The year is 1903 of the Kollam Era (1728 CE). Near the town of Padmanabhapuram, which used to be the capital of the state of Travancore in the olden days, there is a place called Charottu with a small palace that exists even today. This is a palace only in name as it is merely a small structure with a kitchen and a simple nalukettu. As the maharajas do not reside here, and because the supervisor of the palace manages its affairs from his house in the style of some present-day officials – who prepare reports of tours and related documents without stirring from their homes – the Charottu palace is in ruins and has become the residence of creatures like bats, rats and snakes. The palace also has the characteristic foul smell that permeates old buildings when they remain closed for a long time. It is surrounded by a wall which has gates to the east and to the south.
About two years after the occurrence of the events described in the previous chapter, a Malayali brahmin is sitting one morning on the porch on the eastern side of the palace. He is between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and appears to be either a fair-complexioned Namboodiri or a Potti brahmin of South Kannada origin. His long hair and beard show that he has been conducting some austerities. His face, totally devoid of grace but suffused with martial authority, cannot be called handsome on account of his unusually large and long nose. But for this oddity, his face is blemishless and his appearance is attractive – arms like steel pillars that reach his knees, high and powerful shoulders, a long neck and a broad chest. The lack of softness in his leonine looks is a sure sign of his martial caste. Yet, he is casually dressed in a simple mundu, betraying no elegance of garb or posture that is characteristic of a kshatriya.
The young brahmin is sitting looking at the Veli hills, vexation plain on his face along with occasional flickers of anger. Seeing the hilltops covered by clouds, he thinks: “Your lofty position itself has become a threat to you! How happy are the little hills in your valley basking in the light of the rising sun! The vapoury clouds do not afflict them. But you, too, can console yourself that the mountains, though taller than you, have another enemy in the snow. You are at least free of that. Lowliness is superior. Nobody troubles you and you can spend your lifetime in peace. But, do men realise this? Certainly not! Desire is a powerful god. What if everybody abandons greed? Then the universe will cease to exist. Ha! Why am I wasting time daydreaming about futile things? I won’t get anywhere and will only end up feeling sorry for myself. Better to tackle what is to be done.” He calls out, “Parameswaran!” and a Nair enters and stands in front of the brahmin with utmost politeness. He is armed with a sword and a shield as is proper for the companion of a ruler or a feudal chief.
The brahmin says, “Parameswaran, what are we to do next? It is no good staying here. Shall we go to Thiruvananthapuram?”
“Is it wise to leave before finishing the business we started at Bhoothappandi?” asks Parameswaran Pillai.
“Shouldn’t I make haste to reach Thiruvananthapuram, now that I have come to know my uncle is quite unwell? Anyway, what are we going to achieve here? Nothing is possible without men and materials. We have neither. All we have is one Pathan.”
“We could muster more help from these places. We haven’t found it only because of lack of effort.”
The brahmin gets annoyed at this. “What is one to do? That wretched fellow is sitting in Padmanabhapuram so we cannot even call the local chiefs to meet us. We shall do it this way – you go to Bhoothappandi to meet Arumukham Pillai and I will go to Thiruvananthapuram.”
“Let me go with you to Thiruvananthapuram, and then I will go to Bhoothappandi. It is no good going there alone. You should not invite danger after what happened in the Panchavan woods.”
“Should we fear danger? You must leave for Bhoothappandi today itself. Can there be a greater danger than what we face now?”
“Please do not command me thus. Let us go together to Keralapuram and then proceed to Thiruvananthapuram. You should not wait here, you have not even taken a bath.”
“I must go to Thiruvananthapuram. I must see for myself the condition of the maharaja before I decide on the next step. You go and deal with the men from Madurai. Ah, what is that noise?”
The brahmin stands up. Meanwhile, Parameswaran Pillai goes to conduct a quick examination and returns in great agitation. He says, “We must climb over the wall and flee. There are about a dozen lancers coming this way.”
