If poets were asked to describe the beauty of the Princess of Kodumbalur, they would compare that maiden’s loveliness to the charm of twilight. When the day fades and dusk descends, a gentle melancholy settles upon the heart; yet, along with it, a serene delight also arises. After the sun’s final rays have waned and disappeared, the darkness of night gathers all around. To dispel the weariness that this brings to the mind, it is enough to gaze at the sky—how much joy is bestowed by the countless radiant lamps that Queen of the Heavens kindles in the blink of an eye! Unlike the blazing brilliance of the sun, they do not dazzle the eyes; one may gaze upon them and delight in their beauty. And if the moon has risen, nothing more need be said. The world is filled with the pearly glow of the full moon; heart and body are both suffused with its light. It is true that, at dusk, the lotuses close their petals. Yet, as if to rival the stars, jasmine buds burst open and bloom, and their fragrance intoxicates both earth and sky.

It is true that, once the sun has set, the joyous songs of birds fall silent. But listen! How sweet now are the deep notes of the temple’s bell and the melodious strains of the nadaswaram! From the tops of the palace towers, slender fingers pluck the veena and the yāzh, conjuring forth songs of exquisite delight!

In the beauty of Princess Vanathi of Kodumbalur, the hues of sorrow and the polish of joy were blended so subtly that they could not be distinguished. Her nature, too, was twofold, in keeping with her beauty. At times, she would appear as gentle and sorrowful as Chandramathi or Savitri, whose hearts were steeped in grief. At other times, she would shine as a living statue of joy, like an apsara or an urvashi, reveling in love and song in the celestial realms. Sometimes, she seemed the very image of Kannagi, mourning the loss of her beloved husband. At other times, she appeared like Valli, her heart entwined in longing for Lord Murugan. And again, she would glow with bliss, as if she were Deivayanai herself, garlanding Karthikeya while all the heavens rejoiced and danced in celebration.

For several days together, not even the faintest smile could be seen on Vanathi’s face. On other days, she would laugh without pause, her laughter scattering into the air in a million tiny droplets, mingling with the wind and filling the whole world… Such rapture, such ecstasy!

One might guess that the reason for Vanathi’s dual nature lay in the time and circumstances of her birth and upbringing. While she was yet in her mother’s womb, the young Velar of Kodumbalur was engaged in fierce wars. News of victory and defeat alternated, arriving one after another. These tidings brought joy and sorrow in turn to her mother’s heart. Not long after Vanathi was born, her mother passed away. Thereafter, her father raised Vanathi with the utmost care, cherishing her as the apple of his eye. But even this did not last long.

Vanathi’s father, a warrior among warriors, could not bear to remain seated in the palace, even for the sake of his beloved daughter. After Veerapandiyan had fled and hidden himself, her father pursued the supporting forces from Eezham, chasing them all the way to Lanka. There, on the battlefield, he gave up his life, earning in history the title “The Young Velar Who Fell in Eezham.”

After this, Vanathi’s life was for a time filled only with sorrow. Only those girls who have lost their mothers and been raised by their fathers can truly understand the depth of such grief. Though she was pampered and cared for in the palace of Kodumbalur, no one could ever fill the place her father had held in her heart. Many tried to comfort her in various ways. “Do not grieve, child! Your father will come into your womb and be born again as a heroic son; he will perform wondrous deeds of valor that will astonish the world,” said one.

These words sank deep into Vanathi’s heart and took root. To ease the sorrow and despondency caused by her father’s loss, she tried to immerse herself in thoughts of this imagined son. In this, she found some measure of success.

She would lose herself for days in a fantasy realm, imagining what sort of prince would be born to her, how he would walk, what heroic deeds he would accomplish. Through the eyes of her imagination, she saw that warrior son journeying to distant lands and winning great wars. She saw him returning swiftly, laying all the spoils of his victories at her feet. She saw him crowned, seated upon a heroic throne. She saw kings of kings coming to pay him tribute and bow before him. At the sight of his noble face, she saw crowds surge and roar like the ocean beneath the full moon. She saw him, with hundreds of ships filled with warriors, crossing the seas and planting the flag of victory in far-off lands. She heard him often come to her and say, “Mother! Is it not you who are the reason for all this greatness I have attained?”

Sometimes, that innocent, ignorant girl would touch and gently caress her own tender belly. She would wonder if, by some miracle, her imagined son had already come to dwell within her womb. In ancient Tamil Nadu, all men and women had heard the stories of the Mahabharata. They had heard of how Kunti Devi bore her children. Likewise, Vanathi would often marvel, wondering which deity might come to grant her the boon of a child. At such times, she never thought about marrying anyone. Only after she came of age, and gained some understanding of the world, did she realize that she must marry a husband, and that only through him could she attain