There was a saying in Tamil that a lamp glowed its brightest ,
moments before it gave up. Though he was not an expert on proverbs , he
thought that there was some truth to the saying , as he brought his
horse to a halt on the banks of Kollidam on a Friday evening , beside
the towering ruins of the Kadamboor palace , bathed in the yellow glow
shed by the setting sun.
As he disembarked , he couldn't help but think about his last visit to the place - a visit which had brought him where he was , a visit which had wreaked havoc with many a life , changing many a fate and who better than him , to realize that something had been at play - something supernatural may be , which had nudged fate along a direction that she was not bound to take.
He had been delighted then - delighted that maiden fate was finally bestowing her grace on him - a grace which had evaded his predecessors , a grace which had eluded the Bana dynasty for centuries , a grace which he had accepted wholeheartedly , a grace which had brought him material riches , a grace which he had belatedly understood to be a double edged knife - a grace which had deprived him of what would have been his greatest treasure - mekala.
He had first heard her name from Maran - Maran who had been chanting Mekala's name in his drug induced fervor , Maran who had begged him to take care of Mekala if something happened to him , Maran who had been melodramatic to the extent of getting him swear upon Nisumba Soodhani that Mekala would be taken care of - all this drama for a knife wound , a knife wound so trivial when compared to the deep gash on his thigh . He had been jealous that night - jealous that Maran had someone to return to , someone he loved with all his heart and soul , someone who loved him back, if his instinct was true.
It was later , much later that he'd learned that the mystery woman was Maran's sister - the rather plain princess of Kadmboor , well known for her pedigree than her beauty.It was a well known fact that the Sambuvarayars had been searching a groom for her for a long time - her plain looks and average traits winning no favor with the handsome princes of the Chola empire and the surrounding region.He'd been given to understand that the search had proved quite futile that they were considering the option of sending her to a Buddhist monastery ; until fate had intervened - until Maran had met the impoverished Bana prince - who'd do nicely.
He had been outraged then - outraged and disgusted that a person who was supposedly his best friend , had seen him as merchandise - merchandise which could be his to command , given the right price. He was about to refuse , when Maran had told that he would find in Mekala , a loving and devoted wife - a woman who'd fill his lonely heart with love , a woman who'd be home - home to an orphaned pauper , who was a prince in name and whose sole possession was his intellect and bravery.
He'd given in then - given in to the promises of love , devotion and attachment , and to the desire of belonging - belonging to people who'd call him their own - people who'd become his one day. He had then began to dream of Mekala , of her gratitude , devotion and love. He'd made a promise to himself that day - a promise to treat her as the world's most beautiful woman - a promise to make her feel the most cherished wife ,a promise to sacrifice his lofty dreams of a beautiful companion , a promise to become a devoted husband to a woman he'd hardly known - a promise he's kept until that fateful night at the Kadamboor palace - when Maran had condescendingly put him down in his place. It seemed that the Sambuvarayars had struck gold - their girl had been chosen to wed the much older Maduranthaka , the effeminate son of Sembian Madevi , who was going to make a push for the crown.
Maran had told him in not so many words that he was welcome at Kadamboor , so long as he kept to himself like an unwanted guest - an unwanted guest who was grudgingly welcomed and hesitantly put up. He had tried to move on then - move on as fate had meant him to ; move on to a better future - a future which had brought with it priceless gifts - a solid friendship , tender love , respect and valor.
Life had seemed to cruise on and he had weathered every single tribulation that had come his way from treason to a murder trial. Life had seemed to cruise on until he'd been accused to be heartless by his dear friend - a friend who was soon to become his brother-in-law , a friend who was bothered at his indifference to the plight of a woman who had become insane - insane with love and grief , insane to the extent that her immediate family had become strangers.
He had been oddly unaffected then - unaffected to the plight of a woman who had nearly become his wife - unaffected to such an extent that he was gently chided by Kundvai - the woman of his dreams to make a visit to Kadmboor to meet Mekala for one last time - as the letter from Maran claimed.
He had traveled to Kadamboor then - Kadamboor which had seen so many upheavals in the recent past ; Kadamboor which had been burnt to cinders ; Kadamboor where a lamp was glowing ; glowing brightly before an unfortunate and untimely end
.
She had been singing that day - singing the very song that he'd heard when he'd first met her ; singing a song about love and wait ; singing from the neerazhi mandapam where she'd been found half dead and sane ; sane after a prolonged period of insanity. Something had shifted at the region of his heart that day - something powerful which had goaded him to embrace her , embrace her and lull her to sleep as one was wont to do with a babe , lull her into a slumber from which she'd never woken up ; lull her into peace as his heart became restless - restless with love for this woman whose greatest ornament was her inner beauty - beauty which had not been visible to the outer world until her unfortunate end.
As he glanced at the majestic Kadamboor ruins , he heard a song ; a song he'd last heard an year ago ; a song which brought back memories of unrequited love ; a song so powerful that he wanted to cry ; a song which reminded him of lost treasure - a song which had been sung by Mekala - Mekala , his lovely princess , the day she died - a song which moved Vanthiyathevan to cry - cry like a babe over his treasure which had been stolen by the cruel lady called fate.
