Chapter 2 - Friends of Old
As the chariot passed through the imposing gates of the city, and bowled at a comfortable pace along the spacious, well-kept streets of Kanchi, Paranjyothi's mind drifted back to the first time he had stepped inside the portals of the beautiful city. Evening had crept in that day too -and a pale moon was rising at the horizon, casting it silvery rays over the land. Memories of his entry through the southern gates, and the events that had cascading into one another that fateful day, passed swiftly through his mind. Yes, he was entering Kanchi today too...but oh, what a difference between his first entrance, and this one?
“Commander? You seem to have sunk fathoms deep into silence,” Maamallar began conversationally, and Paranjyothi snapped out of his reverie.
“Forgive me, my Lord. Your affection towards me – your welcome – has made me forget myself. I’m surprised at myself – am I dreaming, or am I really travelling in the same chariot with the Crown Prince of the Pallava Empire, who defeated all the best wrestlers in this country, and earned the title ‘Maamallar’?
“What a doubt! It is I who ought to be proud of travelling with you, in this chariot. Why, you swept through Pulikesi’s massive armies like the mountain *Mantharagiri, churning up the oceans, didn’t you? You blasted through Vathapi’s enormously powerful elephant army, like a cyclone tearing up the countryside, didn’t you?”
“I see that the Pallava cavalry’s achievements have travelled down to Kanchi,” replied Paranjyothi, modestly transferring his own laurels to that of the Pallava forces.
“Well, why not? The Emperor sent me messages every week, describing in minute detail the victories of the Pallava cavalry under your command – and I promptly made arrangements for the news to be circulated through the length and breadth of the Empire,” said Maamallar.
“And there’s another instance of your kindness making me forgetting myself. I almost forgot to hand over the Emperor’s olai to you,” Paranjyothi pulled out the palm-leaf from its protective shell, imprisoned in his waistband.
Maamallar shot a mischievous glance at Paranjyothi. “Commander, this is the olai give to you by Emperor, isn’t it? It didn’t get…er…replaced on your way here, did it?”
“Good grief, you haven’t heard that story too, have you, my Lord?” Paranjyothi smiled, albeit blushing a fiery red, at the reference.
“Of course I do. What’s more, I’ve also heard all about how you befriended the indomitable warrior Vajrabahu, and your adventures with him…!” Maamallar and Paranjyothi broke into laughter simultaneously.
After a moment, the Crown prince continued. “Eight months ago, when the Emperor set out for the war-front, insisted that I’d accompany him—but he refused to listen to me. I asked him, then—no, I made him promise that he would send me messages in detail, describing all the events of the battlefield. And he’s done so, ever since. My commander, I may be seeing you for the first time today…but believe me, I’ve been watching you for eight months, through the Emperor’s messages. Today, when I first saw you, the thought hardly entered my mind that you’re a stranger to me. Indeed, you appear to me in the light of a long-lost friend…”
“My Lord, forgive me if I sound like a parrot, repeating your own words…but I too, feel exactly the same. You see, not a day passed, during the past eight months, without the Emperor making some reference to you. You don’t appear a stranger to me, either.”
Kumara Chakravarthy pulled Paranjyothi’s wrists in a strong clasp. “Why…in that case, we’re lucky, the two of us! The great poet *Thiruvalluvar’s words have come true, in our case.
[*Friendship occurs among those who meet and converse often – but when two people share the same emotions and feelings, then friendship blooms in their hearts, even when they have not had the felicity of meeting each other.] No wonder that saint has been named ‘Poyyaamozhip pulavar’. How absolutely fitting!” He exclaimed, in a rush of joy.
Paranjyothi bit his lip. “Forgive me again, my Lord—I haven’t had a day’s education in all my life…I don’t know Thiruvalluvar, nor his divine epic, the *Thirukkural. I‘m an ignoramus with not an ounce’s worth of knowledge. The—the Emperor has sent you an olai, asking you to educate me. You ought to read that one too,” he replied.
