Book 01 - Chapter 10: The Army sets off

Uraiyur was bustling that day. It was said that the city was better decorated that day than it had been when Mahendra Pallava visited; and better even than the occasion of Parthiban’s coronation. Every house had decorations made of tender coconut leaves, and mango leaves. The house-fronts were freshly painted with alternating colors of white and saffron. Women of the house were up early. They cleaned and decorated the ground with attractive kolam patterns, and had lit lamps. Then they dressed up with fine clothes and jewellery and got to the terrace of the house or the front of the house to watch the troops march to war.

The drums of war started sounding well before dawn. Their sound came punctuated with other noises – the neighing of horses, soldiers calling out to each other, the metallic clangs of spears and swords, greetings of mothers wishing their sons, women bidding their men farewell, and the chirping of the birds who were woken up early by all this noise.

Soldiers started arriving in front of the palace well before dawn. The commanders arranged the cavalry, the elephant unit and infantry in predetermined formations. Flag bearers with the tiger flags headed each unit. Drummers and pipers were placed among the formations. Oxen carrying drums were seen in the mix as well. The royal war elephant, nicely decorated, was brought to the palace gates. The soldiers were cheering each other with war cries.

There was palpable excitement in front of the palace. Word went around the crowd that the king was on his way. Two announcers announced, “The ruler of the Chozha realm, King Parthiban is on his way!”. The priests and senior people in the crowd chanted “Victory to the king!”. The king walked out in yellow clothes, sporting chest armor and the royal sword. The queen and the prince followed him.

After they reached the palace gates, the queen garlanded the king in ceremonial fashion.  A maid brought out a platter with turmeric laced water with a lamp in the middle. The queen took it from her, made three vertical rounds in the air in front of the king, dipped her finger in the water and put it on the king’s forehead, as the ceremonial tilak. People cheered, with sounds of ‘Victory to the king!”. Drums and pipes joined in the cheers as well.

The king surveyed the scene around him. A messenger hurried towards him, touched his feet in respect and stood with bowed head and folded hands.

“Do you have a message?”, asked the king.

“Your majesty, Marappa Bhupathi fell off his horse and fainted when he set off this morning. We took him into the palace. He has not regained consciousness yet”.

The king had a smile on his face. He said, “Very well, when he regains consciousness, let him know that I asked him to take care of his health”.

Only a few people heard this conversation directly, but soon word spread that Marappan was not well, and could not join the army.

The king embraced Vikraman who stood nearby, took his hand and placed it in the queen’s hands. “My queen, you should be courageous. I am placing the treasure of the Chozha clan in your hands. Be brave and fulfil my request. And give me leave with a smiling face”.

The queen, overcome with emotion, replied, “Your wishes will come true, by God’s grace. Return with glory”.

Drums, pipes and trumpets sounded again, and the army set off.

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It was the full moon night of the month Purattasi. The scenes by the Vennar river were horrific. The full moon often hid behind the clouds, as if trying to avert its eyes. The river seemed to run with blood. Anyone who had seen the bloodshed and death during that day would have believed that the river was indeed running with blood.

The reflection of the moon on the river was red as well. The grisly scene stretched as far as you could see on the western bank of the river. The ground was covered with the bodies of soldiers who attained the heaven of warriors. Some were lying in heaps. Some were missing limbs. Horses lay dead as well. Some black mountainous beasts lay dead at a distance, perhaps dead elephants.  Hundreds of eagles and falcons were circling overhead, surveying the feast spread out on the ground. The shadows of their wingspread fell on the ground, amplifying the horror of the scene. The peaceful sounds of the flow of the river were disrupted by the rude screech of the eagles.

