Born and raised in the land of Kodagu, the river Ponni, having crossed the threshold of maidenhood, longed to reach her bridegroom, the Lord of the Ocean. She hurried forward, traversing forests and hills, leaping over rocks and ravines. As she drew closer and closer to the Ocean King, her heart brimmed with the thrill of soon beholding her beloved, and her whole being swelled with joy. A little further she went, and now she had two arms with which to embrace her lover. With both arms outstretched, she leapt and bounded forward. Yet, it seemed to her that two arms were not enough for the overflowing eagerness in her heart; her arms of desire multiplied—ten, twenty, a hundred! With all those eager arms outstretched, she approached the Lord of the Ocean.

What are the adornments bestowed by the nurses of Chola Nadu upon a bride who sets out to meet her beloved in this manner? Ah! How many beautiful green silks did they drape her in? In what wondrous ways did they crown her with colorful flowers? How lavishly did they sprinkle her with fragrant perfumes? Oh! How can one describe the marvel of the punna and kadamba trees, grown thickly on both banks, showering her with their jeweled blossoms? Can even the divine rain of flowers from the heavens compare to this?

O Ponni river! Is there any maiden who would not rejoice at the sight of you? Is there any young woman whose heart would not overflow upon seeing your bridal attire and ornaments?

Just as all the maidens of a village gather around the bride, so too is it only natural that the rivers—like women—come seeking you and join your flow. Of all the golden arms Ponni stretches out in longing to embrace her bridegroom, one is called Arisilaaru. To the south of the Kaveri, very near to her, flows the beautiful river Arisilaaru. Such a river can only be known to those who are told of it from a little distance away. The lovely green trees growing densely on both banks hide that river from view. From birth, Arisilaaru could be called a royal maiden who has never stepped out of her inner chambers. There is no comparison in this world for the beauty of that maiden river.

Well then, let us forget the thought of the inner chambers, and let our dear readers come with us as we draw near to Arisilaaru. Let them enter amidst the trees that have grown close together like a grove! Ah, what a marvelous sight is this! Is it not as if beauty is being adorned with more beauty, as if sweetness is being added to nectar? Who are these radiant women, seated in the swan-shaped, wondrously adorned, colorful boat? Among them, who is that luminous jewel of a lady, who sits as the central figure—like the full moon among the stars, like a queen born to rule all seven worlds, resplendent with grace and majesty? Who is this peerless woman? And who is the serene beauty seated beside her, holding a veena in her hands? Who are these celestial maidens, whose sweet voices blend with the river’s flood, their songs swelling and mingling with the surge of the waters?

One among them is Meenalocani; another, Neelalocani; one is she of the lotus face; another, she of the lotus-petal eyes. Ah, look at her who plucks the strings of the veena! One could gaze endlessly at the beauty of her slender fingers, like stalks of golden grass, dancing gracefully across the strings.

How can one describe the sweetness of the melody they play? Even the river’s flood seems to have stilled its own murmur, just to listen to their song. The parrots and cuckoos that dwell in the trees along the riverbank have fallen silent, their beaks unopened, plunged into a deep, listening stillness. Is it any wonder, then, that those fortunate enough to be born human, blessed with ears to hear, are transported with delight at this nectar-like music?

Let us listen to what these maidens in the boat are singing:

As the bees hum all around… Draped in a garment of shining gems, With dark, lotus-like eyes wide open, You walked forth in splendor! Hail, Kaveri! With dark, lotus-like eyes wide open, All your steps, I now perceive, Were to reveal your lord’s just scepter Was never bent—hail, Kaveri!

In groves where peacocks dance among flowers, Where cuckoos sing their sweet melodies, With fragrant garlands of arugam grass, You walked forth in splendor! Hail, Kaveri! With fragrant garlands of arugam grass, All your steps, I now perceive, Were to reveal your lord’s valor with the spear— I understand now, hail, Kaveri!

Have we not heard these nectarous Tamil verses somewhere before? Yes, these are the lines sung in the Silappathikaram. Yet, when these women sing them, they are adorned with a beauty and allure never seen before. These women seem to be the beloved companions of the Ponni river herself! That is why they sing with such rapturous emotion, their hearts brimming with ecstasy. Ah! How the song, the melody, the rhythm, and the feeling all blend and entwine, pouring from their voices like a flood of nectar! Is it song, is it music, is it melody, is it harmony? It is none of these. This is some magical art! A bewitching spell that drives both singers and listeners into a sweet madness!

The boat, gliding gently, comes to rest at a landing where the trees part to offer a narrow path. Two women alight; one among them possesses a majestic bearing worthy of being called queen of all seven worlds. The other, her fingers dancing over the strings of a veena, draws forth enchanting music. Though both are beautiful, there is a striking difference between their charms. One has the regal beauty of a blooming red lotus. The other, the gentle sweetness of the white kumudam flower. She was a maiden of beauty. One was