CHAPTER 14

MAHENDRAR’S MISTAKE

Mahendrar’s hand shook often as he perused the palm-leaves Sathrugnan had handed him. He spent a few minutes reading the first two or three palm-leaves in detail, and swept through the rest of them in a couple of moments.

Finally, he looked up at Sathrugnan—and his eyes were filled with great sadness. “You shouldn’t have brought me these palm-leaves, Sathrugna…you shouldn’t have.”

“I beg your pardon, Pallavendra,” answered Sathrugnan.

“Not your fault; you haven’t committed any crime that merits my pardon. You merely carried out your duty—but how were you to know that it would bring me such pain?” The Emperor sighed. “A flowering creeper burst into life in the royal gardens, and inside the dark forests around Kanchi, a tiny plant bearing fragrant blossom showed a spark of life, as it broke through the forest floor. Years passed; the plants thrived in their respective homes—and during the spring, both burst into bloom, celebrating the joy of life and love…and now, I’ve been given the wretched task of burning up the blossoms. Exactly how wretched, I never realised—until I had the ill-luck to read the palm-leaves you brought me…”

He sighed again. “Sathrugna, I’ve hurt my son—wounded his gentle heart time and again, caused him enough pain and anguish to last a lifetime, tested his mettle and discipline in the harshest way possible…you’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about, when you listen to this,” He picked up an olai, and began to read out a passage.

‘My dearest… I yearn with my heart, soul and every fibre of my being, to come to you—I would fly to your side, had I been imprisoned in a fortress a hundred times stronger and more powerful than that of Kanchi. I would come to you, even had you been placed captive in a lonely island, as the demon king did Lady Seetha. Had Lord Indra placed you in the heavens, among celestial beings, or Vhruddaasuran the demon,in the deepest dungeons of the Netherworlds, I would still brave all hardships to be with you—nothing or no one would be able to stop my coming to you.

But, my beloved, a bigger obstacle than all the above prevents our seeing each other—my father’s command, no less. Mahendra Pallavar, the Emperor of Kanchi has forbidden me to set as much as a foot outside the gates of Kanchi.

Sivakami…if there’s something in this world that I cannot go against—an order that I can’t possibly disobey—it is my father’s express command If, by some divine chance, the God with three eyes, Lord Shiva were to appear before me and ask me to go against my father’s wishes, I would certainly not obey—nothing can move me from my loyalty towards my father. But he…he whom I revere as a God—he has seen fit to punish me in the most cruel manner possible, my dearest…shall I tell you how? He’s prevented me from meeting the only two women I love, on this earth. One of them is Sivakami, daughter of the famed sculptor Aayanar—and I wish to meet her, in quiet and peace, on the lonely banks of the lotus pond in the forest behind her home. The other is…Sivakami, do you have any idea who she is? Shall I tell you her name? Or would you fly into a fit of jealousy, if I did? I wish you wouldn’t.

Because, you see…she’s Jayalakshmi—Goddess of Victory. And would you like to know where I’d like to meet her? In the midst of a river of blood, on the greatest battlefield ever…I wish to wear the victory garland that she would present me with when I win the war—and then—and only then would I come to see you…!’

Sathrugnan stood silently, eyes studiously turned towards the floor, as Mahendrar finished his recital of the contents of the palm-leaves.

“Now that you know the contents of these palm-leaves, Sathrugna…do you realise my extra-ordinary good fortune in possessing such an excellent son?—resembling the famed and legendary King Rama, I might add. I ought to consider myself even more fortunate than King Dasaratha, Rama’s esteemed father—for what did Rama do, after all, aside from obeying his father’s wishes, renouncing the throne of Ayodhya, and retreating to the forest? I’m not surprised he chose to spend fourteen years in exile, rather than ascend the throne to a vast empire, and squander all his days in battling all the numerous and I might add—highly aggravating concerns of an immense Empire. A life in exile would amount to something of a relief, compared to what he would have to endure as a King.”

He paused. “To stay back inside the stifling walls of a fortress, in obedience to one’s father’s command, when one is fairly itching to get away to the battlefield, best one’s enemies and wear the garland of victory…now that requires a self-command a hundred times stronger than what Rama possessed. To restrain oneself from flying into the arms of one’s beloved—particularly when said young lady is within an hour’s distance of one’s residence…that requires a commitment and control a thousand times more than that of any legendary hero. And I’m proud…yes, proud that my son managed to pass this test with flying colours. My heart swells with relief and joy to think that my son possesses such strength of mind and integrity of character—he passed the test…while I, who conceived of this test, in the first place…have failed miserably. Fool that I am, I believed that Narasimhan would be free of Sivakami’s love if he were to be separated from her for a while…I believed it would make them both understand their status in life, and adjust themselves accordingly. All that is said about love is true, it would seem—that it is a fire, a roaring inferno that dwindles into nothing if there’s no breeze to help it, but grows swiftly and surely, if a stronger wind sweeps around it, fanning the flames…”

The Emperor stared at a point above Sathrugnan, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “It appears that separation is to love, what a strong wind is to fire…A love borne of infatuation, weak and false, dies away with separation—while true love, inspired by affection and understanding, blazes into existence at the merest hint of separation. I fear that this has happened in Narasimhan’s case…apparently, the flowered bows of *Kamadeva have worked against my own, harsher weapons—and thrown my opposition to the winds. Sathrugna…I could bear to suffer a crushing blow at the hands of the Emperor of Vathapi—but the God of Love is another matter altogether. The Pallava Emperor, to concede defeat at the hands of *Manmadhan and his ridiculous, flowery contraption?” Emperor Mahendra Pallavar’s laughter rang out, a wealth of scorn in it. “Never!”

He stood up, and strode along the length of the tent. “Sathrugna, I’ve changed my mind—I’m countermanding the order that confines Narasimhan within the city of Kanchi. You will take my olai, and reach Kanchi as swiftly as you can—Durvineethan’s armies have started out from Thalaikkaadu, and are heading towards Kanchi—I shall need Narasimhan in the battlefield, to vanquish him. And…”

He paused, a gleam of cynical laughter in his eyes. “He may visit Aayanar’s daughter, before he leaves…I shall not stop him this time.”

Sathrugnan raised his eyes towards the Pallava Emperor, as he heard this royal pronouncement. A strange, quizzical smile appeared on the experienced spy’s face.

Quite a dramatic turn of events…but I know you too well, my sire.


Glossary

*Kamadeva, Manmadhan: The God of Love, as per Hindu Mythology