Ponniyin Selvan | Fresh Floods |Chapter - 3 | The Vinnagara Temple

They say that life is an unpredictable journey that surprises one

at every turn. That trivial incidents are often the catalysts to

significant, life-altering events that turn the world upside down.

Such an experience occurred to Vandhiyathevan, at that moment.

He had been staring, slack-jawed, at the Pazhuvettarayar

procession as it wound its way through the crowd; his horse had

been standing just a little further away.

The last of Pazhuvettarayar’s cavalcade, marching behind their

mates, caught sight of it. “Adei,” exclaimed one. “Look at that

kurudhai!”

“That’s a horse, not a mule, dimwit,” corrected another.

An acid comment intercepted them. “Will you two scholars kindly

set aside grammar lessons and find out if that animal is a horse or

an ass?”

“Now this is a mission more to my liking,” agreed a third. He

promptly set off towards the steed and attempted to clamber on its

back. That intelligent animal, realizing instinctively, that the

newcomer was not his master, shook him off. It flounced away,

obviously distressed.

“Well, well, would you believe the temper of this one!” chuckled

the soldier who had taken a tumble to the ground. “The mule won’t

let me mount. It’s a respectable animal, you see—wants a member

of an ancient royal clan for its master.” He appeared to ponder this

deeply. “In that case, no one less than a prince of the Thanjavur

Mutharayar dynasty would do!” he quipped—and the soldiers around

him cackled appreciatively.

There was reason for their derisive laughter: the Mutharayar

dynasty of Thanjavur had been crushed out of existence a hundred

years ago; the Chozha Empire’s tiger flag fluttered triumphantly, in its

place.

“Who cares what the horse thinks?” put in one. “I’d say that our

Thandavaraayan right here is a thousand times better than some

descendent of long-dead Thanjavur Mutharayars!”

“Thandavaraayaa, you’d better make sure this animal really is a

horse and not a false-legged prop for the temple festivities,” mocked

another soldier. “After all, it refused to let you mount, didn’t it?”

“An excellent idea,” agreed Thandavaraayan, and proceeded to

put this to the test. He approached the horse and this time, caught its

tail—giving it a vicious twist. That much-afflicted animal decided

enough was enough, kicked its hind legs three or four times, and

galloped away.

“Ah, look at it run! It really is a mule, then—how wrong we were!”

yelled the soldiers, carried away by what was, to them, a hilarious

sight. They whistled and screeched “Ui! Ui!” and crashed behind the

horse as it stumbled through the festival crowd.

People milling about tried to get away from the terrified animal as

it ploughed through them. Most managed to escape, but some were

still caught under its thundering hooves, and suffered injuries. The

horse galloped on, meanwhile, maddened out of its senses.

All of this had happened in moments, before Vandhiyathevan

could gather himself and take any action. Azhwarkkadiyaan, who

had caught sight of the young man’s expression, guessed that the

stallion was his.

“Saw the antics of those Pazhuvoor oafs, Thambi?” His voice

was suave. “Why couldn’t you teach them the lesson you promised

me?”

The smoothly delivered taunt found its mark; Vandhiyathevan’s

face turned crimson with fury. He grit his teeth, however, and forced

himself to keep calm. The Pazhuvoor men had turned out in full

force; there was no point in trying to take on hundreds of them in a

fight. They had not stayed behind to look for a quarrel with the

horse’s owner either, marching away after cackling at the animal for

a while.

Vandhiyathevan chose, instead, to go after his stallion, which had

slowed to a stop after a while. He had not been much worried about

it; the horse was well-trained, he knew, and would not wander away

too far. No, what he was itching to do was teach those arrogant

Pazhuvoor idiots a lesson—but now was not the time. He would

have to wait.

The horse had come to a halt in a tamarind grove, away from the

milling throngs. Sorrow practically dripped off its drooping mien, and

it neighed a little when Vandhiyathevan approached. Why did you

leave me alone, among those louts? It seemed to ask, and

Vandhiyathevan applied himself to the task of soothing its lacerated

nerves. He patted its back, and managed to calm it down enough to

walk it back to the thoroughfare. The crowd caught sight of him, and

impaled him with criticism. “Why did you bring this unruly animal to

the festivities, boy?” They complained. “Look at the number of

innocent people who have suffered its kicks!”

