CHAPTER 53

BHARAVI’S INFERNO

It is impossible to describe the joy and excitement that engulfed the mandapam, when Emperor Mahendra Pallavar entered it.

For a while, all that could be heard was a confused din of shouts, exclamations and chants that praised everyone from the Emperor to Kanchi, and the Empire.

Maamallar, awash in relief and delight, sprang from his place and almost fell upon his father, enveloping him in a crushing embrace. Ministers and kottam officials completely forgot both themselves and royal protocol, and surrounded the Emperor, speaking at the top of their voices. The babble in the assembly reached unimaginable proportions.

The only one to stand apart, instead of partaking in the celebrations, was Commander Paranjyothi. A shadow of shame lurked in his eyes. I fell for it too, didn’t I, he thought, feeling the lash of self-blame a little too keenly, perhaps. I know the Emperor – and yet, I believed him to be imprisoned. The bite of self-recrimination was a sharp one.

Mahendra Pallavar gave his agitated and plainly enthusiastic assembly some time to compose itself, and threw them all a comprehensive glance. “Well, well – we are all a very delighted lot here, it seems. One would think we had almost won the war, to see you all celebrate with such abandon.” He paused. “It appears that our Commander is the only one to shy away from such things – he seems a trifle depressed.” This was the sign for the entire assembly to stare at Paranjyothi, who blushed harder than ever.

First Minister Saaranga Deva Battar took up the conversation. “Pallavendra, just moments before you arrived, we had all unanimously decided to march the Pallava armies out, and commence war with Pulikesi. Perhaps the Commander is disappointed that such a brilliant opportunity for battle has slipped away?”

“What?” The Emperor’s voice roared out, echoing in the mandapam. “Marching our armies out to meet Pulikesi? Who on earth came up with such a remarkably brilliant notion? Senapathi, how could even think of disregarding my explicit orders? Even you lost faith in my tactical abilities, did you?”

Senapathi Kalippagai’s voice went as low as it possibly could. “How could we stay within the protection of the fort, Sire, when we had received news of your incarceration? What would be the point of an army, if it could not fight to secure your rescue?”

“I!” exclaimed Mahendra Pallavar. “Imprisoned by enemies? Good god – how did such a tale ever come about?”

The astonishment of the assembly, it seemed, was complete.

Saaranga Deva Battar made haste to apprise His Majesty of the events that had transpired: from the messenger who had purported to be from the Emperor himself, to the horrendous news he had carried, and their subsequent decision.

“It appears that Naganandhi Adigal is even more resourceful than I ever gave him credit for,” mused the Emperor, when the whole tale had been laid before him. “Had I arrived just a little late, all my plans would have crumbled to dust!”

“But Sire – was everything the messenger said a lie, then?” asked Senapathi Kalippagai. “Were you not imprisoned?”

“Never!” declared the Emperor, emphatically. “And even had I been taken prisoner by our foes, I should hardly expect you to march wholesale out of the fort and fight for my freedom. I am well able to engineer my own means of escape, let me tell you. But how could you possibly trust the word of a messenger you never knew? Didn’t Maamallan or Paranjyothi tell you that Naganandhi was a Chalukya spy?”

“Sire, the news that you’d been captured threw us all into confusion,” offered Paranjyothi. “Kumara Chakravarthy was overpowered by worry, as well.”

“If he was truly a spy, how did he get his hands on a lion insignia?” argued the Minister.

“Because I gave it to him, of course,” answered the Emperor. “It was to capture this most ingenious of spies that I ever journeyed down south, from the Northern front.”

“But Sire – why did you ever give it to him, in the first place? Perhaps you did not know that he was a Vathapi spy, when you did?”

“On the contrary – I was sure of his identity nine months ago. The first time the suspicion entered my mind about him was when he arrived in Kanchi, Paranjyothi in tow. I was aware that Vathapi’s spies operated throughout the country with the help of the Buddha sangams here – I let Naganandhi prowl around, to imprison his accomplices. I was determined to capture him, somehow, before the siege began. I finally ran him down to earth in Mandapapattu –”

“What?” Maamallar exclaimed, considerably startled.

“Indeed, Maamalla. I even met Aayanar and Sivakami there – they described in detail the daring rescue you mounted, on their behalf. I might add that they were quite happy to remain there, as well. Aayanar was busy making plans for rock-cut temples when I left him, and I have made arrangements to help him out. Apparently, something good came out of my journey in search of Naganandhi …”

Maamallar’s heart, which had undergone a thousand agonies with the bikshu’s brutal barbs about Aayanar and Sivakami, now rejoiced. His face glowed with the enthusiasm and relief he felt.

“Sire, does this mean that Vathapi’s spy has finally been captured?” Senapathi Kalippagai asked in a worried tone. Fighting wars on battlefields, face-to-face was his forte; strategies and hide-and-seek games such as these, frankly, made his head ache.

“We have, Senapathi – and half the war is won.”

