“Samudra Kumari! Do you remember me…?”

“Ponniyin Selva! What kind of question is this! At whom are you asking, ‘Do you remember?’ After mingling and growing close for thousands and thousands of years, is it fitting to ask, ‘Do you remember?’ Or is it that you yourself have forgotten? How many ages have you climbed into my little boat? In the sea, in that endless ocean, amidst the boundless surging waves, have you forgotten all those joyous journeys we took together in my small boat? When suddenly, darkness surrounded us on all sides, did you forget how we stood side by side, holding each other’s hands for a long time, giving each other courage? When the terrifying storm winds blew, when the mountainous waves struck our boat, lifting us to the sky in one moment and plunging us into the abyss the next, in those days of wild turmoil, did you forget how we stood together, supporting each other, and braved that terrible storm and triumphed over it? Do you not remember the time when we soared and soared, flying through the vast sky? Did you forget how you leapt up to the stars, plucked them, and adorned my hair with them as ornaments? Did you also forget how you brought the full moon close to my face and said, ‘Here, look at your golden face in this silver mirror!’?

And another time, when you dived into the deep sea; my heart trembled in fear; but after a while, you emerged with pearls and corals in both hands, strung them into garlands, and placed them around my neck! Even if you have forgotten, how could I ever forget? O King! In the twilight hours, on the blue-hued banks of the lakes, where the branches, heavy with clusters of flowers, bent down to form a decorated canopy, on mats of fresh green grass, how many, how many, countless days did we spend gazing into each other’s faces—can all that ever be forgotten? In those moments, a hundred pairs of cuckoos sat on the branches and sang their melodies, thousands and tens of thousands of bees circled around humming, and millions of butterflies, beating their many-colored wings, danced in delight—could I ever forget any of that? In how many births could I forget? Yet you looked at me and asked, ‘Do you remember?’—is it right to ask so? I remember, my lord, I remember it all so well!…”

Her foolish, innocent heart leapt and fluttered, longing to say all this.

But from her coral lips came only two softly murmured words: “I remember!”

“Ah! Samudrakumari, you have opened your mouth and spoken! In this wondrous island of Lanka, in how many pillared halls of the palaces are there statues of beautiful divine maidens carved upon the columns! For a moment, I thought you too might be such a sculpted form. Fortunately, you have opened your mouth and spoken. Say a few more words! How much I have longed to hear your sweet voice. They say you told our Commander a few things. That two large ships had come and were anchored in a hidden spot on the Thondaiman river, and that many warriors had arrived in them. Is that true, Samudrakumari? Did you see those ships with your own eyes?” the prince asked.

“Yes, my lord, I saw them with my own eyes!” answered Poonguzhali.

“Ah! Now I can hear your voice a little. My ears are rejoicing. Good; after seeing the ships, you took your boat along a narrow canal. You hid yourself in the dense forest, lying low in a secret place, waiting for the ships to pass. At that time, some of the warriors who had disembarked from the ships came there. They stood and spoke near the place where you were lying. You did not wish to listen to their conversation. Yet, against your will, their words fell upon your ears. You happened to hear them. Are these the things you told our Commander?”

“I told what happened, just as it happened.”

“Upon hearing their conversation, you felt you must immediately warn the Commander about it. As soon as the warriors left, you set out. You hurried, searching for the place where the Commander was! How did you come, Samudrakumari?”

“I came halfway by boat; then I walked through the forest path.”

“With what intention did you set out, child?”

“I thought the Commander would be at Mathottam city, so I set out to go there. On the way, I learned he was at Mahindalai. Before I could speak to the Commander, so many people stood in my way and stopped me! How many stood in my path?” said Poonguzhali, turning toward the Commander. In her gaze, there flashed a lightning bolt, like the one that appears before the thunder of summer storms.

“Is it such an easy matter to meet the Commander-in-Chief? Here stands my friend—if you heard of the troubles he endured in his attempt to see the Commander-in-Chief, you would be astonished. It is good that you stubbornly persisted and managed to see the Commander, O maiden with the lovely tresses! Will you repeat to me what you told him? When you listened from behind the tree, what were those soldiers discussing?”

“My lord! I feel embarrassed to say it aloud.”

“Be generous of heart and tell me once more, for my sake!”

“They were talking about having come here to arrest and take you away.”

“Did they mention on whose orders they had come?”

“I do not believe what they said, my lord! I thought it must be a plot by the Pazhuvettarayars.”

“You may share your opinion later. For now, just tell me what they said, Samudrakumari.”

“They said it was by the Emperor’s command.”

“Very well; did they give any reason for this?”

“They did. They said you had conspired with the Buddhist monks in this land to have yourself crowned as King of Lanka… When I heard those wretches speak thus,