CHAPTER 5: The Kuravai Koothu
The two friends came out of the anthappuram. A woman’s voice called from inside, “Kandamara, Kandamara.”
“It’s Amma (Mother) calling me. Just wait here, I’ll be back soon,” said Kandan Maran and went inside. Vandiyathevan heard several women’s voices speaking together and singly, asking Kandan Maran a string of questions, and Kandan Maran answering each of them followed by the sound of laughter.
It occurred to Vandiyathevan that he was the object of their laughter and he felt embarrassed and angry. Kandan Maran came out, held his hand and said, “Come, let's go around the palace.”
As they walked around, he pointed out to Vandiyathevan the balconies, the dancing halls, the storerooms, the marble partitions, the ramparts with their ornamental spires, the stables and so on.
Vandiyathevan interrupted him to ask, “Kandamara, when you left me and went back to the anthappuram, I heard a lot of banter and laughter. What was it about? Was it because they were so happy to see your friend?”
“Of course, they were very happy to see you. My mother and the others liked you very much. But they were not laughing at you...”
“Then, what were they laughing about?”
“You know Pazhuvettarayar? At his age, he’s married a young woman! He has brought her here in a covered palanquin. But instead of sending her to the anthappuram, he keeps her locked up in his quarters.” A serving maid peered in through the balustrade and saw her and has been describing how beautiful she is. They’re wondering whether she’s a Singhalese girl, a Kalinga girl or a Chera girl. You know, of course, that the Pazhuvettarayars originally came from the Chera country to Tamilnadu.”
“I’ve heard that. In fact, you mentioned it to me yourself once. By the way, Kandamara, how long is it since Pazhuvettarayar married this mysterious beauty?”
“Less than two years. Ever since, he hasn’t left her alone even for a short time. He takes his beloved with him wherever he goes. A lot of people all over the country are talking derisively about it. If, after a certain age, a man is obsessed with a woman, everybody laughs at him.”
“That’s not the only reason, Kandamara. Shall I tell you the true reason? Women by nature are jealous. Please don’t assume that I’m belittling the women of your household.
That's what a woman’s world is! The women of your family are dusky beauties. Pazhuvettarayar's sweetheart has a golden complexion. That's why they don’t like her. They might cover that up with other reasons.”
“How strange! How do you know the colour of her complexion? Have you seen her? When? Where? How? If Pazhuvettarayar comes to know of this, your life won’t be worth much.”
“Kandamara! You know this doesn’t frighten me. Besides, I haven’t done anything wrong. I was in the crowd that watched the Pazhuvettarayar procession going along Veeranarayanapuram. Is it true that it's you who sent the elephants, the horses, the palanquin, and the heralds?”
“Yes, so what if we sent them?”
“It doesn’t matter. I was just comparing the reception given to Pazhuvettarayar with the one I had.”
Kandan Maran laughed. “He received a welcome befitting one who imposes taxes. You were received like the brave warrior you are. Some day in the future, if, by Murugan’s grace, you become the son-in-law of this house, you will be shown the respect that that position deserves. But you were telling me something before we talked of this... yes. How did you know that Pazhuvettarayar's beloved is so fair?”
“I watched Pazhuvettarayar coming towards me on the Kadambur elephant, like Yama on his buffalo. All my thoughts were on him. While I stood there, dreaming of becoming like him, the palanquin drew up alongside me. As I wondered who was inside, a fair hand drew the curtain aside and I saw a face. Both the hand and the face shone like gold. From what you say now, my guess is that that must have been Pazhuvettarayar's beloved.”
“Vandiyathevan, you lucky fellow! They say no other man has ever set eyes on the young princess. You saw her hand and her face for a moment, didn't you? Which part of the country do you suppose she's from?”
“I didn’t think about it at the time. When I think back now, I imagine she could be from Kashmir or from somewhere across the seas — Chavakam or Kadaram or Mishram. Or perhaps she’s from Arabia. I’ve heard that the women in those places keep their faces hidden from the day they are born to the day they die.”
Suddenly, they heard the sound of various musical instruments nearby — flutes, trumpets and drums, all sounded in unison.
“What is happening?” asked Vandiyathevan.
“The kuravai koothu is about to begin. Listen! You can hear the drumbeats. This is the opening music. Would you like to watch? Or would you prefer to eat early and go to sleep?”
Vandiyathevan remembered what Azhwarkadiyan had said about the kuravai koothu. He said, “I’ve never seen the kuravai koothu before. I’d like to watch.”
