In those days, those who traveled from Kudanthai to Thanjavur would reach Thiruvaiyaru either by following the banks of the Arisil river or the Kaveri river. From there, they would turn southward towards Thanjavur. Convenient fords were available at those places to cross the rivers Kudamurutti, Vettaru, Vennaru, and Vadavaru that lay along the way.

Setting out from Kudanthai, Vallavaraiyan first made his way towards the banks of the Arisil river. The sights he beheld along the way filled him with even greater wonder than all he had ever heard about the Chola country. Is it not true that when we behold a beautiful scene for the first time, its sweetness seems doubled?

Lush green fields, ginger and turmeric patches, sugarcane and banana groves, coconut and areca nut orchards, tanks, streams, ponds, and canals appeared one after another in endless succession. The streams were thick with blooming lilies and blue lotuses. In the ponds, red lotuses, white lotuses, blue water-lilies, and the radiant sengazhuneer flowers presented a feast for the eyes. Flocks of white storks flew gracefully in the sky. Crimson-legged herons stood on one leg as if lost in meditation. Water gushed through the sluices of the tanks with a bubbling sound. The fields, enriched with manure and green compost, were being ploughed deeper still by the farmers, turning the fertile soil. In the prepared fields, women were transplanting seedlings, singing sweet rustic songs as they worked.

Beside the sugarcane fields stood the crushing sheds. The harvested black canes from the previous year’s crop were cut and brought to these sheds, where their juice was pressed out. The mingled scents of fresh sugarcane juice and boiling jaggery wafted through the air, overwhelming the senses.

Amidst the coconut groves stood huts thatched with palm leaves and small tiled houses. In the villages, the thresholds of the houses were swept clean and polished until the earth shone like a mirror. In front of some houses, paddy was spread out to dry. Chickens came and pecked at the grains, then strutted away, cackling “kokkarakko!” The little girls set to guard the paddy did not bother to chase the chickens away. “How much rice can a chicken eat, after all?” they thought indifferently, and continued playing choli and pallanguzhi.

From the rooftops of the huts, smoke from the hearths curled upwards. Mixed with the smoke was the aroma of parched paddy, the scent of roasting millet, and the mouthwatering smell of meat being cooked. In those days, most warriors were staunch meat-eaters. Vallavarayan was no exception; thus, the aromas wafting through the air made his mouth water.

Here and there along the roadside, blacksmith forges appeared. The fires in the kilns blazed and crackled brightly. The sound of iron being hammered on the anvil rang out—“tanar, tanar.” In those forges, alongside the ploughshares, mattocks, and crowbars needed by the villagers, there were also heaps of knives, shields, spears, and javelins. Villagers and warriors alike stood waiting in eager competition to purchase these implements