It was the wedding of the century . After all it is not everyday that the favored prince of the kingdom married his sweet heart , a woman of grace , beauty and royal background.
There was revelry on the streets : At every corner of the street the town heralds were shouting out what was happening at the wedding ceremony. The traders were offering their wares at a hefty discount and the koothu dancers were making merry and were pulling in innocent bystanders to join the fun. The women of the street were decked in finery , and were rejoicing as if it was their son who was getting married.
The houses were freshly painted and decorated with numerous festoons, the streets filled with eager citizens , who wanted to have a glimpse of the newly wedded couple. The Othuvar’s voice could be heard from the temple , where he was singing praises to the Lord Shiva – for having brought this young couple together. It seemed to one that the royal palace was decked like a new bride – a new bride who was waiting for her husband to come and claim her hand.
Amidst all this revelry , very few people noticed that the queen who was supposed to host the celebrations was currently not in the palace , a palace for which she was the sole mistress ; a palace where her enlightened and softhearted husband ruled as the king.
As a kid , kuzhali had always wanted to become a queen one day. To the amusement of her father , she would demand that the family address her as the future queen – a queen who would be adored by her husband , a queen who would be toasted by the nation and a queen who would have a say in the governance of the nation. Her parents had brushed off her ambitions as an innocent kid’s irrational dream and had assumed that kuzhali would reconcile herself to the reality , once she grew out of childhood.
Sadly , it was not to happen. The more her parents wanted her to realize the reality – the more entrenched she was in her dreams. She believed from the bottom of her heart that one fine day she’d meet a handsome prince , who’d whisk her away from her house into the high seas , marry her and give her all the happiness unlike the docile , timid Amuthan- her cousin who liked her and whom her parents wanted to marry her off to.
When the matchmaking process between her and Amuthan had reached its zenith , she had taken a vow at the Shiva temple , that she would marry a prince or die a spinster , but would never marry a common man . Call her arrogant , but at that point , she strongly believed that Lord Shiva would listen to her pleas and help her achieve her dream. Little did she know that she’d achieve her dream by paying a huge price- her love.
The first time she met him was still fresh in her mind. He was looking for a means of transport to Eezham and she had volunteered to row him across – This prince , who was the apple of his sister’s eye , the pride of the Chola nation and the son of Ponni – who was called Arulmozhi.
She had a tough time rowing that day – The seas were rough ; the wind was hard and the night was dark – yet she did not feel fatigue , as she was gazing into those brown eyes , which seemed to have thousand questions for her – questions which she answered with glances of her own.
By the end of the journey , she was so captivated with Arul , that she had taken on the name that he’d bestowed on her ; Samudra Kumari – The lady of the high seas ; and had refused to answer to Kuzhali. He had made promises that day – promises not to forget her and she had assumed that this God of hers in a human form , will not forgo his vow. How wrong she had been.
Months passed while she had irrevocably fallen in love with this man , who was fighting a war ; a war with a rival country and a war with his scheming relatives who wanted to usurp the throne from the rightful inheritors. She waited and watched – for news about her hero , for news about her God , who would claim her as his victory prize , once he was done slaying the demons.
Little did she know that her demon slayer would be captured by another – she did not know that demon slayers were not captivated by strong women . They preferred damsels in distress, who had a tendency to faint seeing their own shadow. The truth was driven into her like a nail , brutally and painfully , when she’d seen her prince and the kodumbaloor lady talk – when she heard that her God wanted to marry the Kodumbaloor chit , despite the fact that vanathi had made a vow , not to be crowned as a queen – a vow which she had goaded vanathi into taking.
Samudra Kumari had died that very day – murdered by the very man who’d given her the nom de plume. She burned – with jealousy , anger and helplessness. She burned seeing Vanathi charm her prince into submission. She burned as she controlled her urge to go and push Vanathi back – back into oblivion where she deserved a place. She burned , until her anger died and until what was left of kuzhali was a broken woman – a broken woman with her dreams shattered by the very man who helped shape them.
She had given in to Amuthan then – the timid , docile Amuthan , who worshiped the ground her feet tread , who treated her like a crown jewel, who turned out to be the son of a Chola King , and a worthy successor of the crown.
She became the Queen of the priced Chola throne , a queen who was worshiped by her king , feted by her subjects and lauded by her ministers – yet she burned. As she stood on the banks of cauvery , in the wee hours of the day Arul was getting married – Kuzhali the queen burned , burned with jealousy for the Kodumbaloor lady who had managed to capture her God’s heart.
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PS : I am huge fan of Ponniyin Selvan and like a few crazy PS fans , I would have loved it if poonkuzhali had married prince Arulmozhi. This is a small take of what I think PoonKuzhali would have felt seeing Arul getting married to Vanathi
There was revelry on the streets : At every corner of the street the town heralds were shouting out what was happening at the wedding ceremony. The traders were offering their wares at a hefty discount and the koothu dancers were making merry and were pulling in innocent bystanders to join the fun. The women of the street were decked in finery , and were rejoicing as if it was their son who was getting married.
