As Vandiyathevan guided his horse down from the bank of the lake and onto the southern path, his heart danced with joy, like a boat swaying upon the waves. The exuberance that had lain hidden deep within him now surged forth, overflowing. His inner sense whispered that the time was near when he would experience wonders unknown to any other in life. If simply approaching the Chola country filled him with such rapture, what would it be like once he crossed the Kollidam? What wealth of water and land would that Chola realm hold? What of its people and its women—how would they be? How many rivers, how many lakes, how many sparkling streams? What vision would the famed Ponni river—celebrated in poetry and epic—present to his eyes? How enchanting would be the banks lined with blossoming punnai, konnai, and kadamba trees, swaying in the breeze? How delightful the sight of waterlilies and kumudams beckoning from the streams, and red lotuses blooming in welcome? How beautiful the wondrous temples, adorned with exquisite carvings, that the Chola lineage—devotees of Shiva—had raised on both banks of the Kaveri?

Ah! Pazhaiyarai city! The capital of the Chola kings! The city that had reduced Poompuhar and Uraiyur to mere villages! What would its mansions and towers, its gopurams, its barracks, its bustling market streets, its Shiva temples, and the celestial shrines of Vishnu be like? Vandiyathevan had heard that in those temples, masters of music sang the sweet verses of the Thevaram and the sacred hymns of the Thiruvaimozhi, transporting listeners to ecstasy. Soon, he would have the fortune to hear them all. And was that all? In a few days, he would attain blessings he had never even dreamed of. He was to meet, face to face, the mighty Parantaka Sundara Chola Maharaja—peerless in valor and beauty, rival to Murugan and Manmatha themselves. Was that all? He would also behold the king’s precious daughter, the incomparable jewel among women, Princess Kundavai.

Yet, he hoped that no obstacle would arise along the way. But what if one did? He had a spear in his hand, a sword hanging at his side, armor upon his chest, and courage in his heart. However, the great commander, Prince Aditya, had set a stern restriction: before fulfilling the entrusted mission, he must not quarrel with anyone. That command... Fulfilling it was what proved most difficult. Somehow, after journeying this far, it felt as though the task was nearly accomplished. Only two more days of travel remained, after all. Until then, he would have to endure with patience.

With the thought that he must reach Kadambur before sunset, Vandiyathevan pressed on. Before long, he drew near the Veera Narayanapuram Vinnagara temple.

That day, the grand festival of Aadi Thirumanjanam was being celebrated, and so, great crowds had gathered in the groves of trees surrounding the temple.

Vendors had set up stalls here and there, selling jackfruit slices, bananas, sugarcane, and all manner of delicacies. Some were selling flowers for women to adorn their hair, lotus buds and other blossoms for divine worship. Others had heaped up coconuts, tender coconuts, eaglewood, sandalwood, betel leaves, jaggery, flattened rice, and puffed rice in great piles. Here and there, amusements and entertainments were taking place. Fortune-tellers, palmists skilled in the science of lines, soothsayers, and those who chanted mantras to cure snakebite—all these were present in abundance.

As Vandiyathevan made his way through the crowd, he noticed at one spot a large gathering standing together, and from within that throng, the sound of a heated argument being shouted in loud voices. Curiosity surged within him to know what debate was taking place. He could not suppress his eagerness. He reined in his horse at the roadside, dismounted, and, signaling to the horse to remain where it was, he plunged into the crowd.

He was surprised to see that only three people were engaged in the debate. Yet, though only three argued, many in the crowd from time to time cheered for the disputant whose side they favored. That was the reason for the commotion, Vandiyathevan realized. He then turned his attention to the subject of the debate.

Of the three disputants, one was a devout Vaishnavite, his body smeared with sandalwood paste in the Urdhva Pundra pattern, a tuft of hair tied at the crown of his head. In his hand, he held a short staff. His frame shone with the vigor of both strength and austerity.

Another was a Shaivite devotee, his body streaked all over with sacred ash.

The third man was clad in ochre robes, his head clean-shaven. Yet he was neither a Vaishnavite nor a Shaivite; it became apparent that he was an Advaita Vedantin, one who transcended both sects.

The Shaivite said, “Oh, Azhwarkadiyan Nambi! Answer me this! Did not Brahma strive to see the crown of Lord Shiva, and did not Thirumal (Vishnu) attempt to find His feet? Did not both fail, and at last surrender themselves at the feet of Shiva? If that is so, how can your Thirumal be considered a greater deity than Shiva?”

At this, Azhwarkadiyan Nambi swung his staff and replied, “Very well, I shall answer you, O valiant Shaivite, dust of the holy feet! Cease your prattle! Was it not your Shiva who granted boons to Ravana, the ten-headed king of Lanka? And did not all those boons turn to dust before the bow of our Thirumal’s avatar, Lord Rama? If that is so, how can your Shiva be considered a greater deity than our Thirumal?”

At this moment, the Advaita Sannyasi in ochre robes interjected, bowing his head and saying, “Why do you both argue in vain? No matter how long you debate whether Shiva or Vishnu is the greater god, the matter will never be resolved. Vedanta gives the answer to this question. As long as you remain on the lower path of devotion, you will quarrel over Shiva and Vishnu. Beyond devotion lies the path of knowledge. And