CHAPTER 8

THE HISS OF A SNAKE…

Sivakami walked down to the lotus pond, sat down on the rustic bench under the Magizha* tree, and pulled out the palm-leaves she had stuffed into her blouse.

“You rascally palm-leaves,” she murmured, caressing the little bundle. “It isn’t enough that your Crown Princes tortures my heart; you indulge in that act too, do you?”

She touched the leaves to her eyes, and hesitated a few moments, before placing them briefly on her lips—once. Almost immediately she removed the first olai, which acted as a cover to the rest, and glanced at the small, neat handwriting that flowed underneath.

She had started on the first olai, eagerness brimming in her eyes, when she was interrupted by a shrill voice.

“Akka*! Akka!” A brilliantly green parrot was perched on the side of the rustic bench, looking keenly at her out of beady eyes.

Sivakami laughed, her merry voice pealing out like a silver bell tinkling in the breeze. “Sukabrahma Rishi*! How dare you come in here, the boudoir of a young woman—a lady too, who’s just about to start reading her lover’s letter? You really ought to learn a few manners. Now, do go away!” And she placed her hands away from her as though to push the bird away—though, in truth, the gesture resembled that of a young lady warding off her beloved’ embraces, rather than one indicating anger.

Sukabrahma Rishi seemed to understand her innermost thoughts, for he screeched his intention of remaining on the bench for quite some time to come.

Sivakami chuckled. “Revered sage, I know not how princesses in ages bygone ever harboured secrets in their palaces, with you around to hear every one of them! Well, you shall be dealt with very severely indeed, when I become Queen of the Pallava Empire; I shall impose a decree that banishes all parrots from the Royal Palace—”

The parrot cocked its eyes at her mischievously. “Maamalla! Maamalla!” It shrieked.

Sivakami glared at the bird in mock anger. “Is that so, my friend? You’ll run to Maamallar for refuge, when I banish you, will you? Now that’s something I’ll never allow to happen. The moment I take my place on the throne of the Pallava Empire, I shall issue orders to banish lazy louts, saffron-robed bikshus, hermits and Kapalikars wearing horrible skulls—the only people who’ll have a place in the Pallava Empire will be those who’re willing to live harmoniously, with their wives and children. You do know that, don’t you? Now kindly sit down, and let me read these palm-leaves in peace…!”

Sukabrahma Rishi hopped about as though he could not possibly obey this relatively simple order, and called out into the forest once again. “Rathi! Rathi!”

Sivakami turned, and saw Rathi, the deer, come bouncing out into the clearing almost at once.

“Rathi, my dearest, you’re the perfect companion for young ladies in their private chambers—you’ll listen to every single secret, and never betray me—but this odious Sukabrahma Rishi will listen to everything that’s being whispered and, betray us all by blurting them out in public! When I’ve sent this idiotic bird about it’s business, I shall read out Maamallar’s olai to you, shall I?” Sivakami fondled the beautiful animal, and gazed at the palm-leaves in her hand—much in the manner of a child afraid to eat luscious sweets, because it is afraid that they may be over too soon.

She could not, however, put off the delight of relishing Maamallar’s olai forever—and spread open the leaves gently. The letter had been composed in Prakruth*, and was as follows:-


“To,

The dearest daughter of our country’s most revered and respected sculptor,
The Goddess of loveliness who would put angels to shame,
The most talented Bharathanatya dancer the Empire could boast of…and—

To a most beloved princess, who reigns absolutely and completely in the heart of Narasimha Pallava…

Sivakami, my dearest—I told you once before that I would come to you in person, rather than write an olai…and there are two reasons for my not having kept my promise, and writing to you, after all.

Beloved one…I had a most peculiar dream, the night before last. Thrills of exhilaration, delight and strange sensations course through my veins, when I think about it even now—listen to my account of one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had.

I was sleeping in my dream—sleeping on a bed that seemed to float about in the sky…and for some reason—I knew not why—I woke up. I tried to open my eyes, and found, to my considerable perplexity, that they were already open! I hadn’t been able to see anything until then, because darkness engulfed me all around, in every direction.

I was engaged in thinking about this mysterious darkness—darker even than the kohl that lines your beautiful eyes—when suddenly, I saw an orb of light shine above me. This orb grew brighter as it approached me—so bright, that I had to shield my eyes from being overpowered by so much light.

But then, as I saw that golden brilliance approach me, I discovered that it was your lovely face—oh, how can I ever describe the happiness that filled my being when I saw your countenance looking down at me…? Soon enough, the golden brilliance that dazzled the night sky resolved into your form…and as I lay on my floating bed, delighting in your beauty, I was struck with a strange thought: your body, as I saw it, could not possibly be made up of mortal elements—mere bone, skin, flesh and blood could not conjure up such divine beauty. No, I knew what Brahma, the creator of all life, had taken to create your form—surely he must have used the moon’s silvery rays, the Malligai flower’s sweet fragrance, the softness in an annapatchi’s* feathers, and the soul of heaven’s most delightful music, to create a woman as beautiful as you.

As I remained thus, wondering and delighting in the beauty of your form, you approached me. Closer and closer…your breathtakingly beautiful face was near mine. And then…I saw two tears at the edge of your lashes—like dewdrops hanging from the soft petals of a lotus, in the mornings. I could feel your breath on my face, and with every passing second, I yearned desperately to take you in my arms, with every fibre of my being. Oh, how I longed to embrace you…! But I never did.