The brahmin calmly opens the door and jumps over the northern wall, followed by Parameswaran Pillai. By this time the lancers are already at the southern entrance of the palace. There are fourteen of them, led by Velu Kurup wielding a sword and a shield. He is a man of unforgettable appearance, built like a stone oil mill – of comparable height, width, physical hardihood and pigmentation. With round protruding eyes, a nose like a lump of flesh stuck to the face, and rows of large teeth competing to push past his dark plump lips, this misshapen man possesses courage that is matched only by his brutality. Be it women or children, holy men or his own family members, he lives by the sole principle that if orders come from the elder Thampi, he will chop anybody to pieces.
Velu Kurup and his contingent enter the palace hurriedly to search the rooms, courtyards and the attic. When one of them shouts that he can see footprints in the western courtyard, everybody gathers there. After a brief consultation, all fourteen of them jump over the northern wall and, with the aid of the trampled grass and shrubs, pursue the trail of the brahmin and his companion. Soon, they can see the brahmin and his companion at a distance and run after them like hungry wolves. “Catch them!” shouts Velu Kurup, as the pair try to flee like deer from hunters.
The brahmin and his companion had felt tired having eaten nothing since the previous day but now, they are fleeing for their life, swift as birds, going around rocks and trees, crossing hills and dales and flatlands. Escaping the lancers, they see a Channan at a distance, furiously gesturing at them. Near where the Channan stands is an ancient jackfruit tree, its bark peeling from most places, almost all its leaves shed. Most of its branches are also gone, from lightning strikes and other causes. When the brahmin sees the Channan pointing towards a huge cavity, the size of a small room in the bole of the tree, he understands what they must do and quickly enters it along with his companion.3 As soon as they are secreted into this cavity, the Channan starts running westwards. The lancers faithfully follow the sound of the Channan’s footsteps, and run westwards, right past the two men sitting with bated breath inside the hollow tree. As soon as their pursuers are out of sight, the pair emerge and start walking rapidly eastwards, enquiring along the way whether there was a Nair home anywhere nearby.
Meanwhile, the lancers continue their pursuit with undiminished speed. Velu Kurup encourages his cohort with exhortations like, “If you are men, you must fetch me his head.” However, the brahmin and his companion seem to have vanished into thin air. Not even their footprints can be found. Hearing a sound in the distance, the lancers rush towards it like hunting dogs. But it is only a crazy-looking Channan warming himself in the sun and singing.
Velu Kurup asks him whether he has seen two persons running that way. The Channan replies with doggerel, “Didn’t you see the leopard rushing towards you, didn’t you?” and begins to dance. Velu Kurup feels an inexplicable tension on hearing the Channan’s voice. Controlling his agitation, he says furiously, “You mad fellow, answer me and don’t jump about like a spirit. If you don’t answer me, you will get it right on your face.” The Channan ignores this warning and continues with his nonsensical song and dance, “Don’t go to Veli Hills, there’s the ghost that showers fire there.” Angry at this show of disrespect and forgetting that an ignorant Channan’s stupidity was forgivable, Velu Kurup kicks him hard. Oh, surprise! Arrows start falling on them from no one knows where, slaying a few of the lancers. Fleeing for safety, they start running towards Padmanabhapuram like dry leaves scattered by the wind, leaving Velu Kurup behind. He has no choice but to follow them.
Restraining the flash of fury that appeared on his face when Velu Kurup kicked him and paying scant attention to the arrows falling all around him, the Channan continues singing and dancing in the same spot. A Nair appears in front of him shortly after Velu Kurup and his contingent flee the scene. He is holding a beautifully painted and well-maintained bow, long enough to have been the weapon of some master archer of legend. But the archer himself is dark, thin and uncouth-looking, and despite his height that matches his bow, he has a tough physique and severe looks. He walks effortlessly, swinging his bow in his right hand and pulling at the little shrubs that tangle with his feet. He has various types of arrows in his quiver. Retrieving his fallen arrows and putting them back in the quiver, he sets about disposing of the bodies of the dead lancers in the forest close by, rolling them around with his feet. The Channan is disturbed to see his rough manner. The two men have a brief conversation before they go their separate ways.
Excerpted with permission from Marthandavarma, CV Raman Pillai, translated from the Malayalam by GS Iyer, Eka/Context.
