Ponniyin Selvan Book 1: Fresh Floods by Kalki R Krishnamurthy

Author:Kalki R Krishnamurthy [Krishnamurthy, Kalki R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-13T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

“Our honoured guest …”

The poets' departure was the sign for the royal physician to approach the Emperor with some kind of a medicinal concoction. Vanavan Maadevi, princess of the Malayaman clan, received it from him gently, and proffered it to her husband.

Chinna Pazhuvettarayar, who had kept his patience somehow, until this time, now hastened to his side, dragging Vandhiyathevan by the hand. “Prabhu? Has the new medicine had any effect?”

“The physician certainly swears by it; so does Her Majesty. I, however, must admit that I feel nothing of the sort. To confess the truth, Commander—all this is a pitiful waste of time and energy. My days are numbered; Yama nips at my heels. At this very moment, I know he seeks me in Pazhaiyarai, and once he realizes that I no longer reside there, he will knock at my doors here—”

“You must not speak so, Prabhu—witness, if you please, how your words sink our spirits! Your ancestors—”

“Ah, you remind me, of course, that none of my ancestors feared Death. But if I were to have the good fortune of embracing a valiant death in a battlefield, like my forebears, Commander, neither would I; nor would I bemoan my fate. I would, in fact, welcome it with open arms and an enthusiastic heart. My uncle Rajadithyar embraced death as he rode his elephant into war, in Thakkolam; he carved his name into the annals of Chozha history and gained pride of place for eternity as He Who Embraced Death on his Elephant. As for me—I shall gain the noble title of Sundara Chozha Who Feebly Welcomed Yama on his Sickbed, I suppose. Yet another uncle of mine, Emperor Kandaradithyar, was solely immersed in worship of Siva Peruman; death held no fears for him. He went on pilgrimages to lands beyond the western seas, and attained the lord's feet there, earning the sobriquet. He Who Embraced Death in the West. I claim no special devotion towards god; neither am I in any position to make pilgrimages. How many more days am I fated to lie abed, a sore trial to both myself and those around me? And yet, something tells me—I am not long, for this world—”

“Sire, the royal physician is confident that your health is in no danger; the astrologers are of the same opinion. And yet, this young man spoke of danger a while ago, did he not?”

“Ah, the youngster from Kanchi? Yes—I do remember him saying something about peril. What were you speaking of, thambi? My state of health, perhaps?”

Vallavarayan stared at the Emperor, brain racing at the speed of lightning. Were he to admit that he did, indeed, warn the Chakravarthy of danger, he was done for; every worst suspicion would be aroused, and he would be the one courting peril in every form. Very well: now, if any, was the time for him to put his creativity to good use. He would have to play around with words and sounds, change Thamizh grammar itself, from nedil into kuril, and hope that he could pull this particular ruse off.

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