitha philosophy in earnest. Monks and ascetics,

captivated by his theories and treatises, traversed the lands,

expounding them to eager audiences.

Approximately 980 years ago, around the time this story was set

in Thamizhagam, religious fervour had peoples’ imaginations in a

feverish grip. As much as this was advantageous in some ways, it

cannot be denied that a good many adverse elements also found a

way to twine their poisonous tendrils around the population. Fierce

Vaishnavaites and Saivites rose everywhere with thorny arguments;

Advaitha philosophers pitched in to add their mite. Religious debates

often turned into ugly fist-fights.

There is, in fact, a rather quaint story that illustrates the SaivaVaishnava skirmishes of those days beautifully:

Once, a staunch Vaishnavite walked along the towering temple

walls of the Siva abode in Thiruvaanaikkaval. Suddenly, a stone

dropped on his head. It was a sharp one, and the resulting gash

began bleeding at once. The Vaishnavite craned up his neck—to see

a crow perched on the temple tower. He guessed, at once, that the

bird’s awkward perch must have dislodged one of the stones in the

aged, crumbling vimanam.

Instantly, every sign of distress left him; he even forgot the blood

flowing freely from his head. “Devout crow, you must be a staunch

Vaishnavite from Srirangam!” he crowed. “Destroy this

Thiruvaanaikkaval temple tower at once!”

This was how things stood at that point, in Thamizhagam.

Learning these circumstances will aid our readers immensely, in

understanding this story.

The boat reached the opposite banks. “Go to hell!” The Saivite

hurled a last, liberal curse at Azhwarkkadiyaan’s head and went his

way. The Kadambur soldier who had accompanied Vandhiyathevan

departed as well; he would procure a horse in nearby

Thiruppanandaal.

Left to fend for themselves, Vandhiyathevan and

Azhwarkkadiyaan sat down on the banks, under a sprawling arasu

tree. Hundreds of birds perched in its numerous branches, chirping

and twittering in enthusiastic tones.

Both felt that the other possessed a good deal of information;

both tried to get the other to blurt out what he knew. The result was

that each spent a good deal of time talking in endless circles,

circumventing one topic after another, yet moving inexorably towards

the other’s secrets.

“Well, Thambi?” Azhwarkkadiyaan made the opening gambit.

“You did go to the Kadambur palace, didn’t you? And you never

thought to take me along!”

“It was all I could do to get in myself, Nambi.”

“Indeed? How did you enter, then? Or perhaps you never did?”

“Oh I did, all right. When have I ever backed out of something I

set my heart on? The sentries at the gates did their best to throw me

out —but I spurred my horse and practically dashed in. They tried to

bar my way, but every single one of them crumpled to the ground in

a heap. And my friend Kandamaran arrived to escort me before they

could gather their simple wits and close in.”

“I thought that it might have happened that way. You’re

courageous, Thambi! And then? Who were the guests? Did you

see?”

“So many that I lost count. And such great men too! I couldn’t

recognize all of them. There was Pazhuvettarayar, though. And his

wife. Ah, the beauty of that young woman! Where am I to find the

words to describe her?”

“You saw her, then?”

“Did I not! My friend Kandamaran practically dragged me to his

palace’s anthappuram. That’s where I caught sight of her—and let

me tell you: she fairly dazzled down every other woman in that place.

Her face shone like a radiant full moon amongst those dark-skinned

ladies. All the celestial beauties—Rambhai, Urvasi, Thilothamai,

even Indra’s queen Indrani, Chandrani, hah, they’re all nothing to

her!”

“Well! This is describing her indeed. And what happened next?

Did they perform the KuravaiKoothu?”

“Indeed. And very well too. I thought of you, then.”

“How unfortunate that I couldn’t attend! What else?”

“Well, the Velan Dance, for one. The Devaralan and Devaratti

came on stage and put up an aggressive performance.”

“What about the sannadham? Were they possessed? Any

predictions?”

“Ah, certainly! “There will be rains; the land will flourish; all our

deepest desires will be fulfilled …”

“Is that all?”

