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 since I have listened to Tamil songs. My ears hunger for Tamil poetry. Have any of you brought a new song?” asked Emperor Sundara Chola.

At once, a poet named Sigamani stood up and said, “Lord! I have come from the great Sunderachozhap Perumpalli, which bears your sacred name in Ulakapuri. All the Buddhists throughout Tamilagam praise and cherish your generosity, for you have granted endowments to the Buddhist monastery. From the moment they heard of your illness, the monks have been deeply concerned and have been conducting prayers for your health. I beg your grace to allow me to recite here the song of their prayer!”

“By all means, recite it; I am waiting to hear,” said the Emperor.

The poet then sang the following song with melody:

“O holy shade of the Bodhi tree! Let us praise and pray That the glory, splendor, and steadfastness Of Sundara Chola, king of noble Nandipuri,* May flourish and endure above all in this world!”

(*In those days, the city of Pazhayarai was also known as Nandipuri. Some time ago, when the Chola country was under the rule of the Pallavas, the name Nandipuri was widely used. That is why, in this old song, the king is referred to as the ruler of Nandipuri.)

As soon as the song ended, all the poets exclaimed, “Well done! Well done!” expressing their appreciation.

“It is astonishing, astonishing, that the Buddhists are so grateful!” remarked a staunch Saiva poet.

“Yes; that is indeed a wondrous thing. The service I rendered to the Buddhist monastery at Ulagapuram was but a trifling one. Does it truly deserve such praise?” asked the king.

“Who, having experienced the magnanimity of the Emperor, could ever refrain from expressing gratitude and admiration? Even Indra, Surya, and Lord Shiva themselves have enjoyed the fruits of your generosity!” declared another chief among the poets.

As a gentle smile played upon Sundara Chozhar’s face, he asked, “What is this? Indra, Surya, and Shiva themselves? For what reason would they owe me gratitude?”

“Grant me permission to recite a poem!” requested the poet.

“So be it!” said the king.

The poet unfolded the palm-leaf manuscript he had brought and began to read:

“To Indra, he gave the elephant to ride; To Surya, he gave the swift horse; To the red-gold-skinned Sun, At Shiva’s wedding, He gave the fresh green parrot to perch; In the ancient city of Pazhayarai— Who can equal Sundara Chozhar In all this ancient world?”

As the poet finished reciting the verse, all the other poets in the assembly expressed their delight by clapping their hands, exclaiming “Ah! Wonderful!” and voicing their approval with cries of “Well done! Well done!”

With his face aglow, Sundara Chozhar asked, “Can anyone here explain the meaning of this poem?”

Several rose to their feet at once. Then, all except Nallan Saththanar resumed their seats. Nallan Saththanar proceeded to explain the meaning of the poem.

“Once, there was a war between Devendran and Virudhirasuran. In that