Book Excerpt: Theivanai Part 2 Of Murugan Trilogy By Kala Krishnan

The great battle of Chendur has drawn to a close and Murugan has fulfilled his role as Mahasena. But it has left his beloved war bard Aambal enervated, her memories obliterated, her tongue stilled, unable to compose sentences, let alone verses. Will Aambal find her way to words again?

The battle had also kept Murugan from Theivanai whose mere presence had tugged at his feet. Will he succeed in wooing her now? 

Kala Krishnan has been exploring the Murugan universe for years now, first in verse and now in prose. In this second volume of a planned trilogy, she expands the mythologies of the god. Kumara, Karthikeya, Kandhan, Velan, Mahasena: the god of Tamizh, the patron of the Great Assembly of poets in Madurai, friend, and mentor to the hot-headed and fiercely loyal Aambal, known to all as ‘Murugan’s poet’.

Exploring the stories of the women in the god’s life—his poet Aambal and his wife Theivanai— Book Two of the trilogy is resonant with the stories that were, as well as vividly original.

Here's an excerpt from Theivanai

‘Idaychi was from one of the eight islands that form a crescent between Veeramahendrapuram and Ilangkai, inhabited by the ancient healers who made them, bringing mud and stone and rubble on rafts into the middle of the choppy sea, then singing them into an unbreachable bind of land mass. These stories of their origin resonated with those who heard them, for these island dwellers still sang and spoke their cures and antidotes to heal. They were renowned in all the worlds for their ability to cultivate and use medicinal plants that only grew if tended by one of them, and for their ability to treat all manner of wounds, regardless of who was wounded and what the wound was: of the flesh, of the heart, or wounds made in dream.

Singamugan had come to the island seeking to carry across the sea some saplings of these plants, as well as one of the islanders to plant and tend to them till they sprouted and became robust. The family that had the rights to this disposition was Idaychi’s. Singamugan was led there by the nomadic hunters who journeyed in the forests of these islands and on the lands across the sea, and could understand and converse in the tongues that were spoken in all these places.

Unexpectedly, Singamugan fell prey to a severe affliction: as soon as Idaychi looked at him and greeted him, his heart stopped, started again, flung itself against the bars of its cage in his chest and then lay down on the floor and held its breath. He felt he would die if he did not speak, but he could die if he spoke. And so, he held his tongue and composed his face.

In the course of the days that Singamugan spent with Idaychi’s family, being introduced to the ways of the many plants that they agreed to help him seed and grow in his kingdom, he began to sense that Idaychi felt the same. And she had indeed begun to feel attracted to him too, for Singamugan was intelligent, handsome and charming; he was also courteous and well-spoken, and his eyes were always filled with delight. So, when she agreed to cross the sea and travel with him to his home, it was not only the prospect of starting a nursery and training Singamugan, his gardeners and physicians in their use that made her eyes sparkle and her lips curve into sudden smiles.

The seeds were sown into the soil of Singamugan’s kingdom, and many days of watering later, they began to sprout, their new tendrils and leaves translucent in the semi-shaded light of the nursery. That’s when Singamugan asked her to marry him. She was eager to say yes. But before she did—perhaps her healer’s sight showing her something that was at the moment not visible—she said to him, ‘I must be free, too, to take another spouse, if and when I want to.’ And indeed, she had. Now this is a thread that we have much interest in, for the second of her spouses was none other than Nanjil, the medicine man whom Murugan and Aambal counted among their dearest friends.

Nanjil had left home, wandered past the Vindhyas and crossed over into the northern lands. It was thus that he came to the court of Singamugan, having heard of a mysterious ailment that was afflicting the horses in the kingdom. Singamugan saw that, despite his youth, Nanjil had knowledge beyond his age, and let him try. The physician spent many days in the company of the horses in the royal stables, and with the wild horses that came out to run through the fallowing fields and had remained unafflicted. He understood that it was the doing of the Ashvini twins, the fabled wind-dwelling physicians and guardians of all four-footed creatures. Nanjil made the connection between the illness of the horses and repairs that had been done in all the stables throughout the kingdom: the wild horses were untouched because the air they breathed did not pass through the walls of the stables.

Something that was due to the Ashvins had been ignored. Nanjil conveyed this to Singamugan, and suggested that all the stables in the kingdom be washed and cleaned, and a portion of their west-facing wall be broken and rebuilt, placing all the prescribed offerings to the Ashvins, inside. When the kingdom’s horses lost their apathy and regained their earlier vigour, Singamugan was pleased and rewarded Nanjil. He also asked the young man to accept the role of chief animal physician in his kingdom, and Nanjil, until then too restless to stay long anywhere, accepted the role. He felt that something whispered to him, ‘Stay’, without saying why.

He lived just outside the palace, in a street of physicians, healers, magic-persons, medicine-makers, growers of medicinal plants, makers of medicinal implements. It was at the wedding of Ayina, the daughter of Siramutha, who made the best medicine- weighing scales in the kingdom, that Nanjil and Idaychi first set eyes on each other. Singamugan introduced his spouse to his chief animal physician, and soon, the two were discussing medicines and plants.

The next morning, Nanjil was at the palace, being given a guided tour of the herbal nurseries. It was not long before the two became enamoured of each other—Idaychi as old as Nanjil’s mother and Nanjil as young as the children of Idaychi with her husband, the king. It was Idaychi who began to visit Nanjil, and when she thought the time was right, she indicated to Singamugan that she would spouse Nanjil and live with him part of the time.

Excerpted with permission from Theivanai: Part Two of the Murugan Trilogy, written by Kala Krishnan; Westland.