CHAPTER 33

A WELCOME

Ayanar and Sivakami's athai approached closer as they heard the noise and hullabaloo of conches, trumpets and the roaring multitude of people. A large throng of men and women were drawing nearer with every minute. When they were still some distance away, one figure detached itself from the human mass and strode swiftly towards them. We needn't have any doubt as to who this was, need we? It was Gundodharan, of course.

The Crown Prince's face grew hot with anger. Ah, what had this idiot done, now? He'd probably announced to the whole village: Kumara Chakravarthy has landed here, washed ashore from the terrible floods! Here I am, hoping to spend a few precious hours with Sivakami, and now he’s poured cold water over all my plans! And there is so much that I must share with her, confide to her … besides, what would the villagers think to see me stranded here with just Ayanar and Sivakami, bereft of my army? Ha, what a predicament Gundodharan has thrown me into!

But there was no point in growing furious with him. What was done was done; all that was left was to determine how best to contain the damage already wrought. How was he going to handle this situation?

As he trailed behind on the path, deep in thought, he saw Gundodharan go to Ayanar instead of him, and speak a few words. Ayanar, in turn, murmured something into Sivakami’s ears. Then, the two of them turned to look at him, and smiled.

By this time, the crowd was almost upon them. Two men who were obviously the leaders, came forward, carrying a salver holding fragrant flowers and a poorna kumbam, a sacred symbol of faith. Gundodharan stretched a hand towards Ayanar.

“They say that some good comes out of every catastrophe,” said one of the leaders. “The breaching of Lake Thirupparkkadal’s banks have served the same purpose – the waters have brought us the greatest sculptor in the world, Ayanar, and the queen of classical dance, Sivakami Devi. Welcome, Aiya. Welcome, my lady! We shall provide you and your disciples with every convenience at our disposal. We would like you to our make home with us for as long as possible.”

“My friends,” began Ayanar. “We are grateful for your offer of friendship and shelter. It certainly appears that until the waters drain, we shall have to remain here as your guests.” He and the villagers began to walk back in the general direction of the village.

Mamallar, standing far behind the crowd, was sunk fathoms deep in astonishment. Nothing was happening the way he had expected it to! Barring Sivakami, who threw mischievious smiles through the corner of her eyes now and then, no one else seemed to have acknowledged his presence. Needless to say, his surprise contained unmixed glee as well.

I shouldn’t have been so quick to pronounce judgment on Gundodharan, he mused, contrite. The fellow’s quite intelligent, after all.

“Prabhu – my lord!” came Gundodharan’s voice near his ear. “Why wait here? Let’s join them.”

“But they didn’t invite me,” protested Mamallar. “How can I go where I am not wanted?”

“Not invite you? Of course they did!” announced Gundodharan. “They did say that they would provide every comfort to Ayanar’s disciples, didn’t they? You and I are the sculptor’s disciples, my lord.”

Mamallar smiled. “Were all Sathrugnan’s men as sharp of mind as you are, we needn’t fear invasions by a thousand Pulikesis, Gundodhara!”

Ayanar’s Disciples fell behind the crowd dutifully, straggling along. In the best interests of truth, though, it must be mentioned Mamallar did not fall back so far behind that he could not catch Sivakami’s eyes when he wished to.

With every step that they took approaching the village, the crowds swelled. It seemed as though an entire township had gathered here. Colourful, intricate kolams decorated the front doors of many houses; women frequently stopped the moving cavalcade, taking an auspicious aarthi around Sivakami. Eventually, they reached the Siva Temple that the village boasted of – a small one, but extremely clean and picturesque.

Beyond the spruce brick-walled outer mathil that lined the perimeter of the Temple grounds, the group stepped into the broad, spacious prahaaram, which shone without a hint of grass or unruly weeds. They went past the Balipeedam, Dhwajasthambam and Nandhi Medai – all integral parts of the classic South Indian Temple – and reached the Arthamandapam, where devotees usually assembled to worship the deity. The garbagriham lay beyond the tiled roof. Above was a still fairly new form of architecture in Southern Tamil Nadu, gaining swift prominence – a pretty Thoonganai Maadam, a little alcove.

Even as they entered the Temple’s precincts, they were assailed by the fragrances one always associated with temples: shenbaga flowers, sandalwood, the enticing scents of lotuses, parijatham and panneer. The smoky tang of nei-lamps pervaded the corridors, accompanied by that of broken coconuts, peeled banana skins, naartham fruit juices and sugarcane essence. The very atmosphere felt calm, soothing – as though one had stepped into a sacred, pure world.

The ritual deeparathanai was performed to the lord, when Ayanar, Sivakami and the disciples were assembled. The archagar, the priest, presented them with the holy abhisheka water and viboothi ash. It was the same in the Ambigai’s sanctum as well.

Ritual obligations at an end, the Village’s headman began: “Ayanar, we have heard a great deal about your gracious daughter’s remarkable proficiency in classical dance,” he spoke, respectfully. “The gods have chosen to let you walk in our midst, today – and we are truly grateful. We do not wish to disturb you now … but it would please us greatly if your daughter would perform for us in our temple, tomorrow.”

Ayanar did not quite know what to say. He glanced at Sivakami. Her expression raised a cloud of misgiving in him.

Sivakami had been peering around the Arthamandapam, and had noted, accurately, where Mamallar stood among the crowd. Thus far, she had taken great care never to glance in his direction. Now, though, her eyes alighted precisely on Mamallar’s countenance. Her glance asked him a question; his face bloomed into a smile, assuring her of his answer.

The next instant, Sivakami turned to her father. “As you wish, Appa,” she said in a low voice.

“Ayanar, we heard your beloved daughter’s reply as well. We are truly grateful,” exulted the Gramadhikari, the headman.

By this time, news had spread around the Arthamandapam that Sivakami had agreed to an impromptu dance performance. The excited murmurs swelled to a full-throated roar of approval as it reached the outer walls.

Ayanar turned to the headman midst the crowding voices. “Aiya, Sivakami hasn’t danced in seven or eight months … but it matters not. I am not surprised that she agreed to perform tomorrow; evidently, your affectionate welcome has captivated her. What does astonish me is how you came to know of her prowess at all. Has my disciple Gundodharan anything to do with it?” Ayanar glanced at the burly young man.

“No, Aiya. We have known about your daughter for quite some time. It was the saint Thirunavukkarasar who must take the credit for that.”

“Ha! Was the great man here as well? How truly fortunate you are,” said Ayanar.

“Indeed, we are fortunate. Saint Navukkarasar journeyed here about six months ago, and visited our blessed little temple. He took a small uzhavarappadai in his hands and cleaned the premises, overgrown with weeds. We joined him as well. That evening, his disciples gathered in this very sannidhi, and sang beautiful verses on our lord, sweet as nectar. One of them was: Munnam avaludaiya naamam kettal … and tears poured down Navukkarasar’s face as it was sung …”

Ayanar, Sivakami and Mamallar felt a thrill of emotion course through them.

“It was then that Navukkarasar spoke of your visit to his monastery in Kanchi, Sivakami Devi’s excellent performance as she danced to these very verses. He also spoke about her loss of consciousness when she finished … but we certainly didn’t expect the great favour of welcoming you to our little village so soon afterwards – not even in our wildest dreams!”

“We are fortunate to have even been in Vakeesar’s thoughts,” murmured Ayanar.

“We constructed a small monastery, a madaalayam in the name of Vakeesar, when he left,” continued the headman. “You and your daughter shall be our first guests there. This too, is a stroke of immense good fortune!”