Narasimhar listened to this statement with a touch of constraint. “Er…yes, of course. I’m obliged to carry out the Emperor’s orders, whatever they might be—” he began, before Paranjyothi interrupted him.
“The Emperor says that he’s asking you to educate me for your own good, not mine,” said the commander.
Maamallar looked up, puzzled. “Oh?”
“Yes, my lord. The Emperor thinks that you possess almost every good quality required in leader, but you apparently lack one virtue—patience and calmness. He says that you—um—will acquire both if you start educating me. Now you can imagine his belief in my ability to absorb knowledge,” Paranjyothi replied dolefully.
Maamallar shot him one incredulous glance, and went off into peals of laughter. Paranjyothi, infected by the Crown prince’s amusement, broke into chuckles of merriment, while Kannabiraan, the charioteer guffawed, unable to control his glee.
The horses, ever sensitive to the emotions of their passengers, neighed in unison, this musical performance producing another round of unbridled mirth in the three men.
Glossary:
*Mantharagiri: Legendary mountain figuring in Hindu Mythology.
*Poyyaamozhip pulavar: He Who Forever speaks the truth.
*Thiruvalluvar: A much acclaimed Thamizh poet, who produced his greatest work, ‘*Thirukkural’ allegedly in the second century AD – a work of epic proportions, containing 1330 couplets, divided into 133 sections, setting down the ways and means of life, politics, society, emotions…a readymade guidebook, oft-quoted by Thamizians, in literature. One especial point of mention is its brevity – the couplets, known as ‘kural venba’, can be memorized easily. There are many legends connected with Thiruvalluvar and his magnum opus—most notable, among them, that he was the brother of Auvaiyaar, another famed poetess of Thamizh Nadu. Folk tales describe Auvaiyaar’s attempts to make Madurai’s Thamizh Sangam acknowledge the Thirukkural as an authentic Thamizh work, adhering to the complex grammatical rules, and poetical fluidity required by Thamizh literature. In the end, God himself proclaimed Thiruvalluvar’s work as authentic—Thiruvalluvar has been referred to as a ‘divine poet’, and his work, the ‘Thamizh Veda’ ever since.
“Commander? You seem to have sunk fathoms deep into silence,” Maamallar began conversationally, and Paranjyothi snapped out of his reverie.
“Forgive me, my Lord. Your affection towards me – your welcome – has made me forget myself. I’m surprised at myself – am I dreaming, or am I really travelling in the same chariot with the Crown Prince of the Pallava Empire, who defeated all the best wrestlers in this country, and earned the title ‘Maamallar’?
“What a doubt! It is I who ought to be proud of travelling with you, in this chariot. Why, you swept through Pulikesi’s massive armies like the mountain *Mantharagiri, churning up the oceans, didn’t you? You blasted through Vathapi’s enormously powerful elephant army, like a cyclone tearing up the countryside, didn’t you?”
“I see that the Pallava cavalry’s achievements have travelled down to Kanchi,” replied Paranjyothi, modestly transferring his own laurels to that of the Pallava forces.
“Well, why not? The Emperor sent me messages every week, describing in minute detail the victories of the Pallava cavalry under your command – and I promptly made arrangements for the news to be circulated through the length and breadth of the Empire,” said Maamallar.
“And there’s another instance of your kindness making me forgetting myself. I almost forgot to hand over the Emperor’s olai to you,” Paranjyothi pulled out the palm-leaf from its protective shell, imprisoned in his waistband.
Maamallar shot a mischievous glance at Paranjyothi. “Commander, this is the olai give to you by Emperor, isn’t it? It didn’t get…er…replaced on your way here, did it?”
“Good grief, you haven’t heard that story too, have you, my Lord?” Paranjyothi smiled, albeit blushing a fiery red, at the reference.
“Of course I do. What’s more, I’ve also heard all about how you befriended the indomitable warrior Vajrabahu, and your adventures with him…!” Maamallar and Paranjyothi broke into laughter simultaneously.