Maamallar jumped up from his seat, approached his father and folded his palms in respect. “Pallavendra, you’ve won half the war for us – now give me leave to complete your work. Let me march our forces against those Vathapi demons and rout them out. Let my dear friend Paranjyothi accompany me on this mission, as well!”

Mahendra Pallavar rose, and folded his son in a warm embrace. “Child, I admire your courage – but do, please, listen to what I have to say.” He turned to face the assembly. “Ministers and kottam officials – I wish to tell you, now, the true reason for this war – the real motive behind such a terrible invasion. Listen carefully, and grant me your opinions about what must be done.”

The assembly was cloaked in respectful silence. The Emperor continued.

“As a youngster, I never knew what it was to fight wars, or suffer an invasion. My father Simha Vishnu was renowned through the length and breadth of the Southern kingdoms; even before my birth, he had annexed Eastern Chozha Nadu to our dominions. The Uraiyur Chozhas faithfully paid their taxes to him; the Pandiyas had been cowed into submission as well. The Gangas in the North, and Kadambhas to the North-West acknowledged my father’s suzerainty, and stood in awe of him. The king of Vengi, in the North was my uncle – which meant that my childhood was a carefree one, unmarred by enemies or the threat of battle. My youth was a very agreeable one, spent immersed in the delightful worlds of art, sculpture, poetry, music and dance; I journeyed to far-flung lands or read as much as I could about them, trying to understand and acquire the art-forms they possessed. I brought as many as I could home, in an effort to help them flourish in the Pallava Empire.

“It was around this time that I received news of a Sanskrit poet who had newly arrived at the court of Dhurvineedhan, the Ganga king. Known by the name Bharavi, he hailed from Asalapuram; he was also an intimate friend of Vathapi’s princes. He appears to have been in the company of Pulikesi and his brothers for a brief while, as they hid themselves away in forests, away from the fearsome Mangalesan. Later, Bharavi traveled to the Ganga court; he had arrived to facilitate a marriage between Dhurvineedhan’s daughter and Pulikesi’s young brother, Vishnuvardhan. His main purpose, it seemed, was to gather strength through alliances for the Chalukya king.

“Everyone here is aware of just how beholden Dhurvineedhan was, to my father. It was inevitable that Kanchi should receive news, occasionally, of events in Gangapadi – and when we heard of Bharavi’s arrival, it was only natural for me to wish to invite him here. My father gave way to my request and made arrangements for the poet to visit us. Bharavi arrived – and promptly fell in love with Kanchi, the beauty! He was mesmerized by our fair city’s exquisitely built temples, palaces, institutions, schools of art, vast avenues and flourishing gardens. Once Pulikesi ascended his throne, he and his brother Vishnuvardhan bombarded Bharavi with messages and palm-leaves – asking him to return, of course, to Vathapi. Bharavi refused – he simply did not wish to leave Kanchi, and sent replies that he preferred to stay here. And when he did, he gave the reasons for his decision – that he found Kanchi irresistible. One of the verses he wrote in his olai to Pulikesi ran thus:

“Pushpeshu Jaathi,

Purusheshu Vishnu

Naareshu Rambha,

Nagareshu Kanchi …”

[The Jaathi is the best of all flowers; Vishnu is the very model of manhood; the divine Rambha, the most beautiful of Indra’s celestial dancers – and Kanchi, the most exquisitely loveliest, among all the cities in the world!”]

“I was flattered and pleased by such unstinting praise, of course, by one of our greatest poets – but little did I know that Bharavi’s very words of rapture would prove to be our undoing. That it would light a fire that burnt like fury. An inferno that would lead to war. Pulikesi wrote to Bharavi that he would visit Kanchi himself, one day; I shall know, then, if all your extravagant praises were true, he wrote. I was delighted at his words – I imagined ourselves welcoming Vathapi’s Emperor with every grand gesture possible. But now, my friends – now, I have been forced to shut the gates of Kanchi in Pulikesi’s face!”

Maamallar, who had, like the rest of the assembly, listened eagerly to this recital, jumped up. “Pallavendra, surely we may still extend Vathapi’s Emperor every bit of the grand welcome you foresaw? Our spears and swords would be more than sufficient to impress him, wouldn’t they?”

“We will. Pallava warriors will crowd upon the battlements of our fort and welcome Chalukya men with spears and javelins. And provide a delicious feast to the crocodiles that infest our moat! But do let me finish what I was about to say – believe me, when I say that I saw the demon Pulikesi’s lust for Kanchi with my own eyes! Ah, if you could have seen the way his eyes shone, when I described her to him –”

“Pardon?” gasped Saaranga Deva Battar. “Your Majesty saw Pulikesi with your own eyes – but when? And how?”

“On the banks of the River Vada Pennai, surrounded by his army,” replied Mahendra Pallavar – and the assembly erupted with cries of astonishment and horror.

“Sire, how could you subject yourself to such danger?” asked the First Minister. “Do you not realize that Kanchi and this vast Empire depend on you, and you alone?”