They walked a little way and turned. The stage was set for the performance and an audience had begun to gather in front of it. The large expanse of the courtyard, surrounded by the palace walls and the ramparts of the fort, had been spread evenly with river sand and the stage erected on it. There were drawings of roosters, peacocks and swans on the stage.
Puffed rice, wild rice mixed with saffron, flowers of different colours and beads had been used to decorate it. The light from huge lamps and torches tried to drive away the darkness, but the smoke from burning incense and camphor had spread like a mist before them, dimming their glow. The musical instruments in front and on the sides of the stage were being played with great vigour. The noise they made, together with the heady fragrance of flowers and incense made Vandiyathevan dizzy.
As soon as the important guests arrived, nine girls came on to the stage. They were dressed in clothes that clung to them and wore beautiful jewels and flowers dear to Lord Murugan, like jasmine, kurinji and hibiscus. A huge garland made of the same flowers bound them to each other. A few of them held carved and painted sandalwood parrots elegantly in their hands.
They greeted the audience, then began to sing and dance. Their songs praised Lord Murugan’s fame and valour and the skill of his victorious spear, which killed the demons,
Gajamukhan and Soorapadman, and dried up the seas. They sang glowingly about Murugan, the son of Siva, to marry whom many celestial damsels performed penance and who showered His grace on a mere gypsy girl who guarded the cornfields instead. They extolled his charity. The music, the dancing and the thudding of the drums whipped the audience into a frenzy.
Let hunger, disease and foe vanish Let rain, plenty and wealth flourish
The performance concluded with this ardent prayer and the women left the stage.
*****
A man and a woman came on next, as devaralan and devaratti, to perform the velanattam. They wore blood-red clothes, and red hibiscus garlands. Red kumkumam was smeared on their foreheads. Their mouths were red with chewing betel and their eyes bloodshot, the colour of kovai fruit.
The dance began at an even tempo. Each danced alone, then they danced as a pair, their hands clasped. As time passed, the tempo became frenzied and frenetic. The devaratti picked up a spear from one side of the stage. The devaralan tried to
snatch it from her, but she would not release it. Finally he made a leap that made the stage tremble and grabbed the spear from her hand. Pretending to be frightened, the devaratti left the stage.
The devaralan performed a vigorous solo, spear in hand. All the demons including [67] Soora fell before his spear. Soora's severed head sprouted over and over again. Furious, the devaralan kept chopping off each head as it sprouted until Soora finally fell dead. The devaralan flung the spear aside, sparks of fire spewing from his eyes.
All the instruments fell silent. Only the sound of the udukku could be heard. A priest standing near the stage was playing
it with great fervour. Every muscle on the devaralan's body twitched. The audience began to whisper, “He’s possessed!”.
After a while, the priest appealed to the devaralan “Vela! Muruga! Devasenapathi! Kanda! Soorasamhara! Bless your devotees with benevolent words!”
The possessed one shouted, “Ask me whatever you want. I will answer.” “Will it rain? Will the rivers be full? Will the country prosper? Will our desires be fulfilled?”
“It will rain. The rivers will be full. The country will prosper. All your desires will be fulfilled. But you have not propitiated my Mother. [28] Durga demands a sacrifice. Kali insists on a sacrifice. Chamundeswari, who killed Mahishasuran, expects a sacrifice,” shouted the possessed one, starting to sway violently.
“What sacrifice?” asked the priest.
“If I tell you, will you give me what I demand?” asked the medium. “Of course. We will,” replied the priest.
“She wants royal blood. Royal blood with a lineage going back a thousand years,” he yelled, in a blood-curdling voice.
The celebrities who were seated in the front row like Pazhuvettarayar, Sambuvaraiyar and Mazhavarayar, exchanged meaningful glances.
Sambuvaraiyar nodded a signal to the priest.
The priest stopped drumming. The devaralan collapsed unconscious, like a felled tree. The devaratti ran forward, lifted him and carried him backstage.
The audience dispersed silently. From a distance came the howling of jackals.
Vandiyathevan, who was quite agitated by all that he had seen and heard, turned in the direction of the jackals. He saw a head on the outer walls of the palace. It was Azhwarkadiyan's. A frightful thought gripped him for a moment. He thought someone had beheaded Azhwarkadiyan and placed his head on top of the wall. But in the wink of an eye, the head vanished. Vandiyathevan was ashamed of his macabre imagination, but many confused emotions troubled him.
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