The houses were freshly painted and decorated with numerous festoons, the streets filled with eager citizens , who wanted to have a glimpse of the newly wedded couple. The Othuvar’s voice could be heard from the temple , where he was singing praises to the Lord Shiva – for having brought this young couple together. It seemed to one that the royal palace was decked like a new bride – a new bride who was waiting for her husband to come and claim her hand.
Amidst all this revelry , very few people noticed that the queen who was supposed to host the celebrations was currently not in the palace , a palace for which she was the sole mistress ; a palace where her enlightened and softhearted husband ruled as the king.
As a kid , kuzhali had always wanted to become a queen one day. To the amusement of her father , she would demand that the family address her as the future queen – a queen who would be adored by her husband , a queen who would be toasted by the nation and a queen who would have a say in the governance of the nation. Her parents had brushed off her ambitions as an innocent kid’s irrational dream and had assumed that kuzhali would reconcile herself to the reality , once she grew out of childhood.
Sadly , it was not to happen. The more her parents wanted her to realize the reality – the more entrenched she was in her dreams. She believed from the bottom of her heart that one fine day she’d meet a handsome prince , who’d whisk her away from her house into the high seas , marry her and give her all the happiness unlike the docile , timid Amuthan- her cousin who liked her and whom her parents wanted to marry her off to.
When the matchmaking process between her and Amuthan had reached its zenith , she had taken a vow at the Shiva temple , that she would marry a prince or die a spinster , but would never marry a common man . Call her arrogant , but at that point , she strongly believed that Lord Shiva would listen to her pleas and help her achieve her dream. Little did she know that she’d achieve her dream by paying a huge price- her love.
The first time she met him was still fresh in her mind. He was looking for a means of transport to Eezham and she had volunteered to row him across – This prince , who was the apple of his sister’s eye , the pride of the Chola nation and the son of Ponni – who was called Arulmozhi.
She had a tough time rowing that day – The seas were rough ; the wind was hard and the night was dark – yet she did not feel fatigue , as she was gazing into those brown eyes , which seemed to have thousand questions for her – questions which she answered with glances of her own.
By the end of the journey , she was so captivated with Arul , that she had taken on the name that he’d bestowed on her ; Samudra Kumari – The lady of the high seas ; and had refused to answer to Kuzhali. He had made promises that day – promises not to forget her and she had assumed that this God of hers in a human form , will not forgo his vow. How wrong she had been.
Months passed while she had irrevocably fallen in love with this man , who was fighting a war ; a war with a rival country and a war with his scheming relatives who wanted to usurp the throne from the rightful inheritors. She waited and watched – for news about her hero , for news about her God , who would claim her as his victory prize , once he was done slaying the demons.
Little did she know that her demon slayer would be captured by another – she did not know that demon slayers were not captivated by strong women . They preferred damsels in distress, who had a tendency to faint seeing their own shadow. The truth was driven into her like a nail , brutally and painfully , when she’d seen her prince and the kodumbaloor lady talk – when she heard that her God wanted to marry the Kodumbaloor chit , despite the fact that vanathi had made a vow , not to be crowned as a queen – a vow which she had goaded vanathi into taking.
Samudra Kumari had died that very day – murdered by the very man who’d given her the nom de plume. She burned – with jealousy , anger and helplessness. She burned seeing Vanathi charm her prince into submission. She burned as she controlled her urge to go and push Vanathi back – back into oblivion where she deserved a place. She burned , until her anger died and until what was left of kuzhali was a broken woman – a broken woman with her dreams shattered by the very man who helped shape them.
She had given in to Amuthan then – the timid , docile Amuthan , who worshiped the ground her feet tread , who treated her like a crown jewel, who turned out to be the son of a Chola King , and a worthy successor of the crown.
She became the Queen of the priced Chola throne , a queen who was worshiped by her king , feted by her subjects and lauded by her ministers – yet she burned. As she stood on the banks of cauvery , in the wee hours of the day Arul was getting married – Kuzhali the queen burned , burned with jealousy for the Kodumbaloor lady who had managed to capture her God’s heart.
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PS : I am huge fan of Ponniyin Selvan and like a few crazy PS fans , I would have loved it if poonkuzhali had married prince Arulmozhi. This is a small take of what I think PoonKuzhali would have felt seeing Arul getting married to Vanathi
PPS : I do not intend to demean Kalki or Ponniyin selvan with this work 
This work has been fleshed out from my imagination and I hope I’ve not offended loyal Ponniyin Selvan fans on the blogspace.
This work has been fleshed out from my imagination and I hope I’ve not offended loyal Ponniyin Selvan fans on the blogspace.
PPS : Do share your thoughts and Comments on this piece
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