Vaanathi’s Deceit

Not so long ago, we watched Princess Kundhavai and her dear companion Vaanathi climb into their chariot and set off along the dusty road to Kudanthai, did we not? But let us linger a moment on the riverbank. It is always interesting to see what happens when the mistress of the house departs. We ought to listen in on the young women left behind in the swaying boat, for their conversation was already growing lively.

“Talk about the Kodumbalur girl’s luck!” declared one of the maids, arranging her skirts. “Tharakai, my dear—why on earth does our Ilaiya Piratti favour her so much?”

“Favour, my foot. It is nothing of the sort, Vaarini,” replied Tharakai with a decisive little toss of her head. “That little idiot has been wandering about like a lost soul for the last four months, fainting all over the place at the drop of a leaf. She has no parents, poor thing. Naturally, you would expect Kundhavai Devi to worry over someone entrusted so entirely to her care. That, I suspect, is the only reason for her concern. And so she has taken the girl to the village astrologer to—to institute enquiries, as the old folks say.”

“Do you suppose she is afflicted by ghosts or tree-spirits?” asked another. “They would have to employ a good many chants and loud rituals to drive them out of her, wouldn’t they?”

“Ghosts and spirits!” spat Vaarini, her voice thick with terrible scorn. “Which of those pathetic things would dare take hold of her? That one is capable of banishing a hundred ghosts all on her own, just with her slyness!”

“Vaanathi’s fainting fits? They are nothing but a well-rehearsed act,” supplied another girl, trailing her fingers in the cool river water. “It is her grand plan. She means to cast a net and slowly reel our good Prince into her scheming, greedy clutches.”

“Niravathi is perfectly right,” concurred Vaarini. “Do you remember that day when she actually dropped her sacred aarathi plate (the heavy brass tray holding a glowing flame, waved to ward off evil)? I am quite sure that was just a ploy to catch his eye. How do you suppose a sturdy brass plate, held securely with both hands, could possibly slip and fall? And all that shaking and shivering at the sight of our Prince, too—as though he were some sort of wild animal out of the jungle, a tiger or a bear. Really!”

“And to actually faint away so gracefully the moment she let the plate fall—imagine the sheer cunning of that woman! Though I must admit, she pulled it off quite neatly.”

“What angers me is not even her sly little act, but the fact that Kundhavai Devi and our Prince were taken in so completely,” exclaimed a bright-eyed girl named Senthiru. “How could they be so blind?”

“Truly, we live in the times of liars and cheats,” mourned a serious young lady named Mandhakini, shaking her head. “People employ cunning and wiles these days without a single speck of remorse.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” queried Vaarini. “The Prince, who had already mounted his elephant and almost started for battle, turned right back and made anxious enquiries about Vaanathi. Her deceit served its purpose beautifully.”

“Not at all. The fact that he asked after her only shows how solicitous and kind-hearted he is,” countered Tharakai. “Did you really expect him to just march away without a backward glance, once he had seen a poor girl faint dead away right in front of him? You needn’t make it out to be something it isn’t.”

“I am not making things up. But you are certainly right about the Prince—he is quite the most compassionate soul in all the fourteen worlds. There is no one to equal him, not even in our oldest epics and tales!” enthused Vaarini, her eyes softening for a moment before sharpening again. “But that is not what I am talking about. This Vaanathi—do you know the real reason she faints so much? There is no need to tramp all the way through the dust to consult an astrologer about it. I could have told Kundhavai Devi myself, for free!”

“Do you know what ails her, then?” questioned Senthiru, leaning in eagerly. “Well?”

Vaarini leaned forward, a wicked smile on her face, and murmured something softly into her friend’s ear.

“What are you whispering about?” asked Niravathi, feeling a little left out. “Why couldn’t you share it with all of us, too?”

“Vaanathi’s illness isn’t an ordinary one, it seems,” revealed Senthiru, pulling back, a bright spark of mischief gleaming in her dark eyes. “She faints of desire!”

The old wooden boat immediately rang with peals of merry, chiming laughter. In the great banyan trees overhanging the water, birds that had been roosting quite contentedly in the shade flapped away in a flurry of wings at the sudden burst of sound.

