Prak! Prak! Here they come—the great poets! The shining jewels among bards! Those who have glimpsed the very shores of the vast Tamil ocean! Heirs to the lineage of Agathiyar! Those who have absorbed the Sangam texts, from the Tolkappiyam onwards, as if they had melted and drunk them! Those who have read the five great epics, beginning with Silappathikaram, forwards and backwards! Those who have, with a single glance, comprehended the divine Tamil Veda, the Tirukkural! Those who know grammar for the sake of literature, and literature for the sake of grammar! Those who can, of their own accord, compose exquisite poetry! If the palm-leaf manuscripts containing the poems each of them has written were to serve as food for the tortoises, they would keep countless generations alive for centuries—just imagine!

All these eminent poets arrived together in a throng before the august presence of Emperor Sundara Chola.

“Long live! Long live! Long live Sundara Chola, the great emperor who rules all seven worlds beneath a single parasol! Long live the lord who brought the Pandya to heel in the forest! Long live the patron who nurtures poets! Long live the generous king who is the very embodiment of compassion for bards! Long live the illustrious son of Paranthaka Chola, the scholar who cherishes the learned—may his sacred name endure for ages!” they extolled.

Sundara Chola did not particularly enjoy these shouts and acclamations. Yet, without betraying his feelings outwardly, and even forgetting his own illness for the moment, he made an effort to rise and welcome the guests. At once, the younger Pazhuvettarayar stepped forward and said, “My lord, the poets have come only to pay their respects and offer homage, not to trouble you. Therefore, I beg you, please do not exert yourself.”

“Yes, yes! King of kings! Great emperor! We have not come to cause you the slightest discomfort!” said Nallan Sathanar, the leader of the poets.

“It gives me great joy to see you all after such a long time. Please be seated. Recite a few verses before you depart!” said the emperor, ever a lover of Tamil.

All sat down upon the gem-studded carpet spread on the floor. Sensing this was the opportune moment, our valiant Vallavaraiyan mingled with the group of poets and seated himself among them. He could not bear the thought of leaving without conveying all he wished to the emperor. He sat there, hoping that, should the opportunity arise, he might say his piece before departing. Chinna Pazhuvettaraiyar took note of this. His moustache quivered. At first, he considered sending the man outside. Then, he decided it would be better to keep him here under his own watchful eye. Therefore, when he saw the man, he pretended not to notice him. After these poets had left, he intended to call the man outside and thoroughly learn what message he had conveyed to the Maharaja. The words, “Danger! Danger!” still echoed in his ears.

“Poets! It has been a long time