Note to Self: Must. Not. Be. Late. Next. Time.

CHAPTER 39

“LAUNCH THE BOAT!”

Commander Paranjyothi pushed the crowding men behind him, and hastened towards the Crown Prince, folding his hands in respect. “My Lord, what’s this that you have done? We were frantic with worry!”

Maamallar stepped forward and folded his friend in an eager embrace. “I have worried you, haven’t I? What happened to you? Did the floods cause much distress among our armies?” he asked, worried.

“By the grace of the Lord who wields the soolam, we were warned in time. There was no loss of life,” Paranjyothi answered. “But there is much that I must discuss with you. Shall we go into this temple for a while?”

As the two men linked arms and entered the sacred precincts with a spring in their steps, through its entrance under the main gopuram, armed guards formed a line behind them, pushing back eager villagers who tried to follow the duo into the temple, or jostled forward to get a glimpse of them.

From a distance, Sivakami watched Prince and Commander, as they fell into enthusiastic conversation and moved away. She stood under the deep shadows of the tree; no one had noticed her presence.

Distress filled her heart, suffocating in its intensity.

Aayanar, Rathi and Sukar were the only ones to return to her. Sivakami caressed the parrot and deer, as though affirming that they were her only real friends.

They waited until the uproar around the temple abated a little, and retreated towards the monastery. Their path took them slightly near the temple entrance, and Sivakami could not help but overhear some of the villagers’ conversations.

“The Crown Prince really took us in, didn’t he?”

“I did tell you right away that his face practically shone with a royal glow! Did you really think him a common sculptor?”

“Like father, like son. Both seem to excel at disguising themselves, don’t they?”

“Is it true that he was caught in the floods, trying to save Aayanar and his family?”

“I call that taking things too far. He might think a great deal of them, but to risk a drowning just to save them –! That’s too much. What if something had happened to him? What would become of the Pallava Empire, then?”

“Is it true that Commander Paranjyothi is a greater warrior than Maamallar?”

“Absolutely not. They’re equals!”

“Who says so? There is no one to equal Maamallar in the battlefield, let me tell you. Paranjyothi has gained a reputation only because the Emperor took him with to battle. But Maamallar’s first taste of war was at Pullalur, wasn’t it? Where was Paranjyothi’s valour then? Didn’t Maamallar throw him completely into the shade?”

“They’re such close friends that no one brings up the differences between them. Why should we?”

“No matter – they shouldn’t leave, either of them, without a feast at our village!”

Unimaginable pride and inexplicable misery filled Sivakami’s heart, by turns, at these speeches. Slowly, she walked back to the monastery.

Maamallar and Paranjyothi acceded graciously to the villager’s fervent requests, and sat down, with their men, to a feast hastily prepared in their honour. By the time the festivities came to an end, the hour had advanced far beyond midnight. The villagers pressed their guests to stay until at least dawn – to no avail. It was deemed absolutely necessary to start at once.

Maamallar returned to the monastery before he set out, to take his leave of Aayanar and his daughter.

“Aayanar, it breaks my heart to leave you – but there seems to be nothing I can do,” explained the Crown Prince. “Pulikesi’s armies are fast approaching Kanchi. The Emperor has sent for us at once.”

Aayanar, who cherished enormous affection and admiration for the young Prince, remonstrated at once. “It is a sign of your regard for us that you have stayed here so long, Your Highness. More, we cannot hope for – and it would not fair to you, either. Go, with  our wishes. May we accompany you as far as the river banks?”

“Not necessary at all, Aayanar. But if you wish to, please do,” replied Maamallar. He looked at Sivakami as he spoke. Her gaze, however, appeared to be settled elsewhere.

A strange and intractable curtain seemed to have descended between the unique lovers.

***

The night had progressed well into the third jaamam; the moon glowed palely, sunk to the edge of the horizon. Paranjyothi and Maamallar climbed into boats that floated on the waters of the River Varaha, prepared for journey.

Aayanar, Sivakami and the rest of the village stood on its banks. Gundodharan, who had vanished for hours on some hitherto undisclosed errand, had hald-run, half-walked towards the village and now stood behind them.

It meant, of course, that Maamallar and Sivakami would have no opportunity to take their leave of each other on the banks either. Once he had climbed into the boat, the Crown Prince directed a keen glance at Sivakami. 

She looked up at him at that precise moment, eyes brimming with eagerness.

Countless emotions bubbled up from within Maamallar’s heart. His lips trembled with the desire to speak – but not a word came out.

Commander Paranjyothi’s voice rang out. “Launch the boats!”

Sivakami watched the boats rowing away.

To her, it seemed as though they carried every drop of her life's happiness, far, far away.