CHAPTER 5

A STORM OF LOVE

The moment Paranjyothi saw Sivakami, standing at the entrance of her home, his eyes dropped to her feet, unable to meet her gaze. His first visit to the famed sculpture's home, eight months ago, had implanted in his mind an impression that Sivakami possessed divine qualities, and was no ordinary mortal. This impression had only grown in the past months, as he suspected the growing attachment between the sculptor's daughter and the Crown Prince, Narasimhar—and the day before, his suspicions were confirmed, when he first heard of the love between them, from the Crown Prince himself.

The two friends had seated themselves on the terrace of the Royal Palace that evening, enjoying the beautiful, silvery rays of the *Sharath Chandran—and Narasimhar had chosen those moments to open his very heart to his dearest friend. The Crown Prince had been waiting for such an opportunity as this, and when his heart understood that he had found a companion who would serve his best interests, he bared his soul—quite literally. A deluge of thoughts and emotions drenched in love had been stored up in the young Prince’s heart for months, with no one to share with, and when such a torrent of love broke over Paranjyothi, the commander reeled under the sheer enormity and force of the turbulence and turmoil unleashed at him.

Love of this kind—primitive and furious, unchained and uncontrolled, lashing out at its recipients, was unknown to him. He too, knew what love was—there was a young woman in Thiruvenkaadu, in his uncle Namachivaaya Vaidhyar’s home, who had stolen his heart. Her love, when he experienced it, was sweet and peaceful—thoughts about her invariably had a calming influence on him.

Narasimhar’s love, on the other hand, did not seem like love at all—Paranjyothi saw that it had metamorphosized into a screaming fury that churned the Prince’s heart like the seven seas in a gale, spewing goblets of molten fire as though from a volcano, drawing him into valleys of despair, and producing an unstoppable flurry of tumultuous, roaring, crashing waves that struck at seashores during particularly horrendous cyclones. This was not just love—it was an unquenchable, raging inferno.

Paranjyothi saw and heard for hours, and was perplexed. With surprise and astonishment came another emotion—fear. Eight months had given him more knowledge about royal affairs than all his years in a village…and as he wondered about the passionate love shared by this unlikely couple, and the obstacles they might have to cross to bring it to fruition, pity and worry tugged at his gentle heart. Of all the hurdles that they might have to face, he recognized the biggest—Emperor Mahendra Pallavar did not look upon this alliance with favour. How on earth could anyone brave this, the biggest obstacle of all? How could they ever hope to accomplish a marriage without the mighty ruler’s approval?

The past eight months on the battlefield, in the company of that exalted Emperor had placed Paranjyothi in a unique position—he had taken the role of a confidante to the former, and knew his opinions and closest thoughts on almost every subject. One of these was the fact that the Pallava Emperor knew of Maamallar’s love for Sivakami—and had no intention of encouraging it.

These state of affairs, consequently, made Paranjyothi’s own position extremely difficult. On the one hand was the Pallava Emperor, who was as a father to him, who had a firm hold over his heart, and could claim his complete and total devotion—who expected the commander to actively turn Narasimhar’s heart away from Sivakami. And then there was Narasimhar himself, who had pledged eternal friendship to Paranjyothi, given his heart into his friend’s keeping, and expected Paranjyothi to further his interests with Sivakami. To do what the Emperor wished would mean betrayal to Narasimhar—and to heed Narasimhar’s pleas and aid him, would mean a direct opposition of the Emperor’s wishes. One of the two people he loved would be hurt, very badly.

Be that as it may, what was Sivakami’s own position with regard to this? What were her interests, and would this unequal love be of any real benefit to her? What was Aayanar’s own opinion?

Of one thing, though, there could be no doubt: Paranjyothi’s own feelings for Sivakami. The word ‘Sivakami’ conjured up in his mind a vision of devotion, affection, bashfulness and esteem. His emotions towards her, if they needed to find comparison, were that of what *Lakshman probably felt for his brother’s wife, *Seetha—divine, pure and unadulterated.

The moment Sivakami saw that the visitor was not Maamallar, all interest in the occupants of the chariot vanished. Her attention was transferred to Kannabiraan, who pulled the chariot to a stop, and jumped down from his seat. Paranjyothi followed him.

Sivakami turned towards the charioteer as they approached.

“Anna, you’re in good health, I hope? And the family? Is everyone well?” Despair and disappointment echoed hollowly in her voice.

“No, my dear lady, emphatically no! None of the family’s hale and healthy. Kamali’s visited regularly by her headaches, my father suffers from pain in his knee-joints, and I—I too, am not well. Not well at all…” He drawled.

“Why, what’s happened to you?” asked Sivakami.

“I don’t know, my dear. Something’s wrong with my stomach. Kamali says that the remedy for my all my ills is a cat.”

“A cat? Good grief, how could a cat cure you? How idiotic!”

“Why, yes, my dear. My stomach positively rumbles with hunger these days, you know. Last night I gobbled up all of Kamali’s fare for the night—nine *appams, seven *dosais, twelve *kozhukattais—and had the unmitigated gall to ask her if there was anything more to eat. She said that I had a rat lodged in my intestines; all I needed to do was eat a cat, and my hunger would die down forever!”

Sivakami broke into a peal of laughter, and Paranjyothi himself chuckled, unable to control his mirth. His voice attracted Sivakami’s attention; she turned towards him, trying to match his features with her memory. Who could he possibly be…?

Paranjyothi mustered his courage. “My lady, don’t you recognize me?”

“Thiruvenkaadu—isn’t that where you came from…?”

“Yes, my lady. It is I, Paranjyothi—I came from Namachivaaya Vaidhyar of Thiruvenkaadu, bringing an olai for your father…”

At this moment, Kannabiraan intervened. “Forgive me, madam; I’ve erred in my duty—like the person who forgot to bring in the bridegroom at his marriage, I’ve forgotten our hero—extremely remiss of me. I shall introduce our visitor now—he, madam, is the Supreme Commander of the City of Kanchi, and the Emperor has sent him here to guard us against enemy invasions. There’s no place on earth that’s safer than Kanchi now, to hide away in—not even Yama, the God of Death can inch his way in!”

Kannabiraan held the role of a wit of sorts—Paranjyothi was well aware of his intimacy with the Royal family, and knew that he had the right to such liberties with the Crown Prince himself. He brushed aside the charioteer’s witticisms and turned toward Sivakami. “How is your father, madam? Is he well? May I visit him?”

Sivakami’s expression at the moment showed that she herself had not enjoyed Kannabiraan’s little jokes about Kanchi’s defences. “Appa is very well indeed—there he comes.”

Paranjyothi turned, and saw the sculptor walking towards him from beneath a clump of trees. He spoke as the latter neared him. “Sir, I hope you recognize me?”

Aayanar reached Paranjyothi in a couple of steps. “Why, is it…is it indeed you, my boy? Paranjyothi?” He folded the young man into a fond embrace. “My boy,” he began, his voice husky with emotion. “My boy, how did you fare on your journey? Did you…did you find what I asked for?”

Paranjyothi saw the intensity in the sculptor’s eyes, the eagerness and curiosity that bored into his own, the lines of strain that seemed to be etched on that old face—his heart melted. With great pity welling up inside him, he replied, in a tender voice.

“I’m very sorry, my dear sir. I…I couldn’t do what you asked of me this time. But someday—someday I certainly will accomplish it and bring you the secrets of Ajantha.”

“No, my boy. Thank you—but no. I heard…news about you, that you’d joined the Pallava Armies—I hoped those rumours might be false, but I now understand that they weren’t. Never mind…some day, I shall find out the secret myself. As a matter of fact, I’ve been working on certain combinations—would you care to come with me? I’ll show you what I’m working on,” Aayanar looked at the trees he had been working under.

Sivakami raised her eyes. “Appa, my brother has visited us after eight months—wouldn’t it be better for us to ask him inside and talk for a while, before we turn to other things?”

“Why, yes…yes, my boy, we must learn all the latest news from you—inside, then!” And Aayanar ushered Paranjyothi within the house.


Glossary:

*Sharath Chandran: Harvest Moon

*Lakshman, Seetha: Protagonists of one of India's most famous epics - The Ramayana.

*Appams, Dosais: Savoury dishes that are an integral part of the Thamizh food network. They exist even today—in mind-boggling, lip-smacking varieties.

*Kozhukattais: Supposedly a favourite sweet-meat of the Elephant God, Vinayaka. Also known as modaks.