Iron Grip

When he had survived from the flood of surprise that
drowned him, the court poet Nallavan Sattanar said, "My
Lord! Does it mean ...? The poet who wrote these verses
is..."
"It is this Emperor of the earth who lies on this sick-bed
without the use of his legs," spoke the Emperor.
Several exclamations of surprise rose among the poets as
they talked and whispered quietly amongst themselves.
They moved their hands and heads in an agitated manner,
not knowing how to express their thoughts; others sat perfectly still immobilized by the declaration they had
heard!
Sundara Chozla continued to speak. "Dear poets! Long ago
some poets and bards came to see me in Pazlayarai. Some
of you may have been in that group. Each of them sang
verses in praise of the benevolence of my clan, my
forefathers. Some of them sang a few lines about me also.
They praised me saying, `I gave this to that one and that to
this person.' My young daughter Kundavai, the Younger
Pirati was also seated beside me. Soon the poets left after
receiving gifts and awards. Kundavai kept singing their
praises commenting on the excellence of their poetry. I
challenged Kundavai, saying that I could compose much
better verse, more imaginative and extravagant than any of
those poets. And I composed those lines playfully at that
time and asked Kundavai for a reward. My darling child
clung to my back and pinched my cheeks saying `Here is
your reward.' I can remember that incident as if it was
yesterday. But it must be more than eight or nine years
now."
"Great! Remarkable! Surprising! Astounding!" rose
several voices from the group.
As soon as he heard the name Kundavai, Vandiya Devan's
whole body became attentive. He had heard much about
that Princess of the Chozla clan: about her beauty, her
intelligence, her ability and learning. Here is the fortunate
father who gave birth to that astonishing Princess and her
mother is seated close by. The Emperor speaks of his
daughter with such pride! His voice quivers when he
mentions her name...
Vandiya Devan's right hand searched in his pouch hidden
in his waistband. The palm leaf roll of letters that he was
carrying for Kundavai, were in that pouch. His searching
palm halted in startled alarm. He was appalled.
Dear me! What is this? I cannot find the letter! Where is
the letter? Where could it have fallen? Could it have fallen
accidentally when I took out the letter meant for the
Emperor? Where would it have fallen? In the audience
chamber ... Perhaps it will fall in the hands of the
Commander! Is there any danger if that happens? Oh!
What a blunder! What a great mistake! What shall I do ...
He could not remain in that place patiently after he
realized that he had lost the letter meant for Kundavai. He
did not hear any of the conversation in that room.
Whatever he heard his mind did not comprehend.
Sundara Chozla was still talking to that astonished group
of poets. "Kundavai must have repeated the verse I
composed in playfulness to some one. Perhaps she recited
it to her teacher, the Priest Esanya Bhattar of Pazlayarai.
He has spread it all over the nation and made me the object
of mockery!"
"My Lord! So what if the poem was written by you? It is a
wonderful poem. There is no doubt about that! Besides
being the Emperor of the Nation, you are also an Emperor
among Poets!" said the court poet.
"However, if I had sung this poem now, I would have
added one more line. I would not have stopped with giving
an elephant to Indra, horses to Surya and a palanquin to the
Great Shiva. Remember Lord Shiva kicked the Lord of
Death to protect his favorite devotee Markandeya? When
he was kicked, that fearsome Lord of Death escaped with a
few wounds. But Death's vehicle, the water-buffalo fell
down dead right there. The Lord of Death suffered without
a proper vehicle to execute his duties... Sundara Chozla of
Pazlayarai saw his problem and presented Yama, the Lord
of Death, with a huge water-buffalo! Yama now rides upon
that beast comfortably and is fast approaching me. Even
my able Commander of Tanjore cannot stop Yama riding
on his buffalo from coming to me."
When she heard these words, Vanama Devi seated next to
him, looked at her lord with tears streaming down her face.
Even the poets were moved, filled with a tremendous
sadness. Only the Younger Lord Pazluvoor seemed
unshaken. "My Sire! In your service, I shall be ready to
wage war even with death!" he declared.
