CHAPTER 11

THE COWARDLY CROWN PRINCE

Fortunately for Aayanar and his daughter, who had literally lost themselves during Sivakami’s superb dance recital, there was one other person in the room who hadn’t completely severed contact with the world outside—needless to say, this was Naganandhi, the bikshu.

“Aayanar, stop; stop this instant! A few more minutes, and this world couldn’t possibly stand the force of Sivakami’s performance—I doubt if she could withstand the pressure, herself…”

Aayanar came back to earth, and stopped beating out the steps, while Sivakami brought her performance to an end.

After a pregnant pause, the monk spoke again. “Aayanar…do you have any idea about the injustice you’ve been doing—to yourself, to your daughter, and to the world outside? Do you? You’ve managed to hide away Sivakami and her incredible talent inside a damp, stone cottage, like a miser locking up his invaluable jewels inside a stone vault. How dare you, sir? You do know what happens, don’t you, when one places a brightly lit lamp in a dark corner of the house and covers it with a cloth—the cloth burns up, and the lamp is eventually extinguished. Aayanar, your daughter possesses a gift not easily attainable by anyone on earth…please listen to me; give me your attention, and I shall tell you of ways and means by which to exhibit her talents—you will find that the world outside will welcome her with open arms and shower her with honours unimagined by ordinary humans. Journey with me; we shall leave for Thillai, and there, Sivakami may take the Goddess Parvathi’s place, and dance the famed competition between her and her Lord—unlike Parvathi, I’m sure she would win, and Lord Nataraja, the Lord of Bharathanatya would lose miserably, if he dared to contest her, and would rest his feet on the earth, for a brief respite. And then we shall leave for Naagai, where, in a short while, Buddhist bikshus from the world over will gather in large numbers for a conference, along with artists and travellers from Kanyakupjam, Gaya, Kasi, and even from far-flung lands from across the seas—Saavakam and China. Experts in classical dance will be present, and your daughter will have an excellent opportunity to exhibit her proficiency in this art—and I’m sure she would dazzle her audience with her performance. Her reputation, and yours along with hers, will travel far and wide, I’m certain. From Naagai, we shall journey to Uraiyur. The kings of Uraiyur wielded considerable power once, but today they’re vassals of the Pallavas and pay tribute—yet, Aayanar, their love for the arts, and their patronage towards artisans is legendary. Their Crown Prince, Parthiban, is a lover of art forms of every kind—he is an artist of some renown, and possesses a great kindness towards others who share his interests, besides taking enormous pains to encourage them. If he could witness your daughter’s performance, I’m sure he would reach heights of ecstasy hitherto denied to him. After Uraiyur, our destination would be Sithar Vasa Malai, where Sivakami would be able to delight in the beautiful murals and paintings of Buddhist monks—we’d be off to Madurai, later. Maaravarma Pandiyan, who was Madurai’s ruler until recently has met his end, and his son, Sadaya Varma Pandiyannow rules the Temple City…ah, if only that great king knew of Sivakami and her talents! Would he leave the two of you to languish in loneliness and despair thus, in the middle of a forest? Certainly not—he would house you in the most magnificent palace one could ever find in the city of Madurai, and pay homage to you…”

Aayanar and Sivakami sat all the while as though turned to stone, captivated and awestruck at the dazzling picture the bikshu presented them—much in the manner of a snake swaying drowsily to a snake-charmer’s haunting melody.

Naganandhi halted the flow of words finally. “Well, Aayanar?” He said. “What do you say?”

Aayanar blinked at the monk. To tell the truth, he had no real idea about what to do—he had been carried away by the word-picture painted by the bikshu. At the back of his mind, however, grew the thought that Naganandhi’s proposals were very much in tune with the Pallava Emperor’s message—but a germ of distinct uneasiness prevented him from assenting to it at once.

“I’m not sure…” He turned to Sivakami, uncertainty in his eyes. “I shall have to ask Sivakami’s opinion,” he said.

Sivakami, for her part, had been indulging in delightful fantasies about journeying to Uraiyur, Naagai and Madurai, performing in front of thousands of amazed spectators, and receiving countless compliments and honours. She too, however, experienced a hint of distrust, and a hesitation to comply with Naganandhi’s wishes.

She therefore, spent a few moments in thought at Aayanar’s question. “What would I know about such things, appa?” She said, finally. “I shall accept whatever decision you choose to make.”

“Be that as it may,” began Naganandhi. “How have you been spending your time, my friend? I see no new dance poses among your creations—have you been neglecting your work? You don’t seem to have produced new sculptures since my last visit here…”

Aayanar gave a dispirited sigh. “I’m afraid not; it’s been quite a while since I even touched my chisel.”

