Upon the word of the attendant who came to say that his mother had summoned him, Madurantakan went to see Sembiyan Maadevi. The fame of that venerable old lady, renowned for her deep devotion to Shiva, had spread throughout the land. Once, Madurantakan too had possessed boundless devotion towards his mother. Now, that devotion had transformed into a furious resentment. In all the tales he had heard, never had a mother been known to betray her own son and side with the heirs of another! Must such a mother befall him? The more he thought of it, the more the love in his heart turned to hatred, which, over time, had grown and flared within him.

Yet, upon seeing the mother’s face, suffused with an extraordinary peace, some of his anger abated. Following old custom, he bowed to her and stood up.

“May the wealth of your Shiva-bhakti ever increase and flourish!” blessed the queen, bidding him to be seated. That blessing pierced Madurantakan’s heart like an arrow.

“Madurantaka! Is my daughter-in-law well? Are all well in your father-in-law’s house and in the household of the Danadhikari?” the mother asked.

“All are well enough. Why should you be concerned about that?” the prince muttered.

“Before you left Thanjavur, did you see the Emperor? How is his health these days?” the queen asked.

“I saw him and took my leave before departing. The Emperor’s body grows weaker by the day. More than physical pain, it is mental anguish that torments him,” Madurantakan replied.

“What is this, child? What could have happened to cause the Emperor such mental distress?”

“Those who have committed wrongs—those who have acted unjustly, who seize and enjoy the possessions of others—it is natural for them to feel mental anguish, is it not?”

“What are you saying? What crime or injustice has the Emperor committed?”

“What else is there? Is it not enough that he has sat on the throne that should rightfully be mine for all these years? Is that not a crime? Is it not injustice?” “My child! How did this poison find its way into your heart, which was once as pure as milk? Who has corrupted you with evil counsel?” asked the mother in a voice filled with compassion.

“No one has corrupted me with evil counsel. Why do you consider your son so naive? Do you think I have no understanding of my own?”

“No matter how wise one is, the mind can be led astray by bad influence. Even stone can be dissolved if the right solvent is used, can it not? Was not Kaikeyi’s mind ruined by the evil counsel of the hunchback?”

“I too know that women’s minds can be corrupted in such a manner!”

“Madurandhaka! Whom are you referring to?”

“Mother! Tell me, for what reason have you called me here?”

“Just a while ago, you seemed happy at the celebration, did you not?”

“I was. You had a young boy, who was passing by, brought here in a palanquin. You seated him on the throne and honored him. He must be filled with pride beyond measure…”

“Oh! Do not speak so disrespectfully, my child. Though the guest who came was young in age, he is a great sage who has attained the fullness of spiritual wisdom…”

“Let him be a sage if he is. If I belittle him, will his greatness be diminished? I do not object to the royal honors you bestowed upon that sage. Just tell me why you have called me here!”

Sembiyan Madevi let out a long, deep sigh. Then she spoke: “The change that has come over your nature astonishes me. I never dreamed that two years’ stay in the Pazhuvettaraiyar palace would change you so much. Be that as it may, I must fulfill my duty. I must strive, as far as I am able, to keep the promise I gave your father, my son! Before I tell you the reason I have called you here, I must tell you my story—the history of how I married your father. Listen patiently for a while!”

Madurandhaka, as a sign that he was prepared to listen patiently, knelt down, braced his hands firmly on the pedestal, and sat attentively.

“You have visited my birthplace, Mazhapadi, once or twice when you were a child; you have also seen the temple of Lord Shiva in that town. I have heard the elders say that it is one of the sixty-four shrines built by King Kochchengat Chozha. Your grandfather, my father, was a prominent landholder in Mazhapadi. Our lineage is ancient. Once upon a time, the Mazhavarayars were influential minor kings. During the wars in the time of Vijayalaya Chozha, they sided with the Pandyas. Because of this, after the Chozhas triumphed, the power of the Mazhavarayars waned. When I was a little girl, I did not care about any of this. My heart was drawn only to the Nataraja in the temple at Mazhapadi.

A venerable elder once told me a story from the history of Mazhapadi when I was a child. Sundaramurthi Swamigal, along with his disciples, was traveling near our village. The temple at Mazhapadi was then surrounded by flourishing, thickly clustered konnai trees, their golden blossoms swaying and hiding the shrine from view. Thus, Sundarar passed by without noticing the temple. Suddenly, he heard a voice call out, ‘Sundara, have you forgotten me?’ Sundarar looked around and asked, ‘Did any of you say something?’ The disciples replied, ‘No, we heard nothing.’ Sundarar then wondered if there might be a hidden temple nearby. Searching among the konnai trees, he discovered the concealed shrine of Mazhapadi, hurried inside, and standing before the Lord’s sanctum, sang the hymn beginning, ‘O One with the golden-hued body!’

From the moment I heard this tale, O King! O radiant gem! O precious jewel of Mazhapadi! O Mother, but for you, Whom else shall I think of!

These lines became etched in my heart. I would often go to the