When Vanathi first arrived in Pazhayarai from Kodumbalur, the abundance of water in Chola Nadu plunged her into a sea of wonder. There were no rivers near Kodumbalur; only tanks. During the rainy season, the tanks would brim and overflow with water. In the summer, they would dry up completely. There, one could not see rivers and canals and streams, their waters touching both banks, swirling and eddying as they flowed. Nor could one find ponds lush with blooming lotuses and red lilies. In Vanathi’s native place, such sights were unknown. She would sit, entranced, gazing at these marvels. She delighted in watching the water droplets, like pearls, rolling and dancing across the lotus leaves that shaded the fish in the ponds. She would be enraptured by the sight of bees circling and humming around the blooming lotus and lily flowers. Time would slip away unnoticed.

Once, Vanathi and Kundavai had gone to Thirunallur (in these days called Koonerirajapuram) at the invitation of Sembiyan Maadevi. They stayed in the Vasantha Maligai—the Spring Palace. Sembiyan Maadevi and Kundavai would often begin to talk about the lives of the Saiva saints and the nectar of devotion that dripped from their hymns. Vanathi had little interest in listening to such discussions. Rather than that, she was far more eager to wander through the gardens adjoining the Spring Palace, to listen to the sweet songs of the birds, and to hear the blissful drone of the deep-blue bees hovering around the trembling lotus blossoms in the pond. She was also keen to watch the river, flowing past one side of the palace, swirling in eddies, and to see the beautiful, crimson kadamba flowers spinning in those whirls. In the region of Kodumbalur, such enchanting scenes were not to be found.

One day, the daughter of the Mazhavarayar and the young princess Kundavai were conversing animatedly about something. As Vanathi approached them, the young princess said, “Vanathi! Go to the garden! I’ll come in a little while.” Vanathi, brimming with excitement, skipped and ran off. She wandered for a while in the garden, then made her way to the lotus pond. Along the bank of the pond grew many trees, their branches spreading wide and thick, shading the sky. Among them was a tall, broad, and luxuriant iluppai tree. Its fallen flowers had covered the ground completely… ...were present. Their fragrance wafted gently, spreading throughout the entire garden.

Underneath one of those trees, upon a large root, Vanathi sat. Leaning against the trunk, she gazed around—above, below, and on all sides. The sweet songs of various birds flowed into her ears like a flood of nectar. A blissful feeling, one she had never experienced before, blossomed in her heart. That inner joy often surged and overflowed, spreading through her entire being. Until that day, Vanathi had never even dreamed that life could be so filled with delight.

From beneath that tree, at a little distance, she could see the river’s flood. Now and then, through the gaps between the trees, she watched the enchanting scenes along the river’s course.

At one moment, she noticed a young man swimming in the river. In the reddish stream, his golden-hued body half-submerged and half-rising above the water made for a striking sight that captivated her heart. Fie! What foolishness was this, that her attention should be drawn to the form of some young lad? For Vanathi, who possessed modesty and maidenly reserve as her birthright, this thought brought a deep sense of shame. Yet, against her own self-control, her eyes strayed once more, twice more, towards the river.

Vanathi grew angry with herself. She wondered if she should get up and leave at once. At that very moment, another incident caught her attention. Hearing the shrill cries of baby birds from above, near where she sat, she looked up. The sight she beheld filled her at once with pity and alarm. On a branch, in the fork of the tree, there was a bird’s nest. Several chicks stretched out their heads, chirping in thin, plaintive voices. In those cries, fear, a warning of danger, and a pitiful plea for help were all mingled together—or so it sounded to Vanathi’s ears.

Near the nest, on the same branch, a wild cat was climbing, slowly and stealthily drawing closer to the nest!

Seeing this, Vanathi cried out, “Ayyo! Ayyo!” In the next instant, a voice called, “What is it? What is it?” and she heard the sound of someone running swiftly towards her. Vanathi looked in that direction. She realized it was the same young man who had been swimming in the river a moment ago, now running up from the bank.

At that same moment, two large birds appeared from somewhere and began circling the nest, shrieking harshly. They must be the mother and father of the chicks, come in haste to protect their young.

Vanathi realized that she ought to have come sooner. The birds had long, slender beaks—surely, these must be woodpeckers. One of the birds was circling the nest repeatedly, while the other drew close to the cat, pecking at it with its beak and making loud noises, as if threatening to attack! The bird could do nothing to the cat, of course. If it fell into the cat’s jaws, in the very next moment it would be inside its belly. Yet, to protect its chicks, that bird fought with such desperate courage.

For Vanathi, who had lost both her mother and father at a young age, the sight filled her with deep sorrow.

The cat, which had been sitting still for a while, suddenly stretched out one of its forelegs toward the nest. Its paw touched one end of the nest where the chicks were. Vanathi cried out again. By then, the young man had come near. Vanathi felt a great shyness at seeing him up close. She could not bring herself to speak; her tongue would not move. With a gesture, he pointed toward