“Good grief, why? What has the art of sculpting ever done to you? Why must South India’s greatest sculptor live for months on end, without even touching his instrument?’

“You ought to take responsibility for his lack of interest, sir,” broke in Sivakami. “Father has been conducting research on finding out the secret of Ajantha’s paintings—he’s done nothing but mix, boil and concoct pigments for the past few months…”

“My dear friend…what a waste of your time and energy. I did promise to impart to you the secrets of Ajantha’s paintings, did I not?”

Aayanar threw him a glance filled with eagerness and expectation. “Ah, but you never did carry out your promise, Swami. The olai I sent through Paranjyothi failed to achieve the desired result too…you’ve heard the news, I gather? That young boy is now a commander in the Pallava Armies!”

“So I’ve heard…he arrived in Kanchi last evening, I believe?”

“Yes—and he came to visit us, this morning. Oh, Swami, when I remember the shy and bashful young man who walked into my house in your company, all those months ago…he presented such a perfect picture of an obedient young man then—but you should see him now. I’ve rarely encountered such arrogance and conceited pride in one so young! Ah, he has changed, indeed…”

Sivakami interrupted him, puzzled. “But appa…I saw nothing of this arrogance and conceit! He appeared very much the same as he was, months ago—don’t you remember his respectful demeanour towards you, when he delivered the Emperor’s message?”

“Aayanar, may I know the Emperor’s message to you?” Asked Naganandhi.

“Hah! Well you may, Swami—we’ve been asked to flee our home! Oh, the hopes I cherished of the Pallava Emperor not so long ago, when he was a frequent visitor to my humble home…he was as great a connoisseur as one may ever see—but now, you see what has become of him…” Aayanar’s voice held a distinct twinge of regret.

“I see your Emperor very clearly indeed, Aayanar—do you have any idea about the real magnitude of Mahendra Pallavar’s achievements? He’s actually managed to hold Pulikesi’s magnificent army in check, on the banks of the River Vada Pennai, with a meagre handful of fifty thousand Pallava Soldiers! Never underestimate the Pallava Emperor, Aayanar—he’s a man to be reckoned with, indeed. I duly acknowledge his superiority in the art of war…but let us come back to Paranjyothi, if you please. What did he tell you about his journey, and what befell that palm-leaf he carried with him? Didn’t you ask him anything at all?” queried the bikshu.

“Of course I did. The boy’s journey seems to have been fraught with difficulties—he was actually arrested by Chalukya soldiers, on his way! But he managed to escape, somehow, and threw the olai into the waters of a mountain river. I’m forced to admit, Swami—quite an intelligent boy, I think.”

“It would seem so, indeed…and extraordinarily lucky, too, judging by what’s transpired. Eight months ago, when I saw him lying by the roadside, I knew that he would achieve great heights, and be the beneficiary of enormous luck and fortune—but the fortune I had intended for him was quite—quite different from what he’s earned for himself, now,” the bikshu gave a deep sigh. “It would appear that I’ve committed a grave error…”

“Swami, Paranjyothi doesn’t seem to have fallen short of your expectations, in my opinion… he appears to have been the recipient of great good fortune and influence, today.”

“You have no idea, Aayanar, of the fate that truly lay in store for him. His destiny was to have led him to even greater heights of achievement—but something, obviously, interrupted the scheme of things…”

“In my opinion, Swami, I’m glad Paranjyothi’s rise to unimaginable heights of distinction stopped when it did,” answered Aayanar, in a tone of considerable bitterness. Paranjyothi’s failure to carry out his mission and bring him the secrets of Ajantha’s paintings had created considerable animosity against the commander, in his heart. “A little more, and the boy would have become quite insufferable with conceit and misplaced pride.”

Sivakami joined the conversation at this moment. “Appa, have you heard the latest rumour circulating in the city? It seems that Mahendra Pallavar is seriously considering Paranjyothi as a replacement to the Crown Prince—Kannabiraan says that the commander may actually inherit the throne of the Pallava Empire! ” She laughed, dimpling prettily as she enjoyed the audacity of the rumour.

Aayanar frowned. “I wouldn’t give too much credence to any of Kannabiraan’s little jokes. He’s apt to talk a lot of nonsense, when he's feeling particularly mischievous.”

Naganandhi raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t really call Kannabiraan’s statement a joke,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this rumour turned out to be true, either. Mahendra Pallavar isn’t exactly a fool, you know—he would be considerably relieved to deliver the Pallava Empire into the hands of Paranjyothi, rather than give it into the keeping of the cowardly Crown Prince!”