When Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar returned to his palace at last, it was well past midnight, and the third jaamam had begun. His mind was in turmoil. The night wind that raked up the dust on the street and swirled around him, soiling his clothes and person, seemed less turbulent than the storm that raged in his heart, filling his mind with filth.
He felt remorse and guilt at having spoken as harshly as he had to his beloved brother. He knew Kalantaka’s affection for him knew no bounds. It was that fraternal love that had prompted his brother’s words. Yet, why did he have to drag Nandini into this mess for no reason? Why had he accused her as he had? Perhaps it was human nature. When one was in error, it was but natural to shift the blame on to someone else. One might expect that of ordinary men. But was it right for Kalantaka to stoop to that level?
Kalantaka had allowed that scoundrel to escape from right under his nose. And he had brought in a woman, and that too his madani – his older brother’s wife, whom he should love and respect as he would his mother – in trying to downplay his own role in the messenger’s getaway. Was it befitting of his reputation? What did it say of his courage, of his masculinity? Well, Kalantaka had asked forgiveness for his words, hadn’t he?
I must let it go, Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar thought to himself. There is no point in thinking about this.
Yet, could it be possible that there was an iota of truth in what Kalantaka had said? Perhaps Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar had gone soft in his dotage, and become besotted with beauty? She was a woman he had come across in the woods. And he had stood up for her and raged against the brother who was born of the same womb as he, the brother who had been by his side through a hundred battles, the brother who had put his own life at stake numerous times to safeguard Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar’s.
What had she done to merit such a defence? He had no idea who she was, or where she came from, or which clan she had been born into. At times, her words and demeanour did rouse his suspicions. Chhi, chhi! His brother’s words had stirred such ugly thoughts in his head too. This was entirely unfair! She loved him with all her heart and soul. She treated him with utmost devotion, and delighted at his every success. At times, she would share her opinions with him and run ideas by him. She had desired him when he was well past his prime, when he was over sixty years of age. Didn’t that say enough about her fealty?
She was so lovely as to incite the jealousy of the celestial apsaras. If only a swayamvaram were organised for her, Indra himself would come down from the heavens to win her hand. There couldn’t be a king in this world who wouldn’t want her for his wife. Ah! If Sundara Chozhan had only seen her, he would have wed her himself. How foolish it was to mistrust a woman like her! It was said that old men who married beautiful maidens ruined their own lives with baseless suspicions. He had witnessed several instances of this himself. And yet, could he allow himself to make the same mistake and become the laughingstock of the town?
Even so, perhaps he would do well to have it out with her. There were unanswered questions that must be resolved. She asked for his signet ring every now and again. Why did she need it? What did she do with it? She went off to the lata mandapam by herself every now and again. Why? He had heard that she received some sort of mantravadi at the mandapam every now and again, and she had admitted to it herself. But she hadn’t given him a justification for the mantravadi’s visits. Whom was she trying to jinx? What did she need to know from the mantravadi? For what was she using his services?
Worst of all, she had made him a “kalyanam panniyum brahmachari” – a celibate married man. How long would this go on? Every time he approached her, she staved him off by claiming she was on a viradam or nonbu of some sort. But she would not give him details. What viradam, what nonbu, what penance, what prayer? It reminded him of folk tales where scheming women found ways to wrap their husbands around their little fingers without ever making a compromise themselves. No, he would nolonger give her place to do as she pleased. Tonight, he would speak to her. He woulddemand, and get, the answers due to him!
When Pazhuvettaraiyar arrived at the threshold of his palace, his consorts and guards and servants and maids were in full attendance. But the woman his eyes searched for was missing. The Ilaiya Rani was conspicuous by her absence. He asked after her, only to be told she was still in the late mandapam. What could be keeping her there after midnight? Was she trying to insult him? He felt a surge of anger towards her. It was in this mood that he crossed over to the kodi mandapam.
Just as he reached the kodi mandapam, he saw Nandini and her companion approach from the opposite side. The moment she laid eyes on him, she stopped and turned away to look into the darkness of the garden, refusing to meet his eyes. Her companion stood some distance away.
Even when Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar had walked right up to her, Nandini did not turn to look at him. He had been all set to take her to task. And now he was tasked with having to mollify her.
“Nandini! My kanmani! Why are you angry? Why won’t you even look at me?” he asked, placing an iron-like hand as gently as he could on her delicate shoulder.
Nandini, for her part, reached up with a hand softer than a petal and pushed his vajrayudha of an arm away from herself. Ammamma! Could such a silken touch pack so much power?
Excerpted with permission from Troubled Waters: Ponniyin Selvan, Book 2, Kalki, translated from the Tamil by Nandini Krishnan, Eka/Westland.