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PS : As a huge fan of Vanthiyathevan , I've always believed that he had some connection to Manimekalai beyond empathy. I've sometimes wondered if he'd loved her , a love which he'd recognized after her untimely demise. This post came out of that thought :)
As he disembarked , he couldn't help but think about his last visit to the place - a visit which had brought him where he was , a visit which had wreaked havoc with many a life , changing many a fate and who better than him , to realize that something had been at play - something supernatural may be , which had nudged fate along a direction that she was not bound to take.
He had been delighted then - delighted that maiden fate was finally bestowing her grace on him - a grace which had evaded his predecessors , a grace which had eluded the Bana dynasty for centuries , a grace which he had accepted wholeheartedly , a grace which had brought him material riches , a grace which he had belatedly understood to be a double edged knife - a grace which had deprived him of what would have been his greatest treasure - mekala.
He had first heard her name from Maran - Maran who had been chanting Mekala's name in his drug induced fervor , Maran who had begged him to take care of Mekala if something happened to him , Maran who had been melodramatic to the extent of getting him swear upon Nisumba Soodhani that Mekala would be taken care of - all this drama for a knife wound , a knife wound so trivial when compared to the deep gash on his thigh . He had been jealous that night - jealous that Maran had someone to return to , someone he loved with all his heart and soul , someone who loved him back, if his instinct was true.
It was later , much later that he'd learned that the mystery woman was Maran's sister - the rather plain princess of Kadmboor , well known for her pedigree than her beauty.It was a well known fact that the Sambuvarayars had been searching a groom for her for a long time - her plain looks and average traits winning no favor with the handsome princes of the Chola empire and the surrounding region.He'd been given to understand that the search had proved quite futile that they were considering the option of sending her to a Buddhist monastery ; until fate had intervened - until Maran had met the impoverished Bana prince - who'd do nicely.
He had been outraged then - outraged and disgusted that a person who was supposedly his best friend , had seen him as merchandise - merchandise which could be his to command , given the right price. He was about to refuse , when Maran had told that he would find in Mekala , a loving and devoted wife - a woman who'd fill his lonely heart with love , a woman who'd be home - home to an orphaned pauper , who was a prince in name and whose sole possession was his intellect and bravery.
He'd given in then - given in to the promises of love , devotion and attachment , and to the desire of belonging - belonging to people who'd call him their own - people who'd become his one day. He had then began to dream of Mekala , of her gratitude , devotion and love. He'd made a promise to himself that day - a promise to treat her as the world's most beautiful woman - a promise to make her feel the most cherished wife ,a promise to sacrifice his lofty dreams of a beautiful companion , a promise to become a devoted husband to a woman he'd hardly known - a promise he's kept until that fateful night at the Kadamboor palace - when Maran had condescendingly put him down in his place. It seemed that the Sambuvarayars had struck gold - their girl had been chosen to wed the much older Maduranthaka , the effeminate son of Sembian Madevi , who was going to make a push for the crown.
Maran had told him in not so many words that he was welcome at Kadamboor , so long as he kept to himself like an unwanted guest - an unwanted guest who was grudgingly welcomed and hesitantly put up. He had tried to move on then - move on as fate had meant him to ; move on to a better future - a future which had brought with it priceless gifts - a solid friendship , tender love , respect and valor.
Life had seemed to cruise on and he had weathered every single tribulation that had come his way from treason to a murder trial. Life had seemed to cruise on until he'd been accused to be heartless by his dear friend - a friend who was soon to become his brother-in-law , a friend who was bothered at his indifference to the plight of a woman who had become insane - insane with love and grief , insane to the extent that her immediate family had become strangers.
He had been oddly unaffected then - unaffected to the plight of a woman who had nearly become his wife - unaffected to such an extent that he was gently chided by Kundvai - the woman of his dreams to make a visit to Kadmboor to meet Mekala for one last time - as the letter from Maran claimed.
He had traveled to Kadamboor then - Kadamboor which had seen so many upheavals in the recent past ; Kadamboor which had been burnt to cinders ; Kadamboor where a lamp was glowing ; glowing brightly before an unfortunate and untimely end
.
She had been singing that day - singing the very song that he'd heard when he'd first met her ; singing a song about love and wait ; singing from the neerazhi mandapam where she'd been found half dead and sane ; sane after a prolonged period of insanity. Something had shifted at the region of his heart that day - something powerful which had goaded him to embrace her , embrace her and lull her to sleep as one was wont to do with a babe , lull her into a slumber from which she'd never woken up ; lull her into peace as his heart became restless - restless with love for this woman whose greatest ornament was her inner beauty - beauty which had not been visible to the outer world until her unfortunate end.
As he glanced at the majestic Kadamboor ruins , he heard a song ; a song he'd last heard an year ago ; a song which brought back memories of unrequited love ; a song so powerful that he wanted to cry ; a song which reminded him of lost treasure - a song which had been sung by Mekala - Mekala , his lovely princess , the day she died - a song which moved Vanthiyathevan to cry - cry like a babe over his treasure which had been stolen by the cruel lady called fate.
**************************************************************************
PS : As a huge fan of Vanthiyathevan , I've always believed that he had some connection to Manimekalai beyond empathy. I've sometimes wondered if he'd loved her , a love which he'd recognized after her untimely demise. This post came out of that thought :)
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