“I believe there was something about royal matters—but I wasn’t

really listening.”

“Ah, but you should have, Thambi! How unfortunate that you

didn’t. See, you’re a youngster; a valiant and intelligent one at that.

You must keep your eyes and ears open when it comes to royal

affairs.”

“Indeed, you speak the truth. I thought so myself, this morning.”

“Eh? Why only this morning?”

“Because Kandamaran and I were chatting as we traveled

towards the Kollidam, and he happened to mention something about

their famous visitors. Apparently they gathered after I’d gone to bed

last night, and discussed some very secret royal matters.”

“What royal matters?”

“Kandamaran was very vague about it, so I’ve really no idea. All

he would say was that something momentous would happen soon,

and he’d tell me all about it. Very mysterious, he was. Nambi, would

you happen to know anything about it?”

“What about?”

“There’s been talk everywhere about strange things happenings,

hasn’t there? About the comet in the sky—and how that portends

terrible misfortune to the Chozha throne … people are discussing all

this as far away as ThondaiMandalam. Apparently, several great

men have been gathering and considering who might be next in line

to the throne. What about you, Nambi? Who do you think will be the

next Emperor?”

“I’m afraid I’m not knowledgeable about such things, Thambi.

What have I to do with royalty? I’m a Vaishnavite; the servant of

devout Azhwars who sing the praises of Thirumaal. All I do is follow

in their footsteps and go on pilgrimages.”

As if on cue, he began to sing ThirukkandenPonmeniKanden—

upon which Vandhiyathevan cut in without compunction. “Do me a

favour, Nambi, and kindly shut up.”

“This is a divine Thamizhpasuram—why would you tell me to

stop?”

“Devout AzhwarkkadiyaanNambi—I find myself entertaining a

suspicion. May I reveal it?”

“By all means.”

“You wouldn’t take a swing at me with that stick of yours, will

you?”

“Dare I even think of such a thing?”

“All this devotion—your piety, arguments about Thirumaal, being

a staunch Vaishnavite, these pasurams and the sacred symbols on

your body—I say that every single one of these is just a clever

disguise.”

“Ayyo! How could you? Good God, sacrilege! Blasphemy!”

“Blasphemy indeed! Ah come now, Nambi—all this is just a ruse

to cover up your lust, isn’t it? I’ve come across men like you—

insanely enamoured of women. I wonder what you see in them? I

confess your obsession is beyond me. For myself, I hate their very

sight.”

“It’s true that certain men have nothing on their minds but women

—but kindly don’t lump me with them, Thambi. I’m no lecherous idiot

masquerading as a devotee. Your assumption is unjust.”

“In that case, why ask me to deliver a message to the lady in the

palanquin? Harbouring romantic feelings for a married woman too!

That’s why you wanted to come to the Kadambur palace, didn’t you?

It wouldn’t do to deny it.”

“I won’t. What I do deny is your rationale for why I wanted to

come to the palace. I had my reasons—but that’s a very long story

indeed.”

“Well, considering the horse isn’t here yet, you may as well

begin.”

“If you think it’s just an amusing fable—don’t. Every part of it is

true. Are you sure you want to listen to it?”

“Only if you wish to tell me.”

“I believe I will, even if I’m in rather a hurry at the moment. After

all, I may need something else of you, some other time—and then

you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“If it’s an honourable request, yes. However, you needn’t share

anything if you don’t want to.”

“But I must. The young woman caught in the terrible clutches of

that ogre Hiranyasuran—I mean Pazhuvettarayar—is named

Nandhini. Her tale will astonish you, I promise. You will practically

explode with anger at the injustice of it —!”

With this preamble, Azhwarkkadiyaan began Nandhini’s history.

-

A village on the banks of the River Vaigai in Pandiya Nadu was

Azhwarkkadiyaan’s birthplace; his family was steeped in poverty—

but for all that, every one of them was a staunch Vaishnavite.

Once, his father went to the flower gardens on the river banks,

and stumbled upon an infant girl, lying all alone. No one claimed her;

he brought her home. She was a charming, lovely child, and the

family instantly fell in love with her. They had found her in a beautiful

nandhavanam; the name Nandhini thus suited her and she swiftly

became a much-loved member of their home. Azhwarkkadiyaan, for

his part, considered her his own sister, and cherished her.

As Nandhini grew, so did her devotion towards Thirumaal.

Neighbours predicted that she would become another Andal,

following in the footsteps of that devout lady; she would give herself

up to God and a life of divine service.

Azhwarkkadiyaan believed in this more than anyone else. Such

was his affection towards the young girl that he took the

responsibility of raising her, upon his father’s death. Brother and

sister went on pilgrimages, visiting temple after temple on a mission

to spread Vaishnavism. The sight of a young Nandhini wearing a

simple thulasi garland, singing pasurams in her exquisite voice, was

enough to melt the hardest heart.

Once, Azhwarkkadiyaan left on a journey to Thiruvengadam. It

was a while before he returned—and this was when disaster struck

Nandhini’s life.

The unceasing war between Pandiyas and Chozhas had

escalated to one final, bloody battle in the vicinity of Madurai—and

the former suffered a crushing defeat. Veera Pandiyan lay on the

battlefield, grievously wounded; some of his closest aides unearthed

him among the massacred bodies and tried to save his life. In the

thick of the night, they brought him to Nandhini’s home. The young

woman saw the badly wounded king and felt her heart stir with pity.

She tried her very best to succour him—but Chozha soldiers had

already caught the scent of the hidden Pandiyaking, and surrounded

her home. They stormed the dwelling, killed Veera Pandiyan—and

Nandhini, whose luminous beauty had bewitched Pazhuvettarayar,

was promptly imprisoned.

Three years had flown since these events. Try as he might,

Azhwarkkadiyaan had never been able to see Nandhini again. Ever

since then, he had used every means in his possession to meet her

at least once, to speak with her, and if she were unhappy, to rescue

her somehow, from her present circumstances. Until this moment,

though, all his efforts had been in vain.

Vandhiyathevan’s heart melted at this moving recital. For one

brief moment, he even considered revealing to Azhwarkkadiyaan

that the palanquin’s occupant had actually been Prince

Madhuranthakan and not Nandhini—but some instinct seemed to

prevent him. What if, he wondered, this entire tale had been one of

Azhwarkkadiyaan’s carefully constructed fantasies?

The thought made him refrain from saying anything about the

events at Kadambur, and his own midnight adventures.

In the distance, they saw the soldier from Kadambur approach,

horse in tow.

“Will you help me, Thambi?” entreated Azhwarkkadiyaan.

“But what can I do? Pazhuvettarayar is among the most powerful

men in the empire, capable of making anyone dance to his tune—

while I’m just one man without any connections. How am I supposed

to help?” Vandhiyathevan’s words were cautious. “Nambi,” he began,

after a pause. “Do you really mean to say that you know nothing

about royal affairs? Can’t you truly make a guess about who might

ascend the throne, if something should happen to Maharaja

SundaraChozhar?”

And he gazed intently at the Vaishnavite, seeking some sort of

reaction. Azhwarkkadiyaan’s face, however, remained as placid as

ever.

“Again—what do I know of such matters, Thambi? Now, if you

were to ask the astrologer of Kudandhai …”

“Ah—and is he truly that skilled?”

“Indeed. He happens to be an expert in not just astrology, but

divining your innermost thoughts. He can even deliver predictions

according to the state of current affairs!”

I certainly must pay this paragon a visit, resolved Vandhiyathevan

to himself.

Humankind has been obsessed for millennia, after all, in learning

about the future. Prince or pauper, intellectual or idiot—no one is

exempt from a deep curiosity in glimpsing what time holds for them.

It’s hardly surprising that our young warrior, entrusted with the weight

of royal duty and forced to chart a perilous course for himself, should

wish to know as well, is it?