CHAPTER 10

A DANCE OF ECSTASY

“Appa…” began Sivakami. “It’s been a long time since I danced—shall I do so, today?”

Father and daughter were seated on a boulder under a tree, some distance from the house. Various pots, pans and an assortment of articles used to concoct pigments and paints lay strewn underneath another tree.

Aayanar threw a look of considerable astonishment at her. “My dear…you look extraordinarily happy, today—is there any particular reason?”

Sivakami blushed and hesitated a few moments, wondering about an answer to this surprisingly astute question. “Why…why, appa, I’ve been feeling euphoric ever since I heard the news about Kamali—appa, can’t we possibly go to Kanchi and visit her?” Almost at once she realised her error, and bit her lip. “You—you said the Emperor had sent us a message…what is it?”

“The enemy has crossed the Vada-Pennai, and his armies are now approaching Kanchi; the Emperor wishes us to either move into the city of Kanchi, or travel down south to Chozha Desam…what would you like to do, my child?”

“What would I like to do…? Appa, what would I possibly know about such matters? Your decision is mine too…”

“My decision, my child, would be to remain here, in this forest dwelling—I doubt if I could be happy, elsewhere,” replied Aayanar.

“So would I, appa. We’ll remain here, shall we?” answered Sivakami.

Sivakami’s decision to remain with her father in their forest dwelling was a direct result of Maamallar’s message to her—she had no intention of moving from her home, or indeed, taking any decision at all regarding her residence—until he had visited her, as per his promise, in his letter.

True, her heart yearned to see her dear sister Kamali, in Kanchi…but she remembered all too well, the emotional epistle she had received from Narasimhar immediately after her visit to ThiruNaavukkarasar in his madam, eight months ago.

“…You, my dearest, beloved queen of my heart, future Empress of the Pallava Empire—you ought to be sleeping on velvet couches strewn with malligai flowers, under satin coverlets, in the finest and richly decorated apartments of the Royal Palace of Kanchi…and instead, you were lying on a hard earthen floor in one of the smallest cottages in the city—the residence of my charioteer, no less! How could I ever bear to think of you in such squalid surroundings, and in such discomfort?”

Two things were immediately apparent to Sivakami when she first read these lines—that the Crown prince of the Pallava Empire loved her with all his heart…and that he did not approve of her staying in Kannabiraan’s cottage, when she visited the city.

Much as she enjoyed her periodical visits to the city, and cherished her friendship with Kamali, Sivakami could not ignore the pleas of her beloved. Passionate love for the Crown Prince, and deep affection towards her childhood friend battled for supremacy in her heart—and love emerged victorious, in the end.

‘Good Lord, what a fool I am,’she often wondered, in her hours of solitude. ‘I have had enough effrontery to court the attentions of the Crown prince of this Empire; I have been so fortunate as to secure his affections, and to be the queen of his heart—and yet, I’ve dared to behave in such a manner as to incur his displeasure, to cause him discomfort and pain. Oh, did ever such a fool exist in this Universe…!’

In those moments, she decided that she would not take a step towards Kanchi, without knowing his plans and his pleasure—which was why she answered Aayanar, as she did.

Aayanar, however, seemed to have sunk into worrisome reflections. “My dear, Emperor Mahendra Pallavar is, after all, a man of vision and foresight—I’m not sure if we should flout his orders, and continue our residence here. I wonder if we must move…? Perhaps it would be flying in the face of providence to stay here…I wish we had someone to offer us a few words of advice. Where is Naganandhi Adigal, I wonder? We last saw him eight months ago, and it seems as though the earth simply swallowed him up—I hope he hasn’t been so unfortunate as to get involved in some predicament…”

Sivakami noticed her father’s depression, and decided that she would cheer him up. “Appa, why don’t I dance a few pieces? It’s been a long time, and I’m sure you would enjoy it…” she began again—when a voice interrupted her.

“May I be allowed to attend Sivakami’s performance, as well?”

Father and daughter turned at once—and saw Naganandhi Adigal standing a few feet from them.

“Buddham Saranam Kachaami!
Dharmam Saranam Kachaami!
Sangam Saranam Kachaami!”

Naganandhi finished reciting the usual words of arrival, which was the norm of Buddhists, and Aayanar spoke in a rush of eagerness and delight.

“Swami, you’re most welcome! It’s said that the Lord is the only entity in this universe who attends to the cries of His followers and arrives at once to console them—you too, have come to us as such a divine entity. Do come inside—we were talking of you but a few moments ago…!”

“Were you, indeed…? If you were, in truth, thinking of this poor saffron-clothed hermit, and if my name was indeed on the lips of the divine Sivakami, then I shall be honoured to step inside your residence. My dear Aayanar, words fail me when I try to describe the speed with which your daughter’s reputation has spread along the length and breadth of this country. Ah, many are the cities I travelled to—I stepped into Thiruvadhigai and Thillai; I visited Uraiyur, Vanchi and Naagai…I even visited Madurai, and the Korkai Harbour—and wherever I went, my friend, I was sure to hear of Sivakami’s fame and talent, which had preceded my arrival. When it was known that I came from Kanchi, people clustered around me to listen to news of your daughter—Jains and Buddhist monks, Saiva saints and Vaishnava devotees alike wished to know of your daughter’s prowess in Bharathanatya. Uraiyur’s King, and artists from far-flung China were awestruck at her proficiency in classical dance, and yearned for news of her. Aayanar, you must have performed countless penances in earlier lives, to have been blessed with a daughter such as Sivakami…”

Aayanar and Sivakami stood awestruck, rendered speechless at this torrent of words from the bikshu, who finally decided that he would change the subject, if only slightly.

“Well, Aayanar? Sivakami’s proficiency in Bharathanatyam must have increased considerably, in the past eight months—shall I have the honour of witnessing the superb performance of South India’s most renowned dancer?”

Naganandhi’s praises created a change in even Sivakami’s heart, and where she had earlier been inclined to think of him in an unfriendly manner, his words now produced a decided change in her sentiments. Aayanar looked at her enquiringly, and she assented at once.

They walked into the house, and Sivakami appeared in the hall a few moments later, dressed exquisitely, in her finest dancing attire. Her heart was filled with unspeakable exhilaration; Narasimhar’s declaration of love, and Naganandhi’s unstinting praise had filled her being with a rapture that found release in her movements. She began dancing according to the beat Aayanar tapped out; there was no song here, no verses to be explained, no meaning to be gathered—it was, quite simply, a dance of ecstasy.

Her intimate knowledge of classical dance and the minute precision with which Aayanar had trained her stood her now in good stead, while allowing for ample creativity—every single posture, and every position she displayed radiated confidence and beauty. Delight and happiness suffused every one of her stances, she brought to life the loveliness in a peacock’s dance, the proud posture of a stallion, the magnificent stance of a royal elephant, the soft and gentle walk of an annapatchi, the delighted frolicking of a deer in the forest—there was no end to her imagination and the way she chose to exhibit her talents.

A few moments into the performance, Sivakami ceased to think of herself, or the fact that she was, indeed, dancing—she floated away into her own private world, a world of happiness and love, where light and passion reigned supreme…and Aayanar continued to beat out the steps, immersed in his own personal world of exquisite enjoyment.