Translator's Note: I'm splitting up Chapter 19 into two parts - it's a big one, and took me hours to complete. :-)
The sound of a vast army approaching them assaulted their ears, causing Aayanar and the bikshu to halt their argument mid-word. Both looked at each other, and then moved towards the cart swiftly as one.
The front-lines of the army came into view within a matter of minutes; the bullock cart rolled to a docile stop by the side of the road. Sivakami and her aunt climbed out from the vehicle, intent on witnessing the spectacle—the latter, however, not displaying any of the particular eagerness that had enveloped her fellow travellers; her faulty hearing had given her no indication of the approach of anyone, army or otherwise.
Naganandhi chose to secret himself behind one of the huge, leafy trees by the roadside—one that concealed his presence well, yet allowing him a clear view of passers-by. Well aware of the monk’s vow never to view royalty full in the face, Aayanar and the others stood nearby, unconcerned.
None of them, however, could quite disguise their unease at the sight of such a vast army pass them by, armed to the teeth, and intent on their mission. For one thing, they knew nothing of the identity of the army—whose was it? What was its destination…and last, but certainly not the least: Why was it going wherever it was going? It was not, obviously, the Vathapi army, or even a part of it—judging by its direction, it was journeying north-wards, having started from the south.
Whose army could it possibly be?
All along the way from Kanchi, the travellers had spent their time discussing the ongoing war; its implications on the country and its citizens, and how it would conclude—not surprising, since their journey and all that they saw through it, reminded them of the bloodshed raging elsewhere.
The roads, for one, were rapidly filling with travellers; erstwhile citizens of Kanchi, as well as though living in and around the capital city, in any one of the numerous villages scattered around the fortress walls, were journeying southwards—all seemed to have commenced on their travels citing the war as the reason. Perhaps, under the circumstances, it was not quite so surprising that most of those who were thus engaged in fleeing the area were women, children, the weak and infirm, not to mention numbers of Kapalikars.
The last mentioned, in particular, made no secret of the fact that they considered the Pallava Emperors the root cause of all the evil that had befallen them—and judging, correctly, that the young Pallava Crown Prince had been the force behind the closure of toddy outlets in the capital city—thereby cutting them off from their chief means of enjoyment—heaped all manner of hideous curses on his distinguished head. Some quenched their extreme blood-thirstiness by vowing, fiercely, that they would sacrifice ‘that wretched, slithering excuse for a reptile’, the Crown prince, to the immensely gory Goddess Rana-Bhadra Kali, and would drink his blood from goblets fashioned from the horns of a freshly slaughtered bull. Others swore, in equally loud tones, that they would include Commander Paranjyothi in their punishment—for had he not compounded their ills?—by tying both Prince and trusty Commander in a dusty, smouldering cremation ground, and offer them both as sacrifices to Lord Rudhra, a manifestation of the God of destruction, Lord Shiva. After which spectacular ceremony, they would burn both bodies, rub the ashes on themselves, and thus claim vengeance. That the Kapalikars indulged in their penchant for revenge in varying forms of the Prakrit and a mixture of similar languages, was indicative of the fact that they had immigrated to the Pallava country from the Northern countries and other adjacent regions.
Sivakami, consumed by the strange and peculiar fantasies revolving in her own personal universe, failed to listen to more than a smattering of these horrifying curses, and was, therefore unaffected—but Aayanar could not pretend such inattention. He received a huge volume of the Kapalikars intended revenge and shut his ears, his heart and mind alike contorted with revulsion.
In the end, it appeared that the bikshu was the only one unaffected by such a torrent of ill-feeling that swept around the Crown prince. If anything, his heart seemed lightened by the fact—evidenced by the slight smile that lingered around his lips, and thereby distorting his already gruesome face into one of perpetual grimace.
Once, after what seemed a particularly productive sojourn into the middle of a vengeful group of Kapalikars, the bikshu claimed his place beside Aayanar with a chuckle. “Aayanar, my friend—if ever I wish to renounce the Buddhist faith, I shall swear ever - faithful allegiance to the Kapalikar sect,” he announced.
Aayanar turned towards him, his aged face a picture of astonishment. “But Swami…What reason would there be, for you to renounce Buddhism? I cannot see any cause for your anger against that faith—in fact, considering the amount of destruction brought on by war, and the hateful emotions driving through our people…Buddhism seems to be the perfect faith that will eventually prove to be humanity’s only source of redemption—don’t you think so?”