A human form was walking through this morbid scene in the dim moonlight.  It was walking at a slow pace, looking around slowly. Looking closer, we realize it is an ascetic, a worshipper of Lord Shiva. The ascetic had long braided hair, a greying beard, and was dressed in tigerskin. He was wearing prayer beads around his neck and holy ash on his forehead. He was carrying kamandal, an oblong water pot  used for prayers. His eyes shone with the glow of wisdom. His face displayed an aura that comes from such wisdom. His gait was upright. It made you wonder if this great man was a worshipper of Lord Shiva, or Lord Shiva incarnate. You also wonder what business he would have in this horrible place. And what might he be looking for? 

One of the mountainous beasts approached slowly from the other side. The ascetic recognized it as the royal elephant of the Chozha army. He stayed where he was. The elephant seemed hurt and was bleeding badly. It also struggled to walk, but was still careful not to step on the bodies of the soldiers. As it walked, it was touching the bodies on its way with its trunk, and appeared to be looking for something. 

The elephant approached a heap of corpses. It started removing the bodies one at a time from the heap. The ascetic saw this, walked a little closer, hid behind a large shrub and watched carefully. 

The elephant removed several corpses, and looked carefully at a body that was at the bottom of the pile. It stroked the body with its trunk a few times. It moved to an empty space nearby, and raised its trunk. It trumpeted in a wailing tone. The wail seemed to traverse the battlefield, past the river, and the fields and reach the end of the lands, and returned as an echo. The elephant fell. Its large body shook a few times and went still.

The ascetic emerged from the shrub, walked towards the body, and looked carefully. He found that it was the body of king Parthiban.

He felt the forehead and the chest of the man. He sat down and placed the man’s head on his lap. He took some water from his pot and sprayed it on the man’s face. Life appeared to return to the man’s face. He half opened his eyes. He asked, “Holy sage, may I know who you are?”. The question came in a painful drawl. 

“My son, I am the servant of the devotees of the Lord of celestial dance. I heard of your brave deeds in today’s battle. I thought I should come here to pay my respect to such a great warrior. Your selfless courage will be spoken about for a long time in this world”.

“Your holiness, what was the result of the war?”, asked Parthiban. His voice was getting feebler, but he sounded eager.

“Should you even ask? Can’t you hear the celebrations of the Pallava army?”

Parthiban’s face fell. “My question was not that, your holiness. Anyone in the Chozha army..”

“No one survived, and no one surrendered. They all reached the heaven of warriors”.

Parthiban’s face lit up. “Your holiness, the tides of fortune seems to have turned for the Chozha country. You gave me such good news. How am I going to thank you?”

“You don’t need to thank me, Parthiba! I consider it a privilege to serve brave warriors like you. If you have any unfulfilled wishes, let me know. I will try to fulfil those”.

“Really! It is my good fortune that you ask me. The Chozha country has lost its pride and glory and is now ruled by foreigners. My only wish is to see the Chozha country become independent and regain its honor. I’ve dreamt that the tiger flag will be raised in faraway lands. That ended up being just a dream in my lifetime. I want that to happen in my son’s lifetime. My son should grow up to be a fearless warrior. He should work tirelessly for his country. He should be ready to forego comfort and wealth for his country’s glory. He should hate being beholden to others as much as I did. Is this something that you can help him achieve? Will you grant me that boon?”.

It was hard to believe such passionate words came out of a dying man. The ascetic said, “Parthiba, I will try to fulfil your wishes, if I live long enough”.

“Your holiness, I am very fortunate. I will go peacefully. The divine look on your face makes me wonder who you are. Are you Lord Shiva? Or are you Sri Ranganatha incarnate?”

“Parthiba, stop this sacrilege! I am a mere mortal. If you really must know who I am, here you go…”. He removed the braided hair, and the beard. 

Parthiban looked at the glowing face with surprise. He managed to stammer, “is it you?”. His eyes seemed to momentarily regain the life that they had lost. Slowly they closed again. Parthiban’s soul freed itself from its mortal shell.

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END OF BOOK 1

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Parthban Kanavu: The Tamil version of the novel is in the public domain. Copyright for the translation is reserved by the translator..