Others were slightly more charitable. “Not the poor boy’s fault at

all. What could he do? What could the horse do, for that matter? It

was just the mad, vulgar antics of those Pazhuvoor men.”

Azhwarkkadiyaan stood waiting as Vandhiyathevan returned with

the horse, and the young man’s face narrowed with irritation. Why

won’t this quarrelling idiot leave me alone?

“What’s your direction, Thambi?” asked the Vaishnavite.

“Er—ah—well, I fully intend to travel to the west and then turn

south and then, perhaps, take a stroll to the east and double back to

the south-west,” Vandhiyathevan rattled off.

“That wasn’t what I meant. Where do you intend to stay, tonight?”

“Why do you wish to know?”

“If you were, perhaps, intending to lodge at the

KadamburSambuvaraiyar Palace, I have a commission for you.”

“Well! Are you an expert in the black arts or magic? How on earth

did you know where I was headed?”

“Hardly something that warrants the expertise of a magician.

Dozens of visitors will arrive today from all over the country, and stay

at the palace.”

“Is that so?” murmured Vandhiyathevan, surprise colouring his

voice.

“Indeed. Don’t tell me you didn’t know this—to whom else could

the palanquin, royal umbrellas, elephants, horses, drums, conches

and trumpets belong, but the Kadambur royal family? They were

here to welcome and escort Pazhuvettarayar to the Palace. He

would expect, and settle for nothing less.”

This was news indeed. Opportunities to stay in the same place as

Chozha Nadu’s greatest warrior would not be easy to come by; who

knew? He might even chance upon a God-given excuse to actually

meet him, and introduce himself, perhaps. All this was highly

tempting—but recent experience with Pazhuvettarayar’s brutes had

soured his expectations, a little.

Lost in reverie, Vandhiyathevan came to himself at

Azhwarkkadiyaan’s voice.

“Thambi—will you do me a favour?” Azhwarkkadiyaan’s tone was

filled with pleading.

“What sort of favour could I offer you? I’m a stranger to these

parts, myself.”

“I wouldn’t ask you anything beyond your means. Take me to the

Kadambur palace with you, tonight.”

“Whatever for? Do you expect to meet a Saivite, there? Perhaps

you’re eager to debate with him about the respective merits of Siva

and Thirumaal?”

“Of course not. Did you really think I picked quarrels for a living?

See, my lad, the palace will resound with celebrations tonight—they

are sure to hold an enormous feast which will be followed by

kaliyaattam, saamiyattam, a delightful kuravaikoothu, dances and

songs. I’ve never seen a koothu—and this would be a perfect

chance.”

“Be that as it may—how would I be able to escort you?”

“You could introduce me as your servant.”

Every suspicion that Vandhiyathevan had entertained some time

ago returned in full force, and grew in strength. “Look, you’d better

play off your petty tricks on someone else. I’m not the man to fall for

them. The last thing I want is someone like you as my servant—and

who do you think will believe such a thing? No one would, even if I

were stupid enough to take you with me. Besides, judging by

everything you say—I doubt if even I will find a place to stay there,

tonight.”

“Then—you’re not traveling to Kadambur by invitation?”

“I am, in a way. Sambuvaraiyar’s son Kandan Maaravel is a very

dear friend of mine, and has often insisted that I visit him if I’m ever

in these parts.”

“Is that all? You won’t find it an easy circumstance to enter the

palace tonight, then!”

They walked together in silence, for a while.

“Why do you follow me?” asked Vandhiyathevan, finally.

“I could ask you the same thing. Why don’t you go your own

way?”

“Because I don’t know my way around, of course. Nambi, do you

go to Kadambur, as well?”

“No—you’ve refused to take me along, haven’t you? I’m on my

way to the Vinnagara temple.”

“To the Veera Narayana Perumal Temple, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to visit, too.”

“Would you, now? I wondered if you might object to entering

Vishnu temples. This one has an excellent history and is worthy of

worship, as well. There’s a Battar, a priest here, by name

EswaraMunigal, who serves at the temple. A great man, indeed.”

“I’ve heard of him too—but the shrine’s so crowded today! Is it

some sort of auspicious occasion?”

