From Nagapattinam to Kodikkarai, Poonguzhali’s boat glided along the canal. With her in the boat was Sendhan Amudhan. The boat was drawing near to Kodikkarai. On the banks of the canal, golden screw-pine flowers spread their petals wide, filling the air everywhere with their fragrance. Upon one of those flowers, a green parrot flew down and perched. As it settled, the screw-pine blossom swayed as if it were on a swing, and the parrot swayed along with it. Then, with its coral-red beak, the parrot pecked at the golden petal.

As the boat approached, the parrot screeched “kikki, kikki!” and flew away.

“If I am to be born again, let it be as a green parrot!” said Poonguzhali.

“You wish for such a thing! Who knows how much sorrow and hardship it faces?” said Sendhan Amudhan.

“No matter what sorrow or hardship there may be, isn’t it free to fly as it pleases in the boundless sky? What greater joy could there be than that?” said Poonguzhali.

“But some people catch those wandering parrots and shut them up in cages!” said Sendhan Amudhan.

“Yes, yes! Princesses living in palaces lock green parrots in cages! Cruel ogresses! They imprison the parrots and then dote on them and play with them. If I were a maid in one of those palaces, I would poison the caged parrots and kill them. I would even give poison to the princesses who cage the parrots…”

“If anyone heard you now, they would call you a cruel ogress too!”

“Let them say so! I would rather be an ogress than a princess.”

“Why do you bear such anger towards princesses, Poonguzhali? If you think about it, shouldn’t we pity them too? Like the caged parrots, they too are shut up within palace walls, spending their days in captivity.” If they somehow managed to escape and step outside, what a multitude of guards! What secrecy! What vigilance! Could they, like you, climb into a boat and wander alone through streams and seas? Could they roam the forests as freely as a deer leaping at its whim?”

“Who is asking them to stay confined? Did I ever say so? If they wished, couldn’t they too wander the forests at their will?”

“Mere desire is not enough; it depends on one’s birth and upbringing. You, like a parrot, wish to soar in the sky—do you think that is possible? You were born and raised by the seashore. That is why you are able to live so independently. Those born and raised in palaces cannot do so. Listen to another strange thing. Some parrots, after being caged and fed by the hands of princesses, even if the cage is opened later, do not wish to fly away. They flutter a short distance, circle around, screech ‘kreech, kreech,’ and return to the cage. I have seen this myself in the palaces of Thanjai and Pazhaiyarai…”

“I would never consent to be caged, not for a single day. If I were a parrot, I tell you, I would bite the hand of the princess who tried to feed me through the bars…”

“You would not wish to be a caged parrot. Nor would you wish to be a princess confined within a palace, would you?”

“Never! Rather than that, I would choose to die by poison!”

“That is right; in that case, you should not wish to marry a prince who lives in a palace, should you?”

In the lower sky, dark clouds had gathered. Now and then, lightning flashed, illuminating the heavens. The distant rumble of thunder could be faintly heard. As Sendhan Amudhan finished speaking, flashes of lightning seemed to dart from Poonguzhali’s eyes as well.

“Who told you that I wish to marry a prince?” she asked angrily.

“No one told me; I said it myself. If you have no such desire in your heart, then it is well. Forget what I said!” replied Sendhan Amudhan.

For a while, silence reigned in that boat. Only the sound of Sendhan Amudhan’s oar pushing the boat, the croaking of dry frogs, the cries of sea birds, the roar of the ocean waves, and, from time to time, the distant rumble of thunder from the southern skies could be heard.

Sendhan Amudhan cleared his throat, steeled his heart, and said, “Poonguzhali! You said that Vandiyathevan revealed my innermost feelings to you, did you not? It would be good if you shared your thoughts about that. Look, the beacon of Kodikkarai’s shore is already visible. Soon, I may not get another chance to speak with you alone. Tomorrow, I too must depart. It has been many days since I left my mother alone in Thanjai!”

“Why should Vandiyathevan go as a messenger for you? Do you not have a tongue of your own? I will ask what I wish to know directly!” said Poonguzhali.

“Very well! I will ask: Will you marry me?” asked Sendhan Amudhan.

“For what reason do you ask me to marry you?” asked Poonguzhali.

“Because I have a deep, secret longing for you; that is why!”

“If you have a secret longing, must it be resolved only through marriage?”

“Not necessarily; but that is how the world usually resolves such things…”

“If I marry you, what will you give me? Can you provide the palace life I desire, with fine clothes and jewels, elephants and horses, palanquins and maidservants?”

“I cannot; but I can give you a life of peace, greater than all those things. Listen, Poonguzhali! My hut stands in the midst of a beautiful flower garden on the outskirts of Thanjai. Only my mother and I live there. If you come to live with us, your life will be transformed. My mother will cherish you with love, support you, and protect you. At dawn, we will rise and together weave the flowers that sway on the creepers and trees around our home into garlands of wondrous design. I will take those garlands to the temples of Thanjai’s