"I have no doubt about that, Commander! But no human
being has the power to fight death. We merely have the
power to pray and ask the God's to give us the ability to
not fear death. Perhaps one of you remember those verses
of one of our Tamil saints who sang, `We shall not fear
death.' Does anyone know that poem?" asked the Emperor.
A poet rose up to repeat that verse:
We are bondsmen to none; nor do we fear the Lord of Death;
We shall not suffer the horrors of hell;
Neither are we at all times incapable
To overcome the misfortunes of ill health.
The Emperor intervened at this line to say "Ah! Who but a
great soul who has seen the vision of the Lord could sing
this daring verse so fearlessly? Saint Appar had suffered
with fearful consumption. But he overcame that ill health
with the grace of God. That is why he sang the line about
`Overcoming the misfortunes of ill health.' My dear poets!
Please stop composing verse in praise of me or my clan.
Sing such poems about divine grace from now onwards.
Appar, Sambanda and Sundara Murti have sung thousands
of such exquisite devotional poems in sweet Tamil. How
wonderful it would be if we could collect all those verses
in one anthology? One lifetime will not be adequate to
read and enjoy all of it!"
"King of Kings, with your permission we are ready to
begin that task right away!"
"No; it is not a task that can be completed in my lifetime.
After me ... " the Emperor hesitated and became immersed
in his own thoughts.
The palace physician came close to the Younger Lord
Pazluvoor and whispered something in his ears. Sundara
Chozla seemed to recover from his contemplation as if
startled from a nightmare. He looked around, his eyes
searching for something. He seemed to be a man returning
from a different world; as if he had glimpsed at the world
of the Lord of death.
Lord Pazluvoor, the Commander, asked, "My Lord! You
had expressed a wish to hear some verses composed during
the Sangam Age. Can these poets leave after they recite
one such poem?"
"Yes, yes. I had forgotten. Not only my body, even my
mind seems to be deteriorating. Let me hear the poem."
The Commander made a sign to the chief poet Nallavan
Sattanar. Upon that sign, the poet stood up and began
speaking the following words:
"My Lord! One of the most famous kings of your clan was
Karikala Valava of the Sangam Age. He was the brave
warrior who placed his tiger-flag on the Himalaya
Mountains. During his reign, the capital of the Chozla
Kingdom was Poompuhar or Kaviri-poom-pattinam. It was
the port where goods and produce from various foreign
nations came in ships. One of the poets of that period
composed several verses in praise of that town describing
its wealth and prosperity. Here are a few lines describing
the various goods that came into the port of that famous
town:
Horses of noble gait came by the sea;
Bagsful of black pepper brought in carts;
Gemstone and gold from the northern mountains;
Fragrant sandal and myrrh, forest produce of the Kudagu hills;
Pearls from the southern seas, corals of the western ocean;
Wealth of the Ganga and yield of the Cauvery;
Food from Lanka and manufactured goods of Malaya...
Sundara Chozla made a sign and stopped the poet when he
came to this line. The poet stopped; silent.
The Emperor looked at his commander and said with some
harshness, "Commander, the poem speaks of the times of
Karikala when food came to us from Lanka. You brought
these poets here to tell me this. Is it not so?"
"Yes, My Lord!" the words of the Commander came
faintly.
"I understand. Please send these poets away; give them
appropriate gifts," said the monarch turning his face away.
"Poets! Sirs! You can all take your leave now." The
Commander announced firmly. The whole group rose and departed through the door. But, they did not forget to raise
cheers and blessings for the Emperor as they left.
Vandiya Devan who was quite agitated at not finding the
letter he had brought for Kundavai, tried to mingle with
that group and escape. But, his intention did not succeed.
Near the doorway a vise like grip took hold of his left
hand. Vandiya Devan was quite strong. But that iron grip
shook him from head to toe and made him stand still. He
looked up and his eyes confirmed that the iron grip
belonged to the Commander, the Younger Lord Pazluvoor.
By now, the poets had left the inner bed chamber.