“This wily one might try some of her sorcery on the Prince again. She will probably sprinkle him with magic dust when he returns from the wars in Ilankai (the island kingdom of Lanka),” said Niravathi, her laughter subsiding into a frown. “We are not going to let her get away with it, are we?”

“I can tell you this much: by the time the Prince returns to Chozha Nadu, Vaanathi is likely to tear all her hair out and go completely insane,” predicted Tharakai with a fierce nod. “If she doesn’t, I shall change my own name to Thadagai (a fearsome, forest-dwelling demoness from the old epics)!”

“Oh, forget her for the moment and bend your minds, if you please, to the task our Ilaiya Piratti actually set for us. Oughtn’t we to complete it before she returns from town?” Mandhakini cut in practically. “Come on, quickly now!”

Two of the young women immediately bent down and pulled up a heavy wooden plank at the bottom of the boat, which had been sitting a little askew. Underneath, there was a dark, hollow space about the dimensions of a long trunk, and resting quietly inside it lay a crocodile! It was one that was long dead and gone, of course. It had been carefully preserved, its rough skin stuffed tight with cotton and coconut fibre, so that it now looked every bit as real and terrifying as a live one.

Grunting with the effort, they hoisted it above the floorboards. They released the boat from its moorings and rowed slowly along the water’s edge, listening to the gentle lap of the river, until they came to a huge, ancient tree on the bank. Its thick, knobbly roots came down to the water, crisscrossing heavily over each other like resting snakes.

They manhandled the stuffed crocodile out of the boat, placing it quite strategically so that it rested half in and half out of the muddy water. Lying there motionless upon the roots, with its great jaws wedged wide open, it looked altogether as menacing as a living beast waiting for its prey. To keep it from bobbing off and getting washed away by the river’s current, one of the reptile’s stumpy legs was tied securely to a submerged root with a slender piece of rope. The young women fussed over it, making absolutely sure the rope remained hidden beneath the water.

“Mandhakini, my girl,” began Tharakai, dusting off her hands. “Why do you suppose Ilaiya Piratti asked us to set up this elaborate, frightening charade?”

“Didn’t you know? It is to stop Vaanathi from being such a terrible coward. Kundhavai Devi wishes to frighten some courage into her, I gather.”

“Why—it almost looks as though…” Niravathi paused, resting her chin on her hand as she pondered. “Has the Princess decided, after all, that Vaanathi will make our Prince the perfect wife, and is trying to make her worthy?”

“If there is any such scheme in the offing, I shall poison that sly little wretch with my own two hands, see if I don’t!” swore Vaarini, who was always inclined to harbour a rather jealous nature.

“Oh, don’t let such thoughts upset you, my dear. There is no need,” spoke Mandhakini, patting her arm reassuringly. “I have heard it said that everyone from the Rettai Mandala Chakravarthy up in Maniya Kedam, to the King of Vengi, the Emperor of Kalinga, and even the rulers of empires as far away as Kanauj, are practically fighting over themselves to get their daughters married to our Prince. Why would anyone waste their time upon an insignificant little Kodumbalur girl when so many grand, highly favourable alliances are already glimmering upon the horizon?”

“Every Emperor in the wide world might wait upon the Chozha dynasty’s pleasure—but surely our Prince’s own opinion is the only one that truly matters?” informed Senthiru wisely. “I have heard it said that he has very definite ideas about wedlock. ‘If I ever enter upon marriage, it will only be with a girl from Thamizhagam,’ he is reported to have said. Surely you all know this?”

“Excellent, then. We shall all just have to work some sorcery of our own, and show everyone what we are truly capable of, one by one. If that little witch Vaanathi can play up to the Prince so much, surely we can do it too?” announced Tharakai, her eyes flashing with determination. “Even better, perhaps. We have all got our own share of magic dust, haven’t we?”

There was, in fact, good reason enough for such vitriolic speech to spill from the lips of every young lady sitting in that boat. It stemmed from a very particular incident that had roused the absolute worst in them. And it is an event, dear reader, that we shall now explore.