The bikshu’s answer did nothing to relieve the sculptor’s confusion. “Precisely, my friend. Judging by your current sentiments, you appear ready to join the Buddhist faith—therefore, I must pledge allegiance to the Kapalikar sect to make up for the loss sustained by Saivism by your departure, mustn’t I?”
Rarely, on occasion, a few stragglers would pass them, their direction indicating that they were journeying from the south, on their way towards Kanchi—and it was always the norm, in each case, for both sets of travellers to inquire about existing conditions in each region. Naganandhi stopped at each such meeting-point, and would listen to the discussion with avid pleasure.
One such meeting and discussion prompted the monk to turn to both Aayanar and Sivakami, as they continued on their journey. “It appears that Yuddha Deva has decided to interfere with our plans—our journey is in for quite a few changes,” he remarked.
“Indeed?” questioned Aayanar. “And what has Buddha Deva designed for us? Has he willed a kinder fate regarding our journey?”
Sivakami chuckled. “My aunt’s deafness must be contagious—it seems to have influenced my father as well, “she remarked.
Naganandhi, appreciating this spark of humour, smiled. “Aayanar,” he spoke, raising his voice an octave. “I’m talking about Yuddha Deva, the patron deity of war…as against Buddha Deva—you understand the difference, don’t you?”
“Oh.” Aayanar nodded. “And what does Lord Yuddha Deva decree? Is he going to settle himself in the midst of the road and impede our further progress?”
“It would appear so," remarked the bikshu. “The Pallava Empire is facing unforeseen threats at the moment, Aayanar. I’ve heard reports that the armies of the Ganga Armies have marched towards Kanchi, and are even now stationed along the western borders of the country—while the Pandiya King, in his turn has gathered an equally large army and has advanced almost to the boundaries of Eastern Chozha Nadu. You, of course, already know the movements of the Vathapi army, from the North. Our desperate Pallava soldiers now have one avenue of escape open to them…”
“And which would that be?” enquired Aayanar, in all innocence.
CHAPTER 19
ALONG CAME GUNDODHARAN...
Part - 1
The sound of a vast army approaching them assaulted their ears, causing Aayanar and the bikshu to halt their argument mid-word. Both looked at each other, and then moved towards the cart swiftly as one.
The front-lines of the army came into view within a matter of minutes; the bullock cart rolled to a docile stop by the side of the road. Sivakami and her aunt climbed out from the vehicle, intent on witnessing the spectacle—the latter, however, not displaying any of the particular eagerness that had enveloped her fellow travellers; her faulty hearing had given her no indication of the approach of anyone, army or otherwise.
Naganandhi chose to secret himself behind one of the huge, leafy trees by the roadside—one that concealed his presence well, yet allowing him a clear view of passers-by. Well aware of the monk’s vow never to view royalty full in the face, Aayanar and the others stood nearby, unconcerned.
None of them, however, could quite disguise their unease at the sight of such a vast army pass them by, armed to the teeth, and intent on their mission. For one thing, they knew nothing of the identity of the army—whose was it? What was its destination…and last, but certainly not the least: Why was it going wherever it was going? It was not, obviously, the Vathapi army, or even a part of it—judging by its direction, it was journeying north-wards, having started from the south.
Whose army could it possibly be?
**************
All along the way from Kanchi, the travellers had spent their time discussing the ongoing war; its implications on the country and its citizens, and how it would conclude—not surprising, since their journey and all that they saw through it, reminded them of the bloodshed raging elsewhere.
The roads, for one, were rapidly filling with travellers; erstwhile citizens of Kanchi, as well as though living in and around the capital city, in any one of the numerous villages scattered around the fortress walls, were journeying southwards—all seemed to have commenced on their travels citing the war as the reason. Perhaps, under the circumstances, it was not quite so surprising that most of those who were thus engaged in fleeing the area were women, children, the weak and infirm, not to mention numbers of Kapalikars.
