As the sun set and darkness gathered from all four directions, Vanathi was traveling by palanquin along the road from Kudanthai to Thiruvarur. Her heart was troubled. She longed to go to the Chudamani Vihara in Nagapattinam, to serve the prince who lay there stricken with fever. But how could that be possible? Would the Buddhist monks allow her into their monastery? Would she be able to see the prince there? Even if she saw him, would she be permitted to tend to him? The very thought of all this left her overwhelmed.

Yet, when she considered that she would have to journey alone to Nagapattinam, a certain courage arose within her. She tried to banish her fears and strengthen her resolve. After all, what great deed in this world is ever accomplished easily? How much hardship does each person endure to achieve their chosen task? How much courage must that boatwoman have possessed to row her craft alone across the sea? In the midst of storm and rain, amidst waves as high as mountains, she had braved the waters and saved the prince—what a heart of steel she must have had! How foolish it was of her, Vanathi thought, to be afraid of this small journey of hers.

If she could not enter the Chudamani Vihara immediately, it was no great loss. It would suffice if she could at least learn news of the prince from those nearby. Even if she could not see the prince, it would be enough if she could see that boatwoman. Yes, that was the way—if only she could find out who she was, perhaps through her she might be able to see the prince. The love she bore for him must serve some purpose. After that, she could even give up her life without regret. Or else, she could join the Buddhist order and become a nun…

To ask the bearers when she might reach Nagapattinam the next day, Vanathi drew aside the curtain of the palanquin and looked outside. Behind the tall trees lining the roadside, she thought she saw some figures lurking in the shadows. She peered more closely. It became clear that those hiding there were Veera Saiva Kalamukhas.

This did not trouble Vanathi in the least. During her childhood in the Kodumbalur palace, Kalamukhas had often come and gone. They would speak with her great-uncle and receive whatever they needed before leaving. Once, the chief guru of the Kalamukhas himself had come to Kodumbalur. He had been honored with all due offerings and worship. Her great-uncle, Bhoothi Vikrama… Kesari has endowed several temples with grants for feeding the Kalamukhas. Therefore, the Kalamukhas would never do him any harm. If anything, they might even come to his aid. Vanathi was well aware that today the great assembly of the Kalamukhas was to be held. That was why, when she traveled from Pazhaiyarai to Kudanthai that day, she happened to see groups of Kalamukhas along the road. Yet, why were these men hiding behind the trees? What if they mistook her for someone else and tried to harm her…?

While she was pondering thus, those who had been concealed suddenly rushed out with a clatter. They surrounded the palanquin. Even then, she did not feel fear. She resolved to reveal her identity to them. But before she could decide how to speak, she saw two of them seize the maid who had accompanied her in the palanquin and tie her to a tree. Instantly, an involuntary cry of terror escaped Vanathi’s lips.

One of the Kalamukhas who had surrounded the palanquin brandished a trident before her face and said, “Girl, do not scream! If you remain silent, we will not harm you. Otherwise, we will pierce you through with this trident and kill you.”

Vanathi gathered her courage and, striving to speak with dignity, declared, “Do you know who I am? I am the daughter of the Kodumbalur Velar. If you lay a finger on me, you will be utterly destroyed.” Though her heart was brave, her voice trembled as she spoke.

The Kalamukha replied, “We know everything. It is for you that we have been waiting. Now, keep quiet for a while! Otherwise…” He again extended the trident menacingly.

At that very moment, the sound of a whip cracking—“swish, swish”—and cries of “Aiyo!” were heard. Vanathi realized that those who were being beaten and crying out were the palanquin bearers. Some of the Kalamukhas must have struck them with their whips! Angered by this, Vanathi thought to get down from the palanquin. But she found no opportunity, for the bearers, still carrying the palanquin, began to run. The Kalamukhas ran alongside, surrounding the palanquin as they went. As they ran, they shouted fiercely.

Vanathi then understood that there was no use in her crying out. It was impossible to leap from the moving palanquin. Even if she did, she would only land amidst these terrifying men. Where were they taking her? For what purpose? These questions flickered through her mind from time to time.

After about half a naazhigai had passed, they halted near an old Durga temple, hidden amidst the trees. By now, darkness had settled thickly all around. One of them entered the temple, took the lamp that was burning inside, and brought it out, holding it up before Vanathi’s face. One of the Kalamukhas stared intently at her and said, “Girl! Tell us what we want to know, and we will let you go unharmed. Or else, wherever you wish to go, we will escort you there safely.”

A suspicion that had never before arisen in Vanathi’s mind now took shape. “What do I know? What are you going to ask me?” she replied.

“Girl! You set out on this solitary journey to meet someone in secret, didn’t you? Who is he? For whom did you set out?”

Vanathi’s suspicion was confirmed. In that instant, a great transformation came over her heart. The timid deer who had