After a moment, the Crown prince continued. “Eight months ago, when the Emperor set out for the war-front, insisted that I’d accompany him—but he refused to listen to me. I asked him, then—no, I made him promise that he would send me messages in detail, describing all the events of the battlefield. And he’s done so, ever since. My commander, I may be seeing you for the first time today…but believe me, I’ve been watching you for eight months, through the Emperor’s messages. Today, when I first saw you, the thought hardly entered my mind that you’re a stranger to me. Indeed, you appear to me in the light of a long-lost friend…”
“My Lord, forgive me if I sound like a parrot, repeating your own words…but I too, feel exactly the same. You see, not a day passed, during the past eight months, without the Emperor making some reference to you. You don’t appear a stranger to me, either.”
Kumara Chakravarthy pulled Paranjyothi’s wrists in a strong clasp. “Why…in that case, we’re lucky, the two of us! The great poet *Thiruvalluvar’s words have come true, in our case.
‘punarchi pazhaguthal veNdaa, unarchithaan
natpaang kizhamai tharum.’*
[*Friendship occurs among those who meet and converse often – but when two people share the same emotions and feelings, then friendship blooms in their hearts, even when they have not had the felicity of meeting each other.] No wonder that saint has been named ‘Poyyaamozhip pulavar’. How absolutely fitting!” He exclaimed, in a rush of joy.
Paranjyothi bit his lip. “Forgive me again, my Lord—I haven’t had a day’s education in all my life…I don’t know Thiruvalluvar, nor his divine epic, the *Thirukkural. I‘m an ignoramus with not an ounce’s worth of knowledge. The—the Emperor has sent you an olai, asking you to educate me. You ought to read that one too,” he replied.
Narasimhar listened to this statement with a touch of constraint. “Er…yes, of course. I’m obliged to carry out the Emperor’s orders, whatever they might be—” he began, before Paranjyothi interrupted him.
“The Emperor says that he’s asking you to educate me for your own good, not mine,” said the commander.
Maamallar looked up, puzzled. “Oh?”
“Yes, my lord. The Emperor thinks that you possess almost every good quality required in leader, but you apparently lack one virtue—patience and calmness. He says that you—um—will acquire both if you start educating me. Now you can imagine his belief in my ability to absorb knowledge,” Paranjyothi replied dolefully.
Maamallar shot him one incredulous glance, and went off into peals of laughter. Paranjyothi, infected by the Crown prince’s amusement, broke into chuckles of merriment, while Kannabiraan, the charioteer guffawed, unable to control his glee.
The horses, ever sensitive to the emotions of their passengers, neighed in unison, this musical performance producing another round of unbridled mirth in the three men.
Glossary:
*Mantharagiri: Legendary mountain figuring in Hindu Mythology.
*Poyyaamozhip pulavar: He Who Forever speaks the truth.
*Thiruvalluvar: A much acclaimed Thamizh poet, who produced his greatest work, ‘*Thirukkural’ allegedly in the second century AD – a work of epic proportions, containing 1330 couplets, divided into 133 sections, setting down the ways and means of life, politics, society, emotions…a readymade guidebook, oft-quoted by Thamizians, in literature. One especial point of mention is its brevity – the couplets, known as ‘kural venba’, can be memorized easily. There are many legends connected with Thiruvalluvar and his magnum opus—most notable, among them, that he was the brother of Auvaiyaar, another famed poetess of Thamizh Nadu. Folk tales describe Auvaiyaar’s attempts to make Madurai’s Thamizh Sangam acknowledge the Thirukkural as an authentic Thamizh work, adhering to the complex grammatical rules, and poetical fluidity required by Thamizh literature. In the end, God himself proclaimed Thiruvalluvar’s work as authentic—Thiruvalluvar has been referred to as a ‘divine poet’, and his work, the ‘Thamizh Veda’ ever since.
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