The others in the boat could not sense the anguish that had taken root in Pazhuvetarayar’s heart. They thought he was so troubled only because the boat had been caught in the storm. The elder Pazhuvetarayar was famed for his unparalleled courage of mind. Seeing even him so shaken, fear began to creep into the hearts of the others as well. All of them, wondering at what moment the boat might capsize, started thinking about ways to save themselves.

At last, after the boat had struggled and floundered for a long time, it drifted half a league east of the landing place where they were supposed to disembark, and drew near the shore. “Now there is nothing to worry about,” everyone breathed a sigh of relief. At that very moment, one of the trees on the riverbank, which had been dancing like a ghost in the gale, snapped with a thunderous crack and fell. The wind lifted the broken tree and hurled it into the water near the boat. The oarsmen tried valiantly to turn the boat away and steer it clear. It was no use. The tree, moving with great speed, crashed into the boat. With a resounding ‘thadaal’, the boat overturned. In the next instant, everyone in the boat was flung into the water.

Since all the others had already been thinking about how to save themselves if the boat capsized, when it actually happened, they were somewhat prepared to face the danger. As the boat had drawn close to the shore, some swam to land. Some clung to the branches of trees. Others grabbed whatever they could and floated in the water.

But Pazhuvetarayar, absorbed in other thoughts, had not anticipated the disaster that befell the boat. When it capsized, he was plunged into the water. The force of the current carried him far away. He swallowed water several times; water entered his nose and ears; he struggled and floundered, but at last, somehow managed to steady himself and rise above the current. He could see neither the boat nor any of its passengers.

At once, the old warrior’s ancient resolve sprang up in his heart. The great hero who had fought and triumphed in many battles under the most perilous circumstances now resolved to fight and conquer the flood of the Kollidam as well. He looked all around. He reached out and caught hold of a log that was floating nearby. Fixing his gaze on the shore, he began to swim. Against the force of the flood, against the fury of the storm— With great speed, and all the while fighting against the current, he swam onward. When his arms grew weary, he floated for a while, letting the water bear his weight. Several times he tried to climb up the riverbank, but the rain had turned the shore to slippery mud, and each time it pushed him back into the river. Immediately, he leapt and caught hold of the drifting log he had let go.

In this manner, battling on for more than a watch after darkness had fallen, at last his feet touched the riverbed at a spot where thick reeds grew in profusion. Then, using the help of the bending reed bushes, the old warrior staggered and stumbled, and finally climbed up the bank.

Dense darkness surrounded him on all sides. There was no sign of any village nearby. He guessed that he must have come about a league and a half east of the ferry point where he was supposed to cross the Thirumalai river. Yes, yes! He must have come ashore near Kudanthai city. Would it be possible, somehow, to reach Kudanthai tonight…?

At that moment, the storm had reached its full fury in that region. The deafening roar, as if a hundred thousand demons were howling together, made his ears ring. Trees crashed down with sharp, splintering sounds; thunderclaps, as if the very vault of the heavens were being shattered, echoed again and again. Torrential rain poured down in sheets.

“Would there not be some ruined mandapam or ancient temple somewhere? I must find shelter there and spend the night. Only after dawn can I continue my journey,” he resolved, bracing his trembling, unsteady legs and walking along the riverbank.

The floodwaters, brushing against the edge of the bank, surged onward in the river. Because of the rain, even the top of the bank was covered with a layer of water. There is no need to speak of the darkness. So, as the valiant old man walked on, he paid little attention to the place ahead where the water seemed to flow more swiftly across the bank. Suddenly, when the water reached his knees, he hesitated and thought. When it rose to his thighs, he was startled. There was no time to think further. In the next instant, he was swept headlong into the water.

The Kollidam had breached its bank at that spot, and the flood, rushing southward, rolled him over and over, battering him as it carried him away. Beyond the bank, the land sloped steeply, so it seemed as if he was being dragged deeper and deeper, down into the very netherworld. When the boat had capsized and he was swept into the river’s flood, he had managed to save himself with some ease. Now, that was not possible. He was rolled and tumbled, over and over, down and down. He could not see; he could not hear. To rise up and break the surface— He could not; his breath was strangled. Some monstrous demon seemed to be pushing him down into the water, rolling him over and over, and at the same time dragging him down toward the netherworld.

‘Ah! That demon is none other than the flood itself—the demon that broke through the banks of the Kollidam, surging through the breach with terrifying speed! Can anyone escape from its dreadful grip, from its merciless rolling? There is no ground beneath my feet! My hands find