“Of course—today is the birth star of the lady Andal, one among

the twelve Azhwars, the chief of Thirumaal’s devotees. And then, it’s

Aadi Perukku as well, which explains the teeming crowds. Hardly

surprising, is it?” Azhwarkkadiyaan changed tack. “Thambi, have you

ever listened to any of Andal’s songs?”

“No.”

“Don’t. Never, never make even the attempt!”

“Why this hatred?”

“I cherish neither hatred nor loathing for her pasurams—all I

wanted was to warn you about their fatal charm. My lad, if you ever

had the misfortune of listening to her exquisite poems, you’d throw

away your spear and sword; swear off your military lifestyle and

wander away on a pilgrimage through all the Vinnagara temples in

the land!”

“Do you know any? Can you sing them?”

“A few. I’ve learnt some of Nammazhwar’s divine verses as well. I

intend to sing them at the temple; you may listen, if you wish,”

answered Nambi. “Ah, here we are!”

And, in truth, they had arrived at the Veera Narayanapura

Temple.

-

ParanthakaChozhar the First, the grandson of

VijayalayaChozhar, carried the magnificent title of “The

Kopparakesari Who Conquered Madurai and Eezham” —and it was

he who laid the foundations for the empire, the Chozha kingdom

would later become. Paranthakar was also the bearer of other, grand

titles: he it was who had fitted ThillaiChitrambalam, or the

Chidambaram temple with a golden roof; he possessed the titles of

ChozhaSigamani, SooraSigamaniamong others— not to mention

Veera Narayanan, as well.

The Rashtrakuta kings of the RettaiMandalam kingdom in the

north wielded considerable power during his time; Paranthakar

suspected that they might cherish designs on the Chozha territories

as well and stationed his firstborn, Prince Rajadithyar, in the

Thirumunaippaadi country, with a large army at his disposal.

Rajadithyar was loath to let hundreds of thousands of warriors

lounge about with nothing to do, and hit upon a plan: they would

work towards something that benefited a large swathe of the local

population. Well aware that copious amounts of water overflowed the

banks of the Vada Kaveri, or Kollidam and drained into the sea with

no use to anyone, he made arrangements for his men to dig a

massive lake, to collect it. He named it the Veera Narayana Eri in

honour of his beloved father, and raised a Vinnagara Temple, as well

—it was common for Vishnu Temples or Vishnu Grihas, to be known

in Thamizh as Vinnagaram, in those days.

Thirumaal, or to address Him by another name, Sriman

Narayanan Murthy was the Protector, the Supreme Guardian of all

life as he lay on his snake-bed, in a sea of milk. It was only

appropriate that temples in his name were often raised on the banks

of lakes; this was also the reason for the presence of the Veera

Narayana Temple, on the banks of this one, too.

Azhwarkkadiyaan and Vandhiyathevan entered the sacred

precincts of such a hoary temple; once they approached the

sanctum, the Vaishnavite cleared his voice, and began to sing. He

worked through a few of Andal’s divine pasurams or songs, and

finally touched upon Nammazhwar’s work, commonly referred to as

the ThamizhVedham:

“Poligapoligapoliga

Poyitruvalluyirchaabam

Naliyumnaragamumnaindha

Namanukinguyaathonrumillai

Kaliyumkedumkandukolmin

Kadalvannanboothangalmanmel

Maliyappugundhuisaipaadi

Aadiuzhitharakkandom!

Kandomkandomkandom

Kannukkiniyanakandom

Thondeerelleerumvaareer

Thozhuthuthozhuthuninraarthum

Vandaarthannanthuzhaayaan

Maadhavanboothangalmanmel

Pandaanpaadininraadip

Parandhuthirigindranavae!

[Behold, behold, the shining grace of the Lord who redeems us of

our curses; Behold the light that banishes the darkness of hell; that

releases us from the yoke of death; the age of kali is at an end, and

those who worship Lord Vishnu will rise again, upon this earth; sing

and dance, to glory! Behold, behold, the sight that gladdens our

hearts; to see the prayers of His servants rise to reach Him; we, who

sing His praises are lost in the ecstasy of His grace, as bees drunk

on the nectar of His thulasi garland!]

Tears gathered in Azhwarkkadiyaan’s eyes, rolling slowly down

his cheeks as he gave himself up to the beauty of the divine.

