As the assembly that had gathered to welcome Nambi Andar Nambi was dispersing, the Great Queen turned to her beloved son and said, “My son! I will accompany these guests up to the palace gates and see them off. In the meantime, go to your chambers, refresh yourself, and return. I must speak to you about something important!”

“So be it, Mother,” replied Madurantakan, and set off. He made his way to the part of the palace where he resided. Within him, anger and jealousy flared up like a blazing fire. What extravagant honors for some wandering ascetic and his retinue! It seemed as if his own mother was bringing shame upon the royal family’s dignity! No wonder the Pazhuvettaraiyars so often voiced their complaints about her. Anyone who arrived, smeared with sacred ash and adorned with rudraksha beads, was enough to win the Great Queen’s favor! All it took was a hymn or two sung in praise, or talk of temple renovations, tanks, and holy works, and she would be satisfied. For such people, she would lavish gifts, emptying the royal treasury itself!

As if that were not enough, there was Princess Kundavai, ever at her side. If anything remained after the temple renovations, she would spend it on establishing hospitals. If such things were allowed to continue, how would his own ambitions ever be fulfilled? How could he ascend the Chola throne and, sending forth Chola armies in all four directions, conquer the whole earth and rule under a single parasol?

And now, once again, the Great Queen wished to speak some secret to her son! Who knew what secret she intended to reveal? Perhaps she would begin discoursing on Ashtanga Yoga, on yama and niyama, on the art of meditation. Perhaps she would instruct him on how to focus the gaze upon the tip of the nose, to raise the kundalini upwards, and thus master all sixty-four arts without ever having to learn them! Or perhaps she would begin explaining the inner meaning of Nataraja’s blissful dance, what his matted locks symbolized, what the crescent moon he wore represented. With such endless talk, she had already brought him to the point where the world mocked him as half-mad. There must be no more room for such conversations. Even if she insisted on speaking, he must not listen… Let it be! Before the queen calls for me again, I must speak to that soothsayer. How did he come to know of those two mysterious matters, which no one else could possibly have known? Is it not astonishing to think of it? He must possess some extraordinary power. If he could recount past events as if he had witnessed them, could he also foretell what is yet to come? I must ask him myself.

As they were leaving the assembly, Madurantakan noticed the soothsayer standing there hesitantly, glancing about uncertainly. With a gesture, he commanded the man to follow him. Vandiyathevan’s eyes were eager to catch a glimpse of the princess’s face, to convey a message through the language of the eyes. But the princess, without so much as a backward glance, had already departed with the great queen.

What is this? Has the princess forgotten me altogether? It must be so. Every day, she sees thousands upon thousands of faces. How could she possibly remember the face of someone she has seen once—twice at most? I am the fool; day and night, through countless strange incidents and dangers, I have thought only of the princess’s radiant face. Why should the princess think of me? The bee, loving honey, circles the flower again and again. But what concern does the flower have for the bee? The flower smiles up at the sun. Who is the Sun God who makes Kundavai’s face bloom so beautifully?

Yet, could she really be so indifferent, even to the message for which she sent me? Perhaps someone else has already come before me and delivered the news? How could that be? No, no! Her face clearly showed she was troubled by some deep worry. Surely, it must be that she did not recognize me. If the messenger who took the secret letter to Lanka were to return as one of Madurantaka’s attendants and enter the assembly, how could she possibly recognize him? Ah! When I tell her of the tricks I used to enter that city and meet her, how astonished she will be! But how to meet her? How to send word to her?…

“Nimittakara! What deep thoughts are you lost in?” Madurantakan’s voice startled Vandiyathevan. By then, they had reached Madurantaka Devar’s private chamber within the palace.

In those days, there were many astrologers, soothsayers, palmists who foretold by reading lines, and omen-readers who spoke of the future. Astrologers would cast horoscopes, calculate the movements of planets and stars, and thus predict destinies. Soothsayers would interpret the words spoken by those who came to them, the precise moment when the question was asked, or ask the seeker to choose a number between one and one hundred and eight, and then pronounce general auspicious or inauspicious predictions. The science of palmistry, as it existed then, endures even today.

Omen-readers were those who, like ancient sages endowed with wisdom and inner vision, possessed the power to see with the mind’s eye. By focusing their minds, aided by their inner sight, they would look upon the events of past, present, and future as if they were happening before their very eyes, and then reveal them. Some would close their outer eyes and sit in meditation before speaking; others would fix their gaze upon the flame of a lamp, concentrate their minds, and declare the events that had occurred or were yet to occur, as seen within that flickering light. There were even some who, upon merely beholding the face of the person before them, would have the entire history—past and future—of that individual appear in their mind. Apart from these extraordinary individuals endowed with such