The last mentioned, in particular, made no secret of the fact that they considered the Pallava Emperors the root cause of all the evil that had befallen them—and judging, correctly, that the young Pallava Crown Prince had been the force behind the closure of toddy outlets in the capital city—thereby cutting them off from their chief means of enjoyment—heaped all manner of hideous curses on his distinguished head. Some quenched their extreme blood-thirstiness by vowing, fiercely, that they would sacrifice ‘that wretched, slithering excuse for a reptile’, the Crown prince, to the immensely gory Goddess Rana-Bhadra Kali, and would drink his blood from goblets fashioned from the horns of a freshly slaughtered bull. Others swore, in equally loud tones, that they would include Commander Paranjyothi in their punishment—for had he not compounded their ills?—by tying both Prince and trusty Commander in a dusty, smouldering cremation ground, and offer them both as sacrifices to Lord Rudhra, a manifestation of the God of destruction, Lord Shiva. After which spectacular ceremony, they would burn both bodies, rub the ashes on themselves, and thus claim vengeance. That the Kapalikars indulged in their penchant for revenge in varying forms of the Prakrit and a mixture of similar languages, was indicative of the fact that they had immigrated to the Pallava country from the Northern countries and other adjacent regions.
Sivakami, consumed by the strange and peculiar fantasies revolving in her own personal universe, failed to listen to more than a smattering of these horrifying curses, and was, therefore unaffected—but Aayanar could not pretend such inattention. He received a huge volume of the Kapalikars intended revenge and shut his ears, his heart and mind alike contorted with revulsion.
In the end, it appeared that the bikshu was the only one unaffected by such a torrent of ill-feeling that swept around the Crown prince. If anything, his heart seemed lightened by the fact—evidenced by the slight smile that lingered around his lips, and thereby distorting his already gruesome face into one of perpetual grimace.
Once, after what seemed a particularly productive sojourn into the middle of a vengeful group of Kapalikars, the bikshu claimed his place beside Aayanar with a chuckle. “Aayanar, my friend—if ever I wish to renounce the Buddhist faith, I shall swear ever - faithful allegiance to the Kapalikar sect,” he announced.
Aayanar turned towards him, his aged face a picture of astonishment. “But Swami…What reason would there be, for you to renounce Buddhism? I cannot see any cause for your anger against that faith—in fact, considering the amount of destruction brought on by war, and the hateful emotions driving through our people…Buddhism seems to be the perfect faith that will eventually prove to be humanity’s only source of redemption—don’t you think so?”
The bikshu’s answer did nothing to relieve the sculptor’s confusion. “Precisely, my friend. Judging by your current sentiments, you appear ready to join the Buddhist faith—therefore, I must pledge allegiance to the Kapalikar sect to make up for the loss sustained by Saivism by your departure, mustn’t I?”
Rarely, on occasion, a few stragglers would pass them, their direction indicating that they were journeying from the south, on their way towards Kanchi—and it was always the norm, in each case, for both sets of travellers to inquire about existing conditions in each region. Naganandhi stopped at each such meeting-point, and would listen to the discussion with avid pleasure.
One such meeting and discussion prompted the monk to turn to both Aayanar and Sivakami, as they continued on their journey. “It appears that Yuddha Deva has decided to interfere with our plans—our journey is in for quite a few changes,” he remarked.
“Indeed?” questioned Aayanar. “And what has Buddha Deva designed for us? Has he willed a kinder fate regarding our journey?”
Sivakami chuckled. “My aunt’s deafness must be contagious—it seems to have influenced my father as well, “she remarked.
Naganandhi, appreciating this spark of humour, smiled. “Aayanar,” he spoke, raising his voice an octave. “I’m talking about Yuddha Deva, the patron deity of war…as against Buddha Deva—you understand the difference, don’t you?”
“Oh.” Aayanar nodded. “And what does Lord Yuddha Deva decree? Is he going to settle himself in the midst of the road and impede our further progress?”
“It would appear so," remarked the bikshu. “The Pallava Empire is facing unforeseen threats at the moment, Aayanar. I’ve heard reports that the armies of the Ganga Armies have marched towards Kanchi, and are even now stationed along the western borders of the country—while the Pandiya King, in his turn has gathered an equally large army and has advanced almost to the boundaries of Eastern Chozha Nadu. You, of course, already know the movements of the Vathapi army, from the North. Our desperate Pallava soldiers now have one avenue of escape open to them…”
“And which would that be?” enquired Aayanar, in all innocence.
posted by Pavithra | 12:04 AM
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