Vandhiyathevan listened carefully as well, and though he shed none,

his heart melted at the simple beauty and pure emotions that were

their essence.

His sentiments towards Azhwarkkadiyaan underwent a change,

as well. This man, he thought, is a true servant of God.

Others besides the young man, immersed themselves in the

songs: the mudhalimaar, the temple authorities lost themselves in it,

as did the priest, EswaraBattar, who stood by the sanctorum, tears

brimming in his eyes. By him stood a fresh-faced youngster, his

attention entirely on the singing Vaishnavite.

Azhwarkkadiyaan sang ten pasurams with the utmost feeling,

and finished with one more:

“Kalivayalthennankurugoor

Kaarimaaransadagopan

Oli pugazhaayirathuippathum

Ullathaimaasarukkume!”

[Sing these songs, devout ones, composed by Kari Mara

Sadagopan of Kurugoor in the divine lord’s honour—and thy heart

will be cleansed of every blemish!]

When he finished, the youngster leant towards his father and

whispered something into his ears. The Battar, who had bent down,

straightened and wiped his eyes. “Ayya, hasn’t the revered

Nammazhwar, Sadagopan of Kurugoor sung a thousand songs in

praise of our Lord? Do you know them all?”

“This servant hasn’t had that good fortune,” answered Nambi. “I

am acquainted with a few, though.”

“Pray, teach this youngster of mine whatever you know,”

requested the Battar.

-

Veera Narayanapuram was to be honoured with a great many

more accolades in the coming years: the young Battar’s son who

now stands beside his father, listening to the chaste pasurams of

Nammazhwar, his face a picture of innocence and the radiance of

youth, would grow up to become Naadamunigal, the first and most

illustrious of many Vaishnava Acharyas; later, he would journey to

Kurugoor, also known as AzhwarThirunagari, and gather all

thousand of Nammazhwar’s beautiful verses, adding even more

acclaim to the great devotee who had composed

theThamizhVedham. Naadamunigal’s many disciples would

painstakingly catalogue these verses, memorize them, and sing

them all over the country.

His noble work would not stop there: Naadamunigal’s grandson

Alavandhaar would lead a life rich with destiny and far more

miraculous events than even his grandfather.

More praise would pour in: Udayavar Sri Ramanujar himself

would visit this, the birthplace of such greatness, and stare in

astonishment at the Veera Narayanapuram Lake and its seventy-four

gushing canals. He would ponder upon the endless grace and

compassion of Thirumaal who showered his blessings upon his

devotees, just as the canals that poured water into the lake. This

would lead the saint to conceive of setting up seventy-four Acharya

peedams or Vaishnavite centres for devotees; these would, one day,

lead to the establishment of seventy-four Simmasanadhipathigal or

Vaishnavite leaders, who would dispense knowledge and grace to

devotees in their turn, and begin a rich tradition that would continue

over centuries.

But such things do not come under the purview of this tale; we

shall let the richly compiled tomes of Vaishnava Guru Parambarai to

recount their lives, and return to Vandhiyathevan.

Once they had completed their worship and walked out of the

temple, the Vaanar warrior turned to Azhwarkkadiyaan. “Nambi, I

must beg your forgiveness. I had no idea that you were such a

devout man, or that you were so well learned. You won’t hold my

ignorant words against me, will you?”

“By all means, you have my forgiveness, but tell me—will you do

me a favour?”

“I said that I couldn’t do what you wanted—and you agreed, didn’t

you?”

“Ah, but what I wish you to do now is something else altogether. I

shall give you a tiny note. Should you have the opportunity to stay in

the Kadambur palace tonight, you must deliver it into the hands of a

certain person.”

“Oh? To whom?”

“The woman who followed Pazhuvettarayar, in her closed

palanquin.”

“Nambi, what sort of a man do you take me for? Do I really seem

like the kind that delivers notes to women? Had it been anyone but

you who asked this of me—”

“If you’re unwilling, Thambi, leave, by all means. There’s

absolutely no need to fly into a passion. The thing is—if you’d helped

me with this, I might have lent you my assistance at some point.

Never mind.”

Vandhiyathevan lingered no more. He leapt on his horse and

galloped towards Kadambur.