There was, you see, a reason for my restraint. I was struck with a sudden fear that you would disintegrate into the fragrance of flowers, the heavenly delight of music, the softness of an annapatchi and moon-rays…if I touched you. You seemed to understand my fear, because your lips parted, disclosing two rows of pearly white teeth…you smiled. And I—I was bewitched by you, and every moment seemed to draw me deeper into a wild passion…

But oh…! How shall I ever describe my disappointment, when I heard a snake hissing, somewhere nearby…? I turned around in an instant, and saw two lovebirds on a tree; they were billing and cooing, expressing their love for each other in every way possible—while a long, deadly cobra, with its black and yellow markings displayed clearly on its back was slithering up the tree, clearly making its way towards the birds. I knew at that moment, that it was this snake that I’d heard, hissing. I forgot even your presence, my beloved, and unsheathed my sword…

And then I woke up.

Most beloved queen of my heart…I have never believed, heretofore, in dreams and their possible interpretations—but I confess that this particular dream has left me wondering about its meaning. I wonder if it is an indication of your safety—perhaps some danger approaches you. War is nearing us with every second, after all, and you must take care, my dearest. But you need not fear anything—as long as I live, I and my sword will be ever ready to protect you and your father.

Dawn is breaking; light spreads over the eastern skies as I write this. I shall give you an abridged version of another piece of news: I have gained a new friend. You would like to know his identity, would you not? He is none other than the young man who exhibited his valour so well by saving you and your father from a crazy elephant, eight months ago. The Emperor has sent him down to Kanchi to strengthen our defences. He and I spent all last night in conversation—I need not say, I think, that we talked mostly about you.

He brings you news from the Emperor—you must make a choice soon, about your future residence. You must either decide to stay in Kanchi, or move down south, towards Chozha Nadu…but I would rather you refrained from making a decision, until I visited you. In a way, this war has turned out to be something of an advantage—I shall be free of my bonds soon, and will be able to leave the stifling confines of this city. The moment I gain my independence, I shall come to see you—then, and only then, will I turn my attention towards other matters.

My darling…sometimes, I wonder about the perversity of fate which has made me an Emperor’s son, with innumerable responsibilities and duties. Why must there be a kingdom to protect, and wars to be fought? Could not all this be a dream? And when I wake up, could I not be a simple student, learning the intricacies of sculpting from your father? Nothing could throw an obstacle between us, then. And I would not have kept away from you, unable to see you for the past, eight long, agonizing months…”

Sivakami read through the olai once—and again. Finally, she looked at Rathi.

“Rathi, I’ve never failed to read out the Crown Prince’s every olai to you…but I don’t think I can do so this time. You wouldn’t understand, even if I did!”

She stood up, and walked towards the Makizha tree, climbed up a couple of feet on it, and reached towards a spot on the trunk where a few branches met over head, concealing a dark hole. Dipping her hand in, she pulled out several other palm-leaves, neatly bound up. She counted them all carefully, added the latest olai to the bundle, and deposited them safely, back into the hole.

“Come, Rathi, my dear; Sukabrahma Rishi, we may as well go home, now—appa will be waiting for us, wondering where on earth we’ve vanished to…you aren’t angry that I haven’t read out the olai to you both, are you? Well, I promise that I shall read it out to you tomorrow. In fact, I shall probably read it out to you every single day of my life. Rathi, you have no idea about the Crown Prince’s true talents…and Sukabrahma Rishi, let it be known henceforth, that Narasimha Pallavar is the greatest poet of our times—his talents are unrivalled by even those of Kalidasa*and Bharavi. And do you know…” Sivakami skipped along the path as she spoke. “Do you know who the fortunate girl is, to whom he has dedicated his heart, love and his poetry? Me, Sivakami—a poor little sculptor’s daughter!”

As soon as Sivakami vanished behind the trees surrounding her home, Naganandhi Adigal sidled out from behind a particularly large tree, behind the lotus pond. He walked slowly towards the tree inside which Sivakami has secreted her palm-leaves, and took them out. He read through them with a feverish impatience, breathing heavily, as he did so.

It sounded like a snake hissing through the forest.


Glossary:

*Makizha Tree: A tree well kown for its fragrant blossoms – makizhampoo.

*Akka: Elder sister, in Thamizh.

*Sukabrahma Rishi: The son of Sage Vyasa (who wrote the Mahabharatha). Legend has it that Suka Rishi or Sukabrahma Rishi (as he is known) was such an enlightened soul that young ladies, bathing in the river, did not bother to cover themselves up when he passed by them—he was sublimely unconscious of his surroundings, and always in meditation of the Brahman, in spite of his youth. Not even his father could achieve the heights of spirituality his son did. Mythology says that Suka Rishi attained salvation the first time he heard the divine Gayathri manthra– his bodily form simply dissolved into fragments, and he became one with nature (When Sage Vyasa called out to his son, it is said that even the trees, grass and the flowers answered, ‘Yes, father!’). He is often said to have taken the form of a parrot when he chose—this was the reason for Sivakami naming her own pet by the name of the Rishi.

*Prakruth: Reigning language of the masses in those times. Prakruth was said to be the rather colloquial version of the much more elite Sanskrit. It is an evidence of what language the Pallavas favoured, even though they ruled over the Thamizh country.

*Annapatchi: Mythological bird, very graceful and pure-and which supposedly had unique powers - given a bowl of milk and water, it could seperate the milk perfectly, and then consume it.

*Kalidasa: A poet par excellence who was blessed by the Goddess Kali, and was transformed from a poor shepherd, into a man of great knowledge and education. Kalidasa is well known for his excellent Sanskrit compositions, Shakunthalam, Vikramorvashe, etc.