Part Two – The Whirlwind

Until Prince Arulmozhi reached Parthibendran’s ship, those who stood at the mouth of the Thondaiman river watched him intently. As soon as the prince boarded the ship, the boat that had ferried him returned.

The face of Commander-in-Chief Boothi Vikramakesari betrayed his elation.

“The Lord is on our side; there is no doubt about it. Will the conch and discus marks upon the prince’s sacred form ever be tarnished? Parthibendran will safely escort him to Kanchi. We, too, must set out towards Thanjai with our armies!” Thus, as if speaking to himself, the Kodumbalur Velar declared aloud.

Immediately, he turned to Alwarkadiyan, who stood beside him. “Vaishnavite! Are you still standing here? There is no harm in that. What is there that the Prime Minister’s secret spy does not know? Well, what are you going to do? Will you come with me to the flower garden?”

“No, sir! There is yet another task the Prime Minister has assigned to me, which I must fulfill…”

“What is that, my boy?”

Alwarkadiyan glanced toward the spot a little distance away, where the mute queen and Poonguzhali stood.

“Is it something concerning those women?” asked the Commander-in-Chief.

“It concerns one of them; the Prime Minister has ordered that if I happen to see such a mute woman in Lanka, I must somehow bring her to Thanjavur.”

“He has given you a fine task. He might as well have asked you to catch one of the storm winds that rage across the Lankan seas and bring it back. It would be just as easy to capture that mute woman and bring her here. No one knows who she is. She seems to have great affection for our prince. Do you know anything about her?” “She is mute, and also deaf from birth—I know that. I also know that taking her along would be harder than trapping a storm wind in a cage and carrying it away. Still, as my master has commanded, I shall make an attempt.”

“Even this boat-girl seems to be friendly with her. Look at how the two of them are conversing with gestures! Call that girl here! I must give her a warning…”

Azhwarkkadiyan went over to the women and conveyed the Commander’s summons to Poonguzhali.

Poonguzhali left the mute queen and approached the Commander.

“Listen, girl! You are very clever! You came at the right time and brought important news. You have rendered a great service to the Chola dynasty. I shall never forget this. At the right time, I will reward you suitably,” he said.

Poonguzhali replied humbly, “My respects, sir! I do not need any reward.”

“Who lets you go without a reward? Let all this confusion subside a little. Afterwards… afterwards, I shall find you a husband in the Chola army, a hero among heroes. It will not do if your husband is an ordinary fellow—he must be a Bhimasena! Otherwise, wouldn’t you just twirl him around your little finger?” said the Commander, smiling.

Poonguzhali stood looking at the ground. Anger surged within her, but she did not wish to show it at that moment. What was the use of quarreling with this rough old man? She tried to suppress her anger.

“But remember one thing—do not think that just because you have done some service for the prince, you can celebrate your closeness to him! Be content with casting your nets in the sea and catching fish! Do not aspire to cast your net and catch the prince! Beware, girl! If you go near him again, danger will come to you!” said the Commander. His voice was harsh then. Each of his words fell upon Poonguzhali’s ears like drops of boiling ghee.

Poonguzhali longed to reply to the old man with words as sharp as his. But she could not speak—her throat was choked. The drops of boiling ghee that fell in her ears seemed to flow out as hot tears from her eyes. Tears welled up and burned her eyes.

Without lifting her bowed head, Poonguzhali turned away. She walked in the direction opposite the seashore. Her steps began slowly, but gradually her pace quickened. For a moment, she glanced sideways toward where the Mute Queen sat. She saw that near the queen stood Azhwarkkadiyan, seemingly trying to communicate something to her. The thought struck Poonguzhali that she should not remain where people were gathered. She could not bear to hear the sound of human voices. Ah! How cruel human beings are! Why do they utter such harsh words? How wonderful it would be if everyone were mute!

After walking a short distance into the forest, she reached the bank of the Thondaiman river. She walked along the bank, heading inland. She made her way toward the spot where she had left her boat. Yes, she must reach that boat quickly. She must get in and row away. She must go alone, out to sea. She must reach the open ocean, where no human voice could ever reach her ears. She would lay down the oar and let it rest. The boat would drift, tossed by the waves, and she would drift with it. She would go on endlessly, across the boundless sea. Only then would her troubled heart find peace. Only then would the pain caused by the Commander’s words be soothed. Her anger would subside, and comfort would come.

What did that wretched old man say! “Be content with casting your net and catching fish in the sea! Do not cast your net for the prince!” he had said.

As if I am casting my net for the prince! Disgusting! See the way that old man’s mind works!… Yes; the fish that live in the sea are far better creatures than the men who walk the land. They do not speak such cruel words. How blissfully they spend their days, swimming and floating in the deep sea! What sorrow do